Already Designed Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  EPILOGUE

  Already Designed

  By Xavier Neal

  © Xavier Neal 2018

  Cover by Angie Merriam

  All rights reserved

  License Note

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without authorization of the Author. Any distribution without express consent is illegal and punishable in a court of law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication: To the Universe...Thanks for letting me be the one to design my life.

  Note From The Author:

  This book breaks the 'fourth wall', meaning it talks TO the reader. The bold italics portions are the character speaking to “YOU”.

  Hope you enjoy.

  -Xavier

  Playlist Selects

  Here are songs from the “Already Designed” playlist!

  Feel free to follow the playlist on Spotify to find more songs I felt related to the novel.

  Sugar- Maroon 5 (Pop)

  Splash Waterfalls- Ludacris (Rap)

  My Love- Justin Timberlake (Pop/R&B)

  Follow You Home- Nickleback (Rock)

  Teenage Dream- Katy Perry (Pop)

  Take Care- Drake (Rap)

  Hanging By A Moment- Lifehouse (Rock)

  More Songs Found Here: http://spoti.fi/2CkQAq2

  Table of Contents

  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

  EPILOGUE

  Chapter 1

  KADENCE

  I let out a heavy sigh as I bend down to pick up my phone.

  This is exactly why I’m on the paper towel side of this often thought about but never talked about bathroom war. You know exactly what I’m referring to. Don’t pretend you don’t. I won’t be rude and ask whose side you’re on. Instead I will use this as my prime example of why I’m against those noisy, worthless machines that kick around more germs than they help eliminate. See, I completely refuse to use them, which more often than not results in me shaking my hands dry like a damn puppy fresh out of the bath. Then when that’s not enough, because let’s be honest it rarely is, I wipe them on my jeans like an impatient five year old. This leaves them just damp enough to get wet smudges on my phone when I rush to answer a text. Of course I then have to use the edge of my shirt to wipe away the water and boom! Phone falls to the floor, gets cracked, and I’m stuck having to explain to the phone people again that it wasn’t my fault. That this wouldn’t keep happening to me if every public restroom had paper towels. Why are you looking at me like I might be taking this whole bathroom thing a little too personally? I’m really not. It’s just one of the many things I have taken the time to evaluate using a pros and cons list. I love those!

  All of a sudden there’s a hard knock against my mocha colored forehead right between my eyes. “Motherfucker!”

  Because dropping my fucking phone wasn’t enough?

  Severe pounding starts at the same time a smooth, masculine voice questions, “Are you okay, babe?”

  “I think I feel a third tit trying to grow between my eyebrows.”

  To my surprise he chuckles at the joke, squats down in front of me, and gently lifts my chin. The gorgeous blonde haired, blue eyed suit wearing god offers me a smile that shifts the throbbing from my head to my chest.

  And somewhere else that hasn’t felt anything in a very long time.

  He gives my forehead a light brush with his thumb, and a shiver shoots down my spine. “No bump, but what do you say we get you some ice to help battle any potential swelling?”

  My mouth moves yet not a single word is spoken.

  Great. Is my new inability to speak a result of the head or heart injury? Wait. No. That came out wrong. I meant….Well I meant….

  I abandon the idea of talking and simply nod.

  The attractive stranger with a smile determined to incinerate my lacy boy-short panties, stands up and extends his hand for me to take. Once I’ve got my phone tucked into my back pocket, I link my grip with his and allow him to guide us down the hallway and around the corner towards the busy television set. As soon as we arrive at the snack table, he quickly tosses some ice in a glass, wraps a napkin around it and instructs, “Tilt your head back a bit.”

  There’s no hesitation to follow his instructions.

  You know, I’m not usually this easy going….There are too many cons in life to just ‘go with the flow’. Though, I have to admit….Right now? It feels unusually natural. Hm. This can’t be good.

  I brace myself against the wall beside the table, and he presses the makeshift compress softly between my eyebrows. With mirth in my tone, I state, “This is not quite MacGyver level of ingenuity, but definitely better than suggesting I place a cold slice of pineapple against my forehead.”

  He laughs louder than expected. The sound is striking and strong. Captivating. Sexy.

