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Authors: Briana Gaitan

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Finding Flynn
(Marlowe series #1)
by Alexandria Bishop

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Chapter 1
Ashtyn

 

WITH
MY SUMMER FROM HELL
playlist blaring in my ears, my anger slowly starts to fade away. I’ve been
walking for what seems like hours but is probably closer to one. I still can’t
get the argument I had with Mom out of my head.

 

“Before we eat, I
want to have that conversation with you.”

I eye the Chinese
food laid out in front of me. “Okay, whatever you say, Mom.”

Avoiding eye
contact with me she says, “Ashtyn, I know I told you your dad and sister would
be delayed joining us. Her gymnastics audition went really well and she made
the team.”

“So what does that
mean?”

“They won’t be
joining us.”

I whip my head in
her direction. I stare with my mouth hanging completely open and my eyes so
wide they feel like they’re going to fall out of my head. They won’t be joining
us? This has to be some kind of joke. A family vacation isn’t a family vacation
without the whole family. I try to tell her just that but she beats me to it.

Putting her hands
up, she stops me before I even start talking. “Let me get this out without you
interrupting me. This isn’t easy to tell you. If there’s anything I’ve left
out, I’ll answer any questions you have when I’m done. Okay?”

I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, Mom, just tell me what’s going on.”

“My marriage with
your father hasn’t been working for quite some time, as you probably already
know. We aren’t exactly quiet when we fight. Mr. Wilson gave me an opportunity
I couldn’t pass up. Your father and I agreed it made sense for me to take it.
You and I have always had a very close relationship, just like your sister and
father have. Although it wasn’t the best way of going about it, I need you here
with me. You’re my rock, Ashtyn.”

I can’t even
understand what she’s saying right now. She got a promotion at work so she
figured the best thing to do would be abandon her family and drag me along for
the ride? Who does that?

“Mr. Wilson was
kind enough to let us live in his vacation home, rent-free, while I oversee the
opening of our new studio up here. He’s made many connections in the area and
an expansion here just seemed like the right idea. After I get the recording
studio up and running, I will be managing it. This job came with a very nice
bonus and raise. We can live here indefinitely, if we want to. Even after the
short amount of time we’ve been in this house, you have to agree it would be a
great place to live. With all the money I’ll be saving on rent, I can buy you
the car you’ve been bugging me about. So that’s everything. You can talk now.”

I’m fuming. My jaw
is clenched, my hands are balled into tight fists, and any composure I had
before slips away. She’d tricked me, and now she was trying to bribe me as
well? This is an all-time low, especially for her.

It was one thing
when this was just a family vacation. Now I’m being forced into spending my
senior year, my last year of high school, here?

There’s no way
she’s doing this to me. Who does this to their own child?

“Are you kidding
me? You’re running away from our family and dragging me along with you? Then,
the cherry topping off this fucked up sundae is that you are bribing me with a
car so I’ll stay with you and not get mad. Does that about sum it up?”

“Honey, you’re mad
but—”

“Mad? Mad doesn’t
even cover it! I’m fucking livid! I can’t even look at you right now I’m so
pissed off! I’m out of here!”

“I don’t think
that’s a good idea. Why don’t we talk about this?”

 

I had to get out of
there at that point. I left and just kept walking. The whole situation is
laughable. I saw the divorce coming but not this. All this wandering and I find
myself in the middle of downtown. Live music drifts to me from a few doors
down. A nice, loud environment will keep me out of my head, drowning all of my
thoughts away.

Let’s see if the
bars in Ashland can come close to the ones back home in Santa Barbara.

I step into the bar
and realize that my sweat pants and Converse don’t quite fit into the Irish pub
atmosphere; I stick out like a nun in a strip club. I’m way too hungry and way
too angry to care about these people’s opinions. Luckily, no one even turns in
my direction.

All of their
attention is fixed on the stage.

