AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Ava
Iknew deep down that it probably wasn’t healthy to present as someone I wasn’t. But the thrill of channeling the woman I wished I could be instead of the stuffy, affluent daughter of one of New York City’s most successful businessmen was too hard to pass up.
Plus, I didn’t want Dad to know what I was up to.
“So,Lily,” Emily snorted, her fingers tapping against the rings dotting my hand from the other side of the table. The cafe around us buzzed with life—locals, tourists, students from Parson’s, and families filled the space almost entirely, all with their own agendas and their own plans for the day. “Can you explain how, exactly, pretending to be someone you're not will help you find love?”
“Please don’t call meLily,” I sighed. The white knit cardigan that covered my arms and tied beneath my breasts suddenly felt far too warm, and the gray and green multi-patterned skirt that reached to just beyond my knees did little to help. “I’m not doing this to find love, Em. It gives me a few hours to escape the world asAvaand if I can tell myself that it’s for market research, that’s all the better.”
Emily’s tongue clicked. Her blonde hair swayed side to side in its ponytail as her head shook, a knowing grin spreading across her pink-painted lips. If she was trying to fool anyone into believing she wasn’t wearing make-up while she was dressed head to toe in Lululemon and looking like she was seconds from sprinting through Central Park, then she was sorely mistaken. The faint green eyeshadow that coated her lids and made her sparkling brown eyes pop was enough on its own to make anyone pause.
“What?” I pressed, meeting her playful gaze as she sipped at her chocolate-dusted cappuccino.
“Market research,” she snickered. “If you wanted to escape the world and leave Ava behind for a little while, you know you’re more than welcome to hang out at my apartment. I don’t understand why you feel the need to go out and meet random men if you’re supposedlynotlooking for love.”
Lifting the carafe of black, hand-brewed filter coffee, I poured more of its contents into the small cup and raised it to my lips to hide the expression on my face.
I could tell myself I wasn’t trying to find love. I could scream it from the rooftops, could tell it to anyone who would listen on the street—in NYC, anything goes—but there was always going to be a part of myself that wished that maybe, on one of these stupid little dates where I gave myself a few hours to be who I wanted to be instead of who my father wanted me to be, that I’d find someone who saw through my fake persona ofLilyand could discern the things that made me special.
But it had been a pipe dream so far, and so for now, it was just an excuse to be who I wished I could be, even if it was only for a few hours.
“You’ve gone all quiet.”
“Sorry,” I sighed, ripping off the Band-Aid and forcing myself back into the moment. “It’s market research. It’s a nonsense date that will net me information, and that’sit.”
Her pink lips quirked up at the side. “So no sex?”
“No sex.”
“That’s a shame,” she snickered. “You could really use some…”
“And even if Iwashoping for something real out of this,” I interjected, holding her gaze over the lip of my mug, “we both know damn well my father would never let me have it. So let me pretend, or so help me God, you will end up in the Hudson River.”
————
Six foot four.
Forty-five—clear from the dusting of gray that only served to emphasize the darkness of his black hair.
Sharp, blue eyes.
A jawline that could cut glass.
A crisp white shirt, leather jacket, and dark denim jeans.
Through the turning glass of the revolving door, I could see him standing in the lobby, his gaze flitting between the platinum watch around his wrist and the people entering through the doors. The description he’d given me of himself was accurate enough that I wondered how many times he’d described his looks to a woman online, but that thought was interrupted fairly quickly by a wave of nostalgia that hit me like a freight train as I readjusted the little knot I’d tied my cardigan into.
I hadn’t been nervous about one of these in a long time, and for just a second, I found myself hesitating as I stood there outside the modern art museum. But I then pushed on.
He was easily one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen, even if there was an air of familiarity about him. I almost wished I’d met him on the street or through work or any other avenue than this—any other situation than one where I had lied about who I was and what I did for a job. Maybe, just maybe, I could have let myself go on arealdate for once that wasn’t clouded by fake identities and wishful thinking.
As I pushed my way through the revolving door, and the scent of cedarwood and fruit invaded my senses, I couldn’t help but pause.
John, he’d said his name was. But as his intensely blue eyes drifted to mine, a different name came to mind.The likelihood of the man across the lobby being the same man my father had been friends with almost my entire life was small, but not small enough that I wrote it off. This was New York, after all.
I hadn’t seen that man in at least ten years. And whoever this was, whoever John claimed to be, bore a striking resemblance to my father’s friend—if not for a few extra gray hairs and deeper crow’s feet by his eyes. I couldn’t say if it was just the time that had passed and the stupid teenage crush that had lingered into adulthood that burned an image of his face into my mind. I couldn’t be sure if my impression was tainted by John and his likeness. I couldn’t be sure if this feeling was born out of the memory of his cologne and the similarities between them, or if I was staring down a man who could very easily ruin my decision to move to New York City.
