The Wrong Girl
By McKenna Kerrick
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One: Grace
Chapter Two: Alex
Chapter Three: Grace
Chapter Four: Alex
Chapter Five: Grace
Chapter Six: Grace
Chapter Seven: Alex
Chapter Eight: Grace
Chapter Nine: Grace
Chapter Ten: Alex
Chapter Eleven: Grace
Chapter Twelve: Alex
Chapter Thirteen: Alex
Chapter Fourteen: Grace
Chapter Fifteen: Alex
Chapter Sixteen: Grace
Chapter Seventeen: Alex
Chapter Eighteen: Alex
Chapter Nineteen: Grace
Chapter Twenty: Alex
Chapter Twenty-One: Grace
Chapter Twenty-Two: Alex
Chapter Twenty-Three: Grace
Chapter Twenty-Four: Alex
Chapter Twenty-Five: Grace
Chapter Twenty-Six: Alex
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Grace
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Grace
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Alex
Chapter Thirty: Grace
Acknowledgements
Copyright 2018 © McKenna Kerrick
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without the prior consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes used in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Always live your love story one page at a time.
Chapter One
Grace
There are times where you have to suck it up and move on.
Right now, though? This was not one of those times.
I’d like to think I have a better understanding of people in the world than what I actually do. Mostly because I absolutely suck at reading people. Like when the barista flashes me a smile and I think finally, this girl is going to infect me with her cheerfulness, but she’s not. Because she’s smiling to the obnoxiously over-sized guy standing behind me.
I’m not even sure if she heard me order or not, but she’s thrusting out her boobs to the guy eyeballing her. It takes me two minutes to get her attention to swipe my damn debit card, but when she finally does, I manage to mutter, “Get a room,” as bitchy as I can.
Today is not my day.
And it’s barely even nine in the morning.
Lila, my new roommate and old time best friend, is sitting on a barstool against the long table pushed up against the window of Hanson University’s only coffee shop. Her red hair is pulled into a messy ponytail and she’s concentrating on keeping her head down.
It’s not like people don’t know who she is. You don’t get to date Killian Blane and not expect to be noticed. But she’s sitting there, trying her hardest to fly under the radar because the notoriety bothers her.
“Hey,” I finally sigh as I drop into the open seat next to hers.
“Hey,” she sighs. Her grey eyes narrow at my cup and she starts to laugh all of a sudden.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know, Brittney, you tell me.”
What? I look down at my cup and yup, written in half-assed handwriting is the name Brittney. I hope the barista got lucky with the mountain-of-flesh guy since she clearly doesn’t care enough about her job to figure out who she’s talking to.
“I hate people,” I tell her with conviction.
“But you love me.”
“Okay,” I amend, “I hate most people.”
“You’ve been back four days and you’ve been on campus, what, an hour?” Lila asks. “You can’t already hate people today.”
“Yes, I can.”
“So tell me how does it feel to be one of the townies going to school here?” she teases.
Back in high school I used to tease her about getting as far away from the country scene as I could get. Hanson University sat on the very edge of the town Hanson, North Carolina. We were two hours away from Wilmington, where I’d decided to go to school at. But then I got the call that my grandpa, who practically raised me, was sick and I transferred without a second thought in the beginning of my senior year.
“It’s not so bad,” I lie. But I already miss the city lights and the different shops on the waterfront. It’s not like Hanson University wasn’t seven miles off the coast, it was, but it was mostly farmland through and through.
“I’m glad you came back for your grandfather,” Lila says softly. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s getting better, but the chemo isn’t working,” I sigh in frustration. “I don’t know if he’s too old for it, or if he just doesn’t care anymore. Grandma won’t just let him quit, but I feel like we’re starting to spiral.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you came back.”
I would’ve walked through Hell to be there for my grandparents. My mom raised me by herself for awhile before taking off with some loser junkie. They were tweaking so hard that neither of them realized the building they were squatting in had caught on fire. It was a grizzly way to go, but she’d abandoned me when I was six so I don’t exactly feel all depressed over her death.
As for my sperm-donor, that was another hole-in-the-wall. I heard so many different versions of who he was, I’m amazed my mom didn’t realize that she was basically whoring herself out to men. And then bam, she got pregnant with me. Shocker.
“Yup,” I clear my throat and push all the bad thoughts away. “So how’s Killian?”
“Good, he’s at practice with the guys,” Lila sighs dreamily. “I can’t believe he was there the whole time, you know?” She gets a faraway look on her face as she talks.
They’d been best friends since I knew her in elementary school and I became the third in the little three amigos posse we’d created. It was easy to tell as they grew up how into each other they were, but they were both so oblivious it just came down to a matter of time.
“They’re having a party later on tonight, you should come.”
“Who’s having a party?” I ask and take a sip of Brittney’s coffee.
