Just Be You (A Standalone Novella): And, I'll Just Be Me
Just Be You
Copyright
More Books by Vicki
Dedication
Just Be You
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Just Be You
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Vicki Green Copyright 2016-17©
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form with authorization of the Author Vicki Green©
Editor: Kathy Krick
Formatting: Mari Rohweder
Cover design: Kari Ayasha
*Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18+.
More Books by Vicki
Forever Series
My Savior Forever
Together Forever
Soul-Mates Forever
Razers Edge (sequel novella to Soul-Mates Forever)
Stand Alone
Finding My Way Home
Reclaimed
Time’s Up!
Touched Series
Touched
Forgiven
Trusted
Book Boyfriend Series
My Next Book Boyfriend
Country Love Series
Country Heaven
A Taste Of Country
Love Of Country
Country Bliss (sequel novella to Country Heaven)
Back to Country
A Country Love Christmas– Coming Soon!
Beyond Love Series
Sacrifice For Love
Falling For Love
Longing For Love
Heartache Series
The Loss
The Regret
The Heartbreak – Coming Soon!
Dedication
This is for those that feel they can’t be themselves.
Remember, beauty will always in the eyes of the beholder.
Just Be You
High school should be a time to make friends, memories, and decide what you want to do when you grow up.
Weston Minton had it all. Popularity. Girls who wanted him. Guys who wanted to be him. Most guys would think this was the best life, but Weston hated all the attention and felt used. After he graduated, his dad and all the football scouts wanted him to go on to play pro ball. All Weston wanted to do was play his music and to be left alone. Now’s his chance to do just that and figure out what he truly wants to do with his life.
For Piper Rhodes, it was just school. She didn’t really have friends, unless you counted the few that only wanted her around when they needed her. She studied hard and once she graduated, she started taking classes at the local junior college two hours away, as it was all she could afford. She needed a change in her life and was tired of being alone. Maybe now she can be what she really wants to be or maybe she’ll find out it’s not all what it’s cracked up to be.
Two people.
Both making a change.
Neither wanting to be who they’ve always been.
Prologue
High school was great, don’t get me wrong, but after being pulled in every direction and being the center of attention, which I hated, I was ready to graduate and find something meaningful to do with my life. Something that meant something to me, not everyone else.
Dad yelled and cursed at me the day I moved out. His dream of me going pro with a football career was shattered. Thing is, I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do. All I knew was, I had to be around music. Now I had a tough decision to make. I could either play my guitar in some bars, and hopefully get enough stage presence and exposure to land a permanent gig and also enough tips to help pay for the rent for my apartment, or I could apply to be a DJ at Johnny’s, the new bar for eighteen year olds and up that is opening not far from my new apartment and play my guitar only for me. I also saw the bar has an open mic night on Thursday nights. So sometimes you have to do what you have to do in order to pay the bills. I applied for the DJ job and got it. Luckily, the DJ booth is encased in thick plastic with a sliding door for taking requests. I’ll be around people but I won’t. It’s a win-win for me. After the last few years of always being touched and people always wanting something from me – in more ways than one, I’m ready to be by myself in my apartment, alone. I’m not even sure who I am anymore.
I grew up in a smaller town in California. Yes, I say smaller because most towns are not very small in California. It’s small but not too small that everyone knows your business. Well, unless you’re the star quarterback on the high school football team and your dad is a wealthy businessman. When I’d read a sponsored ad on Facebook that there was an apartment for rent and then read another ad that there was a new bar opening down the street from it, I moved to another smaller town about two hours from mine. It couldn’t be more perfect. Of course, what’s even better is the apartment backs up to a small beach. So, I loaded up my jeep with my few meager possessions and headed straight for paradise. I was grateful that Mom bought me the jeep for a graduation present, knowing it would anger Dad. Having divorced parents is not what it’s cracked up to be. You’d think that you’d get more of everything but all it gets me is more fighting and anger, one parent trying to piss the other off. Mom’s always stood behind my music while Dad would just buy me a new football or comment on how well I was playing in a game. Then again, he’d also get real angry and give me tips if a play wasn’t good or we’d lose a game. But now, I’m ready for my freedom and whatever comes with it.
I pull into the small parking lot on the side of a two-story house made into four large apartments. I looked at the setup online and loved the feel of it. I had stopped at the Walmart superstore on the way here and loaded up with paper items, food, coffee, and other things, just enough to start me off. I thought I’d be nervous being nineteen and living on my own for the first time, a couple of hours away from home, but all I feel is excitement.
