When Faults Collide (Faultlines Book 1) Read online

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m going back to work. Good luck with your audition. Break a leg and all that.”

  I started walking up the stairs.

  “Oh you impossible woman!” she cried after me.

  I just kept shaking my head.

  No, this was not going to happen. I was going to continue going on with my life. I did not have time for men.

  Somehow I think I knew, even then, that I was going to break my own rules.

  Chapter Three

  My rules are there for a reason. It gives me a way to be grounded, to know that I am in control and that my control can’t be taken from me.

  The most important of these rules, which I blog about often, is rule number one: no romantic relationships. Romance, or love, it causes you to give your emotional wellbeing to another person. This is not something I am willing to do. Rule number three: go for a run every morning. This rule helps to bring balance into my life.

  So what do I do when I’m following my own rules, and then suddenly life throws me a curveball? I’ve never had a problem following my rules. Ever. Hell, they’re my rules after all.

  So when faced with a dilemma today, what did I do? I ran away. That is something I can most certainly say I am good at doing.

  He will not tempt me with his emerald eyes that would make even Mother Theresa swoon. I do not date. Attraction is a normal thing, and I’ve been attracted to guys before, so why did this one affect me?

  And then, to make matters worse, why did the only person who has affected me decide to MOVE IN NEXT DOOR!?

  *Sigh* What can a girl do?

  The only logical solution I see here is that I’m going to have to move.

  Leave me some comment love folks.

  xoxo, Asha

  I minimized the window for Blogger and got up to find an outfit for tonight. Lily texted me to tell me that I better be dressed in a manner that would not embarrass her.

  God forbid I let her down.

  I opened the door to one of my wardrobes and pulled out a few options. I tried them all on and took pictures of each, and then created a collage and posted it to Instagram to have my readers vote on an outfit.

  While I waited for a response I called my dad to check in.

  “Asha! How are you baby?” he bellowed, his voice warm and comforting.

  “Hey Dad. I’m good. Busy with work, but it’s all good. What are you doing?” I put him on speaker so I could work on getting my hair into a bun.

  “Oh you know. Kicking ass and taking names.”

  I giggled. “Just the usual then.”

  He chuckled “Yep. Well, I’m glad you called, baby. Marcy wants to know if you are free to drive up and have dinner with us on Sunday?”

  My dad married Marcy a few months after my seventeenth birthday. As far as stepmoms go, she was a gem. We had a wonderful relationship and she made my dad happy, which made me happy. She had no children so I was the only child for both of them and they cherished me.

  “Um, maybe next Sunday. This weekend I’ve got to knock out some of my projects because I may be starting a new one next week and I need to get as much done before then as possible,” I said clearly, despite the fact that I was holding bobby pins between my teeth.

  “Okay honey, sounds good. I told Roger that I won’t be working any more Sundays, so either one will work for us.”

  My dad was the CEO of a venture capital firm in Washington DC and was about to retire. Roger, his company president, was set to take over once my dad retired.

  Marcy and my dad live in Tyson’s Corner, which is a city outside of DC but a quick commute to the capitol.

  “So, honey, anything else going on? Any men that I need to rough up?”

  I giggled. “No, Dad. You know I don’t date.”

  He sighed deeply, “I know, baby, but at some point don’t you want to meet a nice guy and settle down?”

  I pursed my lips and put the finishing touches on my bun.

  “Dad, that’s just not in the cards for me right now. Maybe someday I’ll think about it.”

  “Asha, sweetheart—” he started.

  I interrupted him, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Okay, Dad. I gotta go. I’m going out with Lily and Tom tonight and I have to get ready.”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “Okay. Have fun with your friends. You going to see Katherine tomorrow?”

  Katherine is my therapist.

  “Yep. Every Friday. You know this. Okay, love you, Dad. Bye!” I said before hanging up.

  I checked my notifications and picked up the outfit that was voted for: a cobalt skirt with a white boyfriend tank. I opened up my jewelry case and pulled out a chunky white necklace and cobalt studded earrings. I paired a cute cream colored clutch with the outfit and called it complete.

  I went to the bathroom to add some lip gloss before heading downstairs. I didn’t wear makeup, but liked glossing up my lips before going out.

  I grabbed some tan sandals from the basket by the door and slipped them on before stepping outside.

  I turned to lock the door and heard some movement from the other side of the porch. I turned my head to look, knowing good and well what I was going to see.

  Sure enough, sitting in a chair he had perched up next to his door was Blake.

  He was still wearing the Pac-Man shirt, but was now in basketball shorts and barefoot. He was sipping a Rolling Rock with a book in his hands.

  He grinned at me, his green eyes shining through his dark rimmed glasses.

  “Asha! Were we quieter for you after you left? I’m sorry about that.”

  “Oh, um... yeah,” I said, embarrassed. “Sorry about being so rude. I really get into the zone when I’m working.”

  I clicked the lock and checked that the door was locked.

  “Nice to see you again,” I said, turning to go down the stairs.

  “Wait, Asha, listen—” he said, standing up.

  “No, no. It’s fine. Look, I have to go. See ya later!” I said quickly before bounding down the stairs.

