Read Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series Online
Authors: Maria Vickers
Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series
Book One of the Love Seekers Series
By
Maria Vickers
Exposed: Book One of the Love Seekers Series
Copyright © 2016 Maria Vickers
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all of the warriors out there who fight their chronic diseases on a daily basis. I know it is painful, tiring, and can drain you, but you fight on. Regardless of what your disease is, if you have to battle something, anything, you are a warrior in my eyes. MG, MS, MD, ALS, depression, anxiety, GAD, Sjogren’s, Reynaud’s, arthritis, etc. So many diseases out there, and so many are fighting the good fight so that they may continue to live a full life. I know firsthand how draining it can be and how much it can affect everything. Never give up. If you have to sit down, do it, but get back up and keep pushing forward. I know how often we force a smile or pretend to be okay when we aren’t.
Keep fighting! You are a warrior!
Emma
I was done! Beyond done! As I drove home, I could feel the sting of my tears as they fought to escape their sanctuary. I wanted to cry, but I refused to give into those emotions. Or at least I tried not to give in and let them fall. However, try as I might, a few traitorous ones trailed down my face, taking my eye liner and mascara with them. I knew by the time I made it home, my face would probably closely resemble a raccoon; and yet, I no longer cared.
I deserved a good cry!
Damn it!
Oh God! Why couldn’t they have waited until I got home? I was only a few minutes away, and then I could wallow, punch a wall, throw my pillows, and scream my head off. Okay, maybe I’d already screamed more than a few times, but after my night, I earned at least that much!
Men suck!
That’s what I decided tonight. They sucked, and I was probably better off without them. Batting for the other team began to look mighty appealing…if only I wasn’t so attracted to the opposite sex. The assholes!
Turning into my apartment complex, I pulled into my assigned parking spot right in front of my apartment, and slammed the gear shift into park. No longer would my tears be held back and they began spilling down my face. Sobs wracked my body as I clutched my steering wheel, my knuckles turning white with the force of my grip. I needed to go in, and yet, my body refused to cooperate. I couldn’t move.
It wasn’t fair! I had accepted tonight’s blind date with the hope that it may lead to something beyond tonight; only what I found waiting for me turned into a nightmare instead of a dream.
I didn’t know how long I sat in my car. It could have been a minute, or two, or ten. I sure as hell never kept score, and in that moment, I didn’t care. What waited for me inside? Just my dog. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my dog, but I craved more. I wanted someone who I could hold a conversation with, someone who would answer my questions instead of staring at me blankly as he tilted his head from side to side. I wanted someone to hold me. As much as I loved Curley’s kisses, he wasn’t exactly the man I sought. Dogs were great, and my loveable French bulldog’s snorts, grunts, and licks were cute, and he had the uncanny ability to put a smile on my face, he just didn’t make my list of potential boyfriends. I wasn’t into bestiality, thank you very much.
The first thing I looked for in a man was that he had to be human—maybe not the first, but it was important—and of course he had to love dogs. Curley and I were a package deal, and if the prospective guy could not handle that, he needed to move on, because my heart was set on someone else. I preferred my men taller than me, which wasn’t a hard feat to overcome since I was only 5’7”. Not short, but not too tall. If I described myself, I would have said average all-around. My weight—well, when it came to my weight, I was a little thick, but I didn’t believe a size 12 would be considered too heavy. I had long brown hair and brown eyes. Average, average, and average. I didn’t care what anyone said, size four was not average.
I didn’t think I was ugly by any means, but I wouldn’t claim to be a model either. My skin had a little more pink in its tone than it should, but it was healthy and clear of zits and everything else. My bottom lip stood out a little more than the top due to its fullness, and my eyes were wide with a slight almond–shape. My wide forehead was usually covered with bangs, and my teeth were straight thanks to three years of braces as a kid—something a lot of average kids dealt with.
What couldn’t be considered average about me? I was disabled.
Four years ago, my life changed when I found out I had a rare disease named myasthenia gravis. A cane or walker kept me upright and balanced, otherwise I would fall over. Though I’ve had enough practice making the ground’s acquaintance, I didn’t feel it necessary to constantly introduce myself. But I guessed my date tonight hadn’t been informed of my “extra leg”.
Bastard.
I arrived at the pre–arranged meeting place on time, and the hostess informed me my date had already arrived. Butterflies fluttered annoyingly in my stomach like usual when I met anyone new. Would this meeting go well? Not so well? Nervously, I followed her to the table, and as soon as he took one look at me, he got up and attempted to leave me standing there. Who the hell did shit like that? I tried to stop him, but his comment to me felt like a slap in the face. “I don’t do handicap. Not even out of pity.”
Unable to calm down as I moved through my house, I made my way to my bedroom and patted Curley’s head when I finally sat on my bed. My tears continued to fall as I cried over my date, over my night, and over the disappointment I endured yet again. This wasn’t the first time someone took issue with my disability. Tonight, however, it cut much more deeply, and I was almost convinced no one existed who would be able to accept me and my baggage. My family and friends kept telling me that it would take someone special, that I had to be patient and wait for him, but they didn’t understand. Each time this happened, it felt like a little more of my self-esteem—my inner being—was stripped away. What man wanted to deal with someone who wasn’t perfect? Apparently no one.
