Used (Unlovable, #1) (Unlovable Series)
Page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trade- mark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trade- marks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Copyright ©2014 by Lynetta Halat
Edited by Tracey Buckalew
Proofread by Lea Burns
Cover design by © Sommer Stein of Perfect Pair Creative Covers
Photography by © Toski Covey of Toski Covey Photography-Custom Design
All rights reserved. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright owner of this book.
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition: January 2014
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
www.lynettahalat.com
Halat, Lynetta. Used / Lynetta Halat. – 1st edition
ISBN-13: 9781310902192
ISBN-10:
1. Used—Fiction. 2. Fiction—Romance 3. Fiction—Contemporary Romance
A PERSONAL PLEA: PLEASE DON’T PIRATE OR SHARE MY VERY HARD WORK. UPLOADING A FILE TO A SITE OR EVEN FORWARDING A FILE TO A FRIEND IS THEFT.
Table of Contents
Used Playlist
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Letter to my Readers
A Note from the Author
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Dedication
For the flawed, the broken, the dreamers, the unique. And for those who don’t find us unlovable.
Used Playlist
If you’re anything like me, you love music with your books. I hope you enjoy these beautiful songs that embody so much of this book. You can listen to the playlist on Used on Spotify for free.
Slut Like You – P!nk
Big Jet Plane – Angus & Julia Stone
Wherever You Will Go – The Calling
I Don’t Wanna Be Your Friend – Scotty McCreery
I Will Possess Your Heart – Death Cab for Cutie
Song For Zula – Phosphorescent
Kerosene – Miranda Lambert
Hang Me Up To Dry – Cold War Kids
Fastest Girl in Town – Miranda Lambert
Real Good Man – Tim McGraw
Angels – The xx
Come a Little Closer – Dierks Bentley
Gods & Monsters – Lana Del Rey
Use Somebody – Boyce Avenue
Body Electric – Lana Del Rey
Falling – The Civil Wars
Come Over – Kenny Chesney
Somewhere With You – Kenny Chesney
Wonderful Tonight – Eric Clapton
Alive – P.O.D.
Gives You Hell – The All-American Rejects
If I Loved You – Delta Rae
Toxic-Live Acoustic – VersaEmerge
Lazy Eye – Silversun Pickups
I Don’t Want This Night to End – Luke Bryan
I Touch Myself – Divinyls
Highway Don’t Care – Tim McGraw, Taylor Swift
The Cowboy in Me – Tim McGraw
Comin’ Home – City and Colour
Jealous Again – The Black Crowes
Brick – Ben Folds Five
Only Prettier – Miranda Lambert
You and Tequila – Kenny Chesney, Grace Potter
Possession – Sarah McLachlan
Wake Me Up When September Ends – Green Day
Down – Jason Walker
Try – P!nk
arms – Christina Perri
What Hurts the Most – Rascal Flatts
Prize Fighter – The Killers
Help I’m Alive – Metric
The Great Escape – P!nk
In the End – Linkin Park
Control – Puddle of Mudd
Fix You – Coldplay
Prologue
I LOST MY virginity on the floor of my sister’s bedroom. I was sixteen years old.
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic.
But what it was, was done. Finally done … and on my terms. For years, various so-called men had been trying to take it, the most treasured prize in a most dangerous game because of what I had deemed as a curse upon all of womanhood—possessing innate innocence. An innocence that many were determined to rip away and own for themselves.
Determined to be in control, I was more than happy to hand it over to someone I trusted—my best friend. After that, I knew he’d never be anything more, but at least he wasn’t taking it from me. At least I could tolerate to be around him, and at least he didn’t make my skin crawl. He understood what I needed, let me set our terms—friendship and sex. Nothing more, nothing less.
What I didn’t bargain for was what I felt when it was all said and done … absolutely nothing. In many ways, feeling nothing was more excruciating than feeling everything. Even worse, with all my calculating and planning, I failed to consider how my act of desperation and defiance would shape him.
Chapter One
Denver
“SHE’S, AT BEST, a fuck buddy. However, I prefer the term ‘whore.’ Fuck buddy is far too nice a term for the likes of her,” a catty voice cracks from behind me.
I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling, saying a little prayer that maybe the venomous voice isn’t referring to me. I thought I left all that behind in Anaconda. We’d been here for all of three days, so it’s highly probable they’re not talking about me, right? Looking back down, I continue pouring Jack in my Solo cup, surpassing the line that is recommended for liquor.
“Yeah, so apparently, she’s got some serious issues and doesn’t ‘do’ relationships. So, she puts out for her guy friends whose girls are too good to give it up. That’s her idea of a relationship.”
“Really? That’s kinda gross,” I hear the other girl mutter.
