Tricked by my ex, p.1

Tricked by My Ex, page 1

 

Tricked by My Ex
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Tricked by My Ex


  TRICKED BY MY EX

  by

  J. Sterling

  TRICKED BY MY EX

  Copyright © 2023 by J. Sterling

  All Rights Reserved

  Edited by:

  Jovana Shirley

  Unforeseen Editing

  www.unforeseenediting.com

  Cover Design by:

  Michelle Preast

  www.Michelle-Preast.com

  www.facebook.com/IndieBookCovers

  E-book Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Please do not participate or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945042-61-4

  Please visit the author’s website

  www.j-sterling.com

  to find out where additional versions may be purchased.

  Thank you for downloading this book.

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  Other Books by J. Sterling

  Bitter Rivals- an enemies to lovers romance

  Dear Heart, I Hate You

  10 Years Later- A Second Chance Romance

  In Dreams – a new adult college romance

  Chance Encounters- a coming of age story

  The Game Series

  The Perfect Game - Book One

  The Game Changer - Book Two

  The Sweetest Game - Book Three

  The Other Game (Dean Carter) – Book Four

  The Playboy Serial

  Avoiding the Playboy- Episode #1

  Resisting the Playboy- Episode #2

  Wanting the Playboy- Episode #3

  The Celebrity Series

  Seeing Stars- Madison & Walker

  Breaking Stars- Paige & Tatum

  Losing Stars- Quinn & Ryson

  The Fisher Brothers Series

  No Bad Days – a New Adult, Second Chance Romance

  Guy Hater – an Emotional Love Story

  Adios Pantalones – a Single Mom Romance

  Happy Ending

  The Boys of Baseball

  (the next generation of fullton state baseball players):

  The Ninth Inning – Cole Anders

  Behind the Plate- Chance Carter

  Safe at First – Mac Davies

  Fun for the Holidays

  (a collection of stand-alone novels with holiday based themes)

  Kissing my Co-worker

  Dumped for Valentine’s

  My Week with the Prince

  Fools in Love

  Spring’s Second Chance

  Don’t Marry Him

  Summer Lovin’

  Flirting with Sunshine

  Falling for the Boss

  Tricked by my Ex

  The Thanksgiving Hookup

  Christmas with Saint

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by J. Sterling

  A HALLOWEEN NIGHTMARE

  THE COSTUME

  OPERATION EVE

  “SNIPS”

  IT’S HER

  ACTORS ARE ASSHOLES

  NOW WHAT?

  CLOSURE FOR ONE, PLEASE

  NOT OVER YET

  SECOND CHANCES

  LET ME LOVE YOU

  THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN MISSING

  THE START OF FOREVER

  LONG-DISTANCE ROMANCE

  KEY EXCHANGE

  EPILOGUE

  Other Books by J. Sterling

  About the Author

  A HALLOWEEN NIGHTMARE

  EVE

  “You’re coming tonight, right?” Greg, my most recent client, screamed from somewhere inside his four-thousand-square-foot house.

  I was currently placing the finishing touches on all the Halloween decor, making sure it was sufficiently “scary yet chic,” as he had requested, before pulling out my phone and snapping a few more pictures for my website and portfolio.

  Trust me, I’d had no idea what that meant initially either. I realized at some point during our multiple planning meetings that the chic part simply meant he wanted to add in colors other than the typical Halloween palette. In my head, I’d started picturing Alice in Wonderland met The Nightmare Before Christmas, and, voilà, a theme had been born. So, here I was, staring at hot-pink accents dotting the otherwise darkened hallway.

  “Eeeeeeve!” Greg shouted again, dragging out my name.

  I stared at his ceiling before blowing out a long breath and pocketing my phone.

  I never attended the parties that I designed. It wasn’t that I had a hard and fast rule about not going to them, but no one had really asked before. Okay, that wasn’t necessarily true. I’d been invited once or twice, but no one had ever insisted.

  Greg was demanding that I show up tonight.

  “Eve, I swear to God that I’ll hunt you down and tie you to one of the magic mushrooms if you don’t answer me!” he continued yelling from down the hall, his voice getting louder.

  I heard his footsteps moving quickly in my direction, and I plastered on a wide smile right as he found me.

  “Why do you want me to come so badly?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Sweetheart”—he wrapped his arm in mine and started walking me down the dark hall—“I have a lot of people I want to introduce you to. Look at this place.” He pulled his arm out from mine and waved it around the space. “It’s a masterpiece. A terrifying dream. And everyone is going to want to know who created it.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that. I was one of those people who had gotten lucky when it came to my business. My work spoke for itself, and I’d never had to spend a dime on advertising, not even when I’d first started out. My calendar was booked a year in advance for holidays, and I had multiple employees that I was able to pay well. And all of it had stemmed from word of mouth.