I find where the
live music is coming from and get a better look at the guy performing. There’s
a teeny stage pushed back in the far corner. He’s alone up there and performing
an acoustic version of All Time Low’s “Somewhere in Neverland.” He has more of
a gravelly voice than Alex Gaskarth, but it’s still sexy as hell.

If Alex isn’t
available to me, I will gladly take this guy in his place. The song is one of
my favorites and pretty fitting for my current mood. If he wants to be my Peter
Pan, I won’t think twice about running away to Neverland or anywhere else with
him, just as long as it’s far away from here.

Obvious fan girls
are cheering and dancing right up against the stage. I guess trashy groupies
look the same no matter where you go—lack of clothing and plenty of fuck-me
heels to go around.

They’re all vying
to be the next notch in his bedpost and it’s kind of pathetic, even if he is
smoking hot. Although, I’m not much better, imagining the dirty words his husky
voice would whisper into my ears.

He hops off the
stage, making his way over to the bar and pushing his way through all of his
groupies as they hang off of him. Surprisingly, he continues behind the bar.
Apparently, he’s a man of many talents.

Claiming one of the
bar stools as my own, I wait for him to make his way down to me. This guy is
hot. Like scorching hot. I could tell while he was onstage, but now that he’s
closer, it’s obvious why he has all the groupies. He’s obviously talented but
they probably couldn’t care less about that.

His rich chocolate
brown hair is styled up into a faux hawk, and he has a sleeve tattoo down his
right arm. It’s hard to tell from this distance what his tattoo is, but I can
make out the sun. He has small gauges in his ears, not like some of the massive
ones that some dudes wear. They’re sexy on him, as is his lip piercing. I’m
sure I’m not the first girl to have thoughts about nibbling on it. He exudes
confidence, which most likely stems from the attention from the band sluts.

He isn’t tall but
not too short either. I’m guessing my head would fall right about at his
shoulder, maybe a little over, which is perfect since I’m on the short side. I
would fit nice and snuggly under his arm.

Where the hell did
that thought come from?

This is some random
bartender and I don’t need to be imagining how perfectly our bodies will fit
together. The last thing I need is to find a new boyfriend while I’m here. As
soon as Mom gets her shit together, I’m on the next plane out of here. Running
away from your problems is not the answer.

The bartender is
making drinks and shamelessly flirting with the bitches that were all over him
just moments before. I try not to make my staring obvious but apparently I’m
not being as discreet as I thought because his attention soon moves toward me.
He has gorgeous emerald green eyes that I can’t turn away from. We stay in a
staring contest and it makes me feel like he’s looking straight into my soul.
Making his way down the bar toward me, he looks me up and down with a slight
smirk that shoots a spark of electricity through my body and down to my toes.

“Are you sure you
walked into the right place, babe? I’m pretty sure this isn’t your scene.”

Ugh, asshole much?
The weird trance breaks and I kind of shake my head. I act unfazed, although he
voices my earlier concern.

“Not that it’s any
of your business, but I’m capable of taking care of myself. Since you’re behind
the bar and it’s your job to serve me, I would like a burger and a beer.”

Without even asking
for my ID, bartender hottie replies, “At least you know how to eat. If you had
asked me for a salad, I would have told you that you’re in the wrong place.
Since you ordered real food, though, I’ll bring that right out to you,
princess.” Winking, he turns away to put my order in.

Why do the hot ones
always have to be assholes? Thinking they are God’s gift to the planet and we
should bow down in their presence. I can’t help myself, though, and I continue
to steal glances at him. He has a Jake Ryan from
Sixteen Candles
thing
going for him and it’s starting to break down my walls.

I vowed to never
have a one-night stand but maybe Chloe’s right. Everyone should have at least
one in their life. He’s rougher around the edges than Jake with his piercings
and tattoos. Jake had more of a preppy clean-cut vibe and this guy is all bad
boy. I find him staring right back at me. It shocks and embarrasses me but I
can’t break the connection. I’m mesmerized by those piercing green eyes again.
Apparently, his eyes are my kryptonite.

