Waiting for You

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
sponsors, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
or persons, dead or living, is coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this book are
solely those of the.

Warning: This book is not suitable for
anyone under the age of seventeen. This
books
contains
explicit and detailed sexual encounters, explicit language and drug and alcohol
use between minors. Please be warned.

Waiting for
You

Copyright ©
2013 by Shey Stahl

Published in the United States of America

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot
be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution
of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may
be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed
in any other way via the internet or any other means, electronic or print,
without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement including
infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable
by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250.000.

All rights reserved.
Except
as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of
Shey Stahl.

Cover Art:
Okay Creations and Sarah
Hansen

Interior Design:
Shey Stahl
Productions

Editing and Proof-reading:
Barb
Nejman
and Linda Knight

http://sheystahl.blogspot.com/

Twitter
: @
SheyStahl

Facebook
: Shey Stahl

Additional novels by Shey Stahl:

Racing on the Edge: Happy Hour, Black
Flag, Trading Paint,
The
Champion and The Legend

Song Lyrics:
Brei
Betzold
(Tease and Fear)

Acknowledgments:

Thank you to my husband who is my biggest
fan. You know this, but you are my world. I can’t thank you enough for allowing
me to follow this dream. You are my best friend, my heart and soul is with you.

Honey girl, all this is for you sweet
cheeks. Mommy loves you more than anything. You’re a little jerk sometimes but
I love you despite your 3-year-old attitude.  

My mom, dad and sister, thank you for your
support. It’s the best feeling in the world to know I have your support.

My girls, Callie (You’re fucking amazing!),
Erin, Lisa, Michelle, Chris, Melissa and Daina, thank you. I couldn’t write
without your help. I know I cancel on plans often, and never answer your text
messages, to meet deadlines and live in a fictional world but I love you girls
very much. And yes, I never answer my phone or return voicemails but you know I
don’t like my phone very much and you still talk to me. Love my girls!

Linda Knight, thank you
for always talking me through my deepest fears in writing and giving me great
feedback.
You mean a lot to me!

Gearheads and the Hooker Hood (aka
BookSluts
), a group of girls that love me unconditionally
and know how truly awesome I am. Any time I need advice or someone to talk to,
they are always there! Megan (My girl), Judie (My
Judity
),
Laura (My BFF), Kari (My other BFF), Dianna (My biggest fan),
Nikee
, Michelle, Jamie, Heather, Danielle,
Jenn
, Brooke, Kristina,
Drita
…there
are so many more but those are just a few of the frequent flyers in my world.

The bloggers who spread the word, Stick
Girl Book Reviews,
Maryse’s
Book Blog, Totally
Booked,
Smardy
Pants,
kindlehooked
,
The Book Hookers,
Shh
Mom’s Reading, Mocha’s,
Mysteries and More, Sugar and Spice Book Reviews, C & C Book Blok and all
the others that constantly pimp me out.

To the authors who are always there for
support and questions:
Brei
Betzold
,
Megan Smith, Heidi McLaughlin, Rebecca
Thein
,
Alexandra Richland and
Alina
Stoicia
-Man.

The artists who inspired this story: Alice
in Chains, Framing Hanley, Theory Of A
Deadman
, Snow
Patrol, Coldplay, Saving Abel, The Rolling Stones, Kings Of Leon and The White
Strips. I love my music!

And most importantly,
thank you to my readers who stand by me for a good love story with a happy
ending.
Enjoy the story.

This book is
dedicated to Barb
Nejman
. Without her hard work on
this novel it wouldn’t have been finished as quickly as it was. Thank you for
your love of reading and helping an author just because you wanted to!

It’s all make
believe, isn’t it?

Marilyn Monroe

1.
       
  Perfectly Planned Out – Bailey Gray

As light pierces the
dark sky, the feeling crept deeper in my bones, no longer a thought but a
burning desire to want more, feel more, love more. Sitting on the edge of my
window watching the rising sun, I knew the thoughts I had were twisting, just
like the changes in the sky.

Just like the sky, a
change, a thought, a feeling, doesn’t happen right away, for me anyway.

You don’t see it at
first. It’s nothing but chalky warmth, a glow in the distance, completely humbled
to the magnificence of Helios. As the dawn starts to shake the ash from night,
revealing the bright red scarlet of morning that ran riot in the sky, a
decision is set, but you don’t know it. There’s something refreshing about a
sunrise, it’s just as unpredictable what a new day would bring.

There’s a moment, a
brief moment, before it harks upon the dark, spilling golden light upon the
hills, penetrating even the deepest forest, breaking the deeper shades to
lighter.

What would you do for a
piece of forever? What would you do to love more, feel more, and live more?

Sighing, I twisted on
the windowsill to look over my room scattered with memories of a childhood that
wasn’t mine. All of this was a childhood that had been scripted for a girl, but
not me.

When you’re eighteen,
you know your future is supposed to be unpredictable, unplanned, and open to
whatever.

That is unless you’re
me, Bailey Gray.

