This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product’s of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Alexandria Bishop
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer quoting brief passages for review purposes only.
Cover Design by Bad Star Media
Cover Photographer: Meg Bishop Photography
Model: Joshua Sean McCann
Edited by Mary Cain and Erica Ellis
Proofread by Indie Solutions
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
Playlists
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Coming Early 2016
Preview of To the Steadfast by Briana Gaitan
To my amazing family for being my number one supporters.
I couldn’t have done this without you!
“He is of a very melancholy disposition.”
-William Shakespeare
Much Ado About Nothing
Chapter 1
Ashtyn
With my summer from hell playlist blaring in my ears, my anger slowly starts to fade away. I’ve been walking for what seems like hours but is probably closer to one. I still can’t get the argument I had with Mom out of my head.
“Before we eat, I want to have that conversation with you.”
I eye the Chinese food laid out in front of me. “Okay, whatever you say, Mom.”
Avoiding eye contact with me she says, “Ashtyn, I know I told you your dad and sister would be delayed joining us. Her gymnastics audition went really well and she made the team.”
“So what does that mean?”
“They won’t be joining us.”
I whip my head in her direction. I stare with my mouth hanging completely open and my eyes so wide they feel like they’re going to fall out of my head. They won’t be joining us? This has to be some kind of joke. A family vacation isn’t a family vacation without the whole family. I try to tell her just that but she beats me to it.
Putting her hands up, she stops me before I even start talking. “Let me get this out without you interrupting me. This isn’t easy to tell you. If there’s anything I’ve left out, I’ll answer any questions you have when I’m done. Okay?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, Mom, just tell me what’s going on.”
“My marriage with your father hasn’t been working for quite some time, as you probably already know. We aren’t exactly quiet when we fight. Mr. Wilson gave me an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Your father and I agreed it made sense for me to take it. You and I have always had a very close relationship, just like your sister and father have. Although it wasn’t the best way of going about it, I need you here with me. You’re my rock, Ashtyn.”
I can’t even understand what she’s saying right now. She got a promotion at work so she figured the best thing to do would be abandon her family and drag me along for the ride? Who does that?
“Mr. Wilson was kind enough to let us live in his vacation home, rent-free, while I oversee the opening of our new studio up here. He’s made many connections in the area and an expansion here just seemed like the right idea. After I get the recording studio up and running, I will be managing it. This job came with a very nice bonus and raise. We can live here indefinitely, if we want to. Even after the short amount of time we’ve been in this house, you have to agree it would be a great place to live. With all the money I’ll be saving on rent, I can buy you the car you’ve been bugging me about. So that’s everything. You can talk now.”
I’m fuming. My jaw is clenched, my hands are balled into tight fists, and any composure I had before slips away. She’d tricked me, and now she was trying to bribe me as well? This is an all-time low, especially for her.
It was one thing when this was just a family vacation. Now I’m being forced into spending my senior year, my last year of high school, here?
There’s no way she’s doing this to me. Who does this to their own child?
“Are you kidding me? You’re running away from our family and dragging me along with you? Then, the cherry topping off this fucked up sundae is that you are bribing me with a car so I’ll stay with you and not get mad. Does that about sum it up?”
“Honey, you’re mad but—”
“Mad? Mad doesn’t even cover it! I’m fucking livid! I can’t even look at you right now I’m so pissed off! I’m out of here!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Why don’t we talk about this?”
I had to get out of there at that point. I left and just kept walking. The whole situation is laughable. I saw the divorce coming but not this. All this wandering and I find myself in the middle of downtown. Live music drifts to me from a few doors down. A nice, loud environment will keep me out of my head, drowning all of my thoughts away.
Let’s see if the bars in Ashland can come close to the ones back home in Santa Barbara.
I step into the bar and realize that my sweat pants and Converse don’t quite fit into the Irish pub atmosphere; I stick out like a nun in a strip club. I’m way too hungry and way too angry to care about these people’s opinions. Luckily, no one even turns in my direction.
All of their attention is fixed on the stage.
I find where the live music is coming from and get a better look at the guy performing. There’s a teeny stage pushed back in the far corner. He’s alone up there and performing an acoustic version of All Time Low’s “Somewhere in Neverland.” He has more of a gravelly voice than Alex Gaskarth, but it’s still sexy as hell.
If Alex isn’t available to me, I will gladly take this guy in his place. The song is one of my favorites and pretty fitting for my current mood. If he wants to be my Peter Pan, I won’t think twice about running away to Neverland or anywhere else with him, just as long as it’s far away from here.
Obvious fan girls are cheering and dancing right up against the stage. I guess trashy groupies look the same no matter where you go—lack of clothing and plenty of fuck-me heels to go around.
