Three love by numbers 3, p.1
Three (Love by Numbers #3), page 1
Table of Contents
Three
Copyright
Three
Epigraph
Dedication
Prologue
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Special Dedication
Playlist
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Copyright 2015 by E.S. Carter
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Cover Me Darling
Cover image licensed from Fotolia.
Formatted by Marisa-rose Shor of Cover Me, Darling and Allyson Gottlieb of Athena Interior Book Design
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from the author; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
All trademarks contained in this book, are the property of the respective copyright holders and have been used without permission.
I am a son.
I am a brother.
I am an artist.
I am a student.
I am her student.
She was my first.
First infatuation, first ‘real’ kiss, first love, first.....
heartbreak.
I gave her everything, including my body and would have given her more.
I gave her ‘I love you’ ….she told me her heart was filled by another, there was no room left for me.
We could never be.
What we did was wrong.
It didn’t feel wrong to me.
The deepest hurt is a love that you cannot have. It will last the longest, cut the deepest and feel the strongest.
It is an imperfect love; a disfigured circle that never ends.
You cannot control it; it's as simple as blinking and just like blinking the more you try to stop it, the more the pain consumes you.
Tell me the story of how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe.
— Author Unknown
To G for being my soul mate and best friend; trust I seek and I find in you.
To L, G & A for inspiring me to be better.
To P for being the best big brother a girl could ever want. I miss you.
Four years ago…
Three.
A cardinal number, a prime number and the sum of two plus one.
Three strikes and you're out.
Two's company¸ three's a crowd.
Third time lucky.
These are the random and crazy thoughts that run through my mind as I stand outside room three of the new Art College block.
This may be due to my raging hangover from the excess alcohol I consumed last night, or it may be my brain’s way of dealing with the teenage nerves flying through my system; nerves that stem from finally following my dreams in spite of my parent's doubts.
Whatever the reason, standing in that narrow hallway, staring at a bland white door with a small grid window at the top and a basic, black metal three screwed below, allows their doubts to fester within me.
No.
I shake my head to get rid of the abstract thoughts that are fuelled by my childish fears and run a hand through my unruly hair.
I'm doing this.
I'm proving to them that I can make my love for art become more than just a hobby and if I have to take night classes in a community college, alongside my school studies, then so be it.
Three; the number of steps I take into the room before I see her.
The early evening sun sits low on the horizon and bathes the classroom with a hazy glow, causing her sleek, auburn hair to shine like burnished gold.
She's petite, probably a little over five foot and the tips of her hair rest just above the waist of her dark, skinny jeans. Following the tight, dark denim down over areas I should not be staring at, my eyes come to rest on the well-worn, red Converse on her feet. She absentmindedly crosses one foot over the other; standing in a pose that looks uncomfortable, yet on her seems natural.
Dragging my eyes back up over her form, I only get to see her profile briefly as she bends over another student's desk, placing a blank piece of paper in front of him, before she moves on to the next table.
She's pale, with a smattering of light freckles across her nose and cheeks and she has the longest eyelashes I have ever seen. It's only when she turns to face me that I get hit with the full force of her striking, emerald green eyes; eyes that are currently looking past me, towards another tardy student entering the room.
"Take a seat, gentlemen, please."
Her raspy voice does not fit her petite stature; it's husky, low and vibrates deep in my gut.
The student behind me pushes past my immobile body and into the seat directly in front of me, all the while I stand frozen, unable to tell my limbs to function. My teenage brain is completely fried by the voice of the woman standing before me.
Not just any woman, the voice of the teacher, my teacher, standing before me.
"Last seat is yours or have you come to the wrong class? Photography is just down the hall in room five or still life classes are next door in room four."
She smiles at me and my traitorous body tightens all over.
My imbecilic mind tells my useless mouth to mirror her smile.
Confusion crosses her idyllic features and her brow furrows at the obviously moronic look on my face. Yet I still cannot form words.
Talking slowly, she approaches me, "Hey, do you need some help? Are you in the right place?"
Her tone is soft, sensitive and careful, but the throaty quality of her voice remains. It rushes through my blood, creeping into parts of my body that would be highly inappropriate to have stimulated right now.
I force my brain to work, pushing my croaky words over my thick tongue and out into the space between us.
"I'm here for the art class."
Doh.
Of course, I'm here for the art class. State the obvious idiot.