Sonofabitch! I groan. Yep, they’re talking about me. I splash a little bit of Coke in my cup and stick my finger in to stir it around a little. Tears spring to my eyes, and I berate myself for still having feelings and giving a shit what people think about me. Years of dealing with this crap should have made me immune, b
ut I really hoped college would be different. And how the hell do they even know about that shit? Strengthening my spine, I turn and give them a beguiling smile, which causes them both to blanch. Yeah, bitches, you’ve no idea who you’re dealing with.
“Ladies,” I say with a quirked eyebrow. Removing my finger from the drink, I place it in my mouth and suck off the excess. With a pop, I release it. “I see my reputation precedes me. Well, let me just reassure you that I’m very good at what I do. When you won’t give it up for your guy, he’ll be looking me up, and I’ll be more than happy to take care of him. No questions. No strings. Just lots of meaningless … hot … sex.” I peer around them with a searching look. “Are they here? Your boyfriends?” I look back at them innocently. I almost snort at their mutual expressions of surprise and disdain. “Or,” I continue, “are the sticks up your asses enough so that you don’t need a man?” Both of their mouths drop on that line. Yep, gets ‘em every time. “Oh, no judgment here,” I vow. “I totally get not wanting to be tied down to any one Dick … or Tom … or Harry.”
I skirt around them and mutter, “Later,” as I search out the only friend I’d made—my roommate, Maggie. I sure as hell hope she hadn’t already heard the rumors and now wanted nothing more to do with me. Hopefully I could explain, and we could continue with our new friendship.
Spotting her red hair from across the room, I make a beeline for her. I’m not much on girlfriends, but I’d like to have at least one. And I certainly don’t want my roommate to become my enemy. I smile her way, but she’s not paying me one bit of attention. I follow her gaze to one of the newly-arrived cowboys. Holy shit! He is hot. Shaggy, blondish brown hair, blue eyes, and cut. Even that is obvious with his button-up checkered shirt and Wranglers. Check the boots. Yep, nice boots. Worn, but cared for, expensive, a nice, manly brown. I glance back up at his face and get a decent vibe from him. Shy smile, but it reaches his eyes. Holds his drink casually, like he’s relaxed. He’d do.
Looking back to get a read on Maggie, I see lust at first sight written all over my roommate’s face. Her admiring eyes haven’t strayed, and she’s sporting a giant smile. I laugh a little at her obviousness. She’s a sweet girl.
On move-in day here at Montana State University, I was nervous, and I don’t do nervous, but I didn’t want to end up with a stick-in-the-mud or a raging bitch. I wanted someone right in the middle—laid back and easy going. Someone I could easily talk to and who wouldn’t be judgmental ‘cause, let’s face it, I’m different. And I can be difficult. I also needed someone who had a damn backbone. But at the same time, she couldn’t be like me. Anyone like me, and we’d probably kill each other.
My eyes about bugged out of my head when Maggie strolled in wearing her all-pink ensemble, promptly dropping her pink luggage and making it look like someone had puked Pepto Bismol all over our room. When she hugged me fiercely, I was thrilled. I made a snap judgment—black and pink would complement each other perfectly. She squeezed and jostled me while her parents stood a step behind, beaming at her. Yep, she was perfect.
“Denver, I’m so happy to meet you. We’re gonna be best of friends, I just know it,” she squealed in my ear.
I cleared my throat because I didn’t want her to hear the desperation in my voice. “Maggie, it’s awesome to meet you. Is everyone from Shelby as sweet as you?” I asked.
She pulled back and slapped me on the arms. “Oh, yeah, honey. It’s those sugar beets we produce, don’t you know?”
I grinned as I assessed her. At the outset, we looked nothing alike. I was all wavy, dirty blonde to her curly strawberry red. Her eyes were as big and as round as mine, but where mine are a honey-gold, hers are electric green. She was curvy like me but just a hair shorter. My boobs were slightly bigger than hers, but when she stepped back and spun toward her parents, I noticed that her ass definitely rivaled mine. We could probably trade clothes if she owned anything that wasn’t pink.
“So Denver Dempsey, meet my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Myers,” she said, gesturing for me to shake hands with them.
“Hi, nice to meet you both.” They looked like an ad for the perfect parents—all smiles and beaming brightly at their pride and joy. My heart twisted a little.
“Oh, Denver, we already know so much about you,” her mother said. I froze. Surely not. “Highest paid high school barrel racer. All county, all state, a national star. Primed to go pro but was smart enough to say no and go to school. Honey, that’s fantastic. Congratulations on all your hard work paying off.” I breathed a sigh a relief that she hadn’t been commenting on my activities outside of the arena. My notoriety forced me to forget my fame sometimes.
“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed. “You’re nothing without an education. I could get hurt tomorrow and not be able to compete. Seemed like the best idea to have something to fall back on.”
