Rejected (Imperfectly Perfect Book 2)

by Lym Cruz

As I watched him move my breath hitched but also my jaw twitched with the annoyance growing inside of me. I hated how aware I was of him.

  “Hi,” he said, smiling. Perhaps smile wasn’t the right word for what he was doing. There was a faint curve to his lips, but there was no crease below the eyes and no movement of the cheeks.

  “Hi,” I said back with an equal amount of indifference.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m doing well. Thanks for taking me to Mel’s place.”

  My black purse dangled from his hand. I could also tell that he was debating whether to say something more. I tensed, not knowing what to expect.

  “You shouldn’t have put yourself in a situation where I had to. It could have been someone else and God knows what might have happened.”

  After the words left his mouth, I straightened my spine bringing confidence, I didn’t have, to my expression. “Nothing happened. I’m safe, aren’t I?”

  “But something could’ve easily happened. You were pretty wasted.”

  Hearing him speak in such a condescending tone aggravated my irritation. I didn’t need a lecture. “You know what? If your advice was any good, Dr. Phil, it would be sold and not handed out for free. I don’t need you to tell me how to handle my life. I already thanked you, what more do you want? A fucking gold star?”

  He knit his brows, narrowing his eyes. “What the ...?”

  I was out of line and I knew it but I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. When I was uncomfortable or called out on my bullshit, I got defensive and to overcompensate for the defensiveness, I went offensive. “I drank, so what? It’s not the end of the fucking world. Nothing shifted out of orbit. You should try it sometime. Might help loosen the stick you have jammed up your ass.”

  In the seconds that followed, my words echoed remorsefully in my head. I spotted hurt flashing through his eyes. He took a step back, and his lips formed a thin, hard line.

  “I was trying to be nice.” He raised both hands in a form of defense and then he dropped them, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.”

  I was not crazy. I hated that word.

  “You’re a fucking jerk.” I wanted to shut up. I really did. I just couldn’t. “And an uptight asshole.”

  “And you’re a hysterical bitch.”

  I blinked surprised by his retort and the anger in his voice. He dropped my purse on top of a pile of books next to him. “You’re welcome,” he said and stomped out of the store.

  In the awkward silence that lingered, everyone glared at me. I looked around utterly embarrassed. I knew what they were thinking, the expression on their faces was evidence enough. I picked up my purse, slung it over my shoulder and gazed straight ahead.

  “Hey, are you going to pay for those?” The lady behind the counter said, grabbing my attention. I peered at her, too ashamed to establish eye contact, and placed the books on the counter. “That was quite the scene,” she said, prying.

  “Mind your own fucking business,” I snapped cutting her off, and she simply pouted.

  My hands quivered at my sides and I shifted on my feet, anxious to get out of there. I hadn’t eaten anything since the pizza incident and after what happened, all I could think about was binging on a giant, fatty cheeseburger and that thought made me even angrier.

  The cashier lazily scanned the first book, and then the next. When she clasped the third, I spun on my heels in frustration, heading for the exit.

  “Hey,” she screamed at me. “Aren’t you going you pay for these?”

  Ignoring her, I kept moving.

  There were plenty of restaurants on Fifth Avenue and well into the lunch hour on a Monday, all I could smell was food, a variety of delicious scents that made my stomach rumble.

  As I walked, the corner of my eye caught the sign of the bakery about four shops down the road and right in front of me, was Mollie’s. The restaurant’s door was open, ready for the swarm of famished diners to walk in; where I was supposed to go and wait for the girls to have a nice, healthy salad.

  I inhaled and moaned. I was giddy from the interaction with Ezra and the only thing that could calm me was food. Lots of it. My mind told me to go to Mollie’s but my feet wandered to the left—to the bakery.

  I stopped short of the entrance and pressed my hands flat on the windowpane, ogling the treats. Blinking, I tried to convince myself not to go in. But the pastries were screaming out my name. There was that internal battle again. Good against evil. Walk away or walk inside. Sweet relief versus salad with a side of angst.

