Almost Perfect: A Frenemies to Lovers Romance

by Claudia Burgoa

  Contents

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  1. Hannah

  2. Alex

  3. Hannah

  4. Alex

  5. Alex

  6. Hannah

  7. Hannah

  8. Alex

  9. Hannah

  10. Hannah

  11. Hannah

  12. Alex

  13. Alex

  14. Alex

  15. Hannah

  16. Hannah

  17. Alex

  18. Hannah

  19. Finding Yourself in an Ocean of Uncertainty

  Chapter 20

  21. Learning to Let Go

  Chapter 22

  23. True Love: Your Forever Person

  Chapter 24

  25. Healing Is A Process

  Chapter 26

  27. Conquer Your Fears: Don’t Stop Believing

  Chapter 28

  29. Things I’ve Learned so Far

  Chapter 30

  31. Putting the Pieces Back Together

  32. Hannah

  33. Are You Searching for Your Forever Person?

  34. Hannah

  35. Alex

  36. Alex

  37. Alex

  38. Alex

  39. Kill Your Dating App

  40. Alex

  41. Hannah

  42. Hannah

  43. Alex

  44. Hannah

  45. Hannah

  46. Hannah

  47. Alex

  48. Hannah

  49. Hannah

  50. Alex

  51. When You Fall Down, Get Up!

  52. Hannah

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader,

  Excerpts

  Maybe Later

  Then He Happened

  My One Regret

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2020 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: By Hang Le

  Edited by: Paulina Burgoa

  All rights reserved.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on your personal e-reader.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored into or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  www.claudiayburgoa.com

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Standalones

  Us After You

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Someday, Somehow

  Chasing Fireflies

  Something Like Hate

  Then He Happened

  Maybe Later

  My One Despair

  Knight of Wands

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Christmas in Kentbury

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  Unexpected Series

  Uncharted

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Unlike Any Other

  Decker the Halls

  To My Forever Person, Luis, for taking this journey with me.

  Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable. —Bruce Lee

  One

  Hannah

  Let’s talk about firsts for just a minute.

  There’s a first time for everything. Not all first-time experiences are as life-changing as people assume. You’ve heard it all, right? You can’t forget your first kiss. Your first love is unique. Losing your virginity is special and sometimes magical.

  For the most part, first kisses are sloppy. There’s nothing swoony about them. Your first time with a new partner or hookup is awkward. Losing your virginity...that’s debatable. If you’re with an experienced partner, it can be great. If not…well.

  The first time I went out with a guy, I was a mess. I remember pacing around the foyer, waiting for him to pick me up. At seventeen, it was a big deal. I had been living in a cocoon for years. Lots of theory and zero practice. The tightness in my chest and the butterflies fluttering in my body were suffocating me.

  Needless to say, one of my best friends gave me my first kiss, so I’d stop freaking out. It was like kissing my brother.

  Listen, first experiences might be great for many, but they can also suck.

  It’s not like I hate firsts; they’re just not my favorite. But I’m going to let you in on a secret. Those are nothing compared to the first day of school.

  It’s the worst, am I right?

  Before anyone focuses on those pre-school, elementary school years, let me stop you and send you forward, all the way to high school and college. Being fourteen and sent to a big place where the basic rule is ‘eat or be eaten’ sucks.

  College is just as bad, if not worse. You’re far away from home and your parents dropped you off in some dorm room that’s smaller than a closet with a strange kid who is now your roommate for the next nine months. And who knows ahead of time how hard or strange that’ll be?

  Poor kids, they have it rough.

  I feel for them, but I feel sorrier for the teachers.

  Trying to control a bunch of spooked, freshmen is...heinous.

  But it’s not as bad as, seniors. They think they know everything. They should’ve graduated a year before because they’re that good and they’re ready to show the adult world how things are done. From their perspective, teachers are a waste of space to them. It takes time to round the students back into reality.

  Imagine living your first-time experience over and over again. Well, at least twice a year. As a college professor, I have to deal with it every single semester. Forgive my lazy Forrest Gump analogy, but first days of school are like a box of chocolates stored in your grandma’s closet since last century: you never know what you’re going to get, but you’re going to regret eating it.

