It's a Date Read online

  Table of Contents

  Soundtrack

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  It’s A Date

  Published by Jessica Epps and Sasha-Lee Brümmer

  2015 Edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9863049-1-0

  Copyright © 2014 Jessica Epps and Sasha-Lee Brümmer

  Editor: Lisa Aurello

  Cover Designer: Judi Perkins

  Interior formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  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, scanning, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the copyright owners/authors. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited in any form whatsoever.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional and any unintentional likeness to real persons, living or dead, or real situations are completely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  This book is dedicated to her best friend, and my best friend—to each other.

  Addicted to You – Avicii

  Always In My Head – Coldplay

  Am I Wrong – Nico & Vinz

  Broken – Seether ft. Amy Lee

  Bright Lights and Cityscapes – Sara Bareilles

  Cellophane – Sara Jackson-Holman

  Chocolate – The 1975

  Delirious (Boneless) – Steve Aoki, Christ Lake, Tujamo, Ft. Kid Ink

  Drunk in Love – Beyoncé ft. Jay Z

  Freight Train – Sara Jackson-Holman

  Gods & Monsters – Lana Del Rey

  Hideaway – Kiesza

  Love, Save the Empty – Erin McCarley

  Once Upon a Dream – Lana Del Rey

  She Is Love (Acoustic) – Parachute

  Stateless – Bloodstream

  Titanium – Madilyn Bailey

  Yours – Ella Henderson

  Christmas:

  Christmas – Mariah Carey

  Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Frank Sinatra

  Silver Bells – Michael Bublé

  Heather Lane

  EVERYTHING IS DARK: it’s as if his dark malevolence has overtaken the room. I shudder as he steps forward. “Heather…” he croons sardonically.

  The look on his smug face terrifies me. I take a step backward and then another. And another still. Soon I start sprinting to get away from him, but he's right behind me—I can feel him there. My heart is racing and I can't run away fast enough. Why won't my feet take me farther?

  My scream is earsplitting, “Help! Someone!” but nobody seems to hear my cries. I can’t tell if it’s the sound of my heart slamming into my chest that drowns out the sounds escaping from my lips, but I can’t hear myself. I'm choked up with fear as I run. I look behind me to see how far I’ve gotten when I see him reach for me. My heart crashes into my chest and I try to yell again, but I hit something with such force my body is almost ricocheted off of it, but I sink instead.

  First, a warm sense of calm overcomes my entire body as my motor movements are slowed down. As the damp feeling increases, immersing me, I realize I’m trapped—trapped in a cramped space with small windows looking out. I’m not the only one here: there are three other bodies in this aircraft cabin. I start to panic as I try to get up, but there’s a harness holding me down, holding me in. I can’t breathe. The dense weight of the water pushes against my chest, trying to force out my last breath of air as I struggle…futilely.

  I’m stuck, and I lose my last breath, watching as the bubbles float up above me and then vanish. My body forces me to try to breathe, so I do, inhaling the liquid burn.

  My body jolts: my automatic reflex is to thrash upward. I force my eyes open as I sputter for breath. I’m hyperventilating: for God’s sake, I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. Blinking, my eyes dart around the room, seeing my bathroom.

  The tub’s water has cooled drastically and I’m shivering as I wipe my face and look at myself in the mirror. Holy crap.

  Bracing my hands on the edge of my oversized tub, I stand, my legs trembling from either the cold or my terrifying nightmares. Both probably. Ugh, if these dreams don't stop, I’ll need to seek professional help. What in the heck did I ever see in him? I reach for my white towel and wrap it around my body, trying to warm myself as I step out of the cool water, once again taking charge of myself.

  I saunter into my bedroom and turn on the fireplace, sitting on the bench at the end of my bed to warm up, when my phone starts buzzing. I reach back and grab it off of my bed, “Hello?” I can hear the despondent tone in my voice though I try my best to mask it, knowing without a doubt that it’s either my sister, Danielle, or my best friend, Dillen—my double D’s.

  “Heather! It’s me. You better be packing your things, sister.”

  Groaning quietly so she can’t hear me, I say, "Of course I am, Dani. I'm not the procrastinator—that would be you.” Stretching my legs out, I point my toes toward the fire, trying to warm my feet.

  “Oh hush, you.” she spits out. “Wait, are you okay?”

  “Not really…” I say under my breath, “…I had another nightmare. Well, two formed into one this time.”

  “Oh sweetie, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have left when these things still haunt you, day in and day out. I’m just glad you’re not with Nik anymore. He wasn’t good for you,” she says in her motherly tone.

  My sister chose to follow her long-term boyfriend, Brannon Henley, to Los Angeles. I currently live in West Chelsea, in Lower Manhattan, having opted to move into a one-bedroom apartment at the Eleventh Avenue Condominiums. The building overlooks the Hudson River and is undeniably beautiful.

