The unperfects, p.1
The Unperfects,
p.1
The Unperfects
A Perfects Novel
by Rachel Van Dyken
Copyright © 2023 RACHEL VAN DYKEN®
www.RachelVanDykenAuthor.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE UNPERFECTS
Copyright © 2023 RACHEL VAN DYKEN®
ISBN: 978-1-957700-14-4
Edited by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction
Cover & Interior Design by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction
Table of Contents
Title Page
A Note On Content
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
A Note on Chronic Illness
Want More RVD?
Caught You!
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Also by Rachel Van Dyken
A Note On Content
I know that some of you like to know if there is anything in a book that may be difficult for you to read.
Some real-life issues are discussed/portrayed within these pages.
If you would like to see what they are, please click HERE
Or scan the QR Code
As always, thank you for reading!
Hugs, RVD
Dedication
So I’ve decided I’m going to start doing this, rather than dedicating to my team who all know how amazing they are and I hope they know that on a daily basis, I’m going to dedicate to readers.
This one goes to Crystal Perkins, who has always been such an advocate for me, such a cheerleader, and just an incredible woman in the book industry. Know you are loved and appreciated perfectly imperfect in all the best ways. Thank you for truly being a woman who supports other women and romance.
Hugs, RVD.
Prologue
Quinn
“What do you mean?” Sophie stares me up and down like she‘s trying to find something on me that would give any clue about why I am doing what I am doing. Why I‘m walking.
Why I’m leaving.
And why she is the problem. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s always been me and I just never knew it was me. Shit.
I grab Chloe’s hand, her twin sister, and slowly back away. I’ll release it soon, I’ll let it go like I’ll let her go… but for now, I don’t even know how to respond.
I’ve been gaslit.
I’ve been lied to.
I’ve also been the liar and cheater in this messed up situation, but one thing rings true.
There was only one guilty party.
One.
And I know it is her, part of my brain says, “But do you really know? Between two twin sisters who made your life a living hell while also giving you the best few weeks of your life?”
I clutch Choe’s hand harder. She looks away, her blue eyes focusing on the ground, wearing nothing but black sweats and Adidas flip-flops, her hair in a bun, she looks nothing, and I do mean nothing like Sophie at this point who stood in front of us in nothing but designer clothing, head to toe Gucci, Louis Vuitton.
I mean, in the end, can you blame me for wondering who the true villain is? And where it all went wrong?
I just wanted to get over a girl I loved that ended up with my best friend.
I just wanted space.
What I got?
Twins.
Twins who thought it would be fun, apparently, to mess with my already messed up emotions and a vacation, aka gap year, that ended up turning into a nightmare.
I got hell, and yet I’m still holding one’s hand.
I can’t be that big of an asshole, right?
Because what if one needs saving?
Suddenly, I drop her hand, realizing it’s not hers that’s shaking but mine.
Mine.
What if. In this scenario. I’m not the knight.
No, maybe.
I’m the one that needs the white horse.
I’m the one who needs a rescue. I’m…
I slowly start to back away from them both, body trembling, lips not even moving anymore, even though I have so many words to say. I take one step, then another, then I turn and run.
So much for a one-night stand.
So much for two.
So much for relaxation.
Now all I can do at the airport is pull a Kevin from Home Alone—and run.
I don’t even know where I’m going, all I know is that it hurts, I feel stupid, ashamed… I feel completely blindsided, and yet I still feel in love, the only question?
Which girl is it?
Fuck if I know.
Hi, my name is Quinn and I’m currently sitting in a plane headed back home writing out my thoughts and feelings about a situation I had zero control over.
I’m writing so my heart stops breaking.
I’m writing in hope that one day that will be true.
And I’m writing because PS… I love you.
Chapter One
Quinn
Two Weeks Earlier
“I hate heights, I hate heights, I hate heights.” I don’t know how many times I actually repeat this to myself while standing on the top of the platform looking down into certain death but, I mean even if I say it a million times I know it wouldn’t make the actual distance any lesser.
Lesser? Oh wait… yes, that’s a word, right?
Panic ensues, while my best friend Ambrose urges me toward the ledge. “Just jump, bro! You’re safe!”
The devil is a liar. I am strapped in with some sort of random ropes, a harness that is sucking my balls for dear life—and not in a happy way—and sure, yeah, I am totally safe. I feel safe. I mean, at least at this point my balls will stay attached to my body, so if I ever want to reproduce, we’d at least get to save those when aliens take over the world and need spawns.
