This is So Happening (So Far, So Good Book 2)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Books by Amelia Kingston
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
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About the Author
Totally Bound Publishing books by Amelia Kingston
So Far, So Good
So, That Got Weird
So Far, So Good
THIS IS SO HAPPENING
AMELIA KINGSTON
This is So Happening
ISBN # 978-1-83943-415-0
©Copyright Amelia Kingston 2020
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright August 2020
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2020 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book two in the
So Far, So Good series
A torturously tempting love story.
Jessica ‘Jessie’ Allen is sugary sweet and perpetually perky. Running on an endless supply of enthusiasm, she’s in constant motion. The people pleaser is running herself ragged to make other people happy—anything to avoid having to figure out what would make her happy.
Devin Bennett is her complete opposite, the immovable object to Jessie’s unstoppable force. The tall, tattooed and brooding mechanic hates change and the perky blonde co-ed shoving it down his throat. Jessie is drawn to him like a valley girl to an outlet mall, but Devin dodges her advances better than a UFC fighter. The longer she’s around, the harder it is to keep his hands off her perfect body and his lips away from her sassy mouth.
For the first time in her life, Jessie knows what she wants. Devin Bennett. And she’s not above torturing him with temptation to make it happen.
Dedication
To Layla.
The light of my life. The center of my universe. The reason I get out of bed in the morning.
You’re not a dog, you’re a furry therapist.
Thank you for the cuddles and kisses.
You can’t read this, but walkies and extra treats are coming your way.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
AstroTurf: Equistone Partners Europe
Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Bratz: MGA Entertainment Inc.
Buick: General Motors Company
Cheshire Cat: Lewis Carroll
Chevy: General Motors Company
Chuck E. Cheese: CEC Entertainment, Inc.
Civic: Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
Dr. Strangelove: Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc
F-150: Ford Motor Company
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Falcon: Ford Motor Company
Focus: Ford Motor Company
Hallmark: Crown Media Holdings, Inc.
Jeep: FCA US LLC
Jenga: Hasbro, Inc.
Kleenex: Kimberly-Clark Corporation
Mack truck: Mack Trucks, Inc.
Macy’s: Macy’s, Inc.
Miss Piggy: The Walt Disney Company
All Apologies: Kurt Cobain
Pontiac: General Motors Company
Prozac: Pfizer Inc.
Ranger: General Motors Company
Ron Burgundy: DreamWorks Pictures
Saab: Saab Automobile AB
Tinder: Tinder Inc.
Toyota: Toyota Motor Corporation
Uber: Uber Technologies, Inc.
Chapter One
Jessie
I tap my sneaker on the faded tile floor of the auditorium and check the clock for the tenth time in thirty seconds. Perched on the last two inches of my seat, my butt nearly sliding off the curved plastic edge, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and eye the exit fifteen feet away. If I’m quick, he won’t even notice me leave.
Don’t judge.
I love my Marketing Principles class, but Professor Pfeffer always ends ten minutes early. Always. That’s why he’s my favorite. Well, that, and because his name is so fun to say.
He’s got to be about done, right? Professor P. reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a notepad. I guess not. He’s rambling about some end-of-term project and, while I’m sure it’s important, I’ve got to go. Today—like every day—I’ve got more to do than I’ve got hours to do it.
When Professor P. turns to the whiteboard, I make a break for it. I’m up the aisle and out of the door in a flash. I’ll just grab the notes from Austin later.
I close my eyes and turn my face up to the warm sun, taking a deep breath and reveling in the chilly air filling my lungs after two hours in that stuffy lecture. I bask in the sunshine for a full two seconds, then tighten my high ponytail and get moving. I grab a protein bar, my cell and my headphones out of my bag before throwing it over my shoulder.
The three missed texts from Maddy are no surprise, but guilt still churns in my empty stomach. I take a big bite of my protein bar and head off towards the baseball field at an easy run. I’m going to have to book it if I don’t want to be late to intramural kickball.
I shoot a quick text letting Maddy know I�
��m on my way, before tapping my mom’s smiling face in my contacts. I slip my headphones in and listen to the ringing.
“Birdie!” My mom greets me with my childhood nickname.
