Table of Contents
Title Page
©2017 Deana Farrady
ABOUT THIS BOOK
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
Deleted Scenes
Deleted Scene A
Deleted Scene B
UNFRIENDED
A Geek and Stud Romance
Deana Farrady
©2017 Deana Farrady
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any character's resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental. Any references to familiar people, locations, events, or products are used exclusively to make the fictional world look authentic, and not to claim any association with, permission by, or endorsement of those people, locations, events or products. No part of this publication may be copied or distributed in any form or in any way without the author's prior written permission.
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Charis
Asher Norrell is my dream man—hot, brilliant, and charming, every big, strapping inch of him.
Too bad he thinks of me as a platonic buddy.
I mean, I get it. I'm no femme fatale. Nope, I'm the tomboy who shoots hoops with the guys, not the love bunny who sits on their laps.
But, oh, well. I guess it's all for the best. Because I just got engaged. Even if the marriage won't be quite…the usual kind.
I just wonder if Asher will be pissed when he finds out who my fiancé is.
Asher
On the surface things are perfect.
I'm sailing through college, I'm already successful in my field, I've got a beautiful girlfriend, and life is sweet.
To top it off, I have the best f*cking friend in the world in Charis Sloane, doctoral student, gamer, and honorary family member from way back. Sure, she's a geek, but so am I under all these muscles.
She and I connect via brainwaves. I don't need my bestie to be a girly-girl; I already have one of those to warm my bed. The important thing is, I have Charis's back and she has mine.
Good thing, too, because below the surface? My life isn't nearly as awesome as it looks.
Then Charis tells me she's getting married to…to…
Pissed? Right, try livid.
Now I have to stop her, or we'll miss our last chance to make right what should have happened long ago.
Us.
CHAPTER 1
Asher
SOMETIMES IN LIFE, YOU MAKE a mistake so big there's no coming back from it, not ever, not even if you get down on your knees and beg.
You want to try. You might anyway, being that desperate. But you can't.
Even if you're used to getting what you want 99.99 percent of the time, it turns out there is such a thing as too late.
I found that out today.
"Ash," Charis slurred against my chest, "there's something important I need to tell you."
And there it was. That moment.
Right then, with my best friend in the world slumped against my arm, her sweet, warm body trying to mesh into mine—that's when I finally saw the scale of my incredibly stupid, epically epic mistake.
I don't make a lot of them. Seriously, I'm kind of a charmed devil. When I do occasionally screw up—say, time traffic wrong so I'm late for a dinner date—it's no biggie. Win some, lose some.
But this one…it's not your common little misstep. No, my current goof was a fucking ginormous error of judgment that assured me I was about to be severely punished—smoked like Erysichthon, that poor bastard doomed to suffer endless hunger for disrespecting a holy tree.
Swear to God, I'd rather not know shit like that. I've got bucketfuls of pointless trivia stored in my brain. Greek myths, Latin roots, Archimedes's messy bathing habits, you name it, it's Charis's fault. Char's always getting into obscure topics and sharing irrelevant facts with me. She's kind of adorable to listen to.
And to hang with.
And to watch.
And….
Aaaaand, back to the mistake. The mistake for which I was about to be punished. Punished to the pain, like the foul-assed Count Rugen in The Princess Bride.
And the worst part?
I did it to myself.
I'll just say that again. To. Myself.
I'm not talking about one of my older sibs getting one over on me. No, turns out I was the asinine individual who took a big old dull-headed screwdriver branded Norrell and stabbed myself in the gut—the heart—and twisted. Screwing myself.
Most people will tell you I'm usually not quite that idiotic. You know, what with my full-ride scholarship and dual major in Earth Sciences and Electrical Engineering. Listen, I'm building devices that can monitor weather patterns in light of planting and harvest sequences. Not only that, they automate the tracking of agricultural prices in areas as diverse as production, distribution, and investment, providing useful, one-stop relational data to everyone involved in agriculture worldwide from the farmers to the—
Wait, okay, I know. Not relevant. The point is, I have a 3.86 overall college GPA , three patents plus two pending, and my own LLC that's already turning a dizzying profit—the kind of profit that makes it a tossup as to whether I should actually bother to graduate this year.
I'm the guy who sees what he wants and goes after it. Everyone told me to sit on my inventions as some kind of cagey investment strategy. But why sit when I could invest the profit from selling off the games I'd co-written with my brother Doug to Funiverce Systems right back into my business?
That's what I did. And in the process, made farming a more efficient industry. Saving farmers money. Saving you, the consumer, money. If you eat wheat, lentils, canola oil, potatoes, garbanzos, or onions, you've benefited from my tracker.
Meaning?
Meaning I managed to turn my brain power into financial power before I even hit 23.