  Evil won.

  The door chimed as I stepped into the bakery, the aroma of sugar blended with the scent of fresh fruit and chocolate nearly brought me to my knees. The old lady behind the counter lifted her face and grinned—almost angelically—at the sound of the bell.

  “Hello, dear, can I help you?” She slid her glasses back on her nose.

  “Um, I ...” I wanted to say no. That I’d made a mistake. That this was the wrong shop but instead I said, “Yes.” I sauntered closer to the display case. “I’ll have one of those to go.” I pointed to a cupcake. “Actually two.”

  “Chocolate Mocha, an excellent choice,” she sang, sliding the display case open and reached inside. “One of my favorites. You will love the mocha buttercream.” Carefully, she packed the two cupcakes inside a pink box. “Will that be all?”

  Yes. “No. Give me another one and that pie, is it raspberry?”

  “Yes, it is. One slice?”

  “Two please.”

  She handed me my order. I was ready to leave and possibly convince myself to throw it away when I stopped in my tracks, next to a round, silver table that had two benches tucked neatly beneath it. “Can I take a seat here?”

  “Oh, yes, you can dear. Make yourself comfortable.” Her eyes shone as she said the words.

  I pulled out a bench and once settled, I opened the box. Carefully, I brought the first cupcake to my mouth. It was divine. I’d forgotten what they tasted like. It had been so long since I had one. Before I knew it, I finished the first and the second. I grimaced at the pie, wrestling with my conscience.

  Once again, I lost that battle. I took a bite out of the first slice of the pie and OH. MY. GOD. It had an orgasmic effect. The pastry practically dissolved in my mouth into tiny pieces of cotton. It was both fluffy and crispy, I could taste the natural sweetness of the raspberries. Thereon, I couldn’t refrain from the other slice and ended up ordering two more.

  “Slow down.” The old lady laughed. “There’s plenty more. Would you like something to drink? We have milkshakes?”

  I was in heaven.

  “Vanilla, please,” I said with a full mouth.

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I cleared my aching throat. This was what my life looked like when I was in a bad place. I stuffed myself with food to try to feel complete. To forget about whatever was going on. But right after eating, I realized that my life remained the same. My body screamed, telling me what an idiot I was. Therefore, I threw up, as if I could expel my problems along with the food I ate. However, the only thing that changed afterward was the added burning sensation to my throat but my issues persisted, glaring back at me.

  I rinsed my mouth and walked out of the ladies’. Erica must have arrived sometime when I was in the bathroom and was seated at a table by the window. I crossed the restaurant, careful not to bump into anyone. Mollie’s was always jam-packed during lunch and loud with laughter, chatter and clinking silverware. I made it to the table and hung my purse on the back of my chair.

  “You look pale,” Erica said as I sat. “How was your first night in the new apartment?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  She handed me the drink menu. “I’ve ordered for the three of us. I asked a salad for you.”

  I offered a flat smile.

  During elementary school, Erica and I bonded over our love for food. Her mother packed boring, nutritious food and my mother pa
cked a fatty feast of glucose and carbs worthy of three or four other kids. Back then, I was already overweight but Erica was as skinny as she was today. She was lazy, scarcely exercised and didn’t pick up weight. I was the opposite and by middle school, I had reached a hundred and forty-pounds and was barely five feet tall.

  “Thanks. Where’s Melissa?”

  She blew out a gentle chuckle. “Probably still in the shower. It’s like her watch tells a different time from the rest of the world.”

  I asked the waitress for a bottle of water and a freshly squeezed orange juice. By the time she brought it to the table, Melissa sauntered in, turning heads as she did. She had this power to capture attention and was oblivious to it. Melissa dodged the hostess, jogging to our table and dropped to the seat on a heavy sigh as if she were exhausted. Her three bodyguards took a table that had a reserved sign next to us.

  “I’m not that late,” Melissa said, unwrapping a heavy brown scarf off her neck and then shimmied out of her coat. “And yes, before you ask, it’s cold for me.”