  I walked around to the door of my Fiat and clicked the button to unlock the door. I scooted in, turned the key in the ignition, turned up the radio, and started driving.

  Legends is across the James River in a part of town called Manchester. It’s still an up and coming area, but with Legends, Dogtown Theater, and lots of cool renovated warehouse lofts, it’s a very trendy place to be.

  I parked my car on the street, dinging the alarm as I got out, and walked across the street into the pub.

  I waved to Lily, who was already sitting on the patio with Tom and Beatrice. I joined them quickly, kissing everyone on the cheek before sitting down.

  “Gus and his vixen haven’t joined yet?” I questioned coyly.

  Beatrice hooted. “No, thank God. Apparently Mandy’s band had to audition for a new gig, and Gus is going with her. So they aren’t coming.”

  Beatrice was beautiful, with dark skin, chestnut eyes, and the most gorgeous wild curls. She had a more rebellious look, complete with a lip and nose piercing, a sleeve tattoo going down her right arm, and an armband tattoo around her left. She was sporting a ripped denim mini skirt with a black tank top and a cropped leather jacket.

  She was a jewelry designer and sold her pieces at the farmers markets every weekend. She also had a very successful Etsy shop which was the bulk of her business.

  “Well thank God for that. I couldn’t possibly stand another night out with that troll!” Lily exclaimed, linking her hand with Tom’s.

  “Come on, Lils, you know you love her,” Tom said teasingly before kissing her on the cheek.

  She batted him away playfully. He laughed and pulled her in closer.

  Tom looked like he came straight out of a Hollister catalogue and myself and Lily told him many times that he missed his calling and should have gone into modeling.

  He was fit and perfectly sculpted, and had a very prep school look that suited him perfectly. With his
blonde hair and baby blue eyes, he looked Scandinavian, which complemented Lily’s natural blond hair perfectly.

  I was convinced that their children would end up in Hollywood. Should they ever decide to settle down and go that route, that is.

  Going domestic wasn’t common in the art world. With our crazy schedules, unpredictable income, and general chaos that took over our lives, the typical get-married-and-have-children route didn’t always strike all of us.

  Lily had been fairly successful, but Tom went through rough patches. He was a painter and sold his work through local art shows and at the farmer’s market. He did a lot of privately commissioned work too, but all of that was up and down; while some months were wonderful, other times he couldn’t sell a painting for months on end. He was amazing, and I was surprised he hadn’t been more successful, but that’s the art world. Lots of very talented people never end up successful.

  The waitress showed up and we ordered a round of drinks. Craft beer was a new love of mine, and luckily I lived in the perfect city to experiment.

  “So, Ash, read anything interesting this week?” Tom asked with a playful gleam in his eyes.

  Our taste in books was night and day, and he loved to tease me for my tastes.

  “I finally finished As I Lay Dying.” I said cheerily.

  “That’s so dull, Ash.” Lily said pouting and putting her hands on her chin.

  I shrugged my shoulder and pulled out my phone to Tweet.

  Asha Harris

  @AshaGirlRVA

  At #Legends with the homies discussing my riveting reads. #ClassicsForTheWin

  Beatrice snorted. “Come on, Lil. What do you expect? We didn’t go to private school. We wouldn’t get it.”

  I rolled my eyes and scrolled through my newsfeed.

  After coming to America, I had never had a formal education but was light years ahead of my peers in reading and writing. The fact that I was bilingual made me even more marketable to private schools. My math skills, however, were deplorable.

  My father hired a private tutor and I spent a year catching up to grade level in math, and then he enrolled me at Maret, one of the most prestigious private schools in DC.

  While I excelled academically, socially I was completely lost. Then he found Katherine and we started driving to Richmond every week for my therapy.

  Between therapy and his new relationship with Marcy, which began shortly after my fourteenth birthday, I started learning social norms and slowly came around at school. I still made very little real connections, and didn’t start to thrive socially until college. Then I started blogging and learned how to be a social butterfly... just online.

  Truth be told Lily and Tom were my first real friends. They were the first ones I ever opened up to about my past that didn’t look at me with pity or like I was infected with the plague. Then when I started blogging and getting all of my support from readers, I started to see that there are people who would accept my past and still support me.

  I sipped my IPA and took in the gorgeous city views from the patio seat.

  “So, I hear you have a dishy new neighbor,” Beatrice said coyly.

  “Lily, Jesus Christ, did you tell everyone?” I said flustered.

  She giggled. “Maybe. There may have been a Tweet or two.”

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Honestly Lily, it’s not like you’ve never seen a hot guy before.”

  She pointed her finger at me accusingly. “Ha! So you admit that he’s gorgeous?!”

  “How about you worry about your gorgeous man and let me sip on this drink in peace?” I muttered.

  Several hours later, Lily decided she was going to spend the night at Tom’s, so I drove home solo. Lily was a little inebriated; I, however, had limited myself to my one drink at the beginning of the night, which had long since worn off. I blasted Bruno Mars and drove back home with my windows down.

  As I pulled up in front of my house, rolled my windows up and got out of my car.

