To Dad and Mom
For always loving me best and putting me first.
You have given me my dreams.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Prologue
“So you remember the book?”
In the pitch black of my dorm room I was momentarily befuddled by the nervous question that echoed in my ear. It was seconds before I realized I’d answered my cell phone in my sleep. The offending object was lit up like a freaking Christmas tree, pressed right to my face, disorienting me. I yanked it back, squinting against the onslaught of light at the screen so I’d know what moron had dared to call me in the middle of the night. It couldn’t have been anyone who valued my friendship.
“FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS DRINK AND SEXT” was the only name my caller ID displayed, but it was enough to identify my late night male caller.
“Adley?” His voice sounded again, muffled by the distance, but still ringing with uncertainty. “Are you there?”
“Yes, Cameron,” I answered, drawing out his name reluctantly, as I lowered the phone back to my ear. He wouldn’t be surprised by my irritation. If there was anyone who should have been aware of my self-diagnosed allergy to sunrise, it was Cam. He was perfectly acquainted with the wrath he’d just risked, and that meant he either really wanted to piss me off, or there was something pretty important he needed to share.
“Full names aren’t exactly how I wanted to start this conversation.” He sighed dramatically, but I could hear the familiar grin inflating his words.
I rarely called him Cameron. He might have been C.A. Peterson to the rest of the world, but he was just Cam to me.
“Then you probably shouldn’t have started it at –” I cut myself off with a groan, shoving my body deeper into the long, twin-sized bed at the sight of my alarm clock “– 3:45 in the morning!?”
Cam’s chuckle sounded far more at ease than the strained reluctance with which he’d started our conversation. “Aren’t you in college? Shouldn’t you be out at a keg party or making a toga or something?”
“I’d advise updating your research from Animal House if your next book is set in college,” I told him dryly.
My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I was unsurprised to find my dorm mate Hannah’s matching bed empty. She all but lived in the library during the month of finals. Not that I minded. I liked my space and sleep uninterrupted. I thrived in solitude.
A reluctant pause swelled in the silence, and I had a feeling it had nothing to do with my critique of his interpretation of college.
It was funny how all the useless knowledge you accumulated when you’re in love with someone could sit for years gathering dust in the back of your mind, only to spill out at the slightest reminder. For instance, at that moment, I knew exactly what his dragging muteness indicated. He was finally gearing up to explain the real reason for our little, late night chat. But just because I understood, didn’t mean I was going to be any more patient waiting for him to get around to the show and tell portion of our reunion.
As far as exes go, it was hard to imagine Cam and I having a better relationship, which was even more impressive considering our unique situation. But just because I hadn’t set his house on fire or gone to battle on Facebook over who wronged who the most, didn’t mean we didn’t still have closets full of unresolved issues. It definitely didn’t mean that phone calls of any kind were on the reg.
“It’s hard to work on any new books when all my time is consumed by the last one…”
And with that he brought us back to the question he’d greeted me with, “So you remember the book?”
Half asleep, I hadn’t processed what he’d said, but by bringing it up again, he’d left me with no choice but to accept the monumental, unspoken line he’d just crossed.
We never discussed his book, The Girl in the Yellow Dress. It was a critical success and commercial phenomena. Every day for the past two years, I’d listened to the world obsess over it. It was inescapable. The book followed me to coffee shops, classes, grocery stores, and even the doctor’s office. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone a full day without hearing something to do with Cam’s book.
And I was happy for him, which might have sounded contrite or bitter if I was talking about anyone else, but not Cam. He deserved all his success. My problem with the book lay elsewhere.
The main issue being that it was about me. And not just a character based on me with a carefully disguised name like Anna Andrews or Amelia Adams. No, the flawed character that filled the pages of The Girl in the Yellow Dress was named Adley Adair. You could pick it up in any book store in America and read about the most personal, life altering thing that had ever happened to me.
He cleared his throat, and I knew my silence made him uncomfortable. It offered him nothing to decipher or overanalyze. “You know I only agreed to a movie because they gave me full control over the screenplay and artistic vision of the film… All this makes me feel so weird. I don’t want to make things harder for you.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with me,” I insisted, placating him as I wished truth into my statement.
“Adley,” he breathed. The doubtful tone he soothed me with took me back to rushed kisses in the back of his car and sweltering days of summer with only each other as company. I knew exactly what Cam looked like when he said my name like that.
“It doesn’t,” I insisted stubbornly. “I might not have read The Girl in the Yellow Dress, but I know where to find it in Barnes and Noble. It’s fiction, Cam.”
“They want to meet you,” he blurted out, his words as quick as lightning. In such a typical, Cam-way he was dragging us closer and closer to the real point of all this. “The actress that’s playing Adley brought it up, and some of the other production staff jumped on board… Before you say no, please think about it, Addy. It feels like I haven’t seen a friendly face since all this mess started, and I know things are different between us now, but there was a time when we were each other’s family. Would it be so horrible getting paid to spend your summer bumming around California?”