She grants me a slight smile before turning towards the front of the class and motioning with her hand to the only free seat available, smack bang in the first row.
Normally I would avoid the front row like the plague. No typical boy my age would willingly choose to sit there, much preferring the comfort and anonymity of the back row, but I find myself uncharacteristically happy to be that much closer to her.
"Students, I am Miss Pritchard and this is your first art class of the year."
She looks out at her room full of students, eyes skimming over all the faces, never lingering on anyone but greeting everyone with a warm smile.
"Today is about me getting to know you better and by that I don't just mean your names or your preferred medium. I want to get to know you from the inside out."
She lets her words register on her rapt audience and I am sure every person in this room is as captivated with her as I.
"In front of you is a blank piece of paper. Use whatever supplies you have brought with you, be it a pen, pencil, charcoal, pastels, anything you have to hand and draw me your heart."
A few murmurs of questions hit the air and she gracefully reaches her hand up to silence them.
"I don't mean literally draw me your heart, I want you to dig deep and draw me what's inside of your heart. What makes you, what drives you, what inspires you, what makes you feel? This is open to interpretation and there are no wrong choices. How can what you feel inside, what is part of your heart, ever be wrong?"
Three…is a magic number.
I tear my eyes from the mesmerizing and completely unobtainable woman in front of me, grab my rucksack off the floor, dig out my charcoals and proceed to draw her my heart.
My foolish, infatuated, teenage heart.
The rule of three.
Three blind mice.
Three sides to a triangle.
Three; the number of times I restart my piece before I am happy with the shape of her eyes and the formation of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Jules, don’t panic. I’ll be back in plenty of time for your big day. Do you really think I’d miss out on watching you ball and chain Jake?”
I survey the security camera screens in front of me while listening to her reply.
“Liam, can you be serious for just one second? I miss you, we miss you. I’m just making sure you know how important it is to us to have you home this weekend. It’s been months since we saw you last and that’s only because we visited you. The club can manage without you for the next week I’m sure.”
I run a hand over my face and exhale loudly.
“Seriously Jules, I’ll be there. No need to panic, or are you turning into one of those crazy bridezillas? Tut tut Jules, I thought you had more class.”
“I swear I will bridezilla your arse if you’re not back in time Liam. Do you have your flight booked or do you need me to arrange it? I know how useless you are and I’m not giving you any excuse to bail on us.”
As the last word passes her lips, a commotion on one of the screens before me catches my eye.
“I’ve got it covered Jules, stop stressing. Now I have to go, some idiot is causing a scene in Aurora. Say Hi to everyone for me and I’ll see you soon.”
I stand, grab my keys from the desk in front of me and leave my office quickly, locking the door securely behind me.
“Love you Li, see you this weekend.”
Pocketing my keys, I stride towards the concealed doors that lead out into the main club.
“Love you Jules. If you’re really lucky I won’t embarrass you during the speeches by telling everyone how you got your nickname.”
I hear her gasp as she tries to muffle her laughter, but I cut her off before she can speak further.
“I really do have to go; I’ll call you when I get my flight details. Miss you.”
I hang up, not waiting for her response. Jules really can talk for hours on the phone if you let her and with a packed club, in the middle of the main tourist season, I have work to do.
It's funny to think that I am now doing the job that was once hers. When Jules – or Emma to everyone else – decided to take Jake up on his offer to travel the world during his promotional tour for the huge TV series, Vampires Bite, no-one was more surprised than I.
Yes, you guessed it. The Jake Fox aka bad boy vampire, Cole Creed is my brother. I’m the baby of the family and totally overshadowed by each of my older brothers.
Jake is by far the most famous, but each of them are successful in their own right, while I just work for one of them.
Nate, my eldest brother, owns a successful group of nightclubs that span across Europe and I run his Ibiza venue, Accede.
It’s a cool gig, I get to spend the evenings in a vibrant atmosphere, surrounded by Europe’s most beautiful people and I laze my days away on some of the most idyllic beaches in the world.
Yeah, it’s tough being me.
I should be living the life, partying hard, having a different woman in my bed every night.
I should be, but I’m not.
It’s not my style.
I might envy my two eldest brother’s success but I do not emulate their former manwhore lifestyles. Besides, both have settled down now. Jake is about to marry Emma and Nate is still going strong with Liv and that is what I envy the most; I envy the fact that they get to keep the one.
That one person you know was put on this earth just for you.