  I quickly scanned the porch and saw that Blake was no longer sitting outside. I let out a breath, and hurried up to the door, quickly unlocking the door and letting myself inside.

  I slipped out of my sandals and dropped them into the basket, then trekked upstairs to my room.

  I slipped out of my clothes, tossing my jewelry back into its box, and grabbed a comfortable pair of fleece pajamas from the drawer below my wardrobe. I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face before getting to bed.

  As I walked back into my bedroom, I thought about Blake. Was he sleeping on the other side of my wall? Could he hear me in here?

  I shook away my thoughts. I didn’t need to worry about what he was doing because he didn’t matter.

  That’s when I heard the music.

  “No way,” I whispered.

  The Lumineers Stubborn Love was playing softly through the wall. It was one of my favorite songs, and obviously Blake had no idea why I loved the lyrics so much.

  Talk about a crazy coincidence. I decided to Tweet my favorite quote.

  Asha Harris

  @AshaGirlRVA

  It’s better to feel pain than nothing at all. #Lumineers #GoodnightMrGreenEyes

  I plugged my phone into the spare charger on my nightstand and climbed into bed. I heard my phone ding a notification, which was nothing new, but decided to turn them off for the night.

  I swiped my phone on, and then saw the comment left on Twitter. I gasped.

  Blake Daley

  @Blake_RVA

  @AshaGirlRVA Glad you like it. #GoodnightMsBlueEyes

  “Well, shit,” I said before turning my phone off and throwing my arm over my eyes.

  Chapter Four

  “So are you upset because he follows your Tweets or because you Tweeted about him to begin with?” Katherine asked me from across the table, sticking a piece of pastry in her mouth.

  She was pretty nontraditional as far as therapists go. Sometimes we met in her office, but many times like today, we met at a restaurant in the city and just chatted like friends. She was my fifth therapist and her model of talking to me like a person and a friend instead of like a client is the only reason she was able to get through to me.

  Despite my disagreements with her, I valued her input on things in my life. She knew the whole story, the things that Lily, Tom, my dad, and Marcy would never hear about. She knew it all.

  I breathed out in frustration. “I don’t know. I don’t want to censor what I write about. But I also don’t check every follower. I get new followers every day. I’m annoyed that he knows he got to me. That’s what I’m annoyed about. What if he reads my blog?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? If you really never have any intention of talking to this guy romantically, then he’s just another reader. If you were thinking you may like to get to know him, your blog is a great way for him to learn about you and your story.”

  I pursed my lips. “Well, I am not interested in anything with him. Nothing. I just don’t like it.”

  She laughed. “Asha, you’ve been seeing me for almost nine years. You’ve had a lot of guys show interest in you. You have never once been flustered at conversation with them, nor have you spent any length of time talking about them with me. So, obviously, you have some interest there.”

  I nodded. “Right, but how can I un-interest myself?”

  She chuckled again. “I don’t think it works that way, dear. It’s okay to be interested in a guy.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but she continued.

  “I get it. Your rules. But Asha, we’ve talked about your rules before. You cannot live your life in a bubble and refuse to let anyone in romantically.”

  I nodded again. “Yes I can.”

  She shook her head at me. “No, you can’t. You will end up my age and miserable. Surrounded by cats. Is that the future that you want?”

  I smirked. “So that’s what this is. You projecting your misery onto my life. I’m onto you, doc.”

&nbs
p; She bellowed out. “Hahaha! My dear girl. You keep me young, that’s for sure!”

  I folded my hands in front of me. The cinnamon roll sitting in front of me was only half eaten.

  “Seriously, though. Why, after every guy I’ve ever met, even guys I’ve been attracted to, why can I not stop thinking about this guy?”

  She shrugged, taking another bite of pastry. “I’m not sure, Asha. Maybe you connected in some way. Some people just have that chemical and spiritual connection. Who knows? You will never know until you talk to the guy. It couldn’t hurt to be his friend.”

  I processed what she was saying and took a sip of my iced mocha.

  She put her hand over mine. “You have come so far. You have survived. You have endured more in your young life than many people ever experience. And you have become the most amazing, independent, smart, and beautiful young woman. But your fear in relationships is the one piece that you’re still lacking. If you continue to let that fear rule your life, you are remaining the victim, and your attacker—the one who took so much from you that afternoon—he wins. Is that what you want?”

  I felt a tear betray me and slide down my cheek. I wiped it away forcefully before looking down at the table.

  “No. That’s not what I want,” I said quietly.

  She nodded and rubbed her thumb over the top of my hand. “Then just talk to the boy. Friendship, Asha. That’s all I’m telling you to start with.”

  I sighed deeply, but nodded.

  “Besides, he could be a total toad and you may not want to spend more than five minutes with him.”

  We both giggled before wrapping up the end of our “session.”

  I drove home and devised a plan. Yes, a plan. This is how I would keep my control. I would get through my weekend and get all of my work finished up, I would meet with my new client on Monday, and then I would try to reach out casually in conversation. Friendly conversation. Yep, that’s how I was going to make this work.

  I pulled my car into my spot in front of the house and saw that Lily was sitting on the porch with none other than Blake.

  “Damnit,” I muttered.