“I like her,” her otherwise quiet father added. “Good head on her shoulders. Seems bright. Maggie, you girls stick together. I know you’re both eighteen and got all kinds of freedom. The boys’ll be circling their wagons. You two don’t lose sight of each other, ya hear?”
“Yes, sir,” we replied. We looked at each other and grinned because we said it at the same time. My grin was wider, though, because I couldn’t remember the last time I had parental approval. It was … nice.
I am pulled from the memory when I reach Maggie, and I bump her elbow with my free one. “What’s up, girl?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says with a blush.
“Umm, hmm. I just spotted this really cute cowboy.”
“You did?” she asks, smiling.
“I did. He’s at about 2:00. Shaggy, sandy brown hair.” I glance over at her and see her smile has fallen.
“Yeah, I see him too.”
“I know you do, crazy. I was watching you ogle him from across the room,” I joke.
She throws her hand over her heart. “Denver, that was just plain mean. I thought I was gonna have to fight you for him.”
I laugh. “No way. He’s all yours. I had to mess with you though.” He’s a little too pretty for my taste. Kind of makes me think of Greer. Greer is beautiful, but his beauty is unique. His inner beauty shines through and far surpasses what’s on the outside. And as much as I know I need to do this on my own, I still miss him. I nod at him. “He’s good lookin’ all right. Gives off good vibes too.”
“I thought so too. He watches who he’s talking to and doesn’t check out everything that walks by.”
“So, you gonna go talk to him?”
“Ugh! I don’t know. I tend to freeze up and look like an idiot around boys. And he looks older. More experienced. What if he sees right through my naïve self?” she says with a groan.
“Never know until you try. Have you had a boyfriend before?”
“Uh, no. Momma and Daddy weren’t too keen on me dating. And, to be honest, high school boys were so immature I never pushed it.”
She was right about that. “Hmm … I’ve never had a boyfriend either.”
“What?” she asks shocked. “I mean, you seem experienced. Uh, not like that … I mean—”
“It’s OK,” I interrupt to help extract her foot from her mouth. “And I am kind of experienced. Speaking of which, will you do me a favor?” She nods, her eyes even bigger. “If you hear any rumors about me tonight, will you give me the benefit of the doubt? Don’t judge until we can talk?”
“Of course, Denver,” she readily agrees.
“Thanks,” I say with a relieved sigh. I look back to the object of her lust and notice him. Wow. He’s a big deal so, of course, I knew I’d see him soon. I was hoping for some more time to get intel on him before I actually introduced myself. But here he is in all his badass glory, and I’m dying to meet him.
In every possible way, he is a contradiction to his sport and his country roots. Regardless, he is the best at what he does. Buzz cut, tattooed, tall (for a bull rider), and built like a Mack truck. Most bull riders are shorter, leaner, longer hair. No
t him—he took convention and gave it a big FU, and I ate that up. He was right up my twisted alley. I already decided that we were kindred spirits and would be good friends, especially seeing as I had wanted to be him at some point. Well, not him exactly. I wanted to be a bull rider. My momma and daddy never laughed harder in their lives. At five, I was crushed. In my young eyes, bull riders were the coolest and the baddest. And I’d always wanted that.
My heart longed to ride the untamable, pissed off beast. To show him, and the world, that no matter how much shit they gave me, I could hold on for as long as I needed to bring it home. That, no matter what, I would live my life on my own terms. Too bad I didn’t have the right parts so I could never do more than ride sheep. I had to settle for the coolest thing for my gender—barrel racing. I worked hard at being the best barrel racer around, which is badass in its own right, and I even managed to put my own stamp on the sport.
Shaking my head, I focus on him again. He’s talking to Maggie’s guy. They seem real friendly, so Maggie was right, her guy must be older. My rodeo god’s a senior and getting ready to go pro. He’s got his arms folded so that his faded blue jean shirt is pulling tight against his muscles. His sleeves are rolled up, putting his tattoos on display. It’s untucked, but not so long that I’m missing out on that spectacularly tight ass accentuated by his Wranglers. They’re a shade or two darker than his shirt. He’s finished it off with probably the sexiest boots I have ever laid eyes on. Dress black Laredos with silver accents and Concho boot chains. I’m practically salivating.
“Come on,” I tell Maggie, taking a long pull from my liquid courage. “Let’s go meet them.”
“Them?”
Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places” kicks on and promptly gets turned up, so I lean in. “Yeah, I want to meet his friend. In the blue? With the buzz cut? See him?”
“Oh, yeah,” she murmurs with a chuckle. “I see him all right. You’ll be knocking on trouble’s front freakin’ door if you’re interested in him, Denver.”
I give her a little laugh. “I can handle myself,” I assure her.