Love You...Never

by Francesca Penn

  LADERO FICTION is published by

  Ladero Press LLC

  229 Kettering Road

  Deltona, Florida 32725

  First Ladero Press Printing, February 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Precious Nunez

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-946981-38-7 Amazon Kindle Version Only

  Printed in the United States of America

  Set in Times New Roman

  Cover by DesignRans

  All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission, or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission, please contact Ladero Press Editors at editors@laderopress.com

  All Ladero Press publications are available at bulk discounts. For details, contact Sales at sales@laderopress.com or write: Ladero Press Sales, 229 Kettering Road, Deltona, Florida 32725.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Ladero Press logo is a trademark of Ladero Press LLC. Ladero Fiction, and the Ladero Fiction logo are trademarks.

  www.laderopress.com

  www.authorfrancescapenn.com

  Printed in U.S.A.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chase It

  Prologue

  Tuesday, February 14, 2006

  Emiliano

  Caris Vaughn is the perfect woman. At least that’s what my love-struck, 18-year-old self believes. We’ve only spoken a few times, but I cannot deny the bolt of electricity I feel when I’m near her. She’s the one. My forever lady. My parents fell in love at nineteen and never looked back. My father taught me to recognize the feeling early and not waste a woman’s time if I’m not ready to commit. Most people my age are not ready for this level of commitment, but I am. If she’ll have me, I’ll be hers forever. I couldn’t sleep last night; I’m anxious and excited. It’s a special day for me in more than one way. Today, on the ultimate day of love, I will profess my deepest sentiments to the doe-eyed beauty and ask her to prom.

  I take a deep breath as I wash my hands in the boys’ restroom. I can do this. I ignore the clatter of the early-morning students speaking loudly while bursting in and out of the restroom and focus on my goal. Get the girl. My chestnut waves are in place, controlled by a light application of mousse. My breath is minty, and my body is fresh from my shower and my dad’s cologne. All good. Again, I check the collar on my button up and tug at my sweater vest. I dressed up today; I want to look nice when she receives my Valentine’s Day gift. I’ll enclose the most beautiful note I could muster. I know she will want me after this, for sure. Fortified, I leave the sanctuary of the bathroom. Pushing my way through the morning crowd while responding to the greetings of classmates is a bigger annoyance than it would be on any other day. My dress shoes carry me to the Student Council line with soft clicks.

  I wring my hands while I wait. The lover inside of me wants to buy her the big gift set (flowers, a bear, and chocolates), but the practical side doesn’t want to drown her in affection. I need to keep it simple. I’m next. I smile at the roses. That’s it. I’ll take the classic route. My spirit wanes when I come face-to-face with Royal Abernathy. He’s a thorn in my side and chafes my ass. He hasn’t liked me since I won the eighth grade Science Fair. Look, I’m an average kid. I’m not a genius, nor am I an idiot. I just work extra hard to earn scholarships for college. My parents saved some money, but it’s not enough for a full ride. I need to toe the line if I want a degree.

  Royal is an entitled brat. The rich one who doesn’t like to see the common folk doing well. I paste a tight smile on my face. He is the president of the student council, and I need those roses.

  “What are you doing here? No girls like you,” he sneers at me through bleached blond bangs.

  He has a black father and a white mother. Sometimes, he’ll go to the extreme of one side of his heritage, trying to find the sweet spot of his identity.

  “I want to order the rose bouquet, please.”

  “Oh, yeah? It costs twenty-four dollars. Can you afford that?” His deep brown eyes judge me.

  I pull a ten and a twenty out of my wallet and slide it across the table. I lock eyes with Amy, the treasurer. “Keep the change as a donation.” She smiles and swipes the money.

  “Thank you, Emilio?” she asks.

  “Emiliano,” I correct with a smile.

  “Whew. Someone mowed a lot of lawns this summer,” Royal taunts then laughs at his joke.

  I narrow my eyes but keep my lips closed. I don’t know how to respond. I can’t tell if he’s being stereotypical because I’m Mexican, if he knows my dad owns a landscaping business, or if he believes all regular people mow lawns for money.

  “I have a normal part-time job at Smoothie, Smoothie,” I clench my jaw when he snickers. “I rather not depend on daddy paying for everything. I’m self-sufficient.”

  “Simmer down, hombre,” he mocks as he pulls out a card. “What do you want me to put on the note to your mom?”

  I dropped the sealed envelope with Caris’ name on the table and slide it towards Amy. “Already done. All you have to do is attach it.”

  Royal snatches it and something bitter flashes in his eyes as he reads the name. “My, my, my. This is a reach. She’ll never want you.”

  Caris is popular, but she doesn’t act like the stereotypical popular girl. She’s not trying to be the queen bee. Part of her beauty is the light inside of her. She’s sweet, and her butterscotch brown skin glows with confidence. Also, I will not pretend that I’m only drawn to her inner beauty. That would be a lie. In addition to her personality being heaven on earth, her body makes me ache. I’m a virgin. I don’t know much about physical love, but she makes me want to learn all there is to know about it.

