An Unexpected Hunger

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An Unexpected Hunger Page 1

by Rosa, C.




  An Unexpected Hunger

  An Unexpected Hunger

  By

  C. Rosa

  Copyright© 2013 by C. Rosa

  All Rights Reserved

  www.crosabooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination, have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author.

  For Liv

  Contents

  Chapter 1-The Return

  Chapter 2-The Re-introduction

  Chapter 3-The Job

  Chapter 4-The First Day

  Chapter 5-Home Alone

  Chapter 6-Drawing the Line

  Chapter 7-The Confessions

  Chapter 8-Ethan

  Chapter 9-The Beach

  Chapter 10-Out of Control

  Chapter 11-The Call

  Chapter 12-The Date

  Chapter 13-The Letter

  Chapter 14-Night Out

  Chapter 15-Blindsided

  Chapter 16-The Aftermath

  Chapter 17-Second Chance

  Chapter 18-Fear Not

  Chapter 19-Picking Up

  Chapter 20-First Date

  Chapter 21-Everything’s Fine

  Chapter 22-The Visit

  Chapter 23-Make a Choice

  Chapter 24-Letting Go

  Chapter 25-Moving On

  Chapter 26-The Announcement

  Chapter 27-NYC

  Chapter 28-First Kiss

  Chapter 29-Alone

  Chapter 30-Two Can Play

  Chapter 31-Down that Road

  Chapter 32-Waking Up

  Chapter 33-Together

  Chapter 34-Birthday

  Chapter 35-Empty House

  Chapter 36-Ask yourself

  Chapter 37-Home Again

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  The Return

  THE MINUTE I STEPPED off the plane, I felt the effects of the sedative I took earlier wear off. I hated flying and dreaded being confined to a giant airborne metal box. Just over four hours in an airplane and I could feel my anxiety making a slow crawl over my body. My heart pumped through my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. It skipped beat after beat, thumping uncomfortably each time it did, making it hard to keep my breathing even. I was relieved to be so far away from California but even more nervous to be back home.

  I waited as the luggage carousal spun agonizingly slow, hoping to see my suitcase appear out of the magical hole in the wall. An announcement blared through the loudspeaker; English first, and then Spanish. My stomach growled with nausea, and my bladder was so full it felt like a rock in my groin. I looked at my watch, the big hand just about pointing to the twelve and the little hand nudging towards the five.

  I watched in a trance as the suitcases glided by until mine finally made an appearance. My eyes followed the green ribbon I wrapped around the handle, and I waited for just the right moment as it approached me. One suitcase and a carry-on, holding everything I owned.

  I fumbled with the large piece of luggage so full it looked like it was giving birth to another piece of luggage.

  “Here…let me help you with that,” a deep voice said.

  “No thanks,” I answered, not bothering to look up. “I got it.” I gave the suitcase one good pull and finally managed to free it from the conveyer belt. I pulled the handle up and plopped my carry-on on top.

  I blew the loose hair from my ponytail out of my face and heard the man who offered to help me chuckle. I finally looked up at him.

  He was attractive, probably in his early twenties like me. No tattoos, that I could see, and his hair was carefully parted on one side and smoothed back. He looked oddly familiar and seemed like someone my mother would have hand-picked for me out of a line-up of acceptable suitors.

  He flashed me a wide smile, and I offered him a lame grin in return. He opened his mouth to say more, but I didn’t give him the chance. I gave my suitcase a kick to set it on its wheels and walked away as fast as I could, never looking back.

  I passed by the restrooms and thought about running in and using the bathroom. I watched a few women pile in before me and decided to skip it. Hopefully, my mother would be here to pick me up.

  When I finally reached the pick-up area of the airport the heat hit me like a cast-iron frying pan. I slipped off my thin denim jacket and flopped it on top of the handlebars. Philadelphia International Airport, the last stop between where I had been and where I was going.

  The platform was crowded with loads of foreigners speaking languages I didn’t understand, pushing their way past me. I looked for mom, hoping she was actually on time for once in her life but didn’t see her car anywhere. I took a couple of deep breaths, hoping my anxiety didn’t come rushing at me like some crazed axe murderer.

  I hated feeling so out of control. Each day, I thought I had overcome the shame I felt from that disastrous night, only to be proven wrong. I fanned my arms, hoping to cool the sweat pouring from under them. My cheeks burned from the heat of the sun, and I checked my cell phone to see if she called.

  “Alexa!” My mom came trotting over, waving her arms in the air like she was flagging down a plane. “Alexa, honey!”

  She came barreling towards me, both arms outstretched. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “I took the wrong exit after the bridge.”

  “It’s okay,” I muttered as she wrapped her arms around me. She smelled like the Chanel No. 5 perfume she’d worn for years, and her jewelry was colored coordinated with her clothes.

  “Let me have a look at you.” She stepped back a few inches, still holding onto my shoulders. “When’s the last time you got a trim?” she said, holding onto a lock of my hair and examining the ends with squinted eyes.