  Needless to say, the first day back to school is declared a national day of observance. All my friends and family call to check on me because they know how much I loathe it.

  Maybe I should find a new job, not that I don’t like this one, but...there are other things I could do with my time.

  Open a flower shop, buy a farm and start a co-op, or just work full-time for my magazine.

  But then again…teaching is invigorating and fulfilling. I like shaping young minds, molding them well enough that, by the end of the year, my students are thinking for themselves and questioning what their paren
ts taught them. I want them to enjoy Pride & Prejudice, while understanding the satire. I want them to understand Asimov’s vision and not be afraid of technological advancement. I’m a dreamer, and I like to share my dreams with my students.

  This first day wasn’t any better than the others. There’s nothing more humiliating than having your new TA say, “Can I help you with anything, sweetie? Freshman orientation is that way. If you’re looking for Ms. Hades-Bell, she should be here soon.”

  I glared at him and said, “I’m Hannah Hades-Bell. And if you ever talk to any of my students in that condescending tone, I’ll be filing a complaint to your academic advisor.”

  That wasn’t all. I had two other professors confuse me for a student. A freshman, nonetheless. The new secretary in the English department asked me if I was visiting from high school.

  Genetics, man. They really fuck you up in so many ways. I got my father’s musical talent but not his height. All my siblings are taller than me. Sadie, my stepmom, calls me her magical fairy as a way to make me feel better. It worked when I was nine or ten, but almost twenty years later? Not so much.

  It usually takes me a couple of weeks to show my students that I might be small, but if they want to stay in my class, they better respect me and my rules—in that order.

  Now that the day is over, it’s time to turn it around and make everything better. On my way to my apartment, I stop by the bakery.

  The best way to deal with a bad day is with the three c’s: cookies, candy, and cabernet. Cake is sometimes a great addition to the repertoire, but today doesn’t call for it. Once I buy a big batch of cookies—enough to last me for a week—I go to the candy store. I get jellybeans, alcohol infused chocolate, and margarita flavored gummy bears.

  When I get in the car, my phone rings.

  “Hey, Dad,” I answer.

  “How’s the first day, kid?”

  I grunt and start the car.

  “Crappy as usual. You know, they confused me for a freshman—AGAIN,” I growl, frustrated at the bitterness of this day. The start of each semester is like living on that Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day.

  After I tell him today’s tale, he laughs. I love this man, but seriously…couldn’t he fake it a little and feel sorry for me for a hot second?

  “Am I entertaining you?”

  He clears his throat. “You can’t take this away from me. You get to mock me for the rest of the year. Today is a special day for me.”

  “Hmm, how’s it going, Dad?”

  “Same old, same old. Except—”

  “Ugh,” I interrupt him. This isn’t a good day to add some bad news. “Keep your bad news for the weekend.”

  “It’s good, I think…” He pauses. “I was at the studio recording new music with Chris. You came up in the conversation.”

  If he had stopped right at, “I’m recording new music with my mentor, Chris Decker,” I would be thrilled. The second sentence is what’s bothering me. When the Deckers talk about me, there’s nothing good to follow.

  “Let’s be clear.” I try to sound firm. “I’m not doing a concert or playing with the band for some fundraiser. My life as a performer and a musician ended forever ago.”

  Sinners of Seattle broke up years ago. Though, I’m still close to my guys. We’re a family. Music will always live in me but going back isn’t an option.

  “That’s not it,” Dad says. “I know you’re done with that part of your life.”

  Not done, more like I pushed it down to the bowels of hell and that’s where it’ll stay forever. Do I miss playing music? Sometimes...so much so that, at times, I wonder if I should buy a piano...

  “Hey, kid, don’t go silent on me. Chris mentioned he could get you a teaching position up here in Seattle. If you ever want to come back home.”

  “I love my job, Dad,” I reply, before we start a conversation that goes deeper than I could handle. I stop him because I know what’s next. “Dad, I have one more errand to run. Can I call you later?”

  He sighs and says, “Sadie and the kids say hello.”

  “Tell Mom I’ll call her later.”

  By later, I mean in a week or so. Sadie, my stepmom, is cool. The best. I love her so much. But she’s running a big campaign to get me back to Seattle. She told me as much during Christmas.

  “I understand, but don’t you think enough time has passed, Hannah?”

