Someday, Somehow Read online

  Contents

  Someday, Somehow

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Now

  1. Auggie

  12 years ago …

  2. Auggie

  3. Auggie

  4. George

  11 years ago …

  5. George

  6. George

  7. George

  10 years ago …

  8. Auggie

  9. Auggie

  10. Auggie

  11. George

  12. George

  9 years ago …

  13. George

  14. George

  8 years ago …

  15. George

  7 Years ago …

  16. Auggie

  17. Auggie

  18. Auggie

  6 years ago …

  19. George

  20. George

  21. George

  22. George

  5 years ago …

  23. Auggie

  24. George

  25. George

  4 years ago …

  26. Auggie

  27. Auggie

  2 years ago …

  28. George

  1 year ago …

  29. George

  30. Auggie

  31. Auggie

  32. Auggie

  33. Auggie

  10 months ago …

  34. George

  2 days ago …

  35. Auggie

  1 hour ago …

  36. Auggie

  Now …

  37. Auggie

  38. Auggie

  39. Auggie

  40. Auggie

  41. Auggie

  42. Auggie

  43. Auggie

  44. George

  45. Auggie

  46. George

  47. George

  3 years later …

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Excerpts

  Maybe Later

  Then He Happeneu

  Something Like Hate

  Found

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2019 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: By Hang Le

  Edited by: Dannielle Leigh Editorial

  Deaton Author Services

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  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored into or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  www.claudiayburgoa.com

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Standalones

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Chasing Fireflies

  Something Like Hate

  Then He Happened

  Maybe Later

  My One Despair

  Knight of Wands

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Christmas in Kentbury

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  Unexpected Series

  Uncharted

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Unlike Any Other

  Decker the Halls

  To Yolanda, thank you for your friendship and your amazing support. Love you.

  “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” —Pablo Neruda

  One

  Auggie

  The entire trip from the airport to my father’s house I’ve been trying to keep my frustration and disappointment hidden from her. This isn’t what I expected to find when I picked her up at the airport.

  Thank fuck, I left the ring at home. The flowers felt inadequate the moment she said, “Auggie, meet Mario.”

  What if I had bent on one knee and said, “I’ve come to realize that I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. Perhaps not that moment, but when we crossed paths, I knew there was something between us. My soul recognized yours as an old lover.”

  Totally practiced it for the past week. I had everything down to the way I’d kiss her after she said, “Auggie, what took you so long?”

  Also, I had the entire speech in case she slapped me and said, “You fucking asshole, after all this time.”

  See, I was prepared for everything but…

  If I could, I’d text my siblings or someone at home to tell them about…fuck what a mess.

  My father’s house is packed—everyone who knows George is there. From her father, to her aunts, cousins, and my own family wait for her.

  I grip the wheel tight as I drive toward my father’s house. I glance up toward the rearview mirror and feel sick to my stomach as I watch them close—too close.

  You fucked up, Beltran.

  George catches my gaze and gifts me a beautiful smile. Serene, peaceful. The smile I love so much. The one that makes me feel as if I can take over the world.

  For one moment, she’s the only person in the car.

  We are finally together after all this time.

  My heart beats hard.

  I want to tell her so much but then he speaks, “Bellisima.”

  For a moment, I wish we could go back to the beginning and do everything different. But I know that if I do, we might lose everything we built up until the moment I fucked up.

  Two

  Auggie

  Coffee is a major part of any college student’s balanced diet. It just is—like water or alcohol. Even at the beginning of the semester—when staying up is more about partying and less about studying-and-partying-before-studying-again—coffee is still one of the few things that gets me out of bed in the morning. You’d think after two years or so at the same school, I’d have a rhythm to everything and would know how to be a healthier person.

  You’d be half right. I have my rhythm. That’s really all I need.

  Which starts and ends with getting at least three cups of coffee a day. 3 Little Beans Coffee House is one of my favorite spots on campus. Mostly because their coffee is better than all the mass-produced crap, but also because it has the kitschy kind of hipster vibe that makes gorgeous girls flock here.