“Hey, Mom. Sorry I missed your call yesterday. School’s been pretty crazy. Getting ready for finals and everything.” I breathe out through my nose to avoid panting into the microphone.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I know how busy you kids get.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Missing the weekly call from Mom is dangerous territory. It isn’t done in the Allen clan. We’re a pretty tightknit group thanks to Mom’s kung-fu grip on those family ties.
“How’s school?” Mom asks.
“Great. Busy, but great. I’m heading over to a kickball game right now.”
“What fun,” Mom chirps. A quick beat passes, her maternal senses obviously tingling. “Jessie, honey, are you okay? You’re breathing a little hard.”
“Just a little pre-game warm-up jog.” I grab my headphones and hold the mic away from my mouth.
“You’re not trying to do too much at once, are you?”
I swallow the last bite of my protein bar dinner and deflect. “Me? Never.” I glance at the time on my phone and pick up my pace.
“Jessica Bridget Allen…”
I cringe at my full name.
“You know me, I’m a multitasker,” I quip. She sighs. Time to go on the offensive. “How’s everything with you? You and Dad decide what color to paint the kitchen?”
It’s an underhanded trick to bring up the never-ending remodel, a topic of heated debates between my parents for the past six months. Without fail, my mom launches into her latest argument in favor of chartreuse, a color my dad is convinced belongs nowhere but in a margarita glass. He’s right of course, but all of us Allen children are smart enough not to pick sides in this one.
The baseball field comes into view and I slow down to a brisk walk.
“I absolutely get it. Who wouldn’t want their kitchen painted to symbolize happiness and nature?” I placate Mom as I wave to Maddy to prove I made it. “Look, Mom, I better get going. The game is about to start.”
“Right, right. Good luck. Oh, and don’t forget brunch this weekend. Jake is bringing a new girl for us to meet.”
“A new one? What happened to the one from last month? What was her name, Rachel?”
My mom lets out a deep breath. “I can’t keep track of them, to be honest.”
We share a laugh at my precocious middle brother’s expense.
“When are you going to bring someone home to us, Jessie Bird?”
Not any time soon. Who has time for a serious boyfriend in college? Between sorority duties, intramural sports, study groups, homework and oh yeah, going to class, I sure as hell don’t.
“My team captain is waving at me frantically. I gotta get going. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
I shove my headphones into my backpack, grab my team T-shirt and pull it on over my tank top. It’s fifty degrees outside, but I don’t regret forgoing a sweatshirt. I’ve always been hot-blooded. Dad swears it’s because I never sit still.
“Thank god you’re finally here,” Maddy’s exasperated voice calls out across the field. “You’re late.”
I greet the grumpy co-ed with a bright smile. “Nice to see you too, Maddy. Class ran longer than expected.” I check the time. Five twenty-three. Less than half an hour late is early for me.
Maddy gives me a soft smile. “Sorry, it’s just half the guys who said they’d come haven’t shown up and we were going to have to forfeit if you didn’t make it.”
I look over at our withering bench, full of bored and anxious faces. I take a breath and step up the pep. Time to get this derailed party train back on track. I grab Maddy’s shoulders and give her a shake. “It’s college kickball. Not the Olympics. Lighten up.” I add a little hip check. “Shall we get this show on the road?”
I strut to the dugout, toss a fist into the air and cheer. “Who’s ready to get their kickball on?” I’m greeted with muted enthusiasm. I do some exaggerated kicking motion stretches with my long legs while making old-man-grunting noises. “You all need to bring your A-game. Can’t have you embarrassing me in front of the scouts.”
“Scouts?” Terrance snickers.
I brush the imaginary chip off my shoulder. “Yeah. I’m lookin’ to go pro. You didn’t know? I’m huge in Japan,” I deadpan. That does it. The whole team cracks up and we’re chugging along to Fun Town.
Seven innings, a victory and a quick shower later, I’m texting Trevor that I’m on my way and speed-walking to the library. A few people from my Econ class are hunkered down at a table in the very back for our regular study group.
I stroll up, throw my arms out wide and declare, “I have arrived. Let the learning begin.” I get a couple of chuckles and a few sighs. Worth it.
We’re packing it in an hour later and my phone buzzes with a call from Hannah, my sorority’s president.
“What’s up, Hannah Banana?”
“Hey, Jessie! So, you know we’ve got that charity event this weekend?”