  Oooo. Not that sexy. Definitely not sexy enough to deter from the detailed list of life points to hit by the time I’m thirty five. I’ve spent the last year or so dedicating all my sleepless nights in bed designing a plan of attack for the first half of my thirties. It’s a well put together layout that ends with me accomplishing the usual shit most people have done by that point in life. I don’t care about my body currently being excited like a brazen teenager about to climb in the backseat of her mom’s minivan with the quarterback of the football team. It can fuck right off. We’ve made it this long on double A batteries and Firefighter fetish books. We can make it a bit more.

  His tongue grazes his lips erasing all previous proclamations.

  Ugh. And we’re back to not good.

  The too attractive for his own good stranger sighs, “I gotta ask you something. And it’s crucial you’re absolutely honest with me.”

  An unusual nervousness spreads across my skin. “Okay.”

  “Which MacGyver? Anderson or Till?”

  “Anderson.”

  “Perfect answer.”

  I smile widely.

  “Did you watch all seven seasons?”

  “Against my will. Growing up, my dad had a terrible habit of holding me hostage through many many 80’s cop drama reruns and movies. Pretty sure it’s the reason I cringe at those types of shows as an adult, but oddly enough still watch the old ones with a fondness.”

  His head tilts in question. “Do you know you’re on the set of a cop show right now?”

  “Wait. This isn’t where they’re filming the new Jason Momoa movie?”

  The handsome stranger looks momentarily hurt by the comment.

  Seriously? Has he not looked in the mirror lately?
Jason is definitely tall, dark, and delicious, but this guy is tall, sleek, and lickable. Shit! Did I really just say lickable? Maybe I do have a severe head injury.

  I flash him a small comforting smirk.

  Mr. Sexy Blonde offers one in return though he remains silent.

  “Line!” Someone shrilly shouts from the set behind him.

  The request has panic kicking in. “Oh shit! Were they filming? Weren’t we supposed to be quiet?”

  He shakes his head. “They’re rehearsing. Not filming yet. They do a couple of dry runs to help with blocking. Timing. Execution.”

  My mouth starts to move when the high pitched squeak returns. “Fuck! Line!”

  “And…as you just heard line memorization.”

  A small chuckle slips past my lips. “Unfortunately, the person the bloated blonde keeps squawking at for cues is one of my best friends.”

  The handsome stranger I can’t stop imagining naked finally lowers the glass.

  “She’s the reason I’m on the set. Apparently the studio sent her to fill in for the day for-”

  “Sue.”

  Before I have the chance to retort, a male voice is announcing, “Levi! We’re ready for you!”

  He noticeably transfers his weight from one foot to the other, which prompts me to state, “I’m guessing you’re Levi.”

  His free hand extends towards me to shake. “Levi Stone.”

  “Kadence Allan.”

  Almost immediately after our hands drop, the man shouts again, “Levi!”

  This time he glances over his shoulder to reply, “Give me a minute!”

  He doesn’t need a minute. He doesn’t even need a second. What he needs is to take two or four or seventeen steps backwards. Even if he seems like something I wouldn’t mind retiring my vibrator for, his career choice puts an immediate block on that.

  Levi places the glass on the table and smiles sweetly. “You know, I never actually apologized for hitting you in the head.”

  “It’s okay. Accidents happen.”

  Despite my highest hopes of him taking the brush off, he doesn’t. “They do, but I’m still sorry, even if it’s just a red mark rather than a third tit.”

  The reference to my earlier remark steals a smirk from lips.

  “What do you say I take you to dinner tonight? Continue this apology there?”

  I don’t hesitate to shake my head.

  The amount of surprise that appears in his expression makes me wonder when was the last time a woman denied him a date.

  Don’t get snippy with me. I have a good reason for my dismissal. Actually, I have quite a number of sensible reasons.

  “Can I ask why not?” My unwavering silence prompts him to playfully push, “Is it my breath?”

  The humor in his tone increases the desire to change my mind.

  “Poppy seeds in my teeth? I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that bagel.”

  My brain and heart vie harder on how to handle his increasing irresistibility.

  “Is it the suit? ‘Cause this is just part of my wardrobe for the show. I swear, I live and breathe board shorts and t-shirts.”

