The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  “Yeah, that’s the idea.”

  “I’m a therapist too,” I said with an anxious giggle. “Well, a couples therapist anyway.”

  “So you heal people, two at a time.” He winked with a bright smile.

  “Something like that.”

  “You work in this building?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you?”

  “No, just passing by on my way home from an appointment.” He secured the bandage gently on my knee. “Good as new.” He smiled. Then, the smile turned to puzzled recognition.

  “Were you at David and Rachel’s wedding?” he asked. I didn’t recognize him at first, but then it hit me like lightning. It was James, the best man. Then came another inspirational bolt of lightning. This was the guy. He was perfect! Cute, sweet, and a modern-day hero, at least in this scenario. I decided I might want to play up the damsel in distress role that I had been serendipitously placed into.

  “Yes! You’re David’s best man.” I smiled, this time, with all my teeth.

  “I’m James Young.” He stuck out his hand for a proper introduction, and I returned it.

  “I’m Marin Johns.” We stared into each other’s eyes, our handshake lingering a bit. The connection was made, and I knew instantly that my search was over.

  “Well James, it looks like I owe you one.”

  “Hmm, you can pay me back by letting me buy you an ice cream.” Ice cream! Isn’t he adorable?

  “Ice cream?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement.

  “Yeah, that’s what you do when you fall and hurt your knee. You get ice cream.”

  “Okay, sure. When do you want to go?” I couldn’t wait for this ice cream date.

  “How about right now?” I guess I wouldn’t have to wait.

  “If you insist,” I said with a modest smile and a coy tone. He stood and offered his hand.

  “I do.” The pain in my knee was dulled by the moment and all the promises of the encounter.

  We took the trolley to Baskin Robbins. Of the thirty-one flavors, I got strawberry cheesecake on a waffle cone and he chose plain chocolate. We enjoyed our cones in the warm, spring sun while we walked around a nearby park. It was a perfect random first date.

  “I can’t believe you got chocolate. It's called thirty-one flavors because there are thirty-one to choose from,” I said, nudging him a bit.

  “But chocolate is simple and classic. You know it’s always a good choice.”

  “Oh, I see. You're unadventurous,” I said with a smirk.

  He laughed. “Okay, Freud, let’s psychoanalyze you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters, how do you know David and Rachel?”

  “Rachel’s sister Holly is my best friend.”

  “Ah,” he uttered as if it all made sense.

  “Yeah, we all grew up together. Rachel’s like a little sister to me.”

  “So, you must be from San Jose?”

  “Yep. What about you? Where are you from?”

  “I’m from a small ranch town in Montana.” His tone was cautious, as if I’d judge him for it.

  “Really?”

  Which I did. Not in a negative way. This Montana ranch boy was just the horse I was looking for. I bet he grew up with strong family ideals about marriage. Catching him cheating would be like finding the proverbial Holy Grail.

  “Yeah. I also have two sisters, a horse named Kabob, and I was nineteen before I rode a rollercoaster.”

  “Wow,” I whispered. “And what did you think of the rollercoaster?”

  He stopped, and his eyes locked on mine. His smile was big and full of warmth. It was infectious and I felt my eyes sparkle back at him.

  “It was a great ride.” He turned to keep walking. “How's that strawberry cheesecake?” he asked.

  “It’s so good.”

  There I was with a bandage on my knee, an ice cream cone in my hand, and a handsome man of possibilities. What a crazy day.

  We finished our ice cream and engaged in light, fun conversation. James was completely different from Anderson. No smooth one-liners or attempts to take me home. He was relaxed, friendly, considerate, a complete gentleman. I spent most of the time observing him, the things he said, and how he interacted with me, trying to uncover even an ounce of liar, cheater, or mistreater. I couldn’t see any. It was in there somewhere, and in time I would reveal it. Then, I could prove, without a shred of doubt, that all men were liars and cheaters.

  In the middle of him talking about his college experience with David, I remembered Holly.

  “What time is it?” I said.

  He looked down at his watch, “Six-thirty.” Uh oh.

  “I have to go. Holly leaves for Thailand in thirty minutes,” I said with haste.

  “Can I call you sometime?” he asked. I rummaged through my oversized bag and found a business card.

  “Thanks for everything. You really saved the day,” I handed him the card. He smiled.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I hurried out of the park and hopped on the nearest trolley toward Holly’s neighborhood before stopping by a local drug store to pick up a going away gift of mosquito repellent and sunscreen. A little impersonal, but I knew she would appreciate it. My knee and feet were sore as I rushed to Holly’s on foot. The cab was parked outside and Holly loaded her suitcases into the car.

  “Holly!” I yelled still a fair distance away. She looked over and waved.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I got here as fast as I could,” I said, panting and trying to catch my breath.

  “What happened to your knee?”

  “I fell. You know how graceful I am.”

  She laughed. “Oh, yeah, I’ll never forget the time you broke your arm when we were nine. Do you remember?”