  “You’ve lived here for more than half a decade,” Erica said, “you should be used to it by now. Winter in California is a joke.”

  “Not to me.” Melissa slipped off her oversized shades and pinned them on her curly hair. “How was the first night at the new house, Christina?”

  Instead of answering her question, I said, “I fought with Ezra at the bookstore.”

  Both their faces contorted into the funniest scowl. I sniggered and told them my version of the event.

  “I don’t believe you, Christina.” Melissa shook her head. “Ezra is a good guy. He wouldn’t call you a bitch out of the blue.”

  “Well, he did!”

  “Notch down on the defensiveness.” Melissa grabbed her cellphone. “I’m calling him.”

  “No!” I snatched the phone from her hand before she hit dial. “You don’t have to. Maybe I was a bit insensitive at first. In my defense, I was having a grumpy morning. Couldn’t he just have given me the bag and walked away without trying to give me advice I did not ask for?”

  Erica rolled her eyes. “And the whole world is at fault because you had a grumpy morning?”

  “Not the whole world. Just him.”

  “You have to apologize,” Melissa stated firmly. She seemed genuinely upset. “The lecture he gave you was warranted. You shouldn’t go out and get drunk like that, especially alone.”

  “If I had company with me, then, I wouldn’t have been alone.”

  Erica exhaled, turning to me and said, “Christina, the world doesn’t revolve around you. I know you’re having a hard time getting over Rob but we have lives too. I just got married, so forgive me if I don’t feel like going around clubs getting drunk like we were still in college.”

  She didn’t have to remind me. I knew it all too well. They were both living the American dream.

  “Excuse me,” a waiter said, breaking what was about to turn into a tense moment, and held out my cell phone. “You said to bring it out when it reached thirty percent.”

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the phone and powered it on while Melissa spoke, “Andrew and I—mostly me—are thinking about going away for a while after the wedding.”

  I took a sip from my water. “For how long?”

  “Not sure yet, maybe a month. He can’t be away for long because of the company,” Melissa paused and touched my hand to grab my attention. I stowed my phone to look at her. “The job Andrew offered you is still available. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

  “Will Sabrina be there?”

  Sabrina was the girl Robert had fallen head over heels for. She was blonde, tall and skinny with boobs that looked like two watermelons were glued to her chest. She had worked for Melissa and Andrew since they opened their company. I knew it was outrageous to demand such a thing, but I couldn’t work in the same office as Sabrina. She’d be a constant reminder of everything I wasn’t.

  “We’ve been over this, Christina. I can’t ask Andrew to fire her to make things easier for you. And frankly, I don’t need to ask because I’m sure he’ll say no.”

  “Why? Does Andrew like her better, too?”

  “Here we go,” Erica muttered.

  “Fuck you,” I hissed at her. “You don’t even have a job. You’re a bored housewife.” Something was seriously wrong with me. I should not have been permitted to open my mouth any longer.

  “I just designed your house, how is that not a job?” She got me there. I wanted to answer but Erica waved me off and continued, “My turn. Dave doesn’t want me to work.”

  “That’s not his choice to make, Erica,” Melissa said.

  “I know, but I agree with him. We’re thinking about starting a family, so I think I’ll put my career on hold for a year or two.”

  “If that’s what you want, go for it,” Melissa said, her words were flat.

  Our food eventually made it to the table. I didn’t peek at my friends’ plates. The smell alone was tantalizing. I focused on the mountain of vibrant colored vegetables on mine. I took a forkful of plain, steamed spinach to my mouth and chewed while scrolling through my phone. I scanned through my texts and lastly, checked my emails. One stood out from all the rest.

  Subject: JOB INTERVIEW INVITATION

  Dear Miss Garza,

  Thank you for applying to Collin Books.

  Your application for the Entry Level Accounting position stood out but unfortunately, the position is no longer available. However, we do have an opening for a bookkeeper and we would like to invite you for an interview if you are interested.

  If interested, we would like to conduct your interview sometime next week. The interview will last approximately 40 minutes. You’ll have the chance to discuss the position’s responsibilities and learn more about our company.