  “You can just give them my card. I’ll leave a stack for you in the foyer,” I suggested, knowing that he’d tell me no, like he’d been doing for the past week and a half.

  “It would be better if you were here and they could meet you in person. You know your personality is part of your charm.” Greg sensed my hesitation.

  I wasn’t even sure why I was being so difficult in the first place, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  He clearly wasn’t going to give up or take no for an answer, which was probably how he’d gotten to be so successful in the first place. His tenacity and his ear for music. Greg was Hollywood movie score royalty, but he refused to live there. Said it was a fake place, filled with even faker people. And he wasn’t the only one who disliked it. There were a lot of famous people who lived in Orange County. Way more than you’d think … thank God. I loved that the majority of my business was out here instead of my having to drive all the way to Santa Monica or Malibu to do what I did. There were plenty of other event designers who lived out there. Basically, Hollywood didn’t need my services, and I was glad.

  “Eve, come for an hour. That’s all I ask. You don’t have to stay for the whole thing. Okay? One hour,” he pushed, and I felt my heart pound inside my chest.

  I did my best to avoid unnecessary interaction with Hollywood’s elite and entitled—aside from when one of them booked my design services, of course. And I knew that even with typical LA traffic, tonight’s soiree was going to be filled with celebrities from all over. Sucking in a quick breath, I decided that as long as one particular actor didn’t make an appearance, I’d be all right. The last I’d heard about my ex-boyfriend, Tyson, was that he was overseas somewhere, filming another action movie. There was little to no chance that he’d be at this event tonight.

  “Fine. But only for an hour,” I said, and he clasped his hands together and grinned.

  “Brilliant! Make sure you dress up. And nothing cheesy. You’re representing all this,” he reminded me as he skipped away like he’d won some kind of battle.

  To be honest, I wasn’t sure that he hadn’t.

  Even though Greg and I lived in the same city, my home was on the outskirts of town and up a hill that overlooked the ocean from afar instead of right on the waterway with boat docks, like Greg’s.

  My two-bedroom condo in Newport, which I owned without any cosigners, was my second big purchase after my car—a fully loaded electric BMW, which was all paid off.

  Both things had been on my vision board since I’d started my company, and they made me feel successful and grown-up.

  As I made the twenty-minute drive to my place, my thoughts skirted back to the past. For some reason, I couldn’t get Tyson Hunter out of my thoughts. And it wasn’t because I’d seen his perfectly smiling face staring at me from the gas station earlier either.

  I’d always known that Tyson would make it as an actor. Back in college, when he had started going on auditions, he was always getting callbacks, but didn’t land any leading roles. We both knew it was only a matter of time. He had that thing about him, that unspoken energy that drew strangers to him.

  Tyson was confident, charismatic, and talented. Plus, he had the look. The kind that made people stare. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but I was the only one he gave it to. I’d always felt lucky to be the one by his side. And not because of his impending fame, but because Tyson was kind, romantic, and considerate. He’d made me feel special.

  At least, that was how he used to make me feel.

  Now, whenever I thought about Tyson Hunter, I felt like a naive little girl who had believed all the things that a pretty boy once told her. I used to wonder how I could have been so stupid and why I hadn’t seen that everything between us was only temporary instead of the permanence I so desperately wanted. But at the time, I’d truly believed that Tyson was my future. We used to be on the same page and wanted the same things. And then, overnight, everything had changed.

  Literally.

  It wasn’t like I’d spent the last seven years pining for the guy. I’d definitely moved on and dated other people, but Tyson always seemed to linger in the recesses of my mind. There were those constant what-if questions nagging at me.

  What if things had been different?

  What if he’d stayed?

  What if he hadn’t gone on that audition at all?

  Days like today, when our past consumed me, it made me a little sad and on edge. For years after the breakup, I’d convinced myself that we’d find our way back to each other when the time was right. I thought it was some sort of coping mechanism, mixed with a hopeful heart. At some point, I’d stopped believing in that particular fairy tale. If we were supposed to be together, then he would have at least reached out. And so far, he never had. Not one time in seven years.

  Sometimes, the years felt like a blip on a radar, but mostly, they felt like an eternity. A piece of my life that had happened so long ago that it almost felt like fiction. It was more than enough time for me to get over the guy and sever whatever connection we’d once shared. But those two things proved to be much harder than I’d ever anticipated.

  His smile haunted me at every turn, his face a constant reminder. Nowhere was safe. The convenience store, the freeway, bus stops, grocery stores, my phone, social media. Tyson was everywhere I looked, especially when I wasn’t looking, flashing that trademark grin.

  It was the same one I used to catch him giving me back in college, his lips upturned into more of a smirk than anything else. I’d had that look memorized once. I’d thought he’d never stop giving it to me. That I’d never stop seeing it.

