Unwritten (A Beachwood Bay Love Story Book 11)

  UNWRITTEN

  A Beachwood Bay Love Story

  by

  Melody Grace

  Copyright © 2015 by Melody Grace

  All rights reserved. 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 permission in writing.

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

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Connect with me online:

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/melodygracebooks

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/Melody_Grace_

  Website:

  http://melodygracebooks.blogspot.com/

  Newsletter:

  http://tinyurl.com/MelodyGraceNewsletter

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Three months later…

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17.

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Chapter 20.

  Chapter 21.

  Chapter 22.

  Chapter 23.

  Chapter 24.

  Three months later…

  Chapter 25.

  Chapter 26.

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  New Year’s Eve

  I only have one New Year’s resolution, and it’s the same I’ve had for six years now:

  Make Blake Callahan fall madly, deeply, and uncontrollably in love with me.

  Every year, I write it in big block letters on the first page of my new journal, and every year, I finish out December with those some words still taunting me. But not this time. This year, I’ve decided, I’m really going to make it happen.

  “Happy New Year!”

  Noise floods through my thoughts. The party is in full swing around me, hundreds of people crammed into the amazing beachfront mansion. Music plays so loud I can feel it in my chest, and everywhere I look, people are flirting and laughing, getting ready for that midnight kiss.

  I check my phone. 11:47 p.m., thirteen minutes to midnight. My heart beats faster. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it now.

  I pour myself a shot of bourbon from the bar and down it with a shudder. Then I scan the room, looking for Blake. I’ve managed to avoid running into him all night. I flew in from Paris late, and got ready with the girls. I told myself it was to make a big impact, but I know, deep down, it’s nerves.

  I haven’t laid eyes on him in two years. Not since—

  No, I stop myself, pouring another shot before I can relive the past. I knock it back, feeling the alcohol warm my bloodstream, making me brave.

  It’s now or never.

  I slip through the crowd, looking for his familiar glint of blonde hair and that chiseled jawline that always belonged on the front cover of a magazine. My nerves are rising. Don’t bottle it now, Zoey, I order myself. You can do this. I look harder, searching every face—

  There he is.

  My pulse kicks. He’s in the corner, leaning against the wall, looking illegally hot in a vintage white T-shirt and jeans that deserve an award for their services to womankind. He smiles, flashing a million-watt grin—at the adoring girl standing next to him.

  My heart sinks. Humiliation crashes through me.

  I thought he didn’t have a girlfriend!

  I may have stayed away from Blake these past two years in Europe, but it’s been impossible to escape him. A rising star in Hollywood, he’s a gossip column favorite. And what I didn’t pick up by osmosis from the tabloids, Tegan would gossip about in our weekly Skype dates. Tegan Callahan: my best friend.

  And Blake’s younger sister.

  See, there’s a reason I’ve never made a move like this before. There’s too much on the line, risking our friendship—and the only real family I’ve ever had.

  I’ve known Blake since I was fourteen. He’s only four years older than me, and that’s a lifetime when you’re an awkward, gangly teen. Not to mention the whole “best friend’s brother” part of the equation. I don’t know what Tegan would do if she ever found out about my feelings, I just know the risk has kept me silent all these years. The one time I even came close to revealing how I feel about him ended in disaster, so I swore I would never try again until I was grown up.

  Until he could see me as a woman, and not just a little kid.

  So, I tried to move on. I took a job at a fashion magazine in Paris and did everything I could to transform myself into a sophisticated, sexy Zoey Barnes. Not just for Blake, but for myself too. I needed to outrun the past and put a million miles between me and the miserable, nerdy girl I used to be, the one who was bullied mercilessly in school, and who never had a real boyfriend in her life.

  I studied my glamorous co-workers like a hawk. I learned how to flirt, how to bring life to my limp blonde hair, how to look elegant even in jeans and a plain T-shirt. I went on dates with sexy Frenchmen, and traveled alone for the first time in my life. And it worked. Here I am: twenty-one. As grown up as I’ll ever be, dressed up in my sexiest black dress and heels, wearing red lipstick, and my hair carefully styled in tousled waves.

  But I guess nothing’s changed after all, because even after all that, I’m still stuck staring longingly at him from across the room while he flirts with another girl.

  The girl says something to Blake, batting her eyelashes at him. Rejection knots tightly in my chest. Stupid! Of course he’d have his pick of girls here tonight. He’s hot, charming, successful, famous… It seems like he barely goes five minutes without a new girlfriend.

  I’m too late. I missed my chance.

  But just as I’m about to go slink away and drown my sorrows in that tray of eclairs I saw by the kitchen, Blake gets a call on his cellphone. He says something apologetically to the girl, then backs away, ducking into the hallway to answer the call.

  All is not lost!

