Imperfect Love: Pillow Talk (Kindle Worlds Novella)

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Ryann Kerekes. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Imperfect Love remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Ryann Kerekes, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  An Imperfect Love Series Novella

  Pillow Talk

  Brittany Holland

  Cover Design by Alyssa Garcia - Uplifting Designs

  Editing by Dawn Yacovetta

  Table of Contents

  Also By Brittany Holland

  Pillow Talk Playlist

  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

  About the Author

  Follow Me

  Acknowledgements

  Also By Brittany Holland

  St. Helena Vineyard Kindle World

  Something Borrowed

  Something Blue (Spring 2018)

  A Written in the Stars Series

  Happy Ever Never (Coming Soon)

  Never Say Never (Spring 2018)

  Pillow Talk Playlist

  She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles

  Pillow Talk by Sofia Karlberg

  You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

  Now Or Never by Halsey

  Open Book by Jacob Whitesides

  Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN & Sia

  I Wanna Be Yours by Sofia Karlberg

  All I Ask by Adele

  Lights Down Low by MAX

  Turning Tables by Adele

  Million Reasons by Lady Gaga

  Dedication

  Mom, thanks for encouraging us to always aspire to be more!

  Thanks for buying me my first pair of heels!

  No one knows how to rock a pair of kick ass shoes like you do!

  And to Fairy Godmother for showing us that the right pair of shoes can change your life!

  Chapter 1

  Alexa

  The sound of birds chirping causes me to stir, so I pull my quilt around me, not even bothering to open my eyes and doing my best to ignore the sounds of morning. A couple hours of sleep is not enough to live on… good thing I have no life. I merely need to function until I make it through finals, I remind myself as my body relaxes back into a dreamlike state.

  The delicate chirps drift to chiming, and I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly, in fact, it’s possible that I popped a blood vessel. No! It can’t be time to get up! Sliding my phone under my pillow, I roll over, attempting to ignore the digital sound reminding me that time waits for no one.

  Just when I’m winning the war with myself about staying in bed, a blaring sound jars me awake. The final alarm is equal parts battle cry and war siren, and that atrocious noise means I’ve slept through the other two alarms. Shit!

  In the process of scrambling to find my phone to check the time, I knock it under the bed and end up tumbling after it. Cold hard floor…meet thigh.

  “That’s gonna leave a mark,” I groan, rubbing my tender skin.

  “Shut that damn thing off!” a familiar voice grumbles, simultaneously giving me the chills and boiling my blood. He sounds like he had a buffet of broken glass and cigarettes for breakfast, washed down with a fifth of cheap tequila.

  My mind blanks, forgetting about the obnoxious blaring and the fact I’m obviously late. Taking about three steps forward, I yank back the shower curtain that divides my sleeping space from that of my roommate, Kami. Sure enough snuggled up thicker than thieves are Kami and her Ex, Spike.

  His name leaves little to the imagination. Emo, asshole, druggie. Check, check, check. I love guy liner as much as the next girl, but this guy is trouble with a capital T.

  As if sensing my obvious disdain, he glares and turns his back to me, pulling my friend closer into his chest. He might as well hike his leg to mark his territory.

  I haven’t even had my coffee, so it takes everything in my power to avoid addressing him before this situation goes from bad to worse. If an eye roll could cause a concussion, I would be passed out in the floor. “Kami, what’s he doing here?” An angry whisper scratches my throat. She lifts her head from his chest, her auburn hair sticking out in all directions.

  “Hmmm?” She stifles a yawn, cracking open her eyes. “Dude, what?” As I open my mouth to tell her what, and then some, she cuts me off.

  “Just please don’t make a scene.” At least, she has the decency to look half-way embarrassed. We've been through this, but before I can say more, she mouths a silent, “Please.” And that single word speaks volumes.

  I nearly give myself whiplash, spinning on my heel to grab the still blaring phone. Whatever. Doing my best to shake off all the words hanging on the tip of my tongue, I head to bathroom to shower. A quick glance at my phone tells me a shower is a luxury I won’t be afforded this morning if I want to actually make it to my final on time. Messy bun and leggings it is. Again.

  Remembering Captain Asshole is here, I circle back to my make shift dresser to grab a quick change of clothes so I can dress in the bathroom. Kami climbs out of bed and follows me.

  Her skinny frame leans against the bathroom door that she's pulled closed behind her, watching me in the mirror while I pull my hair into a messy bun and wash my face. The chill of the water is a welcome shock to my simmering mood. I can tell she wants to explain. Sucking in a deep breath, I turn and face someone I barely recognize.

  “He stopped by my work last night,” she offers. “And I, well… He said he was sorry.” Voice trailing off, her shoulders rise and fall in a pitiful shrug.

  “We talked about this. You could do so much better. And what about class? Do you not have finals this week?” I try to be supportive and not judgmental, but I want to grab her and shake some sense into her. So, I busy myself going about getting ready as well as I can in the cramped space.