“Paid?” There was no greater testament to the distance that had grown between us the past three years than the fact that Cam hadn’t led with the incentive.
I couldn’t blame him. The girl he’d fallen in love with had never worried about money a day in her life. I’d grown up pampered by my parents’ wealth, never noticing the three hundred dollar haircuts I painlessly charged onto their accounts, along with every other purchase made at my heart’s desire.
“Of course.” He sounded appropriately offended, shocked I would think otherwise. “You’d be on the studio’s payroll as, like, a research assistant or something. We can work out the details later… Come on, Ads. It’d take a lot of pressure off me. I’d have more time to work on the new book if I didn’t have to spend all my time stressing about them destroying The Girl in the Yellow Dress.”
It was amazing all the things he could do with my name when he wanted something: Addy, Ads, A. As nice as it was to hear him – the world-renowned author C.A. Peterson – beg a lowly, college sophomore for something, it wasn’t necessary. The days of credit cards, trust funds, and a never-ending cash flow were over. My pride wouldn’t let me accept the portion of Cam’s royalties that he’d offered me, but it couldn’t argue when a legitimate job was offered.
“You know I’ve never actually read The Girl in the Yellow Dress, right?” I refused to let defeat sneak into my words, happy to let him worry over my decision a little longer.
He snorted. “I think your real life experience will suffice.”
“Email me all the information, and I’ll think about it when I get a chance,” I lied. I didn’t have the luxury of rejecting any opportunity, much less a paid one.
The truth was that, up until Cam’s phone call, my summer had been a gaping hole of uncertainty. Without a dorm or food plan, I was homeless, jobless, and – thanks to my late start in college – without the necessary credits to get a decent, paying internship.
He whooped loudly in my ear. Apparently, he still knew well me enough to detect my fibs.
“I’ll see you in Cali, Adley Adair!”
I hung up on him, stopping myself from tossing my phone recklessly onto the bedside table Hannah and I shared. I definitely couldn’t afford a new one.
With a sigh, I placed it carefully back on the charger and yanked the covers over my head. Maybe I could just hide forever.
Chapter One
Adley
Beneath me, the United States slid past as quickly and platonically as someone scrolling over the page of a book they’d already read a million times. Tension clawed at my gut, and, not for the first time on the never-ending plane ride, I regretted not pocketing a few of Hannah’s anxiety pills. She’d never notice. Her side of the bedside table was stacked with a sampler of Xanax, Clonazepam, and whatever other meds she could convince herself and a doctor that she needed.
While I’d never been a fan of flying (there’s something about the logistics of being utterly helpless to control my surroundings that really doesn’t sit well with me), it wasn’t the main ingredient of the stew boiling through my nervous system. It had been a month since Cam’s phone call, and my obsession with acing finals had kept me from thinking of my looming summer plans.
It had crashed down on me with a vengeance the moment I secured my safety belt back in North Carolina, and remained even now as we circled LAX, minutes from landing.
“Is it your first time in California?” the boy who’d spent the flight one empty seat away asked, powering off the iPod that had been consistently humming through his ear buds. He looked young, probably still in high school, and definitely not old enough to be shooting me such flirty looks.
I sighed as my eyes fell back out the window.
“I’m from Pasadena.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared something personal about my life, even such a minuscule detail. I told myself it was harmless. He was just some kid that I’d never see again.
It felt strange to speak of California as my home: half relief and half bubbling nausea. Ever since I’d fled, nearly four years earlier, I’d done everything in my power to put literal and metaphorical distance away from my past. I wanted to escape the life I’d had, the family I’d left behind, and most of all, the girl I’d been.
It was a door I didn’t plan on opening, despite my return. My parents still lived in Pasadena, and while it was just a short trip from there to LA, it was one they didn’t frequent. This town was big enough that they never even had to know I was here. Actually, if they’d heard Cam was back in town, Mr. and Mrs. Adair had probably moved cities, maybe even countries. I could only imagine how much they hated him.
“Yeah,” the boy agreed, giving me an appreciative once-over. His eyes jumped down my body, hitting the big three: blonde hair, pretty face, and nice rack. “I can definitely see the California girl in you.”
I rolled my eyes, not even the lure of a distraction could entice me into continuing that conversation. I fell back into silence, watching the world below race up to meet us.
As I slowly shuffled off the aircraft and through the airport, the drawer in my mind where I’d carefully locked away my feelings for Cam and what we’d gone through together rattled and shook, demanding attention. I hated how nervous I was. It was just Cam. I rallied together a hundred familiar memories of him, hoping to shame my emotions clean of their worthless anxiety. I was careful to steer clear of memories of before though. Before things had been so irreversibly changed between us.