He walks back over
to me with my food and places a drink in front of me. I take a drink and the
cold, bubbly, sweet liquid slides down my throat. I let out a sigh. It’s been
way too long since I’ve had a Shirley Temple. It’s delicious, but I still have
to give him shit for screwing up my drink order.

Channeling my best
friend, Chloe, I give him the ultimate bitch face. “Um, I’m pretty sure I
ordered a beer not a Shirley Temple.”

Secretly, I would
much rather drink the Shirley Temple. Beer is nasty. But it seemed like a good
idea with the whole being-in-a-pub thing. It was either a beer or whiskey and
that wasn’t happening. I had a Jack and Coke at a party one time before I was
smart enough to stick to vodka and it tasted like someone had peed in my Coke.

So gross.

Jake—his name until
I find out what it really is—smirks at me again. “Babe, I don’t even have to
check your ID. You aren’t twenty-one.”

I contemplate
handing over my fake ID but change my mind. This guy would be able to tell,
even though it’s out of state. I bet he isn’t much older than me and probably
had a fake ID or two when he was my age. Besides, it’s been years since I’ve
had a Shirley Temple and I forgot how good they taste. Acting bored, I wave him
off and give him a whatever response.

With his brow
wrinkled, he asks, “Who’s Jake?”

Did this guy just
read my thoughts? Totally creepy. Trying to not give myself away, I just feign
ignorance. “Um, what?”

“You called me
Jake. So who’s Jake?”

Shit.

I said that out
loud? It’s not worth my energy to lie, so I just tell him the truth.

“Oh, I didn’t
realize I said that out loud. You kind of remind me of Jake Ryan, the character
Michael Schoeffling played in the movie
Sixteen Candles
. You know,
before he ran off from Hollywood and disappeared somewhere in the northeast
where rumor has it he now makes and sells furniture. Which is just as sexy, by
the way, but that is beside the point. Since I don’t know your name and you
aren’t wearing a name tag, I named you Jake. But now that I’m looking at you
more closely, you don’t look much like Jake after all. Maybe it was just the
dark hair and light-colored eyes.”

Ugh, when did I
start rambling? This guy turns me into a different person. I’m all nervous and
blushy. That shit never happens to me. He has the sexiest smirk on his face.
I’m not sure how to react to that.

“So what else were
you thinking about me?”

And with that, my
entire face and neck heat up and turn bright red. Never in my life has a guy
embarrassed me. It has always been the other way around. But I can’t even count
how many times I have blushed already in this guy’s presence. Suddenly, my mind
is blank. I waste time and take a long drink of my Shirley Temple. I compose
myself and muster up my sexiest laugh.

“The acoustic
version of ‘Somewhere in Neverland’
that All Time Low does is much
better than the performance you just put on. The violins add a little something
to it, don’t you agree? And about the other thing, don’t be so full of
yourself. It was an observation. Nothing more to it.”

Acting genuinely
surprised, he asks, “Huh, you know who All Time Low is? I wouldn’t have guessed
that one. Oh, and by the way, my name is Flynn but continue to call me Jake if
you prefer.”

“Who doesn’t know
who All Time Low is? They’re only my favorite band. I’ll tell you, if you want
to have a fun and hilarious night, play Cards Against Humanity with those guys.
Seriously, the best night of my life.”

“I gotta tell you,
I’m not usually shocked, but you’re surprising me more and more, pretty girl.”

“Thanks, I think? I
guess I should tell you my name is Ashtyn but pretty girl works too.”

I’m not sure about
this guy. Never have I felt this kind of reaction toward someone else before,
and I’m curious to find out what makes him so special. If my body reacts this
way toward him while we’re talking and clothed, I can’t imagine what it would
do if we physically came in contact with each other. He looks like the kind of
guy that knows what he’s doing. Not at all like the boys back home that are
only in it for themselves.

BOOK: To the Steadfast
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