I wave to Trevor and make my way to the library exit. “Yeah, at the Children’s Hospital. I’ll be there.”
“That’s great. I was talking to Sam and we were thinking it’d be great to bring cookies with us.”
“Cookies?” I step out into the cold night and stroll back to my house. It’s late now and the campus is quiet, only a few students scurrying to their dorms.
“Yeah, something home cooked. Hospital food is awful, and who doesn’t like cookies?”
I chuckle, knowing where this is going. “I’m sure the kids would love that.”
“Awesome. So, you think you could make your famous chocolate chunk cookies? I think a few dozen would be enough.”
I scrunch up my face, squeezing my eyes shut tight and dropping my head back. My mind swims with all the things on my schedule right now. It’s for sick kids. How can I say no to sick kids? I choke down an exhausted sigh.
“Sure, Hannah,” I answer. “I can manage that.”
“You’re the best, Jessie!” she coos before hanging up.
I make it home, flop down on my bed and crack open my books. A few more hours knocking out homework and I’m finally done for the night. I slip on my favorite flannel pajama shorts, despite them being too short on me, and an oversized ratty T-shirt. Dead on my feet, I manage to drag myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I realize I didn’t close the door after Michelle pops her head in. Even in the sanctity of our sorority house at almost midnight, she looks put together, as always. Her cute matching pajama set hugs her petite body, her long black hair is glistening and a light coating of mascara makes those upturned brown eyes pop. She tries harder than she needs to. She’s got an exotic beauty tempered by a natural sweetness that makes boys take notice. I watch her hovering behind me in the mirror, the unassuming smile on her delicate face a dead giveaway I’m about to do her a favor.
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asks innocently enough.
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’ve got a study group on Saturday. Then I’ve got a family brunch Sunday. And we’ve got that volunteer event for the Children’s Hospital on Sunday afternoon that I’m now making a few dozen cookies for. And sometime between all that I’ve got two term papers to write,” I ramble off my schedule, already tired. Michelle nods behind me, biting her lip. I make the mistake of asking, “Why?”
“Nothing. You’re busy…” She leans against the sink next to me and sighs.
“Never too busy for one of my sisters,” I tell her earnestly.
She pounces. “Will you come to the party with me on Saturday?”
Okay, I’ll admit, I walked right into this one.
“The one at the football house?” I ask.
She nods, dropping her chin to her chest and staring at me with those big puppy-dog eyes.
“I thought you a
nd Monte were over?”
“We are. Beyond over. The guy’s a jerk.”
I shake my head and stumble back to my room, Michelle hot on my heels. “Then why would you want to go to a party at his house?”
“To show him that I’m over him. Duh,” she answers with a sassy head wobble. She plops down on my bed, flipping through my statistics textbook. “Besides, the season is almost over. It’s going to be one of the best parties of the year.”
I take the textbook from her and stack it with its many friends on my desk. “I don’t know,” I answer, pulling back the covers and telegraphing my deep desire to go to sleep. Michelle doesn’t take the hint.
“I need a wing woman.” She slouches, her slender shoulders folding forward. She pretends nothing rattles her, but she is more insecure than people would ever guess. “Please?” she asks, her voice soft.
We both know I’m going to say yes. All I’m doing is losing precious sleep pretending otherwise.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll come.”
“Thank you! You’re the best.” She hops off the bed and throws her arms around me, squeezing tight.
“So I’ve heard. Now go away, I need my beauty sleep!”
She skips away, singing her thank-yous as she does.
I close the door behind her and sigh. It’s past midnight when I collapse in bed, after setting my alarm for six a.m. to get up and do it all over again.
Chapter Two
Devin
The alarm on my phone blares in my ear and I silence it with a grunt, dragging my tired ass out of bed before the damn sun is up. After shaking some of the stiffness from my muscles, and pulling on a pair of worn but clean jeans, I lurch into the kitchen for some much-needed coffee.
I’m too young to be this sore in the mornings. I swear, sometimes I feel a hundred years old. Never had this problem when I spent my days under the hood of a car. It’s sitting in that damn office, hunched over a mountain of invoices and staring at a dim computer screen until I can’t see straight. Humans weren’t meant to do this shit. A man should have something to show for himself at the end of the day. Something tangible.