I spotted him almost instantly as I rode down the escalator to the main floor. My eyes were drawn to him like a magnet finally finding its mate.
Happy reunions and weepy farewells exploded around me like fireworks, but I could only see him.
His honey-colored hair was shorter, cut into cleaner lines, and his jeans actually fit his lean hips for once. Both changes alluded to the money he had to spend on more frivolous things.
For a second, I was struck by the oddness of our role reversals. Cam was wearing designer clothes, living in California, and I was flying in from his hometown, dressed in clothes I’d slept in the night before.
I watched him, seeing the exact moment he picked me out of the moving cluster, his chocolate eyes coming to life. There was no hesitation as he strode forward to meet me. He stopped short, only a few steps shy of being able to embrace me, with a wide grin on his handsome face.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” It had been three years, and he greeted me like I was his fraternity brother getting back from class.
And somehow, I still found myself smiling at the mirth in his warm eyes. I mean, I was wearing bright pink cotton shorts that had the audacity to flaunt little yellow rubber duckies. My plain white t-shirt was a safer choice, but I wasn’t dressing for fashion. My reasoning was simple. It didn’t matter how you looked boarding a plane, because everyone looked equally frazzled getting off. I’d simply learned to cut out the middleman.
“It’s college girl chic,” I deadpanned.
“Actually,” he said slowly, reclining slightly to take in the full picture of my long exposed legs, top-to-bottom and back again, “I think it’s growing on me.”
“Pervert.”
He chuckled, stepping forward to wrap my body in his arms. I sighed, and my entire being hummed with relaxation against him. I didn’t even lift my arms to return his affection. It felt so nice to be held. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let someone get so close to me.
Usually, to be on hugging terms with people, you have to get to know them a little better than casual acquaintances, and ever since I’d left California, that’s all I’d had.
“I see your people skills haven’t improved.” His chin rested on top of my head. The sweet sigh in his voice clued me into his bravado. He was enjoying the contact just as much as me.
“Shut up,” I hushed. We were standing so close that my lips moved against the cloth of his shirt.
“Umm, excuse me?” a timid voice squeaked, leaving me no choice but to peel my body off his. It was a middle-aged woman dressed modestly in summer pastels and a truly fashionable fanny-pack. Her hands were extended towards Cam, presenting a hardback book that’s tasteful cover boasted The Girl in the Yellow Dress. “I don’t want to disturb you. I’m sure you get this all the time, but I really loved your book. Would you mind signing it for me?”
She flipped the back cover open, and Cam’s picture smiled happily up at us, dimples and all. The woman beamed proudly at him as he dutifully fulfilled her request.
“Adley reminded me a lot of my younger sister. Her choice was very brave. It’s good to see positive female characters making a return in literature.”
Cam eyed me covertly as he thanked the woman and wished her a good day, but all he found in my eyes was shock. The Girl in the Yellow Dress was big everywhere
, not just LA, and I’d dealt with my fair share of uncomfortable moments when people questioned my name, but for the most part, I’d become an expert at blocking all the talk out. I just shut down at even the slightest mention, saving myself from hearing strangers discuss my life like they knew me or understood what I’d been through.
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked, managing to work my dry mouth as Cam led me over to the circling luggage conveyor.
“Less than you would think when you consider the way my publisher shoved me down the public’s throat during the last leg of the book tour.” Either he was trying very hard to seem nonchalant for my sake, or it actually wasn’t that big of a deal.
My nondescript duffle was one of the first pieces of luggage to come around, and I scooped it up easily before turning back to him and stepping away from the bustle of the other passengers.
“I had to borrow an SUV from the studio in preparation for all your luggage.” He snickered, his face lighting up with something I could only describe as endearment. “Point out the next one, and I’ll grab it for you. Do you think we need a cart?”
I tossed my bag over my shoulder. “This is it.”
“What was that?” he questioned, his face and tone doubtful. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“I really hate that you further polluted the California air by borrowing a gas guzzler, because this one single bag,” I shook it for emphasis, “is the only thing I brought.”
He stared at me, confused and waiting on the punch line. When he realized I wasn’t trying to pull one over on him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips dipped into a frown. He tried to overcompensate for the sudden change by talking loudly about his book tour as he led me to the black Range Rover waiting for us outside, but I wasn’t fooled. I wasn’t comfortable enough to push him about it though.
“How far is the drive to your house?” I asked as he maneuvered the large vehicle through interstate traffic.
“Oh, did I forget to mention?” He avoided my eyes, putting way too much focus on changing lanes. “We’ve got to stop by the studio for a minute before we get you settled into my place.”
Someone I Used to Know Page 1