  Case in point, it’s a Thursday afternoon, and there’s an attractive redhead in front of me.

  She’ll do.

  “I didn’t know they let angels go to school here,” I say loud enough for her to hear.

  She turns around immediately with a smirk. I can tell she’s heard this line before but loves it. Good, I enjoy a smart candidate.


  “Well, of course they do,” she says. “How else would the mortal girls know which boys are worthy?”

  I chuckle. She’s good; maybe a little too cocky for her own good but looking at how tight her crop top is and what I can only guess is a dancer’s body...I think she has every right to be.

  “See, from what I hear, angels are too mighty for us mortals,” I say.

  “We’re also considered very charitable,” she replies confidently.

  Well, color me impressed.

  “Is that so?” I ask with a grin. “Can you refresh my memory…what’s the policy on angels going to parties?”

  “Depends who’s asking,” she utters with a chuckle and a wink.

  “Agustin Beltran. Junior. Business major,” I introduce myself. “And you are?”

  With a giggle, she replies, “Definitely interested. So, tell me about this party?”

  “My buddies and I are having a house party.” I wink at her and continue, “You know, just us and a hundred of our closest friends.”

  She nods, looking me up and down as she bites her lower lip seductively. “Alright, tell me where and I’m in,” she says, gifting me a smile.

  “It’s the yellow house on Elm and Whittaker, ten tonight,” I tell her.

  “Can I bring my friends?” she asks, pointing in the direction of a couch.

  Glancing in the direction she points, I see five girls sitting there. They’re all gorgeous…not counting the one I can’t see because she’s hidden behind a book and underneath a large hoodie. I’m sure no one will complain about a few more pretty faces at our place.

  “Sure,” I agree.

  The barista calls for the next customer, and when the girl places her order, I offer to pay as a little way to sweeten the deal.

  Her grin broadens. “Thanks, I’ll see you tonight then, Agustin .”

  I nod casually as she walks away and order for myself. I take out my cell phone as I wait for my drink to be ready. Really, this has been a pretty productive day. I went to all my classes without tearing my hair out. I finished my macro-econ homework and invited some cute girls to come to the party.

  Not too bad if I do say so myself. I grab my coffee from the counter when it arrives. I don’t bother to look up from my phone, as I walk toward the back exit. Yeah, everything is going my way, I think as I take a sip of my coffee.

  Until I literally smack into someone half a head shorter than me.

  Which, accidentally, causes me to spill my coffee all down her white shirt...and if that wasn’t bad enough, some of it manages to land into the cloud of kinky hair. Some of her locks drip coffee.

  Oops.

  “Fuck,” I utter. “Are you okay?”

  “Who orders a fucking coffee when it’s eighty-nine degrees outside?” she says angrily.

  “Well, me,” I respond honestly.

  “This is going to take forever to clean,” she protests, staring at her white blouse.

  “Here,” I say, pulling out my wallet from my pocket. I grab a twenty-dollar bill. “For the dry cleaners, or whatever.”

  She stares at me. Her facial expression is sheer horror.

  “Do you have any idea how old this shirt is?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes, great, another princess. She probably thinks this school is too good for her and wanted to go somewhere in the SEC or an Arizona party school.

  “Fine, another twenty for your trouble,” I mumble as I pull another bill from my wallet.

  She glares at the money in my hand, and then back to me. People are starting to stare, and it’s fucking uncomfortable.

  “Just take the money,” I whisper.

  “You haven’t even apologized,” she says, a bit louder.

  “It was an unfortunate event,” I state.

  “Don’t admit guilt,” my dad always says. “Don’t say anything incriminating.”

  I’m sure he refers to a car accident or something significant. However, I always use the rule for everything and anything. You can never be too careful.

  Her lips curl like she’s smelling something rancid. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I just don’t see what the big deal is,” I say honestly. “I’m offering you money for your trouble.”