“The football fraternity,” Lila wrinkles her nose. “You should definitely come, Grace. Give me someone to talk to that’s not going to shout about sports and stuff.”
“Who the hell throws a party on a Tuesday?” I gape at her.
She rolls her eyes at that. “It would be easier to tell you who doesn’t throw a party on a Tuesday. Plus, it’s the first day of school. There’s bound to be a party celebrating the return of parties.”
“I don’t know about a party,” I sigh.
“Why not? You love to party.”
“I love to dance,” I correct. “There’s a big difference. I’m a dancer, not a happy-go-lucky drunk girl looking to score at a football party.”
Lila sips her drink and doesn’t say anything for a moment as she stares at me. “You’re worried about Alex.”
“I am not!” I immediately defend. And it’s such a shit lie. If I could just get through this whole year without running into my ex-boyfriend, then that would be great. Easy to do right? I shouldn’t have any classes that cross over with him in the slightest.
“Sure, say it in a high-pitched girly voice to sound more believable,” Lila snorts. “You’ll be okay. I doubt he’ll even recognize you with this new hair.”
If she’s meaning
my recently dyed brown locks, it was a spur of the minute thing. People always say to cut your hair after a break up, redo your style to be who you want to be or someone new.
I hadn’t changed a thing since my split from Alex. I was the brunette girl who wore glasses when studying and lived to be in yoga pants at all hours of the day. So when I decided I was coming back two weeks ago, I immediately went to my salon and dyed my hair a light blonde. It had even taken Lila several minutes to recognize me.
“I don’t know about a party. I picked early morning classes so I could practice in the afternoon,” I explain.
“How about just until eleven? That’s not too late and then you can still get up in the morning and be refreshed.”
Wow. She’s really pulling out all the stops to make it so I agree to go. She must really not want to go alone. “Fine,” I relent. “But I’m agreeing under protest.”
“Thank you!” she squeals and grips my hand in hers briefly.
“But if things get too awkward, I’m bailing.”
Lila sighs. “It’s only going to be awkward if you let it be awkward. Seriously, you grew up and look a lot different with the hair and attitude. He won’t even know you’re there.” She bites her lip and looks around. “Look, Alex has been kind of a party animal. I really don’t think he’ll even notice you there.”
I glance down at my slim watch on my wrist instead of answering her. “I need to get going or I’m going to be late for class. I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Alright, see you.”
I scoop up the cup with the wrong name and head out across campus. There’s a building attached to the campus’ gym for the dancers that attend here. All of our classes for the most part are in this building. And my first class of the day is equivalent to physical education. Something I loathe.
For God’s sake, we’re adults now. When did the horrendous punishment of P.E. end?
I drop down onto the gymnasium floor and stretch out my legs as other people started to come in and sit down. A few girls in way too short of outfits sit together in a circle a few yards away from me.
I stare at my bag by my legs and try and resist the urge to dig out my phone and call my grandfather to see how he’s doing. I swear he was so over the moon for me to come back, that alone might just cure him.
“So,” a gruff voice says behind me, “think this will help me out?”
“Probably,” another deep voice says.
I turn my head to see two ginormous guys come strutting into the room with their backpacks dangling over one shoulder. Both of them look just about as ripped as the guy from the coffee shop this morning, if more so. Maybe they’re in charge of this class.
Sadly, they don’t seem to be as they drop their stuff on the ground and shoot the circle of girls a grin that makes my insides shiver.
“Do you think they’ll let us make up our own work out like they did last year?” one of the two guys asks.
“I don’t know. Hopefully. Could you imagine training with a bunch of girls who aren’t going to know what they’re doing?” the other guy shakes his head.
I want to butt into their conversation to say that at least one girl in particular in this class knew what they were doing, but I don't interrupt.
“Alright!” a little old woman says as she steps in front of the class. She taps her cane on the floor and glares at all of us. “My name is Mrs. Voit and I will be taking over this class. The one you signed up for, unfortunately for you, had the original teacher dropping. I teach dance here, so expect to learn a few basic moves.”
One of the oversized guys tilts his head back and lets out a heavy sigh. “My luck sucks this year,” he tells his friend.
“I want you to pair up boy-girl,” Mrs. Voit continues. “Our lessons will have you changing things around with your partner. So go on, pick quickly.”
I wish the panic that seized me didn't bleed onto my face, but I'm pretty sure it does. The girls instantly flock towards the two ginormous guys. One guy in particular slides away from the group, craning his neck in several different directions as if trying to find an escape.
It's comical to watch. I didn't think brawny guys were supposed to be scared of little tiny girls vying for their attention. Then again, what did I know? None of these people were familiar to me.
“I'm with Brittney,” the guy who slid away from his giant friend announces. The other guy doesn't even bother to look at me.