  I looked down at the spike of hair between her fingers. “I don’t know…a year ago?”

  She released my hair and flipped it behind my shoulders. “Oh, honey,” she said, pulling me into another hug. “A year without visiting your mother once is far too long if you ask me. It’s so good to have you home again.”

  I always looked forward to Mom and Nick’s annual visits, until about day three when Nick had eaten just about everything in the fridge but the baking soda, and mom had rearranged my living room furniture so that it “flowed better.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I hope I can say the same.”

  She smacked me lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t be such a pessimist…just like your father.”

  My father died right after I graduated from high school, but my parents divorced when I was ten. They never got along, not as long as I could remember. Even though my dad’s been dead for five years, my mother still gets a kick out of throwing him a few jabs now and then.

  “Where’s your car?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Oh! It’s right there,” she said, pointing. “I forgot to tell you. I bought a new one.”

  Mom had just finalized divorce number three, this time to a well-off man, named Barry, that she met through a mutual friend. She had married him not long before dad died. They weren’t together that long, only a few years, and when mom called me to tell me the news of their split I couldn’t say I was too surprised. Although, the relationship did last a whole year longer than husband number two.

  I followed her to the shiny new SUV parked on the other side of the platform. It was huge with silver paint and smooth black leather seats. Mom pushed a button on the keyless entry and the trunk popped open. She helped me stuff my sui
tcase and carry-on in the back, and then we both piled into the car.

  “Need a latter to get in this thing,” I muttered under my breath, hoisting myself into the seat.

  Mom blasted the air conditioning, fanning her face at the same time. “Ugh…I’m going to melt in this heat!”

  I nervously tapped my foot during the whole ride home. My mother did most of the talking, updating me on every bit of gossip about everyone we knew.

  My concentration drifted in and out as I gazed out of the window. Home again and it felt like nothing changed…nothing but me. I left here five years ago to follow my dreams and attend culinary school. Ever since I was a little girl, growing up in dad’s restaurant, I knew what I wanted to do for a living. Some of my best memories of my father involved cooking.

  No one, especially my mom, could understand why I didn’t just go to New York, which was only a car ride away. After my father died, my mother’s overbearing tendencies kicked into overdrive. Even California didn’t seem far enough away sometimes.

  Now, I was moving back home to stay with my mom until I could get back on my feet. After the last few months, I needed a fresh start, or maybe to start over. Either way, I needed things to change.

  “You’re brother’s looking forward to seeing you,” mom said, pulling into the driveway.

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, the mention of my brother stopped me in my tracks.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought he was taking a summer class?”

  Mom gave me an exaggerated sigh. “He came home. He wanted to see you.”

  I slumped back in the seat, not ready to get out of the car just yet. Chronologically, I was only sixteen months older than my brother, but emotionally we were years apart. In school, he probably spent more time in the principal’s office than in an actual classroom. My mom had to do a massive campaign to get him graduated from high school on time which was no easy feat considering his .9 GPA. The worst part was that it had nothing to do with his intelligence, but everything to do with his behavior. It was a miracle he actually made it to college.

  The front door opened and Nick came strolling out, shoveling something in his mouth. He was shirtless and looked like he just rolled out of bed.

  “Nick, honey, could you grab the suitcase in the back?” mom asked.

  “Glad to see you back,” Nick said, waiting for the trunk to open. He hauled my suitcase out, and it landed hard on the ground. “What the hell do you have in this thing?”

  “Oh…just my whole life.”

  Nick wheeled my suitcase into the house while I carried in my smaller bag. Inside smelled familiar, like warm chocolate chip cookies. Nick headed upstairs to put my suitcase in my old room, while I headed to the bathroom.

  I walked around the house a little, letting it all sink in. It was my first time home in five years. I was just eighteen when I left this house and everything else I knew. I grabbed a framed picture sitting on the credenza in the hallway to get a better look. It was of my dad, brother, and me. I couldn’t of been more than four or five. It was taken in the kitchen of his restaurant. I stood on a chair with an apron wrapped around my little waist, flour covering my face and my hair in pig tails. My beaming father was holding Nick, just a few years old. I placed the picture down with careful ease, wondering what my father would think of me now. Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  Just six months ago, I was working in one of the nicest restaurants in northern California, living in my own apartment that I had all to myself. Now, here I was…broke, single and living at home.

  “Do you have any plans for tonight?” mom asked.

  “Plans?” I replied, raising my eyebrows. “Mom, I’ve been home for like five minutes. What plans would I have?”

  She opened the oven door, the smell of fresh cookies wafting through the air. “Oh, I don’t know honey,” she said, taking the tray of cookies out and putting them on the stove to cool. “I thought maybe you had gotten in touch with some of your old friends from high school.”

  I sat at the kitchen table, watching Nick come barreling down the stairs.