  “I’ll take my chances,” I say with more confidence than I have. My anxiety rises as I work my way through the crowd.

  I retrieve my backpack from my locker, and I lean on it to watch the crowd. Okay, I’m not crowd-watching. I’m Caris-watching. Her locker is directly across the hall from mine. The hunt has already begun. I watch her smile graciously at a nervous, red-faced freshman as he passes her a chocolate heart then runs off. She pops open her locker and shoves the heart in with a lot of other Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. I saw a bear, a dancing cupid, a balloon, a lot of candy, etc. I shake my head. The first period hasn’t started, and she’s already drowning in affection. I pray my note makes me stand out.

  Emiliano

  I settle into my desk in History before anyone else appears. I am too edgy to think about anything else. N
ow is the time I find out where I stand with her. The gifts are being delivered this period. It’s perfect because we have this class together. I’ll be able to get instant feedback. I clutch my stomach. I was too nervous to eat breakfast, and now that the moment has arrived, I’m glad I didn’t. Throwing up is the last thing I need to do in front of my future Mrs.

  Caris enters shortly after me. I sigh. She tucks some of her black bob behind her ear. Her soft yellow shirt highlights her brown skin and hugs her breasts and torso lovingly, giving me a little glimpse of cleavage. My mouth waters as my eyes drink in the skin-tight denim skirt that stops mid-thigh – the tights she wears underneath are as cute and colorful as she is. I can’t help but smile at her.

  Caris smiles back, and my heart raves. I feel that zing again. Encouragement floods my cells. This is the longest moment we’ve existed together. Aware of each other. In tune with each other. It must be the magic of Valentine’s Day. Maybe there is a Cupid, and he’s finally opened her eyes. I am her true love.

  Her friend Cher bounces in waving goodies she’d acquired in Caris' face and kills our moment. I don’t mind because our silent encounter fills me with daydreams about us. She is going to receive my gift and be touched by my words. She’ll accept my invitation to prom, and we will date until the big day. We are going to be that annoying couple who is hated and envied by everyone. We’ll have joined graduation parties and get married after college…Someone knocks in the middle of class. I sit up straight and lock my spine. Here we go! Amy rolls in a cart laden with gifts and starts passing them out.

  To my surprise, I get a couple of gifts. I open the first one. A heart-shaped lollipop from Yessy Torres – her parents should have named her something else because YES is her favorite word when it comes to the opposite sex – she’d enclosed a note explaining how she’d like to make me her lollipop. I shudder at the thought. I got chocolate from Priscilla. She’s a sweet girl, unlike Yessy; she was nice enough to leave a standard “Be Mine” with her phone number. I will call and thank her later, but I have my sights set on another woman.

  Amy blushes when she drops off a third gift. My curiosity spikes. A white teddy bear holding a red heart that reads “Hugs and Kisses” I open the note attached to the bear. I laugh at the update of my name.

  Emilio Emiliano,

  I know we hardly speak, but I’ve liked you for a while. If it’s not too late, I would love it if you would consider being my prom date.

  XOXO,

  Amy

  I’m floored. I’ve never considered that the internal metal butterflies eating me alive would exist for someone else because of me. I can’t help but give her a big smile. I know what she’s going through. It may not be on the same level since I’m trying to get forever, but I know it’s a big moment for her. I appreciate the courage. She blushes and hides her eyes behind her light brown hair. Amy is a cute girl with big hazel eyes, but she’s not Caris. I don’t feel the same zing. I let her have this moment. In the spirit of my dad’s advice, I’ll call her tonight and tell her that my heart belongs to another. Amy peeks at me again with a bigger smile lightening her face as she leaves.

  Then, I feel it. The moment my life changes course is now, except it’s not a good feeling. It’s a sick one. Trepidation rides my veins as I shift my gaze to Caris. Her face is a mixture of hurt, anger, and disgust. My heart breaks immediately. The full force of her gaze – that withering stare is focused on me. She hates me, and I don’t know why. I briefly consider her misreading the smile I gave Amy, but that would require jealousy. Jealousy is not a present emotion on her face. It’s hatred.

  Did I read our moment wrong? Was she just being nice earlier? Have I somehow overstepped a boundary with my note? I don’t know the cause of the shift in her demeanor, but I’m somehow to blame. She jumps out of her seat and slings her backpack over her shoulder. Caris stomps up to me with my flowers in her hand; the whole class watches as she bends and twists the roses in half.

  “JERK!” she growls at me and tosses three-hours-of-smoothie-making worth of flowers at me.

  They bounce off my chest and shatter my heart. The pain is blinding. I bleed. I don’t care about the laughs trickling in the room as she rushes out of class and slams the door behind her. I am numb because my worst fear is surpassed. This is beyond rejection.