  Please let me know if any of the following slots are favorable to you.

  Monday 3/3, 3:30 p.m.

  Tuesday 3/4 9:00 a.m.

  Tuesday 3/4 4:30 p.m.

  If none of these slots work, let me know and we can try to arrange a better date. Looking forward to hearing from you soon.

  Best Regards,

  Vincent Collin

  At least there’s some good news for today. I quickly fired off a response.

  Subject: Re: JOB INTERVIEW CONFIRMATION

  Dear Mr. Collin,

  Thank you for extending me the offer of an interview for the Bookkeeping position. I confirm that I will be present for the interview on Monday 3/3, at 3:30 p.m. I am very enthusiastic about the offer and assure you that I will do my best to utilize the given opportunity.

  Yours truly,

  Christina Garza

  “Why do you have a toothbrush and toothpaste in your bag?” Erica asked all of a sudden, pulling my attention from my phone.

  After my episode at the bakery, I ran to the store and bought them. I stiffened but straightened my spine to not give anything away. “Why are you going through my bag?”

  “I was looking for lip balm.”

  Erica was aware of my old habits but Melissa wasn’t, and Erica couldn’t possibly think that I was in a bad place because I wasn’t. I slipped but it wouldn’t happen again. I had everything under control.

  I lifted my gaze and stared into her big, blue eyes. “I didn’t like the one you guys put at the house so I bought those.”

  She stared back with a piercing glare that told me she wasn’t being fooled. “The toothbrush is wet.”

  “And now it’s full of germs.” I grabbed it from her hand and tossed it into my bag.

  “What’s the big deal, Erica?” Melissa said, ignorant of the meaning of the toothbrush. “It’s normal and hygienic to brush your teeth.”

  I peeled my eyes from Erica’s accusing ones and looked down at my salad. I tossed it around, not letting my mind focus on the guilt I felt for lying to Erica. But I regrouped quickly. Soon Erica and Melissa fell into their monotonous housewife talk. It was my time to bounce. The salad wasn’t good any
way.

  “I have to go,” I pushed back my chair. “I have to meet my mom.”

  “Tell her we said hi and I’ll stop by during the weekend,” Melissa said.

  “Sure.” I avoided looking at Erica and walked out replying to a few other texts.

  Almost by the exit, I crashed into something or someone and dropped my phone. I crouched to pick it up when a large palm beat me to it. I looked up and smirked. A tall, green-eyed and very blond man, with a body that could only be obtained by spending several hours a day in the gym, held my hand to assist me up.

  “I’m sorry.” He hesitated before returning my phone, giving me a sly smile. Mischief danced in his irises. He stretched out his bulky arm with my phone in his hand. “Here you go.”

  I reached for it, but he pulled away and typed something on it only before he handed it back to me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “It was nice bumping into you.” He spun and strolled down the street. I watched his tight ass move beneath the faded denim. Only when he was almost out of sight did I snap out of my daydream and gazed at the phone.

  He saved his number and sent a text to himself.

  Aaron: This is the number of a gorgeous girl you met this afternoon. Call her tonight and ask her out.

  Comments like those were the main reason I had random sex with tall, hot guys like him. They always had something nice to say because they wanted to get laid. And we all believed lies when they were delivered in the form of compliments.

  Christina: Sorry Ma, can’t make it today. But I’ll see you soon.

  Chapter Five

  Ezra

  Igot back into the office, slumped down in my chair, leaned back and cranked my neck hard over. The blinds were open, the sky from the office window was deftly blue and cloudless—so bright it looked solid.

  My mind wandered to Christina and the way her entire body reacted with fury when she spoke to me at the bookshop. Her eyebrows pulled down together. Her glaring eyes shot flames of bitterness. She was flushed and the veins in her neck throbbed. She was purposely trying to hurt me or evoke a reaction from me and I caved calling her a bitch. I shouldn’t have. I knew better, but a lot was going on, and I lost control.