They’re all vying to be the next notch in his bedpost and it’s kind of pathetic, even if he is smoking hot. Although, I’m not much better, imagining the dirty words his husky voice would whisper into my ears.
He hops off the stage, making his way over to the bar and pushing his way through all of his groupies as they hang off of him. Surprisingly, he continues behind the bar. Apparently, he’s a man of many talents.
Claiming one of the bar stools as my own, I wait for him to make his way down to me. This guy is hot. Like scorching hot. I could tell while he was onstage, but now that he’s closer, it’s obvious why he has all the groupies. He’s obviously talented but they probably couldn’t care less about that.
His rich chocolate brown hair is styled up into a faux hawk, and he has a sleeve tattoo down his right arm. It’s hard to tell from this distance
what his tattoo is, but I can make out the sun. He has small gauges in his ears, not like some of the massive ones that some dudes wear. They’re sexy on him, as is his lip piercing. I’m sure I’m not the first girl to have thoughts about nibbling on it. He exudes confidence, which most likely stems from the attention from the band sluts.
He isn’t tall but not too short either. I’m guessing my head would fall right about at his shoulder, maybe a little over, which is perfect since I’m on the short side. I would fit nice and snuggly under his arm.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
This is some random bartender and I don’t need to be imagining how perfectly our bodies will fit together. The last thing I need is to find a new boyfriend while I’m here. As soon as Mom gets her shit together, I’m on the next plane out of here. Running away from your problems is not the answer.
The bartender is making drinks and shamelessly flirting with the bitches that were all over him just moments before. I try not to make my staring obvious but apparently I’m not being as discreet as I thought because his attention soon moves toward me. He has gorgeous emerald green eyes that I can’t turn away from. We stay in a staring contest and it makes me feel like he’s looking straight into my soul. Making his way down the bar toward me, he looks me up and down with a slight smirk that shoots a spark of electricity through my body and down to my toes.
“Are you sure you walked into the right place, babe? I’m pretty sure this isn’t your scene.”
Ugh, asshole much? The weird trance breaks and I kind of shake my head. I act unfazed, although he voices my earlier concern.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m capable of taking care of myself. Since you’re behind the bar and it’s your job to serve me, I would like a burger and a beer.”
Without even asking for my ID, bartender hottie replies, “At least you know how to eat. If you had asked me for a salad, I would have told you that you’re in the wrong place. Since you ordered real food, though, I’ll bring that right out to you, princess.” Winking, he turns away to put my order in.
Why do the hot ones always have to be assholes? Thinking they are God’s gift to the planet and we should bow down in their presence. I can’t help myself, though, and I continue to steal glances at him. He has a Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles thing going for him and it’s starting to break down my walls.
I vowed to never have a one-night stand but maybe Chloe’s right. Everyone should have at least one in their life. He’s rougher around the edges than Jake with his piercings and tattoos. Jake had more of a preppy clean-cut vibe and this guy is all bad boy. I find him staring right back at me. It shocks and embarrasses me but I can’t break the connection. I’m mesmerized by those piercing green eyes again. Apparently, his eyes are my kryptonite.
He walks back over to me with my food and places a drink in front of me. I take a drink and the cold, bubbly, sweet liquid slides down my throat. I let out a sigh. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a Shirley Temple. It’s delicious, but I still have to give him shit for screwing up my drink order.
Channeling my best friend, Chloe, I give him the ultimate bitch face. “Um, I’m pretty sure I ordered a beer not a Shirley Temple.”
Secretly, I would much rather drink the Shirley Temple. Beer is nasty. But it seemed like a good idea with the whole being-in-a-pub thing. It was either a beer or whiskey and that wasn’t happening. I had a Jack and Coke at a party one time before I was smart enough to stick to vodka and it tasted like someone had peed in my Coke.
So gross.
Jake—his name until I find out what it really is—smirks at me again. “Babe, I don’t even have to check your ID. You aren’t twenty-one.”
I contemplate handing over my fake ID but change my mind. This guy would be able to tell, even though it’s out of state. I bet he isn’t much older than me and probably had a fake ID or two when he was my age. Besides, it’s been years since I’ve had a Shirley Temple and I forgot how good they taste. Acting bored, I wave him off and give him a whatever response.
With his brow wrinkled, he asks, “Who’s Jake?”
Did this guy just read my thoughts? Totally creepy. Trying to not give myself away, I just feign ignorance. “Um, what?”
“You called me Jake. So who’s Jake?”
Shit.
I said that out loud? It’s not worth my energy to lie, so I just tell him the truth.