I get out of my jeep, walk around the back of it and open the hatch. Picking up the first box of many, I start walking to the front door. Nope, I’m not nervous at all. The crashing sounds of the ocean waves already make me feel relaxed as I take a deep breath and absorb the salty air into my lungs. I grew up close to the ocean, about a twenty minute drive, but to live right next to it, hearing the gentle sounds of the waves at night and waking up early to watch the sun rise in the horizon from my own deck will be heaven. Yep, this is definitely paradise.
I was fortunate to get the last apartment in this house. I have no idea who else lives here but I don’t really care. I pretty much plan on being a hermit when I’m here anyway except for maybe some long walks or jogs on the beach. There are six more houses like this one next to me that were also turned into apartments and they all share the same beach. Next to the last house there is a coffee shop w
ith a large deck where people can sit and drink their coffee or work on their laptops. A grocery store is across the street from the coffee shop and three doors down from it is the new bar. I shouldn’t really have to drive too much since everything is within walking distance. Perfect.
I open the front door to well-kept wooden floors, mailboxes on the wall to my left with four long locked boxes. I look at the set of stairs in front of me, wooden railings, double wide with a clean carpet runner up the steps. I start the climb, digging in my pocket for my keys and when I reach the top, I turn to my right and unlock the door to my apartment. I take a step inside, and I’m immediately taken aback by the tall windows along the back wall with a sliding glass door in the middle and the sunshine pouring in. As I walk toward them, I notice the furniture seems to be in good shape. I’m lucky because it’s already furnished. I set down the box on the coffee table and walk to the sliding door, open it and take in a deep breath. Walking out onto the deck, I grasp the railing and look out at the beautiful scenery. This is heaven. This is peace and tranquility. This is perfect for me.
It takes me four trips to unload my jeep. After putting away my clothes and all the kitchen things I brought, I finally grab a beer from the fridge, go outside and sit down in one of the lawn chairs. Sitting here, listening to the waves crashing, watching the sun lower in the horizon, I feel refreshed, like I’m finally doing something for me. For the first time. I thought I’d be nervous out on my own, alone, but I’m so relaxed. I take in the sandy beach as I finish my beer. Now, what to do? I don’t really need to do anything but I’m not one for watching much TV. I could work on the song I’ve been writing. I stand and walk inside, closing the door behind me and lock it. Instead, I think I’ll go for a run on the beach before it gets too late.
There’s not a sound in the house as I walk downstairs. I turn around at the bottom and see a sliding glass door on the back wall. I unlock it and walk out onto the deck then down the stairs. The sand collapses under the weight of my tennis shoes as turn to my left and start to jog. Even though I’m not playing football anymore, I still try to keep in shape. I’m sweating by the time I get quite a ways from the house so I turn around and start back. The sun has set lower, changing the bright sunshine for a lower lighting, and the tide has changed. I decide to keep jogging down the beach to take a look around while there’s still enough light. I can always do more exploring tomorrow and then Monday I start my new job.
The apartment houses are all similar to mine except they’re painted different colors. Some people are sitting out on their decks. Some are grilling out while others are sitting on the beach. The sounds of laughter and talking filters in the distance with the light breeze. Some people wave at me, a couple of girls in barely-there bikinis give me a smile as I run by. Not too many people to make me feel uncomfortable but I’m starting to long to go back to my apartment to be alone.
I trudge on wanting to see what’s further down when I spot a coffee shop coming up. A couple of people are out on the deck reading or working on their laptops. It’s a nice building, nothing like Starbucks, but in keeping up with the beach house looks along the street it fits in nicely. I stop and catch my breath at the foot of the deck stairs then walk up, across the deck and into the shop. The inside is homey, not decorated with an outlandish display of surfboards or beach paraphernalia you’d think would be in a shop along a beach. There’s bookshelves that align one of the walls with futon chairs and small tables in front of them. Over to my right are regular tables and chairs and along the other wall is a counter with a display case of pastries and assorted sandwiches and bottled drinks next to it. I love the atmosphere here.
“Can I help you?”
I stop admiring the shop and look over at the counter. A girl is standing behind it, long dark brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail, leaning her elbow on the counter, her chin resting on her hand, and smiling at me. I walk over, looking down at the display case, and pick up a bottled juice and set it down on the counter. “I’ll just take this.” I give her a smile back as she slowly stands up and rings up my drink.