Your missing piece.
I force my thoughts to stop.
I don’t want to walk down memory lane right now.
I don’t want to remember the pain in my chest when she crushed my heart.
I’m weak, I admit that.
I’m almost twenty-three years old and I refuse to move on from the only woman I’ve ever been with. The only woman I ever gave myself to.
The trouble is when I gave myself to her, I gave her my entire being.
My heart, my soul, my blood, my bones.
It wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
She chose someone else, someone who already filled her heart and I despise the person who gets to have her love. I despise them with all the parts of me that I freely gave to her.
My heart, my soul, my blood, my bones.
I curse under my breath and step out onto the terrace of Aurora.
Since Nate opened this place around eighteen months ago, it’s been a huge success. Tonight is no different. Even though it’s close to 3am, the place is still buzzing.
Scanning the crowd of clubbers before me, I spot security escorting the guy who was causing the trouble moments earlier, from the premises.
One less thing for me to deal with.
I’m about to turn and do a check on the bar staff and kitchen, when my eyes catch on a girl sitting alone on one of the large, sectional outdoor sofas. Her tear stained face is fixed on the two security guards who are leading the troublemaker from the club.
Her makeup is smeared, her vibrant auburn hair is escaping from the clip she has used to pin it back, framing her in fiery, disheveled strands.
I don’t know if it’s her hair colouring, reminding me of someone I fight every day to forget, or if it’s the look of utter desolation on her face but my feet are already dragging my body towards her, before my mind has even caught up.
I stand just to the side of her, close enough that she is aware of my presence but far enough away so that I’m not encroaching her personal space.
Up close she looks young, old enough to be clubbing but too young to look as devastated as she does.
Her chocolate brown eyes are rimmed with smudged eyeliner, tears still freely flowing down her cheeks.
“Hey, are you okay? Can I help in any way?’
My words are soft, low and said in a tone not meant to startle.
Nothing. She doesn’t even blink. Her eyes are still transfixed on the exit doors.
I move slowly in front of her and bend to sit on the sofa, my body is at least a foot away from hers but my legs are angled towards her small frame.
“I’m a good listener if you want to talk. I’m sure between us we can fix whatever is making you so sad.”
Still nothing. No movement, no acknowledgement, not even a visible intake of breath.
I sigh and look away to the spot that she hasn’t yet taken her eyes off. Moments pass between us in silence and I should probably walk away and send one of the female staff members over to see if they can help.
When sun, sea, sex and lots of alcohol get mixed together, you often have this situation, especially at our club because it’s open all night.
Tourists enjoying their Ibiza break, over indulge, burn the candle at both ends and then either lose their cool, like the guy I’m guessing has just been kicked out did, or in the case of girls like Miss Auburn, the tears flow.
Alcohol always has a knack of making even the most minor upsets seem like world changing events.
I look over at her once more before rising to leave, Kayleigh or Zoey, two of my staff currently working the bar, can come over and see if Miss Auburn needs help. I’ll run the bar while they stem her tears and pack her into a taxi.
I go to step past her and feel a hand grab onto the fabric of my trouser leg, halting me.
Her small, delicate fingers, their nails painted in rainbow colours, grip tightly, creasing the cotton and causing my pant leg to rise.
Looking down at her hand, I turn my head to catch her eye and those chocolate pools, overflowing with salty pain, plead with me to help her.
“I have nowhere to go.”
Five words laced with such sadness.
Sadness I am all too familiar with.
Sadness that I hide behind my laid-back veneer.
Sadness that is now rearing its head and recognizing itself in another.
Like they all say, sadness loves company. Or is that misery?
No matter, I know that it’s the least I can do to help someone whose face currently reflects the state of my soul.
“We are all lost… until someone finds us.”
My softly spoken words gain no response, but I see understanding in her eyes.
I reach my hand out for her to take, “I’d like to wear these trousers again, in fact, they are currently my favourite pair. If you can take my hand and spare my trousers, I’d be grateful enough to take you to someone who can help you figure something out.”
She looks at her hand still clutching the fabric tightly and immediately lets it go. Her eyes flick to my outstretched hand and she hesitates.
“Maybe I should introduce myself, I’m Liam, I run Accede and Aurora and I know that two of my bar staff have a spare room at their place. I’m sure you can crash there, get some sleep and everything will seem clearer.”
She glances at my hand again, before placing her palm onto mine.
