When Our Worlds Ignite (An Our Worlds Spin-Off Book 1)

by Lindsey Iler

  “Well then, I guess I’ll see you in a few days then. I’ll probably be in bed when you get home from work tonight. And lord knows I’m not waking your grumpy ass in the morning to give you a kiss goodbye,” I say as I head to my bedroom.

  “Vi,” Amanda shouts as I hit the threshold. “Have fun, okay? Let loose and keep an open mind. It’s been awhile, but you need this time away.”

  If only things were that easy.

  *****

  Before leaving, I sketch a quick note to tell Amanda I’ve never been more excited for a friends’ trip and to thank her for convincing me to go. Despite my doubts, I need to see everyone to convince myself I haven’t completely fucked up everything.

  A taxi waits at the curb to take me to the airport. The first signs of fall grab my attention. Crisp air. The smell of damp leaves. This time, my visit to my home state of Tennessee is for me and me alone. Too many times in the past months, my mother has fallen apart, forcing me to make an emergency trip to the house where I grew up. My father’s move into an obnoxious mansion with the new girlfriend young enough to be my sister hasn’t been easy on her.

  My window seat is in first class because, let’s face it, I refuse to spend the next few hours jammed into coach. At least in first class, people don’t feel the need to chit chat. They’re usually too consumed with their own dumb shit to worry about anyone else’s. In my purse, a book screams for me to pluck it out and fall in love with its story. Reading hasn’t always been my favorite past time. With my quiet, lonely nights at home, I’ve learned to love it.

  My finger skims over the first few lines, then I sense someone above me. The overhead flap is opened and slammed shut with an assaulting thud to my ears. Without bothering to look up, I continue to read.

  “Hey, gorgeous. I’m Nathaniel.” A deep, masculine voice startles me.

  Awkward conversation with a stranger is exactly what I’d hoped to avoid this flight. My chatty neighbor offers a small smile, then he glares at my book. I follow his eyes.

  Apparently, he doesn’t find anything amusing about a girl reading.

  “You like to read?” His well-manicured fingernails tap the cover.

  Nathaniel. Takes pride in his appearance. Pet name upon first meeting someone. Total douchebag.

  Apprehensive to start a real conversation, I give a curt nod. My rude gesture still doesn’t sway him into silence.

  “Not much of a talker then?” The annoyance in his voice has me twisting to face him. Guys like him aren’t worth their weight in gold. In my short years on this earth, I’ve unfortunately crossed path with too many Nathaniels.

  “I enjoy talking, just not to pretty frat boys.” My cheeks strain from the forced smile.

  “So you think I’m pretty?” He scrapes his tongue along the inside of his cheek. The way his eyebrows perk in challenge has me putting as much distance between us as the seating allows.

  “Hardly.” I drop my book on the tray.

  “You know what the problem is with girls like you?” His eyes dance over my chest and back to my face. When the back of his fingers glides up and down my arm, I cringe.

  Oh, boy.

  “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to inform me of said problem.” This should be fucking good.

  “Beautiful girls like you believe you’re entitled to something special. You think you deserve the best clothes and the most expensive jewelry. And the dumbest thing of all, you actually think a fairy tale is going to crawl up your ass one day and make all your dreams come true. There is no Prince Charming.” He sneers, pissed off someone is willing to challenge him, something I feel certain has never happened to him before. His pressed, collared shirt screams, ‘my parents have always given me everything I’ve ever wanted’.

  “Has no one ever brushed you off before, Nathaniel?” I hit him where I know it will hurt. His ego. “I’m completely aware that, as a whole, mankind is lacking in the gentleman department. Good guys may be difficult to find, but they’re out there. Somewhere. Grow up, frat boy. A girl will someday thank you for it.” I turn back around, pick up my book, and ignore Nathaniel huffing with disdain beside me.