  “I’ll be all right.” I get up, making my way downstairs to my kitchen. Lazily, I stride past my pink L-shaped sectional, headed for my fridge to make myself something hot to drink. I love my apartment. My living room is surrounded by double-story floor-to-ceiling windows, covered by long, sheer white drapes, keeping the outside world at bay, but allowing the perfect amount of light in too.

  “Heather? You’re going to be okay, right? I can always move back.”

  “Oh no, please don’t. I know how happy Brannon makes you,” I say as I fill a mug with milk to make hot chocolate.

  “Are you excited about the tour?”


  I shrug even though she can't see me. "Yes and no,” I answer, pausing briefly when the microwave beeps. “I'm happy to be traveling again, but you-know-who is being a disgusting, spine-chilling jerk as usual and I’m just over it."

  “Well, you should have listened to your knowledgeable sister before dating the creep.”

  Huffing into the phone, I answer, giggling, "I guess I should have listened to the sex-pert."

  It’s easy to hear the smile in her voice when she responds, “Oh yes! Even Brannon can vouch for me. I cannot begin to tell you how yummy he is in bed. All we did today was fuck.”

  I cringe when I hear her language. "Dani! Why do you have to curse so much? You've got the filthiest mouth."

  She laughs on the other side of the line. “Heather Adalyn Lane. You dated the most vile man for two months—I’m sure you can deal with me saying fuck.”

  Exhaling noisily, I know she’s right on this one. "Honestly, Danielle Torin Lane, I know I raised you better.” A small laugh escapes me as I try to use a maternal tone on my older sister.

  “You love my filthy mouth, and without it you’d be utterly lost. I’ve been meaning to ask you: what are you going to do for Christmas, since you’re going to be on tour with the company?”

  "Oh, umm...I hadn't really thought about it." My thoughts go back to previous holidays spent alone and I’m amused at how lame my life is. "I'll probably end up making hot chocolate in my hotel room and curling up by the fire…pretending it's snowing outside."

  She doesn’t say anything for the longest time, and I can tell that I’ve upset her. My sister practically raised me from the age of twelve onward yet she’s barely six years older than I am. Apart from the three months I spent in foster care, I’ve always been under her protective eye. She’s my lifeline. Our parents died on their annual anniversary getaway to Clayoquot Wilderness Resort in British Columbia, Canada. The beautiful island is accessible only by boat or floatplane, and their plane crashed just off the shore of their destination. Officials said it was the sudden and direct impact that killed both of our parents instantaneously. To this day, they are unsure why the plane went down. I still have nightmares about losing them.

  I’m brought back from the memory when I hear Dani’s voice again.

  “Heather, no. I won’t tolerate that. Where is your last stop before Christmas? I’m telling Brannon that you’re staying with us over the holidays.” She’s insistent, and I know I don’t stand a chance at this argument, but I try regardless.

  "Oh no, Dani, I'm not going to ruin your Christmas." Trying to deflect the conversation I ask, "Did you buy him anything yet?"

  “Yup, I bought him a bunch of sex toys to use on me. Now back to our conversation…you will be coming to visit for Christmas. I will not take no for an answer.” When Dani has her mind set on something, it’s impossible to deter her from her goal.

  I try whining instead, drawing out the last syllable of her name, "Daneeee...I'll feel like the third wheel. Plus, I want to get back to the snow if I can. It doesn’t feel like Christmas without snow." Looking out the windows, I watch as the snow flurries turn into fluffy snowflakes.

  “My answer is no. You’re not changing my mind. I just Googled where your last show is going to be and I may have just booked you a first-class ticket from Phoenix to LA.” I can hear her smug smile over the phone.

  Suddenly I freeze and look down at my feet. Distant memories flood my mind again and a sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I try to calm my voice before I answer her, but knowing my sister, she'll know what's wrong.

  "Um...Dani." I start to chew on my cheek nervously. "I'm driving on my own throughout the tour."

  The line goes silent for a long while. She sniffles before she is able to bring herself to reply, “I’m so sorry. I…” She pauses to blow her nose before continuing, “I didn’t even think about your fear of flying. I’m canceling the ticket. Will you be able to drive to us on Christmas Eve? We could come to you, too.”

  I’m so thankful that she doesn’t need any more of an explanation and I know she loves me like no other. I find myself wanting to comfort her and tell her how important she is to me too. Exhaling softly into the phone, I whisper, "Okay, I'll come."

  Her squeal is deafening and a small smile forms across my face.

  “I’m so beyond excited right now! I cannot wait to see you and squeeze you. Okay, I have to run because someone has opened his Christmas presents early…” She pauses for me to answer and I hear an odd vibrating sound in the background.

  I gasp into the phone when I realize what's going on. "Oh. My. Eww, Dani! You sicko.” Screeching into the phone and shaking my head, I try to erase that nauseating image from my mind. She always knows how to brighten my day, even in the most bizarre ways.

  "Tell Brannon I said hi and behave. I love you, sister."

  I hear hurried footsteps as she screams away from the phone “BRANNON! THOSE WERE YOUR CHRISTMAS GIFTS!” I scrunch my nose, not wanting to hear any of this.