  Time is relative. For some, a minute can feel like a second, and for others, an eternity. A lifetime will never be enough.

  “We love you, Hannah.”

  “Me too, Dad.”

  I hang up the phone, pressing the remote to open the door to the underground garage of the apartment complex where I live. I didn’t lie when I said I had to run one more errand. I just didn’t tell him the whole truth. The liquor store is just a block away from my place. There’s no point in driving there. At least, I’m walking off all the cookies I plan on eating.

  The incoming text is no surprise.

  Mom: Don’t just eat candy and cookies. I’ll order Chinese food.

  I roll my eyes; Sadie knows everything I swear. Maybe I’m too predictable. Either way, I respond right away before she ends up calling me.

  Hannah: Love you!

  Mom: Call me soon.

  I smile and take my stuff to my apartment before I run my last errand. When I arrive at the liquor store, Rafa, the owner, greets me.

  “It’s your lucky day. We got a new shipment of Ruffino rose wine. Where is your partner-in-crime?” he asks, and my head drops.

  When he mentions my best friend’s favorite wine, it feels like a knife stabbing my lonely heart. Asking where my partner-in-crime is…that’s just twisting it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for June. She’s living her fairytale in Colorado. She has a hot fiancé, and they’re expecting three babies.

  “Today, it’s just me,” I tell him and walk to the cabernet aisle.

  “Where is your friend? I haven’t seen her since before the holidays.”

  “She moved to Colorado…” Last week, she visited me and confirmed my suspicions: she’s gone for good.

  It was the saddest day of my life. She’s my person. We met when I moved next door to her. We used to binge watch our favorite movies. Every weekend, when she was around–and single—we strolled around town. We call each other when we’re in trouble. But now she’s gone.

  What am I supposed to do now?

  “Don’t worry, you have enough customers to keep you in business.”

  Rafa laughs and shakes his head.

  I rummage through the shelves, searching for just the right cabernet that will make this day manageable. When the bell above the door sounds again, my stomach flips. I can sense him. Looking around, I’m not sure if I can hide before he sees me. Then again, there’s no way to hide. He’ll find me because there’s only one reason why he’s here. Me.

  “Did you bring your fake ID?” he asks.

  “Go away, Alex,” I say, without giving him a glance. “Why didn’t you send it with a courier and saved us both the trouble of having to deal with each other?”

  I feel the warmth of his body when he’s close enough and know that if I turn around, our feet will touch. Of all my Groundhog Day traditions, he’s the one I want to avoid this year.

  “She warned me not to do that…More like threatened me,” Alex replies, with humor in his voice.

  He takes away the bottle I hold. His fingers grazing mine slightly. I shiver and take a step back.

  “Personal space,” I warn him, finally looking at him.

  Even when I should be ready, I’m never prepared for the sight of him. It’s the eyes. Dark blue. Deep and enigmatic.

  His arrogant grin expands. “Hey.”

  “Next time, use a courier,” I insist.

  “Apparently, someone ratted me out last December,” he complains, but he’s not upset one bit.

  I grin because I did tattletale on him. What can I say? I thrive on making his life as mi
serable as he makes mine. Today, I’m not in the mood to deal with him. I grab what I need and go to the register.

  “I’ll text June that you fulfilled your duty. Just leave me alone, okay?”

  “Hannah,” he calls out as I’m leaving.

  I wave. “Goodbye, Alex.”

  This isn’t my first time running into Alex at the liquor store. It’s almost like a tradition to find him here. I wonder if he stalks me or if it’s pure coincidence. I speed up toward my apartment, while the first time I met him plays inside my head.

  Two

  Alex

  A week ago …

  Imagine being an Olympic gold medalist. An X-game sensation. Winning several awards thirteen years in a row. And then having it all fall away because some stranger decided to drink and drive.

  The worst part...I wasn’t ready for my life to change so radically. I knew someday it’d all come to an end. There’s always an expiration date for athletes. You can only play a sport until a certain age.

  Unless it’s golf.

  In some cultures, they say you know when you’re going to die. At least, your soul knows it. It’s a feeling. Your gut screams when the end is near. It’s what many of us know as the sixth sense, the ability to perceive and even feel when your time on earth is over. But mine wasn’t.