Title: The Unperfects Series: The Perfects: a series of standalone novels Author: Rachel Van Dyken
New Adult Romance, Angsty, Dramedy, College, Twins, Insta-Love
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THE UNPERFECTS
I will always be second to him in her eyes, and the real shit part is that I can’t even be pissed about it because at the end of the day I love them both too much to say anything and way too much to make it weird. I mean, long story short, it already got weird that one time we all kissed and had a near threesome. I’d like to say, oh yeah, we were wasted.
Totally sober.
And now I’m on another “ledge” inevitably waiting to jump off bungee style, not how I thought my gap year was going to start, or you know, like, possibly end by way of death. “Okay, I’m going.”
"That’s what she said.” Ambrose jokes.
"How old are you, boomer?” I call back. “Genuinely curious because if you still say that, it means you’re at least looking at renewing the lease on your car and might buy a new dishwasher if things pan out.”
He bursts out laughing. “Why a dishwasher?”
“It’s what old people do!” Everything is double in my vision, the trees, I mean, it is a forest so that could have been a me problem, but the point is, everything looked entirely too far down.
I look back at Diego, the dude that strapped me into the contraption, and force a smile. “Nobody’s died, right?”
The way the color left his face will be forever imprinted on my soul. “Nah, man, totally, safe.”
“Second time I've heard that.” I did another double take. “Cool shirt.”
It literally says: That’s the way things go.
Toward death? Downward.
I take another deep breath, then look back at Diego again. “How old are you again?”
His full white-toothed smile does not give me any sort of comfort, he is too good-looking to know how to put on a harness let alone shove an eighteen-year-old off a ledge. You can never truly trust the pretty ones. Not to mention his shirt, his ripped jeans as if Abercrombie made a comeback, or the fact that I know his shoes are entirely too expensive for this job, which also means that he was doing it for fun.
Not safety. Or actual monetary need.
I stare him down one last time; I stare down every perfect Clark Kent curl on his blond head. “Trust fund?”
He shrugs. “One day.”
I look around him to Ambrose. “For the record, if I die, burn the box under my bed.” I point at Diego. “No!” Okay so I shouted. “You don’t get to laugh or ask!”
He holds up his hands.
“Okay, so for the millionth time I can just… go.”
"Someone should,” Diego mumbles under his breath.
“Diego, I swear I will shove you over this ledge so hard and fast you’ll get pregnant!”
Ambrose bursts out laughing and wraps his arm around her.
What was once, possibly, potentially, mine. “Never seen him so freaked out that he’d threaten children on the first dude he saw, but hey, they’d be cute.”
“They’d be fucking gorgeous, and you know it, Ambrose!” I yell back while Diego grabs the rope and harness one last time.
“Remember…” Diego tightens my balls so hard.
Maybe that’s a no on the pregnancy?
"Focus.” He orders. “Just fall, all you have to do is fall, if you’re freaked, you can cross your arms, but honestly, I would just let that shit fly.”
"No shit shall be flying this day, good sir. No shit, damn it!” I turn. “Okay, I’m finally ready.”
Diego mutters something under his breath.
I'm sure it isn’t wholesome.
“One!” Ambrose yells. “Two!”
Diego grins at me. “Three.”
So I fall, or it is more of a trip in an attempt to step backward, but I’m sure I look like a mother fucking eagle soaring through the sky.
I don’t scream; the air is completely taken from my lungs by the eight-hundred-foot death drop.
I wasn’t expecting so much bouncing.
The first one is the largest, probably saw Heaven, but I am too traumatized to even do anything except gasp for air and try to look cool in front of everyone. The second time isn’t as bad, and I was having some fun, not really freaking out.
But the third?
The third is when I bounce dangerously close to a canoe.
It’s also when my rope snaps, and I land right with my face between someone's thighs with several new bodily injuries and delirious as everyone screams above me.
The best part?
She just stares down at me and smiles. “Hey, you’re alive!”
When I finally get past the absolute panic of near death, I look up. And I’ll never forget the way she smiles down at me, with her reddish-brown hair, blue eyes, wearing nothing but the smallest black triangle bikini top ever, and a small tattoo on her wrist that looks like a whale. “You sure?”
She laughs harder. “Yeah, scared stranger, I’m sure, by the time you hit the third bounce, you were only a few feet above my canoe, kind of saved your life from the alligators.”
"I KNEW IT!” I shout, then move my face. “Uh sorry about you know, trying to have an early lunch.”
She leans down. “Interesting, it kind of felt like a simple appetizer.”
"Are we in love now?” I ask.
She helps me to my feet and sits me down, bracing me with her hands. “I mean if you want to be, I have time on my schedule, was gonna check out a matinee later, heard Jason Statham made a comeback, then again here you are so, if you’re trying to give him a run for his money I’m down.”
Even injured, I lean forward out of adrenaline and cup her chin with my shaky hands. “I think I was the one that was down.”
Her cheeks flush. “I’m Chloe.”
“I’m Quinn.”
Rachel Van Dyken is the #1 New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over 100 books ranging from new adult romance to mafia romance to paranormal & fantasy romance. With over four million copies sold, she’s been featured in Forbes, US Weekly, and USA Today. Her books have been translated in more than 15 countries. She was one of the first romance authors to have a Kindle in Motion book through Amazon publishing and continues to strive to be on the cutting edge of the reader experience. She keeps her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, adorable sons, naked cat, and two dogs. For more information about her books and upcoming events, visit www.RachelVanDykenAuthor.com.
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