  “Bye, I love you,” she yells out then hangs up quickly.

  I place my phone on the kitchen counter, wanting it out of my hands as a disturbing shiver runs down my body. I head back upstairs to my bedroom, where clothes are strewn everywhere in my failed attempt at packing.

  Perching on the edge of my bed, I try to decide on which pairs of panties to bring with me. Thinking about my conversation with Dani, I’m quickly reminded of how different we are. She's clearly the more sexually adventurous one, whereas I'm more...reserved. I’m not inexperienced when it comes to sex, it’s just...I don’t know, my few experiences were nothing spectacular, just your average garden-variety sex. So I put boyfriends on the back burner and dove head first into my dancing career and the decision has proven to work to my advantage.

  Until I met Nikolai Demski.

  IT’S THE DAY BEFORE I get on the road by myself while the rest of the cast and crew from the First Position Ballet Company take a private plane to embark on our Christmas tour. I’m incredibly anxious. There’s a package waiting for me at my door when I get back from the store to stock up on candy. I swiftly glance over the shipping label and see that it’s from Dillen Ascher. I squeal loudly and race inside, setting it on the kitchen island, and grabbing a pair of scissors to open it. Burrowing through the packing pillows, I pull out a very pink, very fluffy fleece throw blanket and hug it to myself excitedly. It’s the softest, most impeccable blanket I have ever felt. Dillen sure knows my weakness is pink and blanket related—have to remember to pack it for my trip.

  I will get to see Dillen, my best friend, in early February for a charity showcase here in the city. She’s flying in with the Royal Ballet to dance with me in one of New York City’s most prestigious theatres. God, I can’t wait to watch her and her company amaze thousands of people, and raise money for a noble cause. Plus, she always knows exactly how to make me smile. I quickly text her.

  Hi, you butt. I just got the blanket. It’s so perfect. I absolutely love it! Thank you so, so much.

  It’s late there so I’m not surprised that I don’t get a response back from her before I head to bed for the night.

  December 17th

  EIGHT DAYS UNTIL the final Christmas show. We’ve been performing and traveling nonstop for the past three weeks. I’ve driven down the East Coast from Boston, Massachusetts, to Tampa, Florida, as the rest of the company flies from city to city. We’ve stopped in multiple cities on the way down, putting on an unforgettable performance of The Nutcracker in each theatre. Our last show, however, is in Phoenix, Arizona. I don’t understand why we’re going out of our way for one city, but the owner of the ballet company is insistent.

  I’ve managed to drive from Tampa to Houston, Texas, in the last thirty-two hours and I’m irrefutably exhausted. I have another sixteen hours to drive until I get to Phoenix. I’m hoping to make it there before the company arrives on December 19th.

  The only thing that is keeping me going is my small candy stas
h sitting in the passenger seat. That, and my Starbucks. You might say that I have an obsession with sweets—any kind of sweets. I think it all started when Dani took over raising me. She didn't really complain about my sugar intake like Mom or Dad would have. So I’m totally blaming her for my addiction. Luckily, my metabolism hasn't slowed any, so my body hasn't reaped the effects yet.

  I don’t think I can drive another mile. I pull up to the Four Seasons in Houston and park next to the valet stand while the two men ogle my sleek black Buick Verano convertible with burgundy leather interior. I love my new baby. “Be careful with her, boys,” I say as a warning when I climb out and grab my candy stash. The bellman brings in my suitcase while I check in for the night. I’m desperately in need of a good night’s sleep.

  Noah Ryan

  THESE FUCKING GIRLS won’t get off of me. They’re lingering at the hotel room door like it’s the first time they’ve ever had an orgasm. They’re begging me to let them spend another night. Shit. I’m already hung over as fuck; I just need them out of my line of sight. My jaw aches and my tongue hurts from the assault on their bodies. The two of them kiss in front of me, in an attempt to entice me, but I shake my head, mumbling, “Have a good evening, ladies.” I close the door and lean back against it. I’ve had enough of needy hookups that get nowhere fast.

  I’m not even hard anymore. What a shame. It’s been another waste of an evening trying to work these girls over in preparation for a fucking of a lifetime that never took place. The hotel room smells of overpowering perfume and cigarettes, and I’m suffocating. I can’t even crack a window open to get a breath of fresh air in. I decide to hightail it out of here and get a different hotel room before passing out for the rest of the night and into the next day.

  WHEN I WAKE up, I haul ass to my truck, dropping everything in the bed before getting in and starting her up. My pickup is my only girl. I sit in traffic for a good forty-five minutes before arriving back home. Once I’ve cured my hangover and gotten my shit together, I sit in my apartment in Tempe, Arizona, and review everything that I believe will be on the bar exam. For the past three years I’ve been studying to become an attorney. I’m a recent graduate of Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law at Arizona State University. People always ask me how I find the time to do all of this shit. I don’t know the answer to that, but what I do know is that busy people will always make time.