  I’ve never once spoken to a stranger with anything but respect. He, on the other hand, doesn’t deserve anything but what he got. He’s lucky I didn’t punch him in the face. As if I need a reminder of the war on chivalry in my life. On one hand, I’ve met Dan. He’s an excellent example of every father’s dream come true for his little girl. Of course, on the other side of the coin, my father is setting the bar rather low.

  Reading the same sentence twice is proof the out-to-lunch nitwit and his idiotic outlook on girls like me has aggravated me. I toss the book down, roll my neck, and stare out the window. Although I shouldn’t allow it, his pompous description digs up sour memories—memories that should stay buried.

  After the football game, we ditch the parties and go to Dan’s house. Our original plan to watch movies has turned into him playing some lame-ass hockey video game. Since I’m bored and hungry, I search the kitchen for something to eat. I hit the jackpot in the freezer and preheat the oven.

  “What exactly are you doing, Violet?” With a grin on his face, Dan leans his hip against the counter.

  “Duh, I’m making you a pizza, dummy,” I counter. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Long enough to see all those adorable little faces you make.” He steps to me.

  “What are you doing?” I take in his eyes. They’re full of a thrill I’ve never seen from him before. I turn away and place the pizza in the oven. “Let’s go pick out a movie,” I suggest. As I pass by him, he grabs my elbow.

  “Dance with me,” he begins, pulling me into his arms.

  “Here?” I question, following his lead. My head rests on his chest. His heartbeat is a comforting rhythm in my ear. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

  “My dad used to bring my mom into the kitchen and dance with her,” he whispers the secret into my hair. “I remember sneaking down the steps when I was young and watching them. I remember thinking how in love they were. How easy they made love seem.” I remain quiet, reveling in his words. I want to soak them up and hold onto them for a lifetime. “I asked my father once how they’ve stayed so in love for so long.” He continues. “Do you know what he said? Words I remember to this day.”

  “What did he say?” I squint up at him.

  “He told me I needed to find a girl who would be my best friend, and every day after that would be easy.” He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. My heart melts under his touch.

  “You know, chivalry isn’t a dead art form,” I snap at my neighbor, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

  “Oh, yeah? Let me guess.” He grips his chin, tapping one finger just shy of his cheek. “High school sweetheart? Everything about you screams desperation, much like most young love.” He taps the cover of my book again, an irritating indication he’s not through with me. “You’ll only find true love within the pages of a book.”

  I jerk away from his prying eyes and tuck the hardcover back into my purse. Beside him, I feel unnerved, like I’m under a microscope.

  Nathaniel stays silent the remainder of the flight. Thank fuck. The only thing is, I wish my mind would follow in his footsteps. Don’t let a stranger rile you up. Nothing he says holds any precedence in your life.

  *****

  With the strap of my carry-on slung over my shoulder, I make my way through the airport, grabbing my luggage from baggage claim. I flag down a cab outside the main doors and jump in, giving him the address. My unnecessary debate with Nathaniel, the egotistical stranger, has my mind whirling back to my past—the place I’d prefer for all those memories to stay.

  “You’re the one who sets the example for how our daughter will be treated. It’s up to you.” My mother’s voice echoes through the halls of my childhood home.

  I shouldn’t have come here, but the ache in my mom’s voice over the phone made the decision for me.r />
  “Me? What about you?” my father snaps. I can practically see him jabbing his finger at her to prove his point.

  “What about me?”

  I sit at the top of the stairs, listening to my parents spout off a list of reasons the other is to blame for heartache over the years. As far as I’d known, we’d been happy. Apparently, this isn’t the case at all. They’ve each held onto small and large things which equal the demise of their marriage.

  When my mother turns the corner, she leans against the wall.

  “How long?” I ask. “How long have you and daddy been arguing?” The idea of them not together fills my chest with an unbearable ache.

  “I’m filing for divorce, sweetie,” she announces. Her nonchalant posture and tone are daunting. How can she be so unaffected? She brushes a strand of hair away from my face, her hand cascading down my cheek just as she did when I was young. “If I were you, honey, I wouldn’t trust any man. Ever. Even the good ones. They all have something to hide. It’s only a matter of time before she is dropped in your lap.”