“You’re new here,” she says, still smiling and watching me instead of the cash register. I start to feel awkward and a bit uncomfortable. She licks her lips, trying to be seductive. Not only am I not interested but I have no feelings at all for her.
I hand her a five and she slowly takes it from me. “Yes. I am.” I didn’t want to offer any more information. She opens the register drawer and as I hold out my hand, she deposits very little change from the very expensive small bottle of juice into it. Just as I start to pull my hand back, she closes it with hers, holding onto it.
“Well, I hope to see more of you – here,” she says with a very obvious double meaning as her eyes scan down my body.
Pulling back my hand, I only give her a smile as I turn around and start walking toward the back door. I hear her sigh as I walk outside and across the deck, suddenly in a hurry to get home. I drink my juice as I walk back down the beach, finishing it long before I reach my deck stairs. Four dollars and fifty-six cents for a small bottle of orange juice. Hell, I can get a case of them for that at the small grocery store across the street. I laugh as I walk inside the house and up the stairs to my apartment. Once inside, I lock the door and head straight for the bathroom off my room and take a much needed shower. I haven’t had sex in such a long time but seeing that girl at the coffee shop only deflated my once hardened cock. I shiver at the memory. Nothing turns me off worse than a girl trying too hard be seductive and trying to come on to me. I had too much of that all through high school. Right now, I don’t want to be with a girl or woman for a very long time.
Still early enough in the evening, I walk out of my bedroom in a white t-shirt and boxers, lean down and take my guitar from its case and sit down on the couch. I spend the rest of my time doing one of my favorite things–working on my newest song.
Chapter One
I love where I moved and the junior college is only a ten minute drive from my apartment. It’s been a little bit of a struggle for the last few months, working at the coffee shop, studying and getting to classes but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I couldn’t believe my luck finding a house next to the coffee shop that had an apartment for rent and was furnished too.
My parents hated me leaving but I’m only a couple of hours away. Of course, they’re divorced but I got a call from them separately once I got here, checking on me. I love them but they just don’t love each other anymore, haven’t for several years I guess. They basically stayed together for me. Why? I have no idea. Doesn’t really make sense. It hurt me worse because I always thought they would be together forever. Luckily, they divorced amicably and still talk. It’s like they’re still best friends. I’m glad for that, at least. They’ve always worried about me, thinking I study too much, too hard, never going out and having fun. What they’ve never realized is that the few friends I had really weren’t friends at all, they just used me for what they needed.
I used to dream of being popular and having so many friends who really cared about me and were always there when I needed them. With them, I was a strong girl, able to take care of myself, be around people. Dreams. That’s all they were. I learned the hard way, more than once, that some dreams weren’t meant to come true. So, I studied, hid in a library or my room and if I wasn’t doing homework, I was pretending I was someone else in a romance novel. Sigh. My short life has been so boring.
I’ve been working at the coffee shop almost as long as I’ve been here. I love it there. The atmosphere is so cozy, and the different coffees are out of this world. Secretly, I love them better than Starbucks. Gasp! I love this small town. Everything is so close, and the only reason to drive anywhere is to go to class. I’m not a health nut or anything, but I love to jog or just walk along the beach. It’s so peaceful. I just put in my ear buds and crank up my iPod and get lost in the
music. I don’t have a bad body, kinda too skinny for my liking, but I can’t really afford to join a gym to workout. My hair is naturally blonde. I used to be teased that I’m definitely a California beach girl because it would bleach out to almost white from the sun. It hangs down almost to my lower back and definitely needs a trim. Not my highest priority with my meager earnings and tips at the coffee shop. I think my eyes are boring. They’re blue and look flat to me. Sigh. I guess some may think that I look okay. I sure get looks from some of the guys who come into the shop, sometimes. Maybe they have an eyesight problem?
Today is Sunday, the only day I get to sleep in. So I enjoyed relaxing in bed until I had no choice but to get up to use the bathroom. This is also the day that I catch up on any homework or projects I wasn’t able to get done during the week. But I also have to work late this afternoon. I try to work as many days or nights as possible, leaving enough time for my studies. After a long, hot shower, I towel dry my hair, brush my teeth, and throw on a tank top and jeans shorts. Walking to the kitchen, I prepare the coffee pot and hit the switch as I make myself some scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. Soon my apartment begins to smell heavenly. I decide to turn the news on the TV and sit down on the couch with my breakfast, setting my coffee down on the table in front of me.