Not an idiot so far, right?
But forget all that fancy shit. You might chalk my success down to luck and working my connections. I'd dispute that, I'd say I work hard, but whatever.
From way back, I've got street savvy. Comes from spending my early years in Detroit, before my parents packed us all up to move closer to Dad's family in greater New Highland, Washington. You're probably thinking, New Highland, posh tech city, right? Nah. Out here on the east side of the state, whatever's not urban is rolling farmland. Where I live now isn't rough, but you learn a thing or two when you grow to manhood with two brothers, three sisters and a pack of exuberant cousins from the sticks.
You might say I'm blessed with the four big advantages we Norrells like to pride ourselves on: Brain smarts. People smarts. Street sense. Common sense.
So I damn well have no excuse for Charis.
Wait, let me
back up and revise that. We guys always have the perfect excuse for everything.
Our cocks.
My cock did it.
That's my excuse. My brutally stubborn cock took one look at Aura Renaldi, the most breathtaking freshman on the MCU campus, and said, that, that's what I need.
It turns out I did need it…but not the way I thought.
And because of that, because of my big, stupid lie, i.e., self-deception, i.e., the willful ignoring of my cock and my heart, I will always remember for the rest of my life Charis Sloane blurting out "I'm getting married" and passing out on my lap.
Oblivious to the fact that she'd just fucked my world.
CHAPTER 2
Asher
THE DAY I DISCOVERED MY DOOM actually started off on a good note.
My plane landed in New Highland International on time for once. Sure, I was a zombie after dealing with the flurry of post-holidays shitstorms happening with my company. I hadn't shaved in days. The last thing I'd eaten was airplane food, and the day before that, a liter of Coke. I looked and felt like shit.
I stood curbside waiting for my ride, shivering in my stylish wool coat without scarf or hat, because I'll be damned if I'll let my sisters and mother rule my winter wear along with my sock drawer. (Thanks to the women in my family and their gifting habits, I now own a little over a gross, yes, I do mean 144, pairs of socks.)
But hey, at least I was back home. I was looking forward to dropping onto a warm bed with a warm, naked body curled up against my back. Or I could curl up against hers; that would work, too. The essence here was soft tits against my back or a round ass against my cock. And sleep. Let's not forget sleep.
And following sleep, fucking. And maybe I'd study for finals if I felt like it. Yes, things were looking up.
A group of teenage girls walked by. They eyed me, obviously having no objection to dudes that look like shit.
I dismissed them as too young. Also, of course, I was not available, being in a committed relationship. There was only one woman I'd consider lying naked with. I'm not one of those loser cheating boyfriends. If my cock rises for any woman other than my girlfriend, I ignore it as a general policy. I'm a fucking saint, if I do say so myself.
Speaking of Aura, where the hell was she?
I took out my phone. Eighteen messages and texts, but nothing from my girlfriend. Scrolling through names, I paused.
Charis Sloane.
Damn. I wanted to call her. She'd be here in forty minutes, guaranteed. No matter what she was doing, my bestie would drop everything to pick me up if she knew I could use the lift. Mental lift, I mean. I can Uber the hell out of this town or even call a limo service or just flag down the nearest taxi.
But it was Sloane I was missing.
That's very wrong, by the way. I should be wanting to call Aura. My girlfriend. Except fuck if I could handle a conversation with her right now.
But I was on a Sloane ban. Calling her was not an option. So I called Aura.
"Hi, you," she said in her seductive timbre. "I was just thinking of you."
I love Aura's voice. I also love her hair (natural redhead), and body (curves so delicious you could sink into them for hours). Once upon a time, I loved her, too.
I hoped in the future I would again. I'm a realist, but also an optimist.
"Well, I'm here," I said.
"Here?"
"Back in town." Silence from her end, so I added, "From Arizona."
"Arizona?" She sounded confused.
"Yes, Arizona. Work trip, remember? I left last Saturday? Due back the day before finals? You drove me to the airport?"
"Oh, right, right…."
Okay, this was disturbing. I'd wrung eight eye-rolling orgasms out of her, cooked diet food for her, made an extra set of keys to my place for her, all in preparation for this trip.
"I'm so glad you called, Ash. I'm starting to wonder if I'll even pass the Bar. This quarter has been so stressful. What if…"
I stared at the phone, listening to her words, which made no sense to me, going from grades to paralegal stuff to fashion and spring sales and rude checkout clerks and other crap I gave not a shit about ever, and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, I interrupted her.
"Look, Aura, I'm at the airport. You said you'd be picking me up. Can you swing by now, please?"
"Oh, Ash, I wish I didn't have a paper to finish. And after this I have to stop and pick up my smoothie. I discovered my skin likes the coconut milk better than the goat milk."