  I follow him down the hall. He’s still talking on the phone, frowning, so I hang back, watching as he lets himself out onto the deck that stretches across the back of the house. I feel kind of like a stalker, peering through the window as he paces, talking, but I need the timing to be just right. I don’t want any interruptions when I finally see him again.

  Because tonight, everything is on the line.

  I’m risking so much even making a move, but all I need is just one sign. A hint that my years-long crush isn’t for nothing. That now I’m grown up, Blake could possibly feel the same way about me—or I accept defeat and give it up for good.

  I just hope I’m not going to make a total fool of myself. Again.

  Finally, Blake hangs up his call. He leans out against the railings, looking out over the bay. Here’s my chance.

  I take a deep breath,
slide the doors open, and step out onto the deck.

  “Hello, stranger.” My voice comes, sounding flirty and bold. Good start.

  Blake turns, and I swear, his jaw drops. I feel another tremor of nerves, but they melt away when I recognize the familiar look in his eyes, the one I’ve seen from plenty of guys since my transformation, but never from him.

  Desire.

  He blinks at me in disbelief.

  “Zoey?” he says, sounding uncertain. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”

  Play it cool, I remind myself. Easy, breezy, like he’s been the last thing on your mind.

  I arch an eyebrow. “Good to see you too.”

  I sashay over and lean in to kiss him on both cheeks, the way I learned in Europe. I leave a smudge of scarlet on his skin, so I reach up and wipe it away. He looks confused. “Sorry, Paris,” I explain, kicking myself for the familiar gesture.

  “Uh, hey,” Blake recovers. “Welcome back. Is it just a vacation visit?”

  “It depends,” I say.

  “Uh, depends on what?” Blake asks. His gaze drifts down my body, all the way to my peep-toe sandals, the ones that usually make me feel invincible. But now, I feel stripped naked under his blue eyes, my heart beating so loudly in my chest I swear he can hear it over the muffled sound of the music inside.

  You.

  I bite back the truth. “You’ll see,” I answer cryptically instead. “But, yes, I’m back.”

  “Tegan will be happy, I know she missed you,” Blake smiles.

  “Me too.” I try to relax. This is Blake, I remind myself. Not some stranger. I know him. “I missed all of you guys,” I add, thinking of the whole Callahan family: Tegan, and their two other brothers too. “Europe is a long way from home.”

  I take the spot beside him and lean out to watch the dark shadow of the ocean play along the distant shore. “So what’s your resolution?” I ask, trying to sound flirty.

  My dress strap slips lower on my shoulder, but I fight the urge to pull it back up. ‘Don’t be scared to be sexy!’ my co-worker at the magazine, Elise, was always ordering me, so now I leave it hanging on my arm even though it makes me feel like my whole dress is about to come down.

  Blake shrugs. “I guess… Make some great movies this year,” he smiles. “Not screw up and wind up waiting tables again to make a living.”

  I laugh. “No way. We all knew you had the talent, it just took the world a little while to catch on.”

  “You haven’t seen me act,” Blake retorts, teasing.

  “Sure I have,” I remind him. “I remember a certain show you did one Christmas…”

  “No!” Blake bursts out laughing. “God, why would you remind me about that?”

  “Come on,” I tease him, “you were the hunkiest Ebenezer Scrooge that Santa Monica ever saw.” He dressed up as a surfer Scrooge and played scenes on the promenade for fifty bucks. His brothers never shut up about it; we teased him all year.

  Blake groans. “I swear, that wig and beard gave me a rash. How do you even remember that?”

  Because I remember everything.

  I shrug casually. “I told you, we all knew we had a star on our hands.”

  It’s true. Even back then he had charisma, that X-factor that shone through no matter what crappy community theater or student short film he was acting in.

  “Some star, I nearly got arrested, the cops thought I was a crazy drunk!”

  “That’s what you get for going all Method.” I grin. “You know, it’s only a matter of time before the tabloids drag up those photos.”

  “Don’t!” Blake protests.

  “In fact, I’m sure I have a couple of old polaroids…” I pretend to tap my chin thoughtfully. “Not just Scrooge, but that production you did as a talking cow—”

  “It was a pig,” Blake corrects me. “Animal Farm. It was a metaphor.”

  “That piggy costume wasn’t metaphorical,” I shoot back, smirking. “And who could forget your star turn as Adam with nothing but a fig leaf to protect your modesty—”

  “No! Please, stop.” Blake laughs. “You have to swear, those photos will never see the light of day.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”

  Blake pauses, and suddenly, the air between us gets charged again. Something hot and vivid shimmering in the air.

  Then he looks away, and it’s gone. “How about my undying gratitude?” Blake says. He clears his throat. “I’m not even kidding. InTouch had a photographer sneak in the gym to try and catch me doing squats.”