  “I don’t talk to anyone from high school,” I reminded her. “Besides, I don’t feel up to doing anything yet.”

  Mom looked back momentarily as she scraped each cookie off the tray with a spatula and placed them on a plate. I watched as Nick grabbed cookie after cookie, inhaling them as quick as I could blink.

  “You should come out with me tonight,” he said with a mouth full of cookie.

  “Oh, that’s a good idea!” mom said. “You two have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Go out where?” I asked. “Some frat party? No thanks.”

  Nick tried to steal another cookie before mom slapped his hand away. “No…a couple of friends are going to the bar tonight.”

  My brother had notoriously bad taste in friends. They were all even less mature then he was and had about as much ambition as a sack of potatoes.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said.

  “Come on Lex! Mia will be there.”

  “Really?”

  Nick nodded his head. “Yeah, she bartends over at the Mug. She asked about you not too long ago.”

  Mia and my brother dated in high school for about two minutes. I use to be good friends with her up until I left for the west coast.

  “I thought she hated you?” I asked. “I wouldn’t blame her after what you put her through.”

  “Who could hate this face?” he said, pointing to his innocent grin.

  Mom laughed as she squeezed my brother’s cheeks gently, a mama’s boy through and through.

  “Okay,” I finally agreed. “But I don’t want to get home too late.”

  “I promise,” Nick said, crossing his heart.

  Chapter 2

  The Re-introduction

  NICK POUNDED ON my bedroom door for the third time when I finally swung it open.

  “Will you move your ass?” he said. His short hair was spiked up with gel, and he smelled like he took a swim in a pool of cologne.

  I wrinkled my nose, trying to slip on my other shoe.

  “I’ll be right down,” I said. “Just wait for me in the car.” I swung the door shut before he had a chance to protest and finally heard him stomp down the steps.

  Looking in the mirror, I cringed at my reflection. My dark brown hair fell way past my shoulders, and I didn’t even bother covering up the dark circles under my eyes. Too many sleepless nights and it definitely showed.

  It was amazing the difference a year made. A year ago, I lost my moral compass, misplaced it completely without a second thought. It was easier than I cared to admit. It took a while, but eventually I came back to my senses. After that, I promised myself two things. First, I would not, under any circumstances, allow myself to become romantically and/or sexually involved with anyone for at least six months. I needed time to heal, time to get my shit together, as my dad use to say.

  Secondly, I would not, no matter how hot, alluring, or sexy he might seem, allow myself to fall in love with any man who was tattooed, married, had a baby-mama, did drugs, had no job, was in a band, or whose name ended with a Y, such as Tommy, Johnny, or Robby. I had a talent for finding the most unavailable men, and they all shared a common thread one way or another. Recounting the guys I involved myself with was like playing a fucked up game of six degrees of separation.

  That was five months ago. One more month was nothing, a piece of cake even. I had managed to keep my promise without one single hiccup. And after the six months was up, I wouldn’t allow myself to fall back into the deep, dark, well of the unavailable or the unreliable.

  Deciding what to wear was a fiasco since all of my clothes were still packed. My room now looked like my suitcase threw up everywhere, clothes hanging from the bed and on the dresser. I finally decided on a pair of denim shorts and a form fitting white cotton tank top.

  I shrugged. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” What did it matter anyway? The les
s attractive the better.

  I headed downstairs, hoping to slip by my mom unseen. I thought I had made it out of the door when I heard her shriek my name from upstairs.

  “Alexa! What the hell happened in your room?”

  I squeezed my eyes tight, knowing full well I should have shut the door to my room on my way out.

  “I’ll fix it first thing in the morning,” I promised, as my brother blared the horn outside. “I gotta’ go before Nick blows a vein.”

  “You’re going like that?” she asked in her usual critical tone, her body flung half way over the railing.

  I looked down at my outfit. Until that moment, I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse about myself. I should have known my mother would be the one to remind me that there was always room for improvement.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

  “No make up on?” she said, tisking through her teeth.

  “It’s like a hundred degrees outside. The makeup will just melt off.”

  I gave walking out the door another attempt when mom called my name one more time. “Lexy!”

  I swung the door half open, leaning my body against it. “Yes mother?” She gave me a stern look since I only referred to her as mother when I was annoyed.

  “Make sure your brother doesn’t drink too much tonight. He’s already on probation with the baseball team. One more incident, and he gets kicked off.”

  I nodded my head and finally made it out the door, preparing myself for a night of babysitting.

  * * *

  The Mug was pretty crowded for a Wednesday, and I had to shove past a few people to make it to the bar. Ever the gentleman my brother was, he didn’t bother to wait for me, and plowed through the crowd like he owned the place. There was only one stool open at the bar, and I was surprised when Nick offered it to me.

  “I’ll be right back,” he shouted in my ear.

  Nick didn’t wait for me to respond and disappeared among the crowd. I made myself comfortable and plopped my purse on the back of the seat. I watched as the band got set up on the small stage in the back.

 

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