Chapter 1
PROLOGUE
WYATT
What a load of crap. I turn off the TV as the credits roll in.
Fuck movies.
Well, no, I love them, but there’s always something that leaves me feeling triggered, as if life owes you a happy ending just because you went through a messy middle. As if pain has an expiration date and love shows up on time, rings the doorbell, and holds up a sign with your name scribbled on it.
I call bullshit.
People leave. Promises break. People who you think would never do you wrong are the ones who fuck you the hardest. Sometimes you don’t notice the minor red flags until everything explodes on your face.
Love is not fireworks and slow dancing in the rain. It’s inconvenient. Complicated. Time-consuming. Ugly and terrifying, but somehow addictive. You don’t fall all at once – you stumble, trip, and crawl, even if you are still not sure you want it.
I for sure didn’t plan it. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping romance with a single destined lover. It wasn’t a predictable ending. And it started with one. One person. One friendship. It didn’t begin with them, no, not at first. It started with her, my best friend.
A YEAR AGO.
WYATT
I swear, Ms. Lawson thinks we are robots or something, because who prohibits going to the bathroom during a three-hour lecture? It’s barbaric. Also, not my fault that her class starts early, and I needed a lot more coffee today.
My hand on the bathroom door suddenly faltered as I heard someone quietly sobbing inside. My bladder was screaming at me to go in and ignore it, but I couldn’t do that. I opened the door to the last stall and spotted her immediately. A girl with long, messy brown hair that partially obscured her tear-streaked face. She was huddled on the bathroom floor, her body shaking with sobs.
Her brown eyes grew wide with surprise as she saw me on the other side of the door.
“Sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
Her eyes fill with more tears, and her mouth quivers, but as she sees me walk forward, I can see her building her walls back up. “Clearly not. I want a little privacy,” she says, hugging her knees tighter.
I should’ve walked out, but something told me not to, so I sat beside her on the bathroom floor. “Come on. Tell me what happened. It’s not a good look for me to leave a sad girl crying alone in the school’s bathroom.” I try to lighten the mood.
She looks at me with reluctance, but I keep my ground and wait for her to open up. “It’ll make you feel better, and I won’t tell anyone since I basically have no friends here.” A sad confession, but true.
Ever since I started college, I’ve been lacking in the friend department. The school is divided into two groups: the privileged students and the transfer students with scholarships. Since I don’t have a stick up my ass, I don’t fit with one side, and the other rejects me for coming from a family with money. I’ve never seen this girl before, but even at what appears to be her lowest, she isn’t a bitch, so that’s a start.
“My best friend hooked up with my brother, and now that he rejected her, she’s blaming it on me. Like I have something to do with it,” she says, clearly in disbelief.
“She sounds awful.”
“She also tried to sleep with my older brother, and he rejected her, too." She sniffles. "To get her 'revenge,' she told the guy I like horrible things about me.” She sighs. “Calling her an awful friend is an understatement.”
“Yeah, she sounds like a bitch.” I manage to pull a soft chuckle out of her before silence fills the room.
My bladder is making it difficult to focus on the girl with all this silence, so I’m about to leave when she speaks softly. “Do you think we can meet up tomorrow and talk?” She sounds almost scared of my response and seems to be regretting asking me that question.
I chuckle. “Sure. If I go and take a piss in the next stall, would that kill the moment?” I ask, sarcastically.
“Definitely, but you should go before you piss on me.” We laugh at the situation as she hears me pee. I think that was the best way to break the ice, and a beautiful way to start a friendship.
PRESENT TIME.
WYATT
School is getting annoying, so tonight might help me shake off my bad mood. Unfortunately, I can’t drink since I can’t afford to be hungover around the kids tomorrow.
Esmeralda and I take off; ten minutes in, and the motor dies on me. “Fucking damn it!” She’s an old Porsche that my grandfather gave to me a few months before he passed away, and the whole plan was for us to fix it together. I’m not an expert in cars, but I like them a lot, mostly because of him.
I try a couple of times to turn it back on, and finally, after the fourth one, it does. I’m driving with the windows down, the cool air keeping me chilly. I’m feeling good, until my phone rings and “Beetlejuice” appears on the screen.
“Damn it,” I grunt. There is research proving that speaking to your mother is a great way to decrease stress and anxiety. They didn’t factor in my mother. “Not tonight.” I let it go to voicemail.