"Right. Are you coming or not?"
"Isn't there a shuttle you can get? Oh, come meet me at the gym later. You will not believe how firm my thighs have gotten in just a week of intensive…"
I shoved the handle down on my carry-on, sat on it, and rubbed my jaw, then my eyes. It was a job to keep them open. Shit. I was more tired than I realized, swaying just sitting here, and I hadn't even had any booze on the plane.
"Aura, get in a fucking car and—" I changed my mind. "Never mind. I'll get myself home. Over and out."
I was pissed enough to flag down a passing taxi, my least favorite means of transport, seeing as they were all grungy and unreliable around here. By the time I got to my place, my mood had sunk low enough that I knew I wasn't getting to bed anytime soon.
I grabbed a bag of potato chips and sprawled out at the kitchen table, unmotivated even to take off my coat.
I then proceeded to brood over A) why I'd gotten involved with Aura Renaldi in the first place, and B) why I was still involved with her three years later.
The answer to A) was easy.
When I'd met her, Aura had everything a college freshman could want—stunning beauty, a complete absence of sexual inhibitions, and her own apartment off campus.
She also had a serene way about her (fake, it turned out). And she happened to be ambitious about getting her law degree early—ambitious like me. That's something in common, right?
Somewhere in this funk, energized by salt and calories, I shrugged out of my clothes and hopped in the shower. Once I'd scrubbed away the travel dirt I just stood there under the stream of hot water, letting it work on my stiff muscles, which were bitching at me from hours sitting on my ass—business class and its comforts notwithstanding.
By now I was on B)—the question of why Aura was still in my life after three long years.
The answers were not encouraging.
In order of frequency:
1) I didn't want the headache of the breakup fight.
2) She fucked like a dream. We fucked well together even if we were fighting. Especially when we were fighting. And I love to fuck. I need to fuck.
Related to that, let's call it 2)a, is her submissiveness. She likes to take orders, in and out of the bedroom. I like to take charge. Dominating a situation when everybody else is being a chicken shit is how I keep my life going in the direction I want.
This was actually a big one. Our excellent dynamic is why years ago when my brothers said, She's a manipulator, just look how she got Mama to move Easter to June and my sisters said, She's a user, she runs you ragged, and my buddy Joel said, She's a one-week wonder, bet you three hundred bucks she won't stick it out, I said they didn't understand and to fuck off.
Anyway, you get the idea. Sex with the girlfriend. Thumbs up.
3) I actually thought we might be able to work it out. Like, Aura might acquire a sense of humor. She might stop harping on me to go to med school. She might learn to play a video game for more than fifteen minutes at a time. She might stop interrupting my work whenever she felt like it, forcing me to rent office space miles away. I might learn to deal with all her messed-up emotional shit. I might relent and let her decorate my house. And she might get therapy.
As I said, I'm an optimist.
With a towel wrapped around my hips, I grabbed a soda from the fridge, not much liking where my thoughts were headed. I was guzzling it, wondering where my all my idealism had gone—yeah, I actually am by nature a romantic,
not that you'd know it these days—when the doorbell rang.
My first thought: Thank fuck it's Sloane, come to welcome me home.
Then: Where the hell had that thought come from? Of course it wasn't Sloane at the door. It couldn't be. I hadn't talked with, messaged, or in any way contacted Charis Sloane in a couple of months. She didn't even know I'd gone out of town.
That damn Sloane ban. It was killing me.
I forgot, you don't know about the ban.
Fuck, it's a long story. The gist is that I was trying to work things out with Aura. In the interests of that…no Sloane in my life. No anyone-but-Aura in fact. All my hanging-out time belonged to Aura.
Whatever else it did, the ban left me with one key takeaway. Aura Renaldi may be the woman I hoped to end up with eventually, but in no way, shape or form was she my other half.
All you have to do is tabulate the hours Charis Sloane and I have spent chilling together over the years and you'll see that honor goes to her.
Sloane isn't anything like Aura. She's on the level. What you see is what you get with that girl. A dose of her is like a cup of coffee. Essential to a good day. Without that daily dose of Sloan, I've been fucking lonely.
I missed my best friend—bad.
Damn. You know, I really thought that's all it was—missing my platonic best buddy. That, and maybe working too many long hours, was getting me down...
It just burns. When I think of all those years I went around without a clue, all because—
Shit. No excuses I can dream up can make up for wrecking the most important thing in my life. Pretty much any way you look at it, I'm a certified stupid fucking idiot.
But where was I? Oh, yeah, the doorbell. It rang while I was stewing over the fuckup that is my relationship with Aura.
I thought it was Sloane ringing my bell.
But it wasn't Sloane at my front door.
Unfriended: A Geek and Stud Romance (Love in New Highland Book 1) Page 1