  Later that night, I find her with a glass of expensive wine from the cellar in hand and an empty bottle at her feet.

  The cab stops, jerking me out of my musing. Wow, I’ve missed the whole ride. After paying the driver, my feet hit the pavement.

  I stomp my foot, angry that one memory has me almost siding with Nathaniel, the future senator who covers up his son’s indiscretions because he believes boys will be boys. Ugh.

  When I finally see my home for the next week, I drop my bags. Who the fuck buys a house like this? I come from money, but holy hell, this isn’t a cabin. It’s a fucking estate. Only rich people call their homes estates, and this giant excuse is lumped in the exact same category. The beautiful stone siding and tall windows leave me in awe of this monstrosity straight out of an Architectural Digest.

  “This I could get used to,” I say to myself.

  I drag my luggage up the short walkway. A large, old-fashioned knocker sits prominently in the middle of the door. The metal striking the wood produces a surprisingly loud thud, but no one answers. A quick peek in the windows shows me the house is empty. Instead of lugging my crap around back, I leave it on the front stoop and circle the side of the house.

  The landscaping and vastness of the property shock me. A beautiful lake ripples underneath the bright sun, surrounded by an endless line of trees that goes on for miles. Now, this is a place I won’t mind being for the next week. Everything seems much brighter now.

  The back door is unlocked, and when I step inside, everything is dark. Kennedy and Graham’s flight was earlier than mine. Where the hell is everyone? I search for a light switch and finally find one outside the open concept kitchen overlooking the main living room. My watch says it’s noon. They should be here by now.

  On the center island, a note sits with my name scrolled on the front.

  What the hell is going on?

  I rip open the envelope and pull out the folded letter.

  Dear Violet,

  You’re probably wondering where everyone is, and it’s easily explainable.

  WE AREN’T COMING.

  I drop the note, thinking they’re playing a joke on me. As I run through the house, I turn on every light and search every room, but come up empty handed. Out the back windows, I see the boat is docked, meaning the last place they may be hiding is parked in its rightful place. I scurry to grab the paper and finish reading.

  My hands tremble as I start over.

  Dear Violet,

  You’re probably wondering where everyone is, and it’s easily explainable.

  WE AREN’T COMING.

  Before you lose your shit, which I already know you’re beginning to, hear us out. In fact, take a seat on the comfortable couch in the living room.

  Clutching the letter, I walk to the living room.

  “Why am I letting her boss me around when she isn’t even here?” I say out loud. Instead of doing as she said, I plop down in the armchair.

  You aren’t sitting on the couch, are you? Defiance always looks good on you, Vi.

  “Fuck off,” I say as though she’s in the room.

  Now, onto why none of us showed up . . . As much as we all wanted to see you and spend time with you, we’ve decided we’re tired of dividing our time between you and Dan. So, we aren’t anymore.

  Today, we’ve put our foot down, and you’ll probably hate us forever, but you’ll eventually get over it because, in the grand scheme of things, we’ll have been right.

  Kennedy

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  My eyes shoot to the front door. With a tight grip on the letter, I stand and take my time answering, wishing and praying Kennedy is on the other side and this is a sick joke. I switch the locks over and pull on the large door handle. A beautiful blonde with a broad smile on her lips waits on the front porch.

  “Babe, someone’s at the door up here,” the blonde shouts as she leans toward the side of the house.

  Babe?

  “Can I help you?” I ask. The letter burns in my hands.

  “There’s a girl up here,” she hollers again.

  “I was about to break in the back door,” a male voice says from off to the side. He leans down and grabs the bags on the pathway. His face is angled away from me, but his tousled hair, long on top but short along the sides, is the kind you want to run your hands through.

  When the intruder with sex-worthy hair stands to his full height, I gasp, covering my mouth. There’s no fucking way. I rub my eyelids and check again.