“There could be alligators!” I yell. “Piranhas! You don’t even know what shit could be down there. Just last year they found a flesh-eating coyote!”
He frowns, his dark brows furrowing, his light brown hair blowing carelessly in the wind like for real mocking my pain underneath his black beanie while his perfect girlfriend stands beside him with another perfect smile on her face.
God, she even has a dimple on the right-hand side just touching her perfect little cheek and jawbone, and what the hell? Did I say jawbone? In my head? There is nothing romantic about that word and yet, I think I nearly sighed like a simp.
Why me?
Why did I have to fall for the one girl that chose him and why did she have to give me one small taste of her before letting me know that no, my name in fact was not the one that was going to fall from her lips in complete abandon.
It will always be Ambrose.
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?”
&n
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.”
Chapter Two
Chloe
He is cute, like really really cute, the kind of hot cute you have to take in for a minute before actually understanding how good looking they actually are. He’s already forming a bruise over his full lower lip, his jaw is cut like glass and he has a black eye, which I’m going to assume is from the seat between my thighs during his epic descent.
I like him immediately.
There is just something hot about a guy during a near death experience who asks you out on a date minutes after a catastrophic disaster of epic proportions.
My sister would love him.
Which means I have to keep her away from him at all costs, she eats men truly like they are a small snack before devouring them whole and ruining their entire lives. She always denies it but I see the revolving door of guys that just leave with their heads hanging as if she uses them, and listen, I love my sister but consent is a thing too with guys and I have to wonder how often they just put out because she convinces them she’ll stay forever when really—it will only ever a moment.
I blame our parents.
Our mom is completely absent, my dad is the one that taught us how to put on makeup and when we both got our periods, he was the one that took us to the store to get everything. He was the one that, awkwardly, gave us the sex talk and he was the one that when I had my first break up, offered to go to prison on my behalf.
I love my dad.
He even went on vacation with us, which, to an outsider, was a weird thing to do, but even my friends were like let’s do this! We had plans to do a rafting trip, canoeing, eating all the food, and just basking in the sun and he was the only adult that was completely willing to rent out a house and let us do it for two straight weeks.
Again, I adore him, worship him, so it always makes me wonder why Sophie is so weird about her boy problems, there were no daddy issues with my twin, maybe it is because my dad constantly gave us everything, not just love, but truly everything we could have ever wanted in order to shield us from a mom who at times still couldn’t tell one of us from the other.
I check my phone. I have an hour before actually meeting Quinn after our whole near disaster and we really are going to a random matinee. I told him he has to buy popcorn and if he didn’t add butter, I’d choke him and he was weirdly okay with it.
Test number one.
Then I told him I tend to cry during suspense movies because I have this weird syndrome where I cry during pain, fear, and funerals.
Test number two.
He gave me a high five.
And in the end, after grabbing his number, I told him that I’ll probably abandon him for one of the hot nerds at the local theater because I have a thing for SpongeBob, and I receive an actual bow while he said, “F is for friends who stuff together!”
Almost got married in under a minute after that last one.
I check my phone again, Sophie is supposed to show up and at least pretend to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer, but her last text said, be there in a few and it had definitely been an hour.
I text back.
Me
My death might be on your hands, I know how you love Dateline, let it be known that it was because of Jason Statham. Amen.
Again, no three little dots.
I sigh and wait in front of the theater.
Seaside, Oregon tends to be extremely quiet during the afternoons, especially on really nice days. Everyone wanders to the gorgeous white beach, which means I am currently the loser, heading inside a dark cave with a random stranger who fell on me all to get my hands full of butter while paying seven dollars for a Coke Zero.
My phone buzzes.
Quinn the Eagle
So, I’m here and I’m watching you stare at your phone and I realize how creepy that sounds, but I did bring Twizzlers, also, I’m not a serial killer, thought I’d just throw that out there, not that you should be concerned because serial killers tend to bring masking tape and garbage bags on dates, but our first interaction was random on both ends, top, bottom, soaring like a MF through the air, so if you want to bail, I can take the Twizzlers home and cry into some ice cream, maybe go for a long walk on the beach while listening to The Rose. I’ll keep my distance until you decide.
I start to laugh, then realize…
