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  California Love

  Copyright © 2019 by TK Cherry

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products 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.

  Cover Design By: Jeanette Piastri, NET Hook & Line Design

  Editing By: Kristen Portillo, Your Editing Lounge

  Interior Formatting By: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Design

  Proofreading By: Christi Whitson, Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by TK Cherry

  To the “faithful readers” who began following my journey four years ago. You have given me the courage to soar.

  Quen

  To hell with social media.

  I was fine—absolutely fucking fine—before the advent of Facebook.

  Stupid breeding ground for posers.

  A global network swarming with fakers.

  Who would’ve thought that a Harvard dropout could reproduce MySpace’s illegitimate cousin and that travesty would eventually become the epicenter of where relationships are born and decimated?

  I never thought I’d be one of those girls who stalked her ex-lover’s social media page, but there I was—days, then weeks after our so-called ‘breakup’, snooping to see if he’d deleted photos of me. Then, just two days ago, I saw something I had never counted on seeing. A sudden change in Jake’s status.

  “In a Relationship with Bianca Corbin.”

  I remember the exact moment when my heart sank. That was when I thought to myself—NOW he decides to commit! Asshole! I recall the very second the first stray tear streamed down my face, smearing my eyeliner. As soon as my accumulation of tears dried up, I thought—Fuck men.

  I was done with ‘em.

  “Hey, Quenie—a nice long camping trip always helps me get my head on straight. Wanna join me?”

  I look up and across the tiny breakfast table at my father in his trusty old red flannel button-up shirt and faded baggy ‘dad’ jeans, looking like Kevin Costner’s long-lost twin brother. Charlie Waverly…bless his heart. He means well, even though his terse demeanor doesn’t always line up with his words. This man is half responsible for my very existence, and for a third of it, it’s just been him and me.

  He remains my constant despite the fact that I’m not very fond of the male species these days.

  When I graduated from college over a month ago, I found myself having to re-explain to Dad that a certain someone would no longer be coming around. In spite of my announcement, it didn’t stop him from kindly greeting and chatting it up with my former best friend at the reception after the ceremony. It was beyond awkward to see my dad being all chummy with Jake, considering I tried my damnedest to avoid the latter like the plague. However, that proved to be difficult since Jake and I had been inseparable for nearly three years and my father had grown especially fond of him. Dad still sees Jake as the amiable future lawyer who loves talking sports with him and tagging along on camping trips with us.

  My father doesn’t know Jake as the guy who rejected me in the worst possible way. I’ve turned down several great guys over the years; some who I’m certain wouldn’t have had any issues publicly claiming me as their girlfriend. Yet, I foolishly waited years for Jake Barker to get his shit together and finally cut the friends-with-benefits act.

  Thinking back on it all, I definitely feel foolish for wasting so much precious time on a non-existent promise. Jake never verbally asked me to turn down dates from other guys. However, the moment one got too close to me at a campus party or during a group study session, Jake would turn all ‘alpha male’ and throw his arm around me, physically staking his claim.

  As far as I knew, Jake never saw other girls while we were screwing around. I mean—when would he even have had the time to see anyone else since we were always together? I guess we just had this unspoken agreement that no one could infiltrate what we were slowly building. At least I thought we were building something. Little did I know at the time, he was the king of mixed signals. Now, all that remains in the barren space where my heart used to be is absolute regret.

  It’s doubly hard to move on from Jake when he’s still pals with Blair, my current best friend and former roommate. At the University of Oregon, the three of us were inseparable. I knew once I gave in to Jake Barker at the beginning of sophomore year, I would live to regret it. Don’t get me wrong, he is still one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever known. It’s just…we’re so different from one another. Like night and day.

  Jake is the type of guy who never has to work that hard to get whatever he wants. His parents are well-to-do, so all he had to do was snap his fingers and he could forgo the meal plan in lieu of Chipotle with extra guac. Bastard. Meanwhile, I had to work my ass off to earn scholarships in order to even go to college. Once I got in, I had to work twice as hard to maintain financial aid. Jake would often try to pull me away from studying to get me to party with him, but I stood my ground. He could afford to skip class, whereas I could not.

  I ended up graduating with honors. He didn’t, but that really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He still managed to get accepted into the School of Law. Now, I’m wondering if he’ll even attend in the fall. Just two days ago, his future seemed uncertain since I saw him all hugged-up with his new girl in San Diego.

  Is she from there? Since they’re ‘Facebook official’, will she move with him to Eugene, Oregon while he attends law school?

  I hate him—and her.