  “How could I forget? I wore a cast for two months and you drew a big green peace sign that said, peace, love and—”

  “Best friends,” Holly finished and her eyes started to water. In that moment, it was like we were little girls again. It felt like one of us was going on a family vacation without the other for a week. When you’re a kid, a week feels like forever and when you’re an adult, six months feels like forever too.

  “Oh, before I forget here’s your farewell gift.” I handed her the repellent and sunscreen.

  She smirked. “Nice. I’m gonna need it.”

  I brought her in for a big hug. “Be safe out there.”

  “I will.”

  She kissed my cheek and said, “I have to go.” She walked to the cab, but stopped before she got inside.

  “Hey, Marin,” she called.

  “Yeah?”

  “I know that you’re going through a lot right now and you’re searching for answers. But you’re not going to find what you’re looking for on this pursuit of yours.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying if you go looking for trouble, you’re going to find it.” My smile frowned. I didn’t know what to say. “What I mean is let it go, Marin.”

  Holly rarely advised me on anything. That was usually my job. She always played the role of the supporter. Whatever decision I made she was behind it simply on best friend principle. Needless to say her opposition was unusual, and a little part of me wanted to heed her advice. I could sense my cognitive dissonance, but the larger part of me wanted justice.

  “I don’t think I can.” I looked into her eyes knowing that she was leaving, but needing to stand my ground.

  “Then you’ll only get hurt again. Trust me on this one, okay?”

  I stood there silent for a second.

  “Okay?” she said.

  “Okay,” I said, but I had already made up my mind. We exchanged reassuring smiles before she closed the door. I watched the cab drive away until it was far enough ahead that I couldn’t see it any longer. On my own cab ride home, I quietly reflected on the bittersweet Monday. Anderson and I were done, Holly would be gone for six months, and
already I had met someone new. I let out a sigh of relief, thankful that the day was finally over.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Zen and the Art of Fictitious Dating

  The eastern sun poked through my curtains. My scraped knee ached a dull pain. I immediately recalled Anderson’s astonished face when I introduced myself as his new therapist. It was the same look that Chad had given me when I caught him. Why would someone put themself in that situation if getting caught was so troubling? It would have to be a pretty damn good reason. Then, I remembered men’s typical tendency to be impulsive, placing themselves in dangerous situations that were absolutely idiotic. Cheating is just one of them.

  I thought about James and the look in his eyes when he told me about the rollercoaster. He seemed so honest, so genuine. But after everything that happened and all the information I was acquiring, I knew he was just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  Katie walked in my office as soon as I sat at my desk.

  “How’d everything go yesterday?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I said with a reassuring smile.

  “Good. Thanks again for your help,” she said and walked out of my office.

  “Anytime,” I called after her.

  After work, I looked forward to a restful evening at home. My phone rang as I left through the revolving doors. The memory of falling flashed back, and I wondered if it was James calling. That would be kinda freaky. When I was safely outside I looked in my purse to retrieve my phone. It was Telly.

  “Hello?”

  “What-up, sucka!” she said in an exaggerated man voice.

  “Just left work. What are you up to tonight?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You wanna come over for some Chinese and a movie?”

  “Yeah, sounds great. Hey, can I tell you something?” Her voice quieted as if she were hiding a secret.

  “Yeah.”

  “We got a new associate at the firm and he is super hot. I think I love him.” Telly said this about every hot guy she encountered.

  “Oh, yeah, what’s his name?” I said with a sarcastic chuckle.

  “Zack.” She giggled.

  “A normal name for once?” Telly often dated guys with names like Grayson, Cohen, and Shad. Seriously, Shad.

  “Not exactly,” she said, slowing her words.

  “What do you mean? Is it spelled with a silent F?”

  “His last name is Morris.” I immediately bellowed a huge laugh.

  “His name is Zack Morris?” I blurted the words loudly, forgetting I was in public. “Like Saved By The Bell Zack Morris?”

  “Yep,” she said.

  “Remember the episode when Jessie was taking speed?” I said, picturing the scene as if I had just watched the show that was so beloved in our childhood.

  Telly started singing “I’m So Excited”, then let out a fake, dramatic cry. We laughed and joked about it until I reached the restaurant. It wasn’t long before I was unpacking the hot Chinese food in my kitchen and waiting for Telly to arrive with the movie.

  Knock, knock. I hurried over to let Telly in. She followed me inside. “Okay, so I know we were going to watch that new Denzel thriller, but I thought this was more appropriate.” She quickly whipped out an old copy of Wedding in Las Vegas. I snatched it from her in disbelief.

  “Oh, no you di’nt,” I said in my best Queens accent.

  “Oh, yes I did,” she mimicked.

  “Oh, my God, where did you find this?”

  “It’s a secret,” she said, looking through the white greasy cartons of food while I served it on little plates. We shoved noodles in our mouths with chopsticks and watched while Zack and Kelly battled one fiasco after another.

  “So, what’s going on with Anderson? Any news?” she asked.

  “Yeah, about that,” I said. Her brows rose in concern. “Yesterday I took this last minute appointment at work and guess who was sitting in my waiting room?”

  Telly’s eyes widened. “No,” she gasped.