What I really needed and wanted was my best friend beside me, but since we lived in different states, I had to settle for talking to her online. Maybe she could help me gain perspective, or calm me down, because after tonight, turmoil engulfed me. Was she on a date tonight? I couldn’t recall. Gia and her husband liked to do date night every other week, and I couldn’t remember if tonight happened to be that night. Maybe if I messaged her, I’d feel better. If I texted or called, she’d feel obligated to respond right away, but if I messaged her on FaceSpace, she could respond when she had time. I knew I had to be in a bad place if I chose not to call my best friend immediately.
I was done and embarrassed, and I wanted to quit.
And there it stood, glaring back at me. The real reason I couldn’t bring myself to dial her number. While I did want to talk to her, I felt so ashamed about what happened to me that I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Finally giving in, I pulled up the app on my phone and quickly shot her a message on FaceSpace.
Me:
Men SUCK! I’m so done that I don’t even know where to begin. Everyone says that I’ll meet that special someone who will be able to accept everything. I call bullshit! HA! Fat fucking chance. Men suck!! I don’t want to have anything to do with them anymore. I showed up tonight and he tried to leave before I even sat down! I swear if one more person tells me I just have to wait for the right one, that there is someone out there for me who will accept my disability, I will throat punch them!
I started to put my phone away when I heard it ding. Fuck! Gia’s online right now. Which meant, if I didn’t answer her immediately, she’d worry, and then she’d call someone. New tears filled my eyes, replacing those I had already cried. The waterworks needed to stop because they were annoying. My date tonight wasn’t worth a single drop. My love life—or lack thereof—wasn’t worth it. Well, my love life might have been because I began mourning the fact that I would remain a spinster my whole life. In fact, I was convinced of it because
I HAVE GIVEN UP!
My lungs expanded with my deep indrawn breath and collapsed when I released it slowly. It was only my best friend. Why did I have to build up my courage? One more breath and I checked her message.
OH NO! I didn’t! I couldn’t have!
My eyes widened in shock and fear. I double checked to make sure I had read my screen correctly. I had.
Shit!
I still prayed and hoped for the name on the screen to change.
Please don’t tell me I did what I think I just did!
My thumb hovered over the new message that lit up my screen, the one from Bryan Sampson. I hesitated a few more seconds before I tapped on his name to open the conversation.
Scanning the message quickly, I discovered my error. I had indeed sent my message to Bryan instead of Gia. Did I not say I was done with men? How had this even happened? Yeah, we were friends on FaceSpace because we had a mutual friend in common, Mel. And this morning he asked me a question about a wedding gift for Mel and her fiancé…BUT WHY? I hardly knew him. Since he was Mel’s friend, I sent him a friend request after he came in for Mel’s engagement party, which wound up being a night of karaoke. We had only met in person once almost a year ago and I had probably only exchanged a couple dozen words with him. On top of that, we’d only talked on FaceSpace twice. Once when I sent him the friend request and this morning. How had this happened? I had to have clicked on the wrong name by accident. My stupid tears were to blame for my clouded vision. He was the last person I wanted to talk to right now.
The man was admittedly hot and could probably model if he wanted to, but instead, he chose to serve our nation and joined the Navy. He’s built without being overly big, and he looked sexy as hell with his clean—shaven face and chiseled jaw. His tanned skin, wavy brown hair, and hazel eyes could draw in any woman, and when he smiled, two dimples formed craters on his cheeks that could melt the panties of young and old. HOT! There was no way in hell he would even begin to understand my situation. From what I gathered—and what I saw within ten minutes of meeting him—girls threw themselves at him all the time. He got pick of the litter and could have anyone he wanted.
Bryan:
Umm, okay. Care to explain yourself? Surely it can’t be all bad if you’re messaging me…a guy.
No, I didn’t want to explain myself to him. Was he crazy?
Me:
Nope. I’m good.
Bryan:
Yeah, that’s clear from your previous message. Or should I say rant?
Me:
Harsh.
Bryan:
Truth. What’s going on?
Me:
And why the hell should I tell you?
Bryan:
Why not? It’s not like we actually know each other. Think of me as the stranger you spill your guts to.
It’s going to be like you didn’t tell anyone.
Like a drunk confessing to his bartender.
Me:
Gee thanks.
But as I gave myself a moment to think about it, he had a good point. Maybe if I vented to him and got everything off my chest, it would help. It wasn’t like I would see much of him in the future, so there was no need for me to feel embarrassed by what he thought of me or of what happened. Then again, what if he told Mel, the friend that had introduced us? Honestly, I didn’t know why we were friends on FaceSpace other than sometimes you made friends with your friend’s friends. Oh…and he was more handsome than anyone should have the right to be! And I wanted to flirt with him, which never happened because I considered him a 10 and me a plain Jane. With so many girls throwing themselves at him, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than send a friend request, and when he accepted, it completely surprised me.
Biting my lip, I decided to take the plunge and reply, but first I laid down the rules.
Me:
Don’t tell Mel.
Bryan:
Why would I do that?
Me:
I don’t know…because you know her?
Bryan:
And your point would be what? Vegas rules, baby. What happens during FS chat, stays in FS chat.
For the first time tonight, I found my lips curling upwards into a smile. I might even admit to a tiny snort as I snickered. I already felt better in a small way.