  In spite of Jake’s updated relationship status, there weren’t any pictures of Bianca on his page. However, the blushing new girlfriend didn’t hesitate to change her profile pic to one of the two of them, then tag him in it. In the photo, Jake’s lips were firmly planted on her cheek as she put on her best Marilyn Monroe pout. The sight of her too-small orange bikini top, practically the same shade as her fake-n-bake tan, which barely restrained her too-large, unreal tits, couldn’t be ignored. Another thing that couldn’t be avoided was how she was enveloped in and kissed by the guy I’d so desperately wanted to be my real boyfriend for three years. The very idea of it makes me cringe, considering how royally stupid I’d been all that time.

  Jake and Bianca: Two gorgeous blonds frolicking around on the Pacific Coast. They look like an overly sexed-up, unrelated version of Hansel and Gretel. It’s as if their coupling was genetically engineered at some twisted underground lab run by Donatella Versace. There is nothing real or genuine-looking about them.

  Hell, at least he and I appeared as though we were a real-life couple in photographs. Or so I thought. Apparently, we weren’t good enough for him. I wasn’t adventurous enough. I wasn’t extroverted enough. I wasn’t blonde enough—or at all.

  I just wasn’t enough. r />
  For the past two days, I’ve been pointing a magnifying glass directly at myself. I’ve been examining why Jake abandoned what we had and quickly ran to something shiny and new. It’s difficult for anyone not to develop a complex after that.

  Perhaps I’m more like Dad than I am my mother, Lisa. Sadly, we lost Mom to cancer when I was fourteen. Since then, Dad has chosen to remain single while focusing all his attention on me and his now twenty-five-year-old utility contracting business. But underneath all of that, he remains heartbroken over losing Mom. Therefore, he has been uneager to jump into another relationship. As far as I can tell, he seems rather content with being a lifelong widower. Lisa Waverly was it for him, so there will never be another.

  Although my dad’s stance of remaining single is honorable, the idea of me being in my sixties and stuck in a tiny one-bedroom high-rise apartment with five cats and my massive collection of steamy romance novels doesn’t appeal to me one bit. Knowing this, I am going to have to eventually suck it up and give love another try.

  But right now, I’m in no mood to do that.

  Jake and I are in two completely different places in our lives, obviously. He even admitted as much. On that emotional night when we ‘broke up’, he said he needed to ‘find himself’. He figured some time apart would help him accomplish that much faster. Granted, I agreed that he needed to get his life in order, but I was very hesitant to accept that us being apart would necessarily help him to achieve his goal.

  Jake was my everything. And although he wasn’t my ‘first’—he was actually my second—he was certainly my first true love. I don’t think you ever get over your first love. Also, Jake, Blair, and I did practically everything together. We were the three amigos. Now, the band’s all broken up, leaving Blair smack-dab in the middle of our separation.

  Blair is living it up this summer in Bend with friends, taking a break from all the drama. Meanwhile, Jake’s enjoying the fast life on the shores of San Diego with Bountiful Bianca. The very thought brings me close to retching.

  I, on the other hand, find myself back in a place I never thought I’d return to. I’m back in Troutdale with my father, sleeping in my old bedroom with my old Jonas Brothers posters still intact on the lilac painted walls.

  It’s just for the summer until I decide what I should do with my life—I keep telling myself. I know I want to get into advertising, but there isn’t much out there right now for someone like me who’ll just be entering the field.

  Until some large corporation or marketing firm decides to take a chance on me, I’m stuck working retail at Lenny’s Electronics up the street. The only good thing about it, besides a paycheck, is that the owner of the store is a friend of the family. Mr. Glass even put in a good word for me at the agency he uses for his small-scale advertising, but they’re in the middle of a hiring freeze.

  Dad and I have known Leonard “Lenny” Glass for years. He and my father play golf and fish together on occasion. Thankfully, Mr. Glass has been very flexible, allowing me to take all the time I need away from the store, whenever I need it.

  Case in point—two days ago, I’d walked into Lenny’s with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Mr. Glass knew right away that I’d been crying my head off before the start of my shift. I’d just seen the relationship status change and tagged photo in my timeline two hours earlier. I knew I was in no shape to go to work, but I couldn’t stay home. I didn’t want my dad coming home from work to see me sulking. I tried with every fiber of my being to regain my composure by the time I had to leave for work, but it was a lost cause.

  Mr. Glass took me back to his office. The moment he pulled me in for a hug, I lost it. I spilled everything about Jake, who he’d met, and apologized profusely between shaking sobs. When I finally settled down to hear something other than my own weeping, Mr. Glass told me to take the next two weeks off.

  “It’s summer, Quen. How about you go hang out at the lake? Find someone new. Make new memories.”

  New memories. I roll my eyes recalling his words. No way in hell anything can erase the past three years of my life.

  “You’re still young,” he’d said. “If you need more time off than that, just let me know. Your job here isn’t going anywhere.”

  As I now continue to sulk at the kitchen table, I don’t notice right away when my father steps behind me. He proceeds to part my hair down the middle with his fingers, and then bundle each side into his fists like two makeshift pigtails.

  What the hell, Dad?