  “Yep, Anderson and his girlfriend.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I was completely professional,” I said with a hint of arrogance. Telly stared at me, lips pursed. “Okay, I was mostly professional.”

  “Mostly professional?”

  “Okay, fine. I screwed with him a little. He deserved it,” I said throwing my chopsticks on the coffee table.

  “Damn right, I would have slapped the shit out of him,” she said.

  “I’m pretty sure his girlfriend took care of that for me.”

  “Really?” she said, surprised. “I thought you might have gotten into a brawl with her by looking at your knee. What happened?”

  For a moment, I considered telling her about James, but decided to keep it quiet. I wanted to see if it became anything first. Even though I knew it was inevitable, being cheated on by two men in a matter of weeks was a little defeating.

  “I tripped when I was running yesterday.” She gave me a sympathetic face.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Not sure,” I replied. “I’ll find someone else.”

  Telly left shortly after our chat, and while I was washing the dishes I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Marin?” a male voice asked on the other line.

  “Yes, this is Marin.”

  “Hi, this is James from yesterday.” My heart leaped and I hushed the kitchen faucet.

  “Hi, how are you?”

  “I’m good. How about you? How’s your knee?” I looked down at my bruised and scabbed skin.

  “It’s doing fine.”

  “That’s good. Listen, if you’re not doing anything this Friday night, maybe we can grab dinner.” He sounded a little nervous. It was kind of cute.

  “Okay, sounds fun.” I tried to sound casual, not too excited.

  “Do you like sushi?” he asked and I grimaced.

  “Um, actually I’m kind of sick of sushi. Could we go for Mexican?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I regretted them. Mexican food on a first date! I’d probably be bloated and gassy before we left the restaurant.

  “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll call you Friday then,” he said.

  “Okay, talk to you then.” I hung up and sighed. Another Friday night date. Fear settled in, and I tried to remember if James brought a date to the wedding. I didn’t know if I could take an Anderson repeat. Then again, I guess that was the chance everyone took when meeting someone new.

  James called again early Friday to confirm our date at a restaurant called Colibri Mexican Bistro. I dressed in a short, form fitting black dress with a high neckline and a matching belt. My hair pinned back on one side, letting my side swept bangs fall. I felt sexy, but very tasteful.

  James was waiting outside when I arrived at Colibri. He wore dark pants and a buttoned up shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing his muscular forearms, and he wore it well.

  His smile seemed to grow with every step forward I took.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said.

  “I am.” He led me into the restaurant and we were seated right away.

  “Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” I said.

  “The pleasure’s all mine.”

  We looked over the menu while chatting about how nice the weather had been and sipping our drinks, a mojito for me and a draft Corona for him. The conversation slowed to an awkward silence. I got the impression he was nervous, which gave me a boost of confidence.

  “So, tell me, why did you decide to become a physical therapist?” I asked.

  “I played sports my whole life and was offered a full scholarship to play for the Golden Bears at Berkeley. Then, in my second semester, I injured my knee during a game. I couldn’t play for four months and had to have physical therapy. By then the team had replaced me and I wasn’t able to come back. I wanted to stay at Berkeley, and I was really inspired by my physical therapist. That’s when I decided to change my m
ajor from Economics to Sports Medicine, and here I am.”

  “That’s too bad about your knee. Did you get to keep your scholarship?”

  “Yeah, a partial scholarship.”

  “How’s your knee now?” I asked.

  “Not bad. It gives me trouble every now and then, but for the most part it works great. How’s your knee?” At first I wasn’t sure how he knew about my knee injury, then I remembered he was talking about the scrape that prompted our meeting.

  “It’s healing nicely, thanks to you.” We smiled at each other and he let out a little laugh. “I know about bad knees. My right one was injured during a marathon a couple years ago. I used to run the US Half Marathon every year, but I haven’t run it since.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” he said.

  “Well, I’ve been training again. I think I’ll be able to run it this fall.”

  “That’s good. I guess it’s a good thing you fell on your left knee, huh?” he said.

  “Yeah.” I smiled.

  “I’d be happy to help you train. You know, make sure you don’t put additional stress on your knee.” His offer was kind and genuine.

  “That would be great. Thank you,” I smiled at the thought of having a professional help with my knee and that he offered to spend more time with me. Things were looking good with James. “Are you gonna charge my insurance for your services?” I asked.

  He smiled. “No, you can be my charity case.”

  “Hey!” I said, but he just laughed. It was a warm laugh, not arrogant like Anderson’s or obnoxious like Chad’s. His was the kind of timeless laugh that would sound just as vibrant in his nineties as it did in his thirties.

  “So, what about you? Why’d you become a counselor?” he asked.

  “Well, my father is an oncologist, and so my brother and I were groomed to go to medical school. Michael, my brother, was first in his class and now he conducts cancer research at Berkeley. Me, on the other hand, I quit after my first year of med school. I couldn’t take the blood and needles and tubes. I took the summer to think about what I wanted to do, what I believed in. That’s when I decided on therapy. My father was disappointed, of course. So I moved to Boston for grad school, got an internship here, and I’ve been living here ever since. It worked out, because I love what I do.”