Stay With Me (29 page)
I didn’t.
But I kept my head down and did well enough where I graduated valedictorian. I had plans. Big plans. Ones that involved Harvard.
And then . . .
There’s no point in thinking about Harvard anymore. That was three years ago when I put aside my dreams. I made my choice back then, and I wouldn’t
un
make that choice now. I’ve made peace with my decision. Really, I have.
But . . . still, I haven’t seen Jamie or Julie in years. The last I’d heard was that Julie was going to UCLA and Jamie was going to some college in Vermont. But it’s not like they hung out when we were younger or know who I was. I’m not even sure Jamie would know my name, despite everything. So, I’m safe but it’s just . . . when do you ever want to run into someone from high school and have to play the fake game of
“Didn’t we . . .?”
or
“You look familiar . . .”
and then I would have to brush it off and avoid the subject, and if there’s anything I’m bad it, it’s telling a lie. My mother says—
I stop. Shake myself out of it. No time for that here. And then I set about making the next drink order—a latte and iced coffee to go.
My mother always tells me she knows when I’m lying because I can’t meet her eyes, and my neck gets splotchy red. And it’s true. I tested it during my junior year of high school, as I was getting ready for school one day. I looked in my bathroom mirror and told the biggest lie I could think of:
Jamie McAlister loves me.
And, immediately, my whole neck
and
chest area went splotchy red, my dark eyes darting down and away, avoiding my reflection and looking anywhere else.
Jamie McAlister.
I was so foolish back then, liking a guy who didn’t even know my name or
see
me. It was so ridiculous how my heart would race by just looking at him. The silly fantasies I’d spin where Jamie would suddenly fall in love with me.
But I’m not sixteen anymore.
I’m twenty now, about to turn twenty-one on December 31. I’m not as romantic or believe that everything will end happily ever after.
I know better.
Both Jamie and Julie have gorgeous blond hair, the color like molten gold. They’re both tall—Julie’s willowy thin while Jamie is athletic and built. And both have light blue eyes. They honestly could be cover models, that’s how good-looking they are.
He’s not going to remember me.
Of course he wouldn’t. Why would he? Why am I secretly holding onto this futile hope that he will? Plain, shy, smart girls like me never get the guy—it’s always the pretty girls who do. It’s just so ridiculous of me to think otherwise. Why would Jamie even know me when he didn’t in high school?
Jamie McAlister is like that guy in the myth, the one who flew on waxen wings to escape an island . . . but instead of crashing and burning because those waxen wings got too close to the sun, Jamie kept soaring to bigger and better things. I’m not the girl he left behind. I’m not
anyone
to him. He doesn’t know me. He never did. Anytime he’d even looked at me, turning in his chair in one of our shared classes, he’d just say, “Hey, you got a pen I can borrow?” or “Hey, can I copy your notes?”
Too soon it feels like they’re at the counter, placing their orders. I try to get as small and unseeable as I can, which is pretty easy given that I’m barely five foot two, and am blocked by huge machines and carafes.
Please don’t see me. Please don’t look over at me. Please get your order to go.
“For here or to go?” Frank, one of my coworkers, asks them.
“Here,” Jamie says. “How are those muffins?”
Horrible. Only horrible if you don’t like buttery, sugary things that melt in your mouth
“They’re one of a kind,” Frank says. “I like the banana nut one myself.”
“You want one?” Jamie asks his sister.
His sister gives him a look. “Of course I want one. But I want the chocolate chip.”
Ugh. His sister looks like that and can eat a chocolate chip muffin? Not fair. I put one chocolate chip in my mouth and it feels like I’ve gained ten pounds.
“So, a chocolate chip and a banana nut muffin,” Jamie says.
Frank rings them up and Jamie pays for it.
“Jamie, I thought we were going to split that,” his sister says, rolling her eyes, as they head over to the side counter space to wait for their drinks.
“You’ll get the next one,” Jamie says easily.
“You always say that.”
“Jules, don’t worry about it,” Jamie says.
They still don’t spot me, so I set about making their order—two lattes. I make a heart in Julie’s cup and a leaf in Jamie’s, and then I set both on the counter.
“Here you go,” I say quickly.
Two pairs of blue eyes look over at me. But only one pair makes my heart start to race in my chest.
“Thanks,” Julie says, grabbing a cup. “Jamie, there’s a table by the window. I’m going to snag it.”
“Be there in a sec.” Jamie grabs his cup, looking down at it, and his lips curve into a smile, making his light blue eyes dance in merriment.
There should be a law against eyes that make me that weak in the knees.
“Thanks for the heart,” he says. “It might be a little too soon, though.”
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
His sister took the leaf-designed latte, and now . . . and now, this really cute guy thinks . . .
“I meant it for your sister,” I say dumbly.
“Oh? Do you want me to pass along your number to her?”
“What? No. I don’t . . . I mean, I’m not . . .” I stammer, feeling my face flush with sudden heat. “I don’t like girls.”