  “Dan?” I whisper. His head jerks up, a stunned expression on his face. One that, I’m sure, matches my own. “What are you doing here?”

  Stupid question, idiot. You know what he’s doing here. It’s all in this beautifully written letter.

  “Do you two know each other?” the blonde asks, bouncing back and forth between the two of us.

  Our eyes lock on each other. I take him in from head to toe. He’s thinner—much thinner, but not in a scrawny way. More in the way that makes me want to touch every hard surface of his chest and stomach. His jaw is more defined, and it ticks as he watches me watch him.

  “We used to,” I whisper, and Little Miss Sunshine with her bouncy blonde hair shrugs.

  “Well, nonetheless, this is the place, right?” She looks to Dan for an answer. When she pushes past me, he says nothing, and I scoff. Safely tucked inside, she spins in circles. “Look at this place. It’s huge. This is going to be the best vacation ever.”

  “Vacation? Here?” I point inside the house, leaning against the doorframe. My hand clasps onto my throat, stopping a deep roar from escaping.

  “Dan, you coming, or what?” Blondie shouts.

  “What exactly is going on?” Dan whispers as he walks straight by me and into the arms of the Barbie who’s just blown up every expectation I have of this vacation.

  Curses form, and I squeeze my throat tighter to hold them in. My instinct is to catapult myself over the two of them and dart for my phone. Instead, I’m frozen, watching my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend prance around what’s supposed to be my refuge for the next week.

  When they turn to me, I fake a smile. Dan’s eyes, the only thing that seems the same about him, twinkle when they pass over mine. He knows my smile is painfully forced.

  “Where are my manners?” I offer my hand. “I’m Violet.”

  The blonde reaches out and takes mine in hers.

  “I’m Brittany.” Her sweet voice grates on my last nerve.

  “Of course you are,” I mutter under my breath. Slut.

  “Brittany, why don’t you go upstairs and pick out a room,” Dan instructs. She beams at him with lustful eyes and disappears up the stairs like a good little girlfriend.

  No surprise she listens to his beck and call. Ugh.

  When we’re alone, I plop down on the couch, finally listening to Kennedy’s demands. Dan stalks up and down the length of the living room, taking an oc
casional glance at me. He shakes his head every time as if he’s trying to rid himself of some memory. Is he talking to himself? Can’t exactly blame him. It’s the exact thing I’m doing. Maybe if I close my eyes long enough, I’ll wake up in my apartment in New York, and this will all be a funny, cruel dream.

  “Am I boring you?” Dan’s voice makes my eyes spring open.

  “No, just hoping this is a nightmare. That our friends didn’t actually think they could drag us up to this beautiful house, and expect everything to be peachy-fucking-keen.” I slam my eyelids shut again and pop them open. “Nope, you’re still here. Not to mention, with a date.”

  “What are you talking about? When’s everyone else getting here?” His eyebrows pinch together as he waits for an answer.

  Oh, this is going to be good.

  “Look around. I’m sure they were nice enough to leave you a note somewhere around this place.” I hold up mine, and he jumps over the ottoman to snatch it from my hand.

  His eyes skim line after line and bounce back to the top to read the words again.

  “Did you read the whole thing?” Dan hands the letter back to me, and then slumps down in the seat next to mine. “We’ve been ridiculous, haven’t we? Our stubbornness has made it hard for all of them.”

  “Of course we have, but how many times have we dealt with all their bullshit? Graham and Kennedy haven’t always had their shit together. I mean,” I stomp my foot, “remember high school? They’re together. They aren’t together. They love each other. They don’t love each other.” Mocking their history makes me feel better somehow. Serves them right. Assholes.

  “You’re right.” He pats my leg, and a warm spark runs through my body. Well, crap, I wasn’t expecting that.

  “So, who’s the girl?” I ask, needing to spear the elephant in the room and put it out of our misery.