Unfinished

  Unfinished

  by

  Shae Scott

  Unfinished

  Copyright © 2014 Shae Scott

  Published by Shae Scott

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Published: Shae Scott May 2014

  Cover Design: by Ari at Cover it! Designs:

  http://www.coveritdesigns.net

  To my beautiful grandparents, Bob and Margaret,

  for living the first love story I ever believed in.

  Prologue

  Owen - Past

  The first time that I saw her she was dancing. She was hard to miss with her backdrop of flames and the way she was lost in the music that filled the empty field at Jackson Creek. She stood out from the usual crowd of students that would gather here each weekend among bonfires and parked trucks with the tailgates down. In this dead end Tennessee town there wasn’t much else to do but to gather for beer, girls, and trouble.

  I ended up here after my date with Meredith Jones. I guess you could call it a date. I bought her dinner before we ended up in the back of my truck, so there’s that. But I had dropped her off an hour ago. We had fun, but we weren’t serious. We didn’t spend lots of time together just hanging out. It was mutual, so I didn’t feel like a complete asshole about it.

  I grabbed a beer from one of the coolers and took in the crowd. Country music was blaring from the speakers and the atmosphere was lively. School would start back up on Monday, so everyone wanted to get in one last weekend of fun. I’d be starting my senior year, and to be honest, I was just ready to get it over with. It was just a means to an end. I wanted to get out of here and see college. Most people didn’t expect me to be smart or care about school, because I had a bit of a bad boy reputation. That came from the girls. When you don’t settle down with the head cheerleader you are a player and that in turns gives you the bad boy status. I didn’t mind. It made getting girls without a commitment a little easier. They used me to fill their wild streaks and I used them to pass the time. I’m not a bad guy. I am just honest. I know who I am and what I can offer and people can accept it or they can’t, not my problem.

  But I have goals. I want to go to college. I want to make something of myself, which is part of why I don’t get caught up in all of the high school drama around me. It sucks you in and you end up stuck in a small town resenting everything and everyone that kept you there. That’s what happened to my parents. It’s why my mom had to raise me alone when her high school sweetheart decided he wanted a family with someone else and left us behind. I won’t make those same mistakes. I’m not getting tangled up here. I’m here to learn what I can and use it to make things better for me and for my mom.

  Until then, my plan was to have some fun. And as I leaned back onto a lowered tailgate and watched the group of girls dancing, I thought that that raven-haired beauty might just be the fun I needed.

  I watched her as she spun and twisted to the music. She had grace, even as she laughed with her friends. When she dropped to the ground in a sexy dip I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I didn’t recognize her and I wondered how I had never noticed her before.

  The song ended and she moved over to a nearby truck and sat down on the tailgate. Someone handed her a solo cup and she smiled and took it. Her smile was amazing. Genuine. It hit me hard. Genuine was hard to find. I watched her a few minutes longer, playing with the idea of going over to her. But I wasn’t sure if I should. It’s weird, I don’t usually think twice about approaching a girl, but this one made me want to stand back and study her.

  When I noticed my friend Amber go over and talk to her I decided to make my move. She could be my excuse. I strode over. “Hey, Amber,” I smiled stepping up to them.

  “Oh. Hey, Owen! I didn’t know you were coming out tonight,” she smiled at me. Amber was one of the few girls that I was just friends with. I didn’t have to worry about her taking my approach as something more than friendship.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d check it out,” I said, casually. I turned to steal a glace at my mystery girl. She was watching Amber and me, sipping her drink.

  “I’m Owen,” I supplied giving her a smile. She returned it and I realized it was better than I had noticed from afar.

  “Hi. I’m Ally,” she said. She was sweet. I could tell that instantly. She was probably way too sweet for someone like me, but she intrigued me.

  “Mind if I sit down here?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” she waved her hand beside her indicating I should sit. Amber paid us no attention as she watched everyone around her.

  “Do you go to Butler? I haven’t seen you around before,” I asked.

  “I do. It’s a big school. I don’t think we have had any classes together. But, I’ve seen you around,” she admitted. She didn’t say it with that flirty agenda that most girls did when I talked to them. I liked that.

  “Hmm…well maybe this year,” I said. I took a moment to study her. She was a pretty girl. No. She was a beautiful girl. Her long hair was dark and wavy. She had deep brown eyes that were large and round. They were expressive and she wasn’t afraid to hold my gaze. I liked that too. She was slim, but even with her t-shirt and jeans I could tell she had nice curves. But she looked innocent. Not in a naive way, but in a way that just told me she was good. Let’s face it, most of the girls that I surrounded myself with did not fall into that category. I was instantly drawn to her and as Amber left and we started to talk, even about the most random and simple things I felt myself wanting to talk to her more. I wanted to monopolize her time.

  We spent nearly an hour just talking easily. People came and went, but we just kept talking. Not once did I try and make a move on her. I was enjoying the conversation too much. By then I had learned that she was an only child, she still didn’t know where she wanted to go to college, and she had a cat named Tinkerbell Waffles.