“So, the heart’s for me, then?” He leans forward, shoving his cup aside. “Because I work a lot slower than that. I usually wait to the fourth or fifth date until I say anything of that sort.”
“No. I mean, not really. I . . .” It dawns on me. Finally. And I take a step back. He’s teasing me. I hate being teased. Hate it. I never know if it’s out of fun or if the person is secretly poking fun at me. And it feels like, right now, that Jamie is poking fun at my expense. Hot shame burns through me.
Jamie notices my withdrawal, his smile slipping a little.
“Here,” I say, “give it back, and I’ll make something else. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Sorry, but you can’t get back your heart.” He pauses as he picks up his drink. “Nice to see you again, Zelda.”
And then he heads to the table his sister grabbed for him.
He knows my name? I stop dead in my tracks and frown at myself. I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t get flummoxed because a guy asked to borrow my pen. I don’t daydream about Jamie McAlister anymore.
I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse that he knows my name, though. No, I do know. It makes it worse. So much worse that he knows who I am.
I shake my head and get to work on the orders coming in, all take out drinks. I wipe my hands off on a towel and clean off the smudge on my shirt . . .
With my nametag on it.
Of course.
He only called me “Zelda” because of this.
He doesn’t know me.
He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember the Zelda Nichols who was in most of his classes from freshman to senior year in high school.
At all.
Which is good.
Great.
Fabulous.
Really, it is.
With Me #2
coming in Spring 2014
Nick Brady’s book. As to who the heroine is . . . well, you’ll just have to wait and see.
With Me #3
coming in Fall 2014
Griff Sinclair’s book.
Other Books by Elyssa
Rock Stars in Love Series
The Taming of a Rock Star
- 2014
With Me Series
Christmas With Me
- December 2013
Go With Me
- Spring 2014
Dream With Me
- Fall 2014
Not in any series
Three Days of Snow
(a novella in the
Snowbound for Christmas
anthology) - November 14, 2013
Acknowledgements
I also couldn’t have done this without my family, whose love and support keeps me going. I also couldn’t have written this book without Tiffany Clare, Maggie Robinson, Tamara Morgan, Jen Frederick, and Sarah Louise. All of whom received many, many,
many
e-mails from me as I wrote this book. Each time I doubted myself, they bolstered me. Each time I worried and doubted myself, they talked me off the ledge. Each and every single time, they were there for me and believed in me. Thank you for everything.
Thanks also to my cover designer and good friend, Sarah Louise, who created an amazing cover. There are not enough ways to thank you for making such an evocative, fantastic cover. Thanks, as always, goes to my copyeditor, Liam Carnahan. And thank you to Karen Anderson of Book Crush Reviews, who organized the cover reveal and blog tour for
Stay With Me
. Karen helped me get over my blog tour jitters and helped me spread the word about this book. You all are rock stars.
To my critique partners, Maggie and Tiff, thank you for believing in this book when it was just a glimmer of an idea. To Sara Lindsey, Tamara Morgan, and Bria Quinlan, I know I can always count on you, no matter what. And to Juliana Stone and Laurie London, who are true friends in every sense of the word, thank you.
A huge thank you to my beta readers: Tiff, Maggie, Tamara, Jen, Sarah, and Laurie, for all of your helpful comments and suggestions. Special thanks to Laurie London, who did daily writing goals with me after we’d both hit the halfway mark on our books.
To Maya Banks, thank you for, well, just everything. Your continued support and friendship is something I always treasure. Same goes to Julie James, who is always an email away—we really do need to get those drinks one day. I also owe a much belated thank you to Jill Myles, who has always been kind and generous to me. And thank you to Laura Florand, who emailed me when I was going through a difficult time in writing and battling the usual doubt monsters, and, unbeknownst to her until just now, helped me through that period. I’m so very grateful for all of your support, advice, and continued friendship.
I’m also deeply thankful to Tammara Webber, whose blog post about why she self-published, was a true light bulb moment for me. That post made me really start to believe in myself—that I could truly reach for my dream of writing and being published. Thank you, Tammara, from the bottom of my heart, for inspiring me to finally go after my dreams, and to be just a little more brave.
And, last but not least, if you’re reading this book, thank you. None of this would be possible without you. Thank you for reading my books, for contacting me, for spreading the word, for just enjoying them. Thank you for everything, because without you, none of this would matter.
About the Author
Elyssa Patrick is a former high school English teacher who left the classroom to write sexy, emotional contemporary romances and New Adult. Elyssa lives in upstate New York and is currently hard at work on her next novel.
She’d love to hear from you!
Website:
http://elyssapatrick.blogspot.com/
Twitter:
@elyssapatrick
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN-10: 0989583503
ISBN-13: 9780989583503
Copyright © 2013 by Elyssa Patrick
Cover design © Sarah Louise
Cover photograph © Riaua | Shutterstock.com
Digital Edition 1.0
All rights reserved. Where such permission is sufficient, the author grants the right to strip any DRM which may be applied to this work.