And I only know he's talking about me because his eyes scanned my coffee cup I'm clenching in my hand.
“So,” the guy coughs as he lands next to me, “how are you?”
I blink at him. “I'm fine.” This guy is gorgeous in an understated kind of way. His hair is dark and kind of shaggy but not in a hippie-ish way that looks gross.
“Ian,” the guy holds out his mammoth hand for me to shake.
“Nice to meet you.”
“This is going to be hell,” Ian tells me. “Coach Stephens was supposed to teach this course and had to back out ‘cause of his wife needing him not so stressed.”
I stare at him for another moment. “I'm sorry,” I finally sigh, “but I have no idea who Coach Stephens is. Does he teach dance?”
Now it's Ian who stares at me in befuddlement. “You're kidding, aren't you?” He squints his eyes at him. “Oh dear God, you're serious. Coach Stephens is the head coach for the Hanson Hurricanes, the football team.” He gestures to himself. “My coach.”
Ah, at least him being ginormous finally makes sense.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“Uh, you're Ian,” I roll my eyes. “You're stuck in a class with a dance professor and you don't want to be. How am I doing so far?”
“Pretty good,” Ian chuckles.
“Why did you want to be my partner?” I ask before gesturing to the harem of girls still sitting close together. “Seems like they wouldn't have minded it.”
“True,” Ian sighs. “But then I'd have them talk my ear off about football or parties. You didn't come up to me.”
“Because I don't know you,” I point out.
Ian goes silent for a moment. “You know what,” he says, “I'm going to be your new friend. You have to be new here. I would remember seeing you around. You should come to this party tonight.”
Oh dear God, he must know Lila. Well, maybe not. Campus is fairly large even though it's in a small town. There's supposed to be a ton of guys on the football team anyways, so he could not know her.
“If you're not busy,” Ian adds.
“Thanks. I'll think about it.” Because really, I want to say no thanks like I should have done to Lila. But I know without a doubt that I'm going to wind up going to keep her company.
Ian stands up when I realize that everyone else is. “Cool. Well, I'll see you if you decide to come. Nice meeting you, Brittney.”
“You too,” I automatically reply before realizing what he called me. “Wait!” I holler after him, but Ian and his friend are gone. “That's not my name,” I mumble to myself.
Chapter Two
Alex
I turn to Ian and shove his shoulder in an exaggeration of anger before saying, “What do you mean you invited a girl to the party and didn't let me get a look at her first?”
Ian shakes his head. “Because then you would have drilled her with snide remarks about her ass.”
“She has a great ass?” I ask, now wishing I'd seen her.
“Dude,” Ian scowls at me, “you didn't even notice her in class.”
“I was a little busy making plans with Jessica,” I say before adding, “or Jenny or Jasmine. Pretty sure it was a J name. Either way, she said she was coming to the party.” I turn to stare at the front door like she might magically appear at the football fraternity house.
“You're hopeless,” Ian laughs. “I hope you find a girl to put up with that ego of yours soon.”
“Nah,” I tense my shoulders, “not interested in the whole relationship thing. Just
want to go easy with no strings attached.”
“So, your usual then?” Ian jokes.
“Yup. So what was this chicks name anyways?”
“Brittney,” Ian smiles. “She's new and pretty sure doesn't know a damn thing about football.”
“Ah, so the perfect girl for you then,” I smirk. Ian's been too gung-ho about wishing to meet someone who knew nothing about football so he had a fighting chance to charm her. Something about a wannabe Prince Charming.
“Maybe you need someone who doesn't know who you are,” Ian shrugs. “Isn't that the whole point anyways?”
“The whole point of what?”
“A relationship.”
I swear to God, it's like he doesn't even know me half the time. “I don't want a relationship. I literally just got done telling you that.”
“I chose to ignore it because it would be beneficial to you.”
Of course he thinks that. Ian doesn't party or hook up. He's missing all the opportunities that college has to offer.
“Shit, I think that's Brittney talking to Lila.” And with that final comment, Ian charges through the crowd like a man on a mission.
I lean a few inches to try and get a glimpse of this girl that's got him by the balls. She looks pretty from this distance with blonde hair, but I can't make out her face. She looks covered up compared to the other girls filling the living room.
Instead of the usual shorts and half-shirts, this Brittney girl is wearing jeans that flare out and a tank top. Way too modest to catch my eye.
So I turn around and scan the crowd for the girl with the J name to see if she's arrived.
It's about four hours later that I finally manage to find Ian again. He's holding two drinks while making a face at me.
“What?” I look down at myself. “Did I spill beer on me? I've only had two.”
Ian shakes his head.
“Then what's with the sour-puss face?”
“The girl I invited here?” Ian sighs heavily. “Turns out someone else invited her first so she couldn't hang out with me.”
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