“Oh, I didn’t realize I said that out loud. You kind of remind me of Jake Ryan, the character Michael Schoeffling played in the movie Sixteen Candles. You know, before he ran off from Hollywood and disappeared somewhere in the northeast where rumor has it he now makes and sells furniture. Which is just as sexy, by the way, but that is beside the point. Since I don’t know your name and you aren’t wearing a name tag, I named you Jake. But now that I’m looking at you more closely, you don’t look much like Jake after all. Maybe it was just the dark hair and light-colored eyes.”
Ugh, when did I start rambling? This guy turns me into a different person. I’m all nervous and blushy. That shit never happens to me. He has the sexiest smirk on his face. I’m not sure how to react to that.
“So what else were you thinking about me?”
And with that, my entire face and neck heat up and turn bright red. Never in my life has a guy embarrassed me. It has always been the other way around. But I can’t even count how many times I have blushed already in this guy’s presence. Suddenly, my mind is blank. I waste time and take a long drink of my Shirley Temple. I compose myself and muster up my sexiest laugh.
“The acoustic version of ‘Somewhere in Neverland’ that All Time Low does is much better than the performance you just put on. The violins add a little something to it, don’t you agree? And about the other thing, don’t be so full of yourself. It was an observation. Nothing more to it.”
Acting genuinely surprised, he asks, “Huh, you know who All Time Low is? I wouldn’t have guessed that one. Oh, and by the way, my name is Flynn but continue to call me Jake if you prefer.”
“Who doesn’t know who All Time Low is? They’re only my favorite band. I’ll tell you, if you want to have a fun and hilarious night, play Cards Against Humanity with those guys. Seriously, the best night of my life.”
“I gotta tell you, I’m not usually shocked, but you’re surprising me more and more, pretty girl.”
“Thanks, I think? I guess I should tell you my name is Ashtyn but pretty girl works too.”
I’m not sure about this guy. Never have I felt this kind of reaction toward someone else before, and I’m curious to find out what makes him so special. If my body reacts this way toward him while we’re talking and clothed, I can’t imagine what it would do if we physically came in contact with each other. He looks like the kind of guy that knows what he’s doing. Not at all like the boys back home that are only in it for themselves.
Don’t they know that girls talk?
As I eat my burger—which is the best burger I’ve ever eaten before, and I eat In-N-Out all the time—my gaze drifts to Flynn as he continues to flirt and make drinks for other people. He doesn’t get back on stage, which disappoints me. I finish my food and decide it’s time for me to leave anyway.
I reach down to grab my purse—which isn’t there. In my haste to leave the house, I hadn’t brought anything with me besides my phone and earbuds. Suddenly in freak-out mode, I’m not sure what I should do. If I dine and dash, my guess is someone would catch me. This is a pretty small pub and I bet I’m the only outsider in the room. That isn’t an option. I could call my mom and have her come down here with some money, but I’d rather get caught dining and dashing than talk to her again tonight. Unsure what I should do, I just sit there contemplating.
“Refill?”
I jump, unaware he was standing there. Should I tell him the predicament I’m in? Honestly, the worst thing that could happen is he laughs in my face, and I have to call my mom. Either that or he could make me do dis
hes. Is that something that happens in real life? Or is it just something that happens in the movies? I don’t know but I figure I could give it a shot.
“No, thanks, I don’t need another one. I’m actually done. But…umm…I kind of have a problem.”
I’m surprised when his face shows legitimate concern. “Oh, what’s the problem?”
I try to avoid his face but ultimately my eyes make it back to his. This is humiliating. My eyes drop back to my feet before I admit, “I don’t know how to say this but my mom and I got into a huge fight earlier. I went for a walk to blow off steam. Since I hadn’t eaten all day I stopped in here for some food.”
I look up at him as he waits for me to continue. I don’t get embarrassed easily but even my normal self would be flustered in a situation like this.
“The problem is, I left the house so quickly, I forgot to grab my purse. I already had my phone on me so I didn’t even think twice about it until I reached down for my purse just now. I can call my mom to bring me some money, but I don’t want to talk with her right now.”
“Well, I can think of a way for you to work off your dinner.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Are you going to make me do dishes or something gross like that?”
“Nope, no dishes.”
“Okay, then what?”
He just gives me another one of those panty-dropping grins, and I immediately figure out where his mind went.
“Gross! I’m not a prostitute. I won’t have sex with you to pay for a ten dollar burger.”
I may have yelled that a little too loudly because I get a few looks from the people around us. I choose to ignore them because if I start to pay attention, I’ll become even more embarrassed. He leans over and busts up laughing. He has the sexiest laugh, very gravelly and husky like his singing voice. I’m not sure why he finds this so funny. He’s being a pig and that’s not the way he’ll get me into his bed.
“I’m sorry but that was hilarious. Get your mind out of the gutter. I get off work in about an hour so if you want to hang around and then hang out with me afterward, I’ll pay for your food.”
Finding Flynn Page 1