  I was mid sentence when her eyes got huge and she let out an excited squeal. “Oh my God! I love this song!!! Come dance with me!” she jumped off of the tailgate and grabbed my hand and tugged me forward. I laughed and followed her. Of course I followed her.

  She led me into a group of people already dancing. “This is my song! Gotta dance when it comes on!” she smiled at me as she began to move. I matched her movements as she danced to the upbeat country tune. She was so carefree. There was something about her, something that made me want to get to know her more. I didn’t want to put moves on her; I just wanted to know her. It was in that moment that I knew I wanted to keep her. And I didn’t keep anyone.

  Chapter One

  “You’re late,” my coworker, and best friend, Cassie, said casually as she leaned against my office door watching me hurry down the hall towards her.

  “Thanks for the update.” I scowled at her. She laughed and handed me a coffee. Lifesaver.

  She followed me into my office, sinking gracefully into the wingback chair in front of my desk as I tossed my bag down and fell into my chair. What a morning. It was only 8:15, but my day was already exhausting me.

  “I like to think that you are late and frazzled because your coffee date last night turned into dinner, drinks, and hot sex in a kitchen which then led to an all night romp that you just couldn’t tear yourself away from this morning.” Cassie bit her lip as she contemplated the scenario.

  “Kit
chen sex? Why kitchen sex?” I laughed.

  She shrugged. “Why not?” She gave me a wicked grin. I loved this girl.

  “Sorry…no hot sex stories from me. Coffee was fine, but I very boringly fell asleep on the couch, working and didn’t have an alarm set.”

  Cassie made a face. “My version was better,” she said. True story. I took a deep breath and settled myself; I needed the frazzle to go away so I could focus. I hated being late. It threw me off. Not that my boss really cared. I stayed late all the time, but I was kind of a goody goody. I could admit it. I flipped on my computer and turned my attention back to Cassie. We have been friends since college and I adore her. We started here at the same time. Here is Webster’s Advertising and she is my ever present, partner in crime.

  “So coffee was a bust?” she asked. I’d given into a set up and had coffee with nice guy, Ryan. He was nice, just as predicted. I liked nice. I just didn’t know if I wanted to worry with complicating my life right now for something that was simply nice.

  I shrugged. “It was okay. What about you?”

  She gave me a quiet smile, her eyes dancing with mischief and I can tell there is a story she is waiting to tell. She casually straightens the crisp red jacket that covers her white button down and blows a strand of blond hair from her face. She is my visual opposite. Where she has golden locks, my hair is a deep dark brown. Her eyes are bright blue and mine are the darkest of chocolate. She was blessed with smooth porcelain skin that she has to constantly shield from the sun, where I carry an olive kissed complexion. We were different ends of the spectrum, light to dark.

  I settled in and hid my smirk as I waited for her morning rundown. Cassie has a flare for being dramatic. I loved this about her. She was stunningly beautiful and her social calendar would leave any normal person exhausted. Sometimes just hearing about it made me tired. I try to keep up with her, but the girl is just a force of nature.

  “Please tell me your night was more exciting than coffee and falling asleep with file folders.” I knew she’d had had a date with a hot news anchor. He was new in town and she’d met him at an industry party the week before. He was a pretty boy from up north and he had been smitten by her sweet Nashville accent.

  Cassie’s lip quirked up in a mischievous grin. “Why, yes it was,” she said coyly.

  “And…” I did my friend duty and urged her on. I knew the drill.

  “And…He’s something” she smiled. “He took me out to Bruno’s and we had wine and pasta. He was really nice. Very….nice” she repeated. I raised an eyebrow at her. Rarely did Cassie’s stories focus on food. She sighed. “Actually, he was kinda boring,” she admitted. “I mean, he was polite and he complimented me and opened the doors for me. He seems like a genuinely good guy. But it was just kind of dull,” she sighed again. So we’d both struck out.

  I had had a feeling that her date might go this way. Cassie thought she needed a guy like Andrew Pearson—a perfectly clean cut good guy. But they never sparked for her. She needed someone with edge. I’d told her this often, but she was determined to prove me wrong. She simply accused me of being a hopeless romantic. So I indulged her a little. “Maybe he was nervous. You know, trying to be on his best behavior,” I suggested.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” She said. “It doesn’t matter,” she said with a wave of her hand dismissing it. “So are you still up for drinks tonight?” she asked. We had a standing Wednesday night happy hour.

  “Of course” I smiled. I heard the chirp of my email signaling that my computer was ready for me start my day.

  “Cool. I better get to my office before Doug comes lurking. I’ll see you at lunch,” she said, bouncing to her feet. As she moved to the door our boss, Doug, paused and peered in, eyebrows raised to let us know he’d heard the lurking comment.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said. Doug was in his 60s and had built Webster’s Advertising from the ground up. He was laid back and friendly and had taught me so much over my 5 years here.