I’d like to say that
this is a story about a girl who took the path less chosen and it ended up
being the right one but I’d probably be lying. That picture of me on the cover,
the one bathed in my favorite light of the day is pretty much the only field of
daisy’s this story has. Underneath it, in the shadows of the light, was a
darkness that I soon found killed those daisy fields. Hell, if you were to pick
a cover, it should have been dark with smoky ice blue.

 “Bailey, it’s
time to go.”

Taking a deep breath, I
tucked my speech away in my book bag. Before leaving my room, I gave my window
one last look, the same window I spent every morning, wondering if this morning
would be my last one there. I’m not sure why, but that gut feeling, the one I
felt deep in my bones told me it would be.

As I turned the corner
and stepped down the wooden staircase, the ones I had rushed down so many times
before class each morning. I wasn’t rushed now, because the future that was
decided for me wasn’t one that I was sure of anymore.

That was the day of my
high school graduation.

After spending the last
eighteen year’s working toward a goal it was finally here. I had graduated high
school with honors. I was the class valedictorian of our 2011 graduating class
with, perfect grades, perfect friends, perfect boyfriend, and essentially the
perfect life.

I once spent three
hours setting up my camera on the beach to photograph the sunset, planning the
exact moment when the lighting would be exactly the way I wanted it only to
have it turn out blurry.

My life was somewhat
similar when you think about it. Perfectly planned and then the photograph
you’re left with isn’t remotely what you’d planned for. Maybe it’s worse or
maybe it’s better.

The perfection is all
in theory though. It’s like looking at a photograph and only seeing what the
camera captured. Inside, and maybe a little on the outside, I couldn’t stand my
life. That’s an understatement I actually
hated
my life. Everything was
planned out for me since birth. I had to go to a certain pre-school, the
perfect grade school, the perfect middle school, and eventually the same high
school my parents went to, Tumwater High School. Most days I wanted to scream
at how planned-out my life really was.

I wasn’t allowed to
shop for my clothes for Christ sakes.

My mother, Kimberly
Gray, was head of the PTA, on the city council and blah freaking blah. She made
me insane but her mother was even worse. I couldn’t stand to be in the same
room with either one of them for more than ten minutes without wanting to
strangle her. You know the Madagascar movie where the chubby penguin tells the
other penguins to smile and wave.

That was me smile and
wave. Don’t ask questions, just smile and wave. This theory worked well for me
for years.

My dad, Jeff Gray, the
Mayor of Tumwater, was tolerable, more than my mother was, but then again in a
room with him for more than ten minutes, I wanted to shoot myself, execution
style. He had this way of talking at you rather than to you as most politicians
did. I absolutely hated that. If he didn’t want to hear what I had to say, why
even ask?

He did that with
everyone. He would ask my brother how his day was only to have him lose
interest and then start talking about his own day. Who does that?

Now I know I seem to
have a lot of pent up frustration but if you lived in my house, you would
understand.

My little brother, Jeb,
was cool but I could see he was a model figure of my father and never stepped
out of line. At thirteen, you’d expect the kid to be getting into some sort of
shenanigans but no, nothing. Sometimes I wondered if I was even their child and
should I have this much resentment?

Surely, it can’t be
normal, right?

Growing up my parents
picked my friends, certain people were not allowed to be associated with and
others, well, they were practically shoved down my throat. Like my so-called
best friend Mercedes Grant.

Doesn’t the name say it
all?

When I think of a
Mercedes Grant, I think of a stuck up bitch who owns daddy’s money, right?

That’s exactly how
Mercedes was. She wasn’t a good friend, though I called her my best friend, and
on more than one occasion, I’ve caught her eyeing my boyfriend, Eric.

Mercedes, was beautiful
with her rich dark brown hair and exotic appearance, she was what most
considered sexy and could have any guy she wanted, including my boyfriend, if
she desired.

Eric James was another thing
that was forced upon me by my father. Eric’s father and mine were best friends
and met every Sunday for golf. This meant Eric was pushed upon me whether I
wanted it or not.

Once in high school
Eric asked me out our freshman year and by high school standards we’ve been
dating ever since. He was the football player and I was the high school
cheerleader destined to be with him, right?

Eric was nice guy. You
could say that and I would agree with you. As the captain of the football team,
he was the star quarterback and had the looks to go with it, blondish brown
hair, chocolate syrup eyes and a flirty full of life smile.

“Oh Bailey, your hair
is messed up.” My mother fussed with me, slightly irritated that my long ginger
locks were out of place. I didn’t miss the note of pride in her voice and it
annoyed me for reasons I didn’t understand. It was
my
hair, yet she
thought it was hers.

One thing I did love
about myself was my thick dark ginger hair. It was beautiful, naturally
highlighted, but had a mind of its own which made it unique. If I had to guess,
I was pretty by most people’s standards, but I didn’t think I was over the top
by any means. Wherever I went, people stared at me, which made me very
uncomfortable but I always thought they stared because of my car or clothes
that seemed out of place for a small town such as the sleepy northwest rain
stricken, Tumwater. An hour south of Seattle, Tumwater didn’t exactly scream
money but there were people who had it.