  “Remember when you used to wear your hair just like this as a little girl?”

  My eyes roll up to catch a glimpse of him as best I can. I’m dumbfounded. It isn’t like him to be all sentimental.

  Where is Charlie Waverly and what have you done with him?

  “I wore my hair that way until middle school,” I recall.

  He releases my hair and tries to smooth it back down into place as best he can.

  “Bobby Fisher, was it?” Dad says, recollecting the name of the object of my adolescent hormonal affection.

  “The eighth-grader, not the chess player,” I chuckle. Dad snorts at the old joke, while I smile at the memory of me trying to explain to my father why I no longer wanted to wear my hair in pigtails.

  I wasn’t big into sports at the time, but I knew that Bobby was very popular because of his talent. He was famous among the guys for his ability to almost always sink a three-point shot at every basketball game. He was also a hit with the girls because he wasn’t an annoying jerk like all the other boys. Bobby was always kind and polite no matter who he was speaking to, a credit to his sweet mother, who always volunteered to help serve refreshments at every game.

  In sixth grade, I was paired with Bobby Fisher in English class for team assignments. I was an accelerated learner and therefore placed with the eighth graders. I couldn’t help but gravitate toward him. He was simply magnetic. Plus, I’d never really had a huge crush on a boy until him.

  So, down came the pigtails, because girls Bobby’s age no longer wore their hair like that. Then, I began showing up at all the home games. One time, Bobby even waved at me in the bleachers—or so I thought. I looked behind me, and there was Trish Spencer, beaming right back at him. The same girl he would end up taking to the eighth-grade dance. To say I was gutted at the time is putting it mildly.

  From that point on, I decided to just stick with my literary boyfriends: Darcy and Rochester. Real boys were assholes. I’d further discover that was the case when I began hanging out with Tyler Monroe late in high school. He was cute and funny. We were never really ‘official’, but we’d always go to the mall together, hang out at the bowling alley, and at parties. By the time we reached senior year, I was still a virgin, and both he and I were eager to change that.

  Then came the night of senior prom, and my supposed deflowering took precisely one minute.

  Is that it? I thought as he collapsed naked on top of me at some lame ass budget hotel chain. I was thoroughly disappointed and Tyler was beyond embarrassed. So much so, he never spoke to me again after that night.

  Boys and their pride.

  Once again, I decided to only fall for the boys in my favorite books. After high school graduation, I’d soon leave Troutdale and head south down I-5 to Eugene. Once I arrived, Blair Wilson and I quickly became the best of friends. A year after that, I met Jake. His awesome personality and ludicrously good looks immediately held me captive.

  Oh no, not again, I told myself. I’m not doing this here. I’m not! I’ll still have to be here four years even if it goes south!

  It took Jake nearly two semesters of exercising his charm before I let him take me out at the end of sophomore year. After that, we weren’t necessarily official, but we were indeed inseparable. He was always hanging out at the apartment I shared with Blair off campus.

  As I reminisce, my heart slowly sinks.

  All roads down memory lane eventually lead to Jake Barker.

  I sulk in my chair once mo
re as Dad strokes my hair.

  “I’m serious, Quenie. You really should go camping with your old man. We’ll fish. There are many fish in the sea.”

  I flash him a smug look. “Why do I get the impression that you are talking about boys and not fish?”

  “What in the world are you talking about?” he frowns, feigning innocence.

  “You mention ‘sea’, but you’re actually going to Clackamas River,” I tease.

  “Sea, river…it’s all a body of water,” he grumbles.

  I giggle briefly until I feel the pang that’s been ever-present in my stomach for the past two months. I don’t think there’s anything in this world that wouldn’t aggravate my emotional state right now, even my well-intentioned, adorable father.

  I wake up the next morning thinking back to the last conversation I had with Blair. She wasn’t necessarily thrilled with my decision to remain in Troutdale with my dad for the summer instead of joining her in Cali to continue celebrating our graduation.

  Blair has more to celebrate than I do. She managed to land a kickass position at Nike in Portland. Meanwhile, I’m still stuck working a dead-end retail job. I’m more ashamed than anything else that I let time pass me by instead of putting my best foot forward. Although I remained focused on my studies, I didn’t use that same effort to land a worthwhile internship that would later evolve into a lucrative post-graduation job. I was more focused on maintaining my grades and keeping Jake happy.

  Of course, whenever Blair is on the brain, Jake isn’t far away. Then, the cruel reality of him moving on hits me all over again, and I’m tangled in this vicious cycle of twisted emotions. It’s fucking frustrating.

  Before I can roll out of bed to use the bathroom, my phone rings. My heart starts.

  Is it Jake?

  I check the name on the screen and sigh, hesitant to answer it. It’s Blair, probably calling to pester me for the hundredth time since I left Eugene. She really wants me to go to the beach in northern California with her this summer.