I open the gate and drive into my cute house. My dad and I made a deal that I could live here as long as I kept studying and also met certain conditions. I didn’t care as long as I was out of his thumb – partially. He still pays for college, and my house, and he bought me a car, but I rarely use it. It’s just not me.
I lock up the garage and head up the stairs, stepping directly into the kitchen. My place isn’t huge, but it’s far from cramped. It features a two-story layout: downstairs is a spacious, open area with a half bathroom, while upstairs is a single bedroom with a walk-in closet and a full bathroom. With a tap on my phone, the sliding windows at the back of the house glide open, revealing the pool – and just beyond it, the beach. My safe haven.
I go upstairs and change immediately. The sun is still out, but not for long. My shoes are long gone. I grab the first swimsuit I see and head to the bathroom to remove my makeup and pull my hair into a ponytail. I slather on sunscreen and toss my phone on the bed as I head back down. I don’t even bother taking my flip-flops; I grab my surfboard and run down to the beach.
Wave after wave, I start to grow tired. The sun is setting, and I can no longer see very clearly. I decide to take one last wave, and as I stand up on my board, a guy out of nowhere crashes into me and throws us both against the water. After the initial shock, I swim out and cough up the little water that managed to get into my lungs.
“Are you okay?” I hear someone ask. Their light shadow settles over me.
I turn, ready to rip the guy a new one, but stop as something catches my eye. As my vision clears, so does my judgment.
A nipple piercing.
The silver hoop catches a stray glint of light, flaring for a second, like it’s winking at me.
Tempting. Too tempting.
His suit hangs open to his hips, exposing a set of killer abs. Sculpted to distract. And I noticed a couple of tattoos on his arms and torso. They look beautiful on his tanned skin.
Forcing my gaze higher, I meet his eyes – what a pretty shade of brown. His dark brown hair is wet and glowing. The cheekbones are to die for. So defined and symmetrical. The pearly whites on his mouth look like they should be on posters in the dentist’s office.
“You can take a picture,” he says. “If you give me your number.”
And the illusion is broken.
“Although I should be taking your photo. You are gorgeous.” He smiles charmingly.
“So, you try to kill me, and then you are hitting on me?” I scoff. I get up and shove my board against the sand. “This is the part where you apologize, not try to get into my pants,” I say, placing my hands on my hips.
He grins. “I can do both.”
“How about you pick one?”
“Fine. Can I have your number?” he asks again.
“Unbelievable,” I shake my head. I want to rip him a new one, but this guy doesn’t seem like the type to take things seriously, so why bother? I take my things and walk away.
“Is that a, no?!” he shouts.
I flip him off.
“So, I should’ve apologized first and then asked for your number?!”
So much for a relaxing night.
I leave my board outside and wash off the sand at the outdoor shower. There is a slight cold breeze as I wrap my towel around me and go inside.
After a quick bath, I get ready with Mamma Mia in the background. “So not weird reading through your mom’s sex journal, Sofie,” I say to myself sarcastically.
I Ubered to the place and sat at the bar, crossing my legs purposely, knowing that my skirt rode up a little, making my legs look sexier.
“Belle?”
Right on time. I turn, and a blonde, big guy is smiling at me. “Yes. Rob?” I ask, matching his smile.
He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Have a sit, Rob. What can I do for you tonight?” I’m an escort, surprise. I don’t want to depend on my father after finishing college, so when I saw a flyer on campus looking for staff at a bar, I had to take it. Bartending was what I had in mind, but then a tall, dark-haired woman ushered me aside and introduced me to the real business of this bar. Technically, it is legal, but everyone loves the secrecy.
I started just a month ago, and I already have twelve dates under my belt. Teresa explained all the dos and the don’ts, especially the don’ts. Sex is off the table unless the client and I give our consent, and the bar has no part in it. I have a good toy on the back of my dresser that keeps me satisfied enough to not rely on a man.
There is only one problem with my equation: my boss’s boss. Ashton Martinez. He’s here every night, and I only see him walk in and go up the stairs, giving me a view of his gorgeous ass as he walks into his office. He is always wearing a suit and tie. His light brown hair with a hint of grey is always neatly styled, and his beard is freshly trimmed. And those eyes–oh mama–they are this unique bright green that makes me excited every time they glance my way. It’s only for a few seconds, but it makes my night.
“Hello? Belle?” Rob waves his hand over my face, interrupting my view of my boss’s boss’s ass.
Right…Working.“Sorry, sweetie. Go on.” I say charmingly.