  Thoughtlessly, I compliment, “You look amazing in that suit.”

  An unexpected blush hits his cheeks, and he slides his hands into the black pants pockets. “It’s because my MacGyver skills are rusty, huh?”

  The additional joke has me snickering as I glance behind him to see my best friend’s inquisitive stare.

  Indiana Jones couldn’t dodge those daggers.

  I do my best to circumvent having to admit the actual reason for my refusal by offering him an alternative answer. “I have dinner plans.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Best friend.” My head motions towards Leilani who he turns around to grab a glance of. “Like I said. She’s the reason I’m even on this set. We were supposed to just meet for dinner, but then things here were running unexpectedly behind, and I was already in the neighborhood, so she suggested I crash the set while I wait.”

  And by already in the neighborhood I mean waiting in the restaurant parking lot for half an hour wondering where the hell she was.

  “You took the whole crash thing very literal.”

  His joking nature causes me to teasingly snip in return, “Technically the bathroom is not part of the set. And I didn’t crash into it. You crashed into me.”

  “Which again, I’m sorry about that.” Levi pauses before he adds a short shrug. “Kinda, anyway.”

  “Kinda? Do you like hitting women in the face?”

  He lightly laughs. “No, but I liked meeting you.”

  Don’t….Don’t! Do not fall for his big, beautiful puppy dog eyes. This is on the long list of reasons I don’t date actors. That look is totally a con not a pro. Actors are professionally manipulative. And one of their key manipulation tools? Seduction with the eyes! Believe me. When you’ve been around the business as long as I have you learn a thing or twelve. You’re also given a chance to experience the ugly side when one of your best friends is also an actress, another one works for a studio, and one more is the lawyer they turn to when shit gets too real for them to cope with. Oh yeah. My reasons have a valid foundation I’ve spent years cementing and re-cementing.

  “How about dessert?” The softness in his tone is tempting.

  Wouldn’t mind his banana making my pussy split.…Damn it. I need a drink. Or two. Or a shot of Patron to cool down. Perhaps a hospital visit. A sudden loss of logic is a sign of a concussion.

  “The two of you can meet me and one of my best friends for drinks. We can even conduct a little Magnum P.I. critique fest if you want.”

  While I’m impressed he was doing more than taking glances at my chest during our conversation, it’s not enough to have me change my mind. “I don’t date actors.”

  His eyebrows lift once more in shock.

  “Levi!” The male voice calls to him.

  He lifts his finger into the air, eyes still pinned on me. “Make an exception.”

  My pussy whimpers at the demand.

  Yup. Skipping dinner and going straight to the doctor.

  “You should probably get to work.”

  “They can wait.”

  “For?”

  “An exception to be made.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re gonna hold up an entire show’s production until you get a yes?”

  “No. You’re holding up an entire show’s production by telling me no.”

  My jaw cracks open in shock as well as intrigue.

  Would it be better if we did grab a drink, so I can let him down without the fury of a thousand scowls behind him? Do you think we have a minute to pros vs. cons this?

  “Levi!” The man, I am now assuming is the director barks again.

  “You’re gonna get your ass in trouble.”

  He arrogantly shrugs. “It’ll be worth the ear full once you say yes.”

  The sound of impatient stomping catches my attention. Lani’s typically tan complexion is now a deep crimson, which only happens when she’s so pissed off she’s ready to toss you into an active volcano.

  She’d do it too.

  Levi’s confident smile reappears and I can’t resist from shutting it down.

  “Sorry. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

  He laughs again as if well aware of the effect the sound has on me. “You’re not going to negotiate. This is not a give and take situation. You’re just going to say yes.”

  A contorted smirk-scowl slides onto my face. “No.”

  Now do you see why I hate them?

  His perseverance soars towards impressive. “Then I’m going to stand in this spot all evening, which will keep us from wrapping up, which will keep your friend from having dinner with you, which will make her furious when she can’t eat or go home all because you wouldn’t agree to one drink with me.”

  I’d punch him in the face if I thought I could afford the lawsuit.

  “Say yes, Kad
ence.”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s not the word yes.”