  I giggle at the thought—even though I’d be first in line for that show. “I leave the country for one year, and you get hounded by the paparazzi. Mr. Big-Shot.”

  “It’s not like that,” Blake protests. “They just love the whole angle with Dex too.”

  “‘The Hottest Brothers Since the Hemsworths.’” I quote the tabloid headline.

  “You saw that?”

  “Are you kidding?” I laugh, “Tegan wants to get it framed. You must hate it,” I add. “I know Dex could never stand the attention.”

  But Blake doesn’t agree. “It’s not so bad,” he says. “My agents all tell me it’s part of the game. Play it right, and it can help me win the big roles.”

  I study him carefully. “And that’s what you want? Total world domination?”

  He pauses again, and when he answers, his voice is surprisingly sincere.

  “Yes,” he tells me. “I want it all.”

  Blake turns now, meeting my eyes. I’m hit all over again with the force of him: that chiseled, handsome face, the smile, those magnetic blue eyes. I feel the same flip in my stomach I felt the day we first met; time and distance have done nothing to lessen his effect on me.

  I think I see something shift in his expression, a glimpse of desire, but it must be wishful thinking, because he turns away.

  “You better get back inside,” he says shortly. “You’ll miss the party.”

  Disappointment crashes over me.

  I turn and slowly walk away, feeling like a fool. All my plans are for nothing; I tried and struck out again.

  But did you really try? A small voice nudges me. Didn’t you promise to give it your best shot?

  I gulp, then before I know what I’m doing, I whirl around and stride back to him. I put my hand on his arm, and pull him around to face me.

  “It’s the New Year,” I say stubbornly, my heart racing.

  “Not for another ten seconds.” Blake looks confused. They’re counting down inside, chanting the numbers.

  Time is running out.

  “Then I guess we’ll have to pass the time.” I take a deep breath, gathering all my courage, and then I reach up on my tiptoes and press my lips against his.

  “Nine! Eight! Seven!…”

  The voices fade away as I fall into the kiss. Blake’s mouth is warm, and I can taste the bourbon on his lips, feel the faint scrape of stubble on his jaw.

  This is it. I’m finally kissing him.

  But then I realize, Blake is frozen in place. He’s not kissing me back—but he hasn’t pulled away either.

  I loop my arms determinedly around his neck and pull his body down against mine. As if it was the signal he was waiting for, Blake suddenly sweeps me into his arms. He spins me around, pushing me back against the railings as he kisses me hard and deep, and I come undone.

  God… This is what I dreamed about, all those years of innocent fantasy. I must have played this moment a hundred times over in my mind, but nothing is as sweet as the feel of his lips claiming mine, the heat and desire blazing to life throughout my whole body.

  He eases my lips apart and sinks his tongue deep into my mouth. I moan against him, arching up to press closer against his body. I can feel the taut muscle through his clothes, the gorgeous planes of his shoulders and back. His hands slide over my body, cupping my ass and molding me to him, until there’s not an inch of space between us. And all the while, his mouth is driving me crazy, teasing a
nd demanding, his tongue sliding hotly against mine, igniting a fire in my bloodstream that spirals low between my thighs.

  The sound of fireworks cuts through the haze. I pull away, breathless. Bursts of glitter and stardust light up across the bay, and there’s the sound of cheering inside. For a moment, I feel like the universe is celebrating our kiss, then I realize we kissed our way into the New Year.

  Elation crashes through me. He kissed me back. I wanted a sign, and here it is: big neon letters saying “He wants you too.”

  “That’s decided then,” I murmur to myself. Blake is standing there, looking shell-shocked. I smile. “Happy New Year.”

  I turn on my heel, and quickly duck back into the house before I can ruin the moment. But just as quickly, my joy fades. Because now that I know there’s something between us, my feelings aren’t so safe anymore.

  Loving him could destroy my friendships, my sense of family—everything that’s important to me in the world. Once we cross that line, there’s no going back.

  So do I take that risk?

  Three months later…

  1.

  “Bottled water…raw almonds…carrot sticks…” I speed down the aisle of the superstore, ticking them off the five-page list my boss sent. I’m trying to heave a twelve-pack of Perrier into the cart when my cellphone lights up.

  “Where are you?”

  It’s my boss, Kira, sounding panicked. Filming on the movie starts in two days, and we’re already way behind schedule.

  “At the store, shopping for the actors’ dressing rooms.” I add an armful of Doritos to the haul; at least someone’s got taste.

  “Thank God,” Kira exclaims. “Lila Moore’s agents just sent over a new item, very important, apparently she won’t work without them.”

  “OK,” I brace myself. “What do we need?”

  “M&Ms,” she tells me. “But no green ones. They said that’s the most important thing. Lila’s allergic to the coloring or something. She sees a green M&M, the whole day’s ruined.”