Scared of Forever (Scared #2)

Scared
of
Forever

by Jacqueline Abrahams

Copyright © 2014 Jacqueline Abrahams

All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
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you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Editor:
Kyla Stein of Missed Period Editing for Indies

Formatting:
Jesse Gordon

Cover
Design: Jacqueline Abrahams / ilgeorgiev

For coining the notion
of the star-crossed lovers, I sincerely thank William Shakespeare. I
hope I have done the idea proud in
Scared
of Forever
. It’s an amazing feeling to finish a novel,
but it’s not without sacrifice. Ever. Seriously, I mean lots of
things have to take a back seat. Like sleep and eating…

So, thank you to my
family; my husband and children and my parents for realizing that I
am really living out a dream sitting at this desk in my living room.
There is no support worth more gratitude than time. And you have
given me that. So thank you. And for allowing me to sleep in the next
day, when I was recovering from the self-inflicted exhaustion of
sitting at the computer all night.

To Emily. Yes I know
she is a fictional character, I haven’t lost my mind! Some parts of
an author’s own dreams, self-image, and visions of oneself and
others always make it into a novel. We draw from the world around us.
Emily represented my own version of an empowered woman. She was
strong, resilient, courageous, flaky, unsure, scared, forgiving,
determined. She amassed all the emotions of the human spirit. Loving
mother, individual person and loving partner, she wore all hats. To
me, her character provided a benchmark for my own aspirations towards
a higher self, an evolved femininity. So thanks, Emily Carson, for
being overall fucking awesome!

To my beta readers,
thank you for your unbiased and honest critique of my ‘first final’
draft. The emotionally vested me couldn’t see glaringly obviously
plot holes. But you did. Thank you all for not holding back. A very
special thank you to Marimae and Kurstie, my beta readers, friends
and providers of the most honest to goodness brutal truths. For your
time and support, thank you a shitload!

Kyla Stein of Missed
Period Editing for Indies, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it
again, the Gods were shining down on me the day I found you. Thank
you for your words of encouragement, words of ‘what the’ and
words that made my words sound so much better! I don’t think I’ll
ever cease to be amazed at what you do to my manuscripts.

And last, but most
definitely not least, the readers of Scared of Beautiful and Infinite
Fear, those who reviewed and have supported me thus far. Also the
future readers of Scared of Forever, I can’t thank you enough for
taking a chance on a newbie!

“For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo”

William Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” (1594)

When the universe was
handing out charisma and charm, Blake Carson was very first in line.
He had, however, skipped the line completely when the universe was
handing out humility.

Blake Carson is a man
who knows what he wants, and knows precisely how to get it. Sitting
at the restaurant’s bar, Blake stirs a cocktail stick idly in his
whiskey. It’s starting to become apparent to him that his date is
not going to show. She’s mad again, as fucking usual. Mad about the
fact that their relationship has to be conducted behind closed doors.
Fuck all of them,
she
says.
Why does everyone else’s
opinion matter so much to you?
She asks. But she doesn’t
understand the pressure Blake is under. How much it costs him, both
financially and personally, to keep her happy. Aria succeeded in both
satisfying and draining him simultaneously. She was definitely an
amazing woman. But Blake wondered, for a moment, what life would be
like if he was dating an uncomplicated girl. A sweet girl, one who
had no idea who he was, no reason to be with him other than, well, to
be with him.

Like
that one
. His eyes wander to the stunning, leggy waitress
serving an elderly couple at a table across the room.

Her long, golden blond
hair is pulled into a neat ponytail, and falls in soft waves down her
back. Blake admires, from his vantage point, the errant strands of
hair that have come loose, framing her flawless face. Her whole
demeanor seems to exude innocence and purity from within. Just the
kind of girl that his mother, Eliza Carson, would welcome into her
house. Moldable, pliable; the perfect wife for Blake’s future
plans.

She walks toward the
bar, and Blake raises a hand to gesture her over. “Can I help you?”
the girl asks. She’s soft spoken. For a moment, he’s transfixed
by her innocence. The way her almond shaped brown eyes widen ever so
slightly as they meet his. There’s no judgment there, no questions.
She doesn’t cast her eyes over his clothing, examining the cost of
his suit or the carat of his cuff links before deciding whether or
not to smile. She just does.