  “I guess I was lonely. And school isn't going so hot for me; my professors all seem to have it out for me. My final project in art got rejected because it was late. But I had to wait to buy the supplies that I needed.”

  “Why didn't you tell me that? I could have helped.” I try to be reassuring, but I'm a little annoyed with the woe is me act.

  “You're already covering most of the bills right now as it is.”

  “That's what friends are for. We will figure this out. Speaking of rent, the money for this month is in the oatmeal container on top of the fridge. Can you pay it today as soon as the office opens? I don't want it to be late.” Taking one last look in the mirror, I grab my stuff and prepare to leave.

  “Sure.” She nods.

  “Thanks, and hey, don't worry. We will figure the rest out. Let's talk tomorrow when I get home. I've got the graveyard again at the diner tonight. But maybe we could grab breakfast before class tomorrow.” She looks like she wants to say more but doesn't. “Okay?” I ask.

  “Sounds good.” Kami says, opening the door and stepping just outside the tiny space.

  “Are you okay to be here alone with him?” I question, searching her eyes for a sign she’s in trouble.

  “Yeah, he's not like that. He's a little rough around the edges I know, but he really does love me.” She pleads, and I wonder which of us she's trying to convince.

  My expression must give away my doubt because she turns defensive. “If you think he's so bad, why did you make a pass at him last time he was here?” My jaw nearly drops, and I realize this must be what's been on her mind. “What? Didn't think he would tell me? Is that why you don't want him around anymore? You were afraid I would find out?”

  “You have got to be kidding me. Look, Kami, I think we both know that's some crock of shit story Spike concocted to drive a wedge between us. And obviously, it worked because here you are accusing me. And if you must know, there was a pass made, but it was the other way around.”

  Her turn to look perplexed.

  “That's right, but I spared you the details because I didn't want to hurt you any more than he already had. And it was a comment he made; he didn't touch me, obviously, as he still has the use of both of his hands. I'm used to brushing off assholes at the diner all the time, so it was no big deal.” The words are cotton in my mouth as I choke out the half-truths; because the thought of what he propositioned still makes my skin crawl.

  “He said you might say that,” she challenges, crossing her arms.

  I feel like all the breath has been knocked from my chest from the sucker punch her words just delivered.

  “I don't have time for this. But know this, I don't want him here anymore. I'm serious. It's him or me. I love you Kam…I do. But I'm done with his shit!” I throw out as I shoulder past her, not bothering to stick around to see her wounded expression. Grabbing my bag and my cardigan, I storm to the door.

  As I pass by I notice the cause for all this is awake and has the nerve to wink at me, so I make sure to give h
is bed a kick as I walk by, which only causes him to laugh because it hurts my foot way more than the bed. Not the smartest move for someone wearing Toms.

  I can still hear his laugh as I slam the door shut behind me. The way the old door rattles in the frame is a perfect match for the way my anger is rattling around inside me. And beneath all that aggression, there is some hurt buried. But, I don't have time to Dr. Phil what just went down because I'm going to miss my final. Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush down and begin my seven block walk to campus. After walking a couple blocks, I decide to splurge on a cab.

  Once seated in the back, I allow myself a moment catch my breath and ease the burn in my lungs. The glass feels smooth against my forehead, the last half hour playing back in my mind on the drive as I watch the world pass by in a blur.

  Tears threaten to fall, pricking the corners of my eyes when I wrestle with how to handle the situation with Kami. I blink them away and pull myself together just as the campus comes into view. I pay the driver and climb out, prepared to turn this day around. My mind is a jumbled mess of worry and stress.

  As I make my way to the building that houses the College of Business, my anger is dissolved by the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach. Each step brings me closer to everything I've worked for. The parties I missed, the meals I skipped, the sleep I gave up, the shitty jobs I worked, and more importantly, the relationships I never forged. All for the one thing. Security. The room where I will take one of my last finals. The four walls that play a crucial part in deciding if I will graduate, the booklet of paper that determines if an MBA is in my future. I've got this. Because failure is not an option.

  Checking my phone, I see that taking the cab has put me almost back on schedule, so I tempt fate by rushing to the coffee cart nearest my class to grab myself a nice strong dark roast to give me the edge I need to tackle this marketing final. Because let's face it, coffee saves lives, and today more so than usual, I could use a little help. I slide into my seat, coffee in hand, just as the bell rings. Reaching into my bag for a pencil, I quickly realize in my haste, I've left my laptop at home. My external hard drive is here but no laptop. Looks like it's going to take more than a cup of Cafe Verona to save me. I silence my phone and drop it back in my bag. Here goes nothing.

  Chapter 2

  Alexa

  “Vince, I’m gonna wipe down the tables and then take a break,” Calling over my shoulder, I make my way down the row of booths to the back to start wiping down the cracked Formica. I really need to study for my Economics final. My final, final.

  "Make it quick." He teases gruffly. "Quite the crowd tonight." He's a burly man, whose bark is way worse than his bite. He’s really a big softy, but I’ll never tell him that.