  I sit there as water from the flowers drips down my chin. Petals stick to my sweater vest, and the rest clutter my desk and lap. There is a roaring in my ears and an ache in my heart that don’t allow me to see or hear anything around me. I shake the petals off my gifts and toss the Valentine’s into my backpack. I scrape together the fragments Caris left behind of my tattered, once-perfect future and toss them in the trash on the way out the door. I don’t know if the teacher tries to stop me because I have tunnel vision. I close the door and march ahead with my eyes on my goal. I don’t look around or notice anyone in the hallway. I don’t know if anyone speaks because jerk rings in my ears in a deafening loop.

  The sunlight blinds me as I push my way through the door. I march to my truck. I exhale once I’m inside. My shaky hand takes longer than usual getting the key in the ignition. I drive home on autopilot. Fuck the rest of the day. No, fuck the rest of this week. I mumble something about not feeling well to my mother before I locked my bedroom door and crumble on my bed. I mope and cry the rest of the week.

  Sunday night, I pull myself together.

  Monday morning, the former love of my life becomes my biggest enemy.

  Chapter 1

  Wednesday, January 3, 2018

  Caris

  “I just got off the phone with Spark Advertising Agency, and they said the best of the best would be here shortly,” Cher says into my speakerphone.

  “Is that so?” I ask doubtfully.

  “Yes!” she yells louder than necessary, and I make a stabbing motion at the phone on my desk. This is what happens when you let your best friend be your personal assistant while she decides to re-evaluate her life goals.

  “So, we call yesterday at the beginning of the year, and their best Ad Executive just happens not to have anything to do but help a lingerie company rebrand to reach a bigger market?” My words drip with a bunch of “yeah right.”

  “He is when you call and ask for the name of the best. Hang up. Then call back and request to speak to his secretary. Gossip with her and build a rapport, then offer her the spa certificate that your boss is never going to use because she claims to be busy if she could squeeze us in and pretend as if we were on his calendar the entire time.”

  I laugh. Her hustle is top-notch, and my gift certificate was sacrificed as tribute. “And what did we find out about Mr. Bigshot Ad Exec?”

  “That he’s fucking extra-steamy hot shot of Mexican vanilla with a sexy accent. His body makes grown women cry. He has kissable lips, piercing light brown eyes, and wavy brown hair perfect for grabbing during sex,” Cher gushes. “Of course, I’m reading between the lines because I’m sure HR would not allow her to say it like that. She did say if there were anyone who knew panties enough to help rebrand a lingerie company, it would be him. Hint. Hint.”

  “Oh, Lord,” I huff into my speaker.

  “That’s right friend.” Cher laughed. “We have a beautiful man-whore coming our way. I’ll be in with your lunch right after I upgrade my outfit and makeup.”

  I roll my eyes and disconnect the call without responding. I’m turning thirty this year, and I do not have time for man-whores. It will be nice to have a little eye candy for a few weeks, though. And when it comes to eye candy, my black ass does not discriminate; I look at all of them. Mexican? I think back to the last Mexican man (or shall I say boy) I’d checked out. When I found my answer, I suffocated the thought and buried it deep. To this day, I’m unable to remember him without disdain.

  “Such an asshole,” I murmur to myself.

  I head to the conference room to set up for my meeti*ng but stop in my tracks. Dreamy brown eyes, kissable lips, wavy hair…my stom
ach drops. I call Cher back. “What’s his name?” I inquire in lieu of a greeting

  “Um…Thomas.”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Okay, thank goodness.”

  “Um…I would have warned you immediately if someone had said his name.” Cher knows we don’t speak of the devil.

  “Right. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Emiliano

  “Loli?” I say rushing out of my office. “Can you explain how I have an appointment with a whole new client – a lingerie company, at that – in thirty minutes when I usually handle way bigger accounts? Why should I waste my time working on something a junior ad exec is supposed to handle?”

  Loli widens her big baby blues then batts her lashes at me. She isn’t flirting; she’s happily married with a little one baking in her belly. No. This is her if-I-remind-my-boss-how-freaking-adorable-I-am-I-won’t-get-yelled-at face.

  “Come on E.T. You’re sooo gooood at what you do. You could do this teeny-weeny little rebrand in your sleep. I know you can.”

  She is adorable in a little-sister-you-want-to-choke kind of way. I simply fold my arms and stare at her. She knows it’s my nonverbal way of telling her to explain.

  “Okay!” she breaks. “I freaking love this company. Their lingerie got me here…” She points at her protruding belly. “And their Simplicity line has been my lifeline during this pregnancy. Plus, the assistant who called looking for the best was sooooooooo sweet and loyal to her boss – like I am to you – that I felt it was kismet. You know?”

  “You know I don’t believe in that shit.”

  “Tomás, Tom, Tommy. Don’t be that guy. I know you are a closet softy. You can use that tough demeanor on others, but I know the truth. Besides...” she leans in closer and whispers, “I happen to know that the boss’s wife is also a Thrills and Frills fan as well. You work with this company; being successful will help you be even more of a shoe-in than you already are. Nothing says “partner” like getting the boss laid.”