“Can I order a water,
please?” Blake asks, the question dripping with his God given
charm. He can see in her eyes that the girl finds him attractive. He
can tell by the way she stands, her hand on her hip, leaning in ever
so slightly. The way she casually pulls her ponytail over her
shoulder to rest on her right breast. A young, perky breast at that.

“You
can,
”
she quips, looking as though she may reply sarcastically at first.
But then she realizes her place. Sarcasm in an upper class restaurant
like this one, as a member of the wait staff, would probably yield
the same results as her handing in a resignation if she addressed the
wrong person that way. Lucky for her, she’s in exactly the right
place, with exactly the right person.

“The bartender
usually tends to drinks,” she says more politely before beginning
her departure. “But I can get it for you.”

Blake watches her tight
ass, hips swaying ever so slightly as she walks away.

She comes back a minute
later with the water and places it carefully on a coaster in front of
him.

“You haven’t been
doing this very long, have you?” Blake asks.

“Is it that obvious?”
The girl looks deflated. “It’s my second shift here.”

“It is,” Blake
replies. “It’s apparent by the way your hand trembled when you
picked up the glass. By the way you walk at a much quicker pace when
your tray is empty, but you slow right down the minute there’s
something on it. Even if it’s just a credit card and bill. So—
scared.”

“It’s kind of
creepy to know that you’ve been sitting here alone, analyzing me
for that long,” she retorts, a feeble attempt at hiding her
flattery.

“If I’m being
honest, I haven’t really been able to take my eyes off you.”
Blake knows the line is cheesy as shit. “So, can you help me stop
being a stranger staring at you, and tell me your name?”

“My name is Emily,”
she replies.

“Emily?” Blake
asks. “No surname, just one moniker?”

“Emily. For the
moment.”

“Well, Emily.
Hypothetically speaking, if I came in tomorrow, would you be here?”
Blake asks.

“Unless I get fired
tonight as a result of my obvious inexperience,” she says. The
light from the extravagant chandelier reflects in the warmth of her
innocent brown eyes. They sparkle brightly.

“Perfect,” Blake
says, before paying his tab with a hundred dollar bill. “Bye,
Emily.” He stands and walks out of the restaurant.

If there’s one thing
Blake Carson knows how to do, it’s make an impression.

The following day,
Blake comes into the restaurant again, sits in the same spot, orders
the same drink, and asks Emily the same question about the next day.

He does this for the
following four days. By day five, the young, pretty waitress is
getting pissed. She walks right past him when he sits down, and
doesn’t respond when he raises his hand for service. So he waits
for the next three hours, leaning against his shiny BMW, where it is
parked in front of the restaurant.

He knows she’ll go
out via the side alleyway that flanks the building. But he’s
already worked out that she has to walk out of the alley to get onto
the street. It’s a one way. A way that will guide her directly into
his waiting arms.

When Emily walks out of
the alleyway, she sees him standing there and begins to walk in the
opposite direction.

“Aren’t you going
to ask why I haven’t asked you for your number yet?” Blake calls.

“I don’t care,”
Emily says over her shoulder, still strutting purposefully ahead.
Good thing he wants in her pants so badly; otherwise, no woman alive
would have Blake Carson willingly chasing her along a street.

“You do, or else you
wouldn’t have answered,” Blake says smugly, and waits for her to
stop walking.

One
step, two steps, stop.

An hour later, Blake is
driving towards his apartment, Emily’s number in his phone. And a
coffee date with her planned for the next day. It was always going to
happen this way.
Blake Carson
always gets what he wants.

One Month Later…

It appeared, to Blake,
that Serendipity and Cupid had been conspiring with the Gods of
sexual favor. Not only was Emily sweet, unassuming, and innocent, not
to mention completely infatuated with him, but delicate young Emily
was also a virgin. Blake
had
considered it strange that she had stiffened like a board
the first time he kissed her, later obsessively overanalyzing the way
his lips had moved against hers.
Had
she hated it
, he wondered?
Surely
not.
Blake knew he had a reputation for being fantastic
with his mouth.