  My eyes wander around the empty diner – black and white checkered floors in need of waxing, red vinyl booths that have seen better days and an antique jukebox that sits at one end like the crown jewel. It's like being transported back in time, but in a good way, like coming home. I've worked here two years, and they've been good to me.

  From booth to booth, I find the gentle rhythm of scrubbing away the invisible spots slightly therapeutic. My mind drifts to my fight with Kami, and my mood grows somber because I'm out of ideas when it comes to helping her. Sometimes people have to learn to help themselves. But I can't give up on her. She's all I have. Doubts about my marketing final surface, piling on my melancholy mood, but I quickly squash them out. The worn, soapy rag grows cold in my hand.

  Stretching, I take in the aging prints framed on the wall that show what the place used to be like, full of life. Now, most nights, aside from a few regulars, it’s just Vince and me, and on the weekends, Dottie. The hustle and bustle that once was, is no more. Such a shame.

  The clank and jingling of the metal bells on the glass door pulls me from my daydream. Lifting my gaze, I find the most gorgeous specimen of man I have ever encountered, standing in the doorway of the diner.

  My eyes do a quick sweep of his body before locking with his warm chocolate eyes. He has broad shoulders, a tapered waist and is wearing a suit that looks like it was cut just for him. Not the typical type we get around here, other than the slightly wrinkled state of the charcoal fabric, he screams wealth. His hair, a mix of blond and brown, is cut close on the sides and longer on the top. Very trendy, very sexy. Where did that come from?

  The shock must register on my face because he eyes me curiously. It’s not that I’m shocked that a customer wondered in, in the middle of the night. That happens from time to time. It’s just that when I saw him, it was like my breath was stolen. And not in a poetic way, but in an awkward, I can't control my body's response kind of way.

  We remain locked in this odd stare down, of sorts, until a slight shift of his head breaks the trance.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” a booming voice shouts across the empty diner, echoing off the walls.

  The man nods and moves toward the opposite end of the room. And, I’m still frozen in place like a damn fool. Get it together, Alexa.

  “Right, sit anywhere you like.” I repeat Vince's words, throwing a smile at the mysterious stranger as I grab an empty coffee cup.

  He keeps his head down as I approach, seeming very preoccupied. Either that, or maybe he’s just really shy. Maybe he’s undercover. Or maybe he’s meeting his secret lover.

  My mind runs wild with possibilities, a side effect of my bibliophile tendencies.

  “Good evening, -err morning I guess you could say.” The words stumble out of my mouth, and his only response is a tight smile.

  “If you want coffee, I’ll just put on a fresh pot,” I offer as I place a menu and the mug in front of him.

  “That’d be great, thanks,” he says quietly, looking over the menu as I run to start the coffee.

  Mock gasp! He does speak. And his voice is hot!

  “Can I get your order started?” I ask, returning to the table. I reach into my apron, grasping for my pad so I don’t have to tear my eyes away from him, taking the opportunity to study him as he looks over the menu. It's not like I'm blind or a nun, but I'm not usually so affected by a pretty face. Or body.

  “Specials are on the board, in case you’re interested.” I point to the chalk board over my shoulder. He lifts his gaze and follows to where I’ve motioned behind the counter.

  “How's the pie? You have any peach?” He nods to the famous pie sign next to the pie cooler, and I inwardly cringe.

  “Uhhh, well.” Risking a glance over my shoulder to make sure Vince is occupied, I lean in, lowering my voice. “Just between you and me, no one comes here for the pie.” He looks genuinely confused by my confession and the fact that it conflicts with the sign. False advertisement at its best, Marketing 101.

  “The cook's wife makes the pies,” I try to explain. “The only thing that makes them famous is that sign,” I add with a wink, suddenly wishing I could take it back because a wink seems a little flirty. I hope he realizes it was merely to let him in on a secret, not a come on. I'm not one of those fluttering eyelash, bubble gum popping waitresses who talks like she was raised in the south while never having actually left the state of California.

  “Ah, I see. Thanks for the heads up. What do you recommend then?” he asks, still looking back up to the board, his menu long since forgotten.

  “Well, that depends; is this breakfast or dinner?” I ask, hoping it's not too obvious that I'm curious about more than just his order.

  “Does it really matter?” he retorts, his expression remaining impassive and I can’t tell if he’s joking or being rude.

  “Well, for me, actually no. Because I love breakfast food, regardless of the time of day.” It’s now my personal mission to cheer him up. I’m not sure why or what it is about him, but he has this look like someone just kicked his puppy.

  Then my over-caffeinated brain starts envisioning him surrounded by adorable puppies. Before I start drooling on myself, I realize he’s talking. So I do that smile and nod thing I do when people are talking and I accidentally zone out.

  “Good to know.” He turns his full attention on me. I thought he was gorgeous across this poorly lit dinner, but holy hell! Up close, having his gaze directed at me is intense, igniting my skin with just a look. I’m standing close enough that for the first time, I can see he has tiny flecks of green in his brown eyes.