  At least one of those assumptions was right.

  Clenching my jaw tight, I shook my head, trying to make the old memories disappear like the scene in a snow globe, but it didn’t work. It was almost like my body could sense that Tyson was near somehow even though I knew that he wasn’t. The man couldn’t be in two places at once. And if he were in town, I doubted that he knew Greg. At least not enough to warrant an invite to his party. I was getting myself all worked up for no reason.

  There was no me and Tyson anymore, and it was about time I got that through my thick skull once and for all. If only someone could give my heart the memo, maybe we could both finally let him go …

  THE COSTUME

  EVE

  A few hours later, my girlfriend JJ, a hairstyle and makeup goddess, showed up at my place to help me with my look. There was no way I would have been able to do my hair in any kind of cool style, and the last time I’d tried to do my own costume makeup, it’d looked like a four-year-old had drawn all over my face. I might have been able to see details in my head and bring them to life for parties and events, but I couldn’t draw by hand if my life depended on it.

  I’d met JJ at a private event a few years back. She’d been hired by the same woman who had hired me, and we bonded instantly, each one of us admiring the other’s work. JJ exuded confidence, coupled with a punk rock look that suited her perfectly. She was a badass with empowering energy. It was just one of those things. We grew closer after realizing we only lived ten minutes apart, and neither one of us had a lot of girlfriends—at least not ones that we trusted.

  Being a woman was hard enough, but being your own boss and running a financially successful company took it to another level. Other women didn’t always understand the sacrifices that needed to be made in order to succeed. Work would always come first for women like us, and that meant a lot of declined invitations and people feeling blown off. Eventually, they stopped asking. It got ugly at times. And it was definitely lonely.

  JJ finished working her magic before spinning me around and letting me see what she’d done. Dark blue pieces folded seamlessly into my otherwise blonde hair. She’d added extensions that matched perfectly for a length I could never achieve on my own. I had what she affectionately called “bubble braids” cascading down each side of my body even though there were no braids in sight.

  As for the makeup, I hadn’t wanted my whole face painted because I wanted to be somewhat recognizable when meeting potential clients. JJ did dark blue and white eyeliner, accenting a smoky look with Ahsoka Tano’s white markings on my forehead. I’d opted out of the cheek markings even though JJ said they’d be easy to do. It felt like too much.

  “This is incredible,” I said, instinctively moving to touch my forehead before JJ swatted my hand away.

  “No touching. You’ll ruin it. Close your eyes,” she demanded before spraying my face with some sort of super setting spray. “Once this sets, you won’t be able to mess it up as easily, but it can still be smeared, so be careful.”

  “Okay. Thank you. It looks amazing.” I grabbed the picture of Ahsoka that I’d printed out and held it up next to my face as memories sparked without warning.

  Tyson and me in his bedroom. The giant beanbag chair on the floor that we’d done so much more on than just sit. How he’d always plop down first, get the beads just right, before reaching for my body and pulling me onto his lap. My head on his chest. His arms wrapped around me. The feel of his hardness in my back as we tried to watch TV. How I’d always turn around and start kissing him, our tongues touching, our breaths catching, before he’d tell me we were about to miss a good part. Moments I thought would never end.

  “I still can’t believe you’re dressing up as this,” JJ said as she rolled her dark eyes at me.

  I struggled to catch my breath for a second. She hadn’t even noticed that I’d taken a quick mental vacation.

  “Ahsoka? She’s the baddest bitch in all of Star Wars.”

  “She can’t be the baddest bitch. What about Princess Leia?”

  I waved her off. “You haven’t even watched The Clone Wars, so you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Because I’m a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t watch cartoon shows.”

  I started coughing. Choking really. Did she really just call The Clone Wars a cartoon?

  “The Clone Wars is one of the best animated series I’ve ever seen. It’s groundbreaking. The storylines and plots are top-notch. The voice-over actors make you forget you’re not watching a live-action show. I’ve cried during episodes. Cried, JJ! It’s that good.”

  I tried to get her to understand, but I’d left out the part where Tyson had introduced me to the show and made me love it, even after he left. I’d watched the whole series and then all the spin-offs, convincing myself that Tyson was watching it too, missing me just as much as I was missing him.

  “You’re such a nerd,” she said, as if that word was supposed to make me feel bad or something.

  I shook my head vigorously. “And a proud one.”

  The days of being a closeted sci-fi lover were long gone, thanks in part to shows like Stranger Things and Game of Thrones. People wore T-shirts proudly, made fan accounts, and attended Comic-Con with excitement instead of embarrassment. We didn’t feel bad about loving the things society had once considered geeky. We felt cool. Included instead of left out. And being a girl nerd seemed to be one of the hottest attributes you could have these days.

 

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