  Cassie flashed him a smile before heading to her office. “Morning, Doug! Can’t stay…gotta get to work,” she called over her shoulder as she moved down the hall. Doug laughed and turned his attention back to me.

  “Ally, do you have a few minutes? I’d like to go over some things with the Brower campaign” he asked.

  “Of course, I’ll be right there,” I said. I grabbed my tablet and my client file and followed him to his office.

  The morning flew by, having spent most of it with Doug going over the details of a new client. It was days like this, when I was so busy and immersed with the details of a big project, that I loved my job the most. Sure, I got accused of being a workaholic sometimes, I didn’t care. I loved what I did. It was exciting and it gave me a chance to be creative and still use my detailed analytical brain too. Each day was something new and I tended to thrive in that kind of atmosphere.

  That could be why most of my recent relationships didn’t make it. I just didn’t find time for them anymore. I’d moved them down on my priority list. That’s not to say I didn’t want to meet a nice guy, I just didn’t want to put forth the energy to hunt him down just yet. Even coffee with nice guy, Ryan, hadn't sparked my interest. He was nice and attractive, but when I thought about the getting to know you process that came with starting a new relationship it just made me tired. I was pretty sure this attitude was going to turn me into a hermit with no social life. Luckily, I had Cassie and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t let that happen.

  I sunk into my office chair and glanced at the clock. It was nearing lunchtime. I had a voice mail from Cassie telling me she wanted sushi and that I should plan accordingly. She knew it was the magic word…we hit up our favorite sushi bar at least twice a week. Not wanting to jump into a new task and just have to stop in the middle I decided to peruse social media for a few mind numbing moments.

  I sorted through my notifications, smiling at a note from my mom. She was having trouble grasping all things technology and often sent me full on messages in the form of a comment on a status. I made a mental note to give her another Facebook lesson on my next visit, lest she divulge some embarrassing secret to all of my so-called friends.

  That’s when I saw it. A friend request sitting next to a thumbnail photo of a handsome man with dark hair and the name of the man who had held a piece of my heart for the past 9 years. I’m pretty sure said heart paused a full beat as I stared at the little image. “Owen.” I breathed out the name. It sounded foreign and familiar all at the same time. I clicked the box and saw that he’d sent me a message along with the friend request.

  HI, Ally. Wanna be friends…again?

  That’s all it said. Just six little words, but they had me reeling. It was as if with that one little sentence something inside me broke free. Memories and longing that had been tucked safely away were suddenly right there demanding that I pay attention to them. Owen Brooks, my old best friend. The guy I walked away from on graduation night and never talked to again. The one guy that always danced around the periphery of my mind, the one person I always regretted losing. And here he was, asking to come back into my life with six simple words.

  Okay, I was getting ahead of myself. My 17 year old self had just swooped in and overtaken this whole situation, creating some over the top fairytale story of lost opportunity. This was Facebook for goodness sake. I had hundreds of friends that just took up space on my timeline. Why would this be any different? I took a deep breath and pushed the childhood fantasy away and clicked on his profile.

  There wasn’t really a lot there. Even though it looked like he had created it a long time ago, there was barely any activity on it and only a couple of photos. I opened them up and studied the stranger in them. There were still hints of the boy I’d known. I could see him in the soft wave of his dark brown hair and even in the picture I could recognize the blue-gray of his eyes and remember the way they would draw you in. But there were also differences. He wasn’t the boy any longer. Gone was the cute,
scruffy teenager that had broken high school hearts. He had been replaced with a solid, strong jawed man who, even in this photo, commanded attention. It was odd to think of him as the boy I knew. He was so much of a stranger and it threw me.

  His second photo was more relaxed and it showed off the killer smile that I remembered so well. This picture assured me that it was indeed the Owen I knew. My Owen, the same Owen that had been such a strong part of my life when I was younger. I was so instantly curious to learn more about him. I wanted to know what he’d been up to and who he had become. Unfortunately, all that I gained from profile stalking him was that he lived in Chicago. I felt the surprise stab of disappointment knowing he was so far away. Not that I expected to see him, but it would have been nice to catch up, maybe have some coffee and reminisce. Then again, I could still do that with the magic of the internet. I clicked accept request and jotted down my own note back.

  Owen! What a surprise. It’s been forever. Of course I’d love to be friends…Again.

  There, short and sweet in return. Why did I feel so nervous? Why did this tiny little communication feel so important? Maybe it was that we had such a history. At least, he was an important part of my history. I couldn’t be sure that I entered into his as prominently as he did mine. Looking back on it, I often wondered if I saw things with a skewed memory. Somehow, the last memory I had of us changed the way I felt about all of the ones before it. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Maybe I didn’t want to remember the true connection I’d had with him after I’d walked away from him that final night. My pride had been hurt and I just wanted to forget it all, but now that I was older, and years away from the situation I could see the truth. That one night hadn’t defined us. It had been the countless other days that we had spent together. It had been years since I’d seen him, and I missed him. And I felt a little giddy at the idea of getting a new message from him.