  “You ruined my mother’s shirt.” She points at the stains.

  I refrain from rolling my eyes again. Seriously, her mother’s shirt?

  “So? I’m sure she’ll—”

  “She’s dead, asshole,” she quickly barks.

  Oh, fuck!

  Before I can say anything, she’s shoving my hand with the cash I’m offering back toward me. “Keep your money,” she says. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

  Clearly upset, she storms out of the coffee shop and long after she’s gone, I stare in her direction. Something about the altercation stops me from moving on with my day.

  I can’t help feeling like I fucked up.

  ✩ ✩ ✩

  Partying improves my sour mood from earlier in the day. My roommates are some of the hardest partiers on campus, for better or worse. They take their kegs and beer pong more seriously than they take their grades.

  I wish I was exaggerating, but at least they’re smart. I don’t know what I’ll do if River ever gets hired by a major airplane manufacturer. I’ll probably...never fly again. Everything is fine around here, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the middle of one of my father’s restaurants helping with all the emergencies that arise every night.

  When I step onto the patio, I run into that cute redhead from earlier.

  “Hey!” I shout over the music. “Come here often?”

  She laughs. “Hey, stranger.”

  “How are you enjoying yourself?”

  “A lot, actually,” she says with some sort of sly glee. “But you know...I was wondering if you could help me out with something?”

  I frown. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Do you think there’s somewhere more...private around here?” she innocently asks. “You know, someplace quiet—away from the crowds.”

  Wow, she’s smart and forward, I like it.

  “Hey, Auggie,” Mark, one of my roommates, calls me. “We need you, man.”

  I grunt and turn my attention back to what matters. “Sure. Why don’t I point you in the direction of my room and I’ll be up there in a few?”

  She nods enthusiastically and squeezes my arm.

  I think tonight is going really, really well. “What do you need?”

  “Can you tell this guy about the time we hiked the Grand Canyon,” Mark requests, patting my arm.

  I shake my head.

  “We didn’t hike. You never left the hotel,” I remind him.

  Everyone starts laughing at him, including River, one of our close friends, who came along on this trip. They laugh even more when I tell them about our trip to Nevada. None of us could drink but Mark. The plan was going to Vegas, have some fun and then rafting through the Grand Canyon. Except Mark was so drunk, he remained glued to the toilet while River and I enjoyed our trip.

  Once I’m done with the story, I call River who continues talking about the damn trip.

  It takes me longer than a few minutes to make it up to my room. Closer to fifteen minutes, if I’m being honest. Which I normally wouldn’t count but...she was hot, alright. The redhead was hot.

  I take two stairs at a time, almost sprinting to my room. It takes me a second to compose myself. I flatten my hair, take a deep breath...take a breath mint. The normal stuff.

  Play it cool, Beltran. You got this.

  I open the door slowly. It’s pitch black, but I can see her shape lying on my bed. I don’t need a bigger hint than this.

  “Okay, give me a second,” I mumble, rushing to get started. I grab the collar of my shirt to take it off. “The condoms are—”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” someone, who doesn’t sound at all like the redhead, says.

  I trip backward over something on the floor, falling against my ro
om door.

  “Holy fuck! Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah…” I say, through my tangled shirt. “There’s some random chick in my room and I look like an idiot...you know, just your typical stuff.”

  I hear shuffling as I try to stand up and fix my clothing.

  “Sorry, my roommate said this room was open, and I have a headache,” she murmurs, asking again if I’m okay.

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m guessing the redhead is your roommate?”

  “Megan? Yeah,” she confirms.

  After I’m done fixing my shirt, I flip on the light and turn around.

  “Thanks, I’m—” speechless…It’s the girl from the coffee shop.

  “What the fuck?” I grunt.

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course, rich boy. Of all the rooms in all the houses on this entire campus.”

  “Hey, I tried to help—”

  “By literally throwing money around, as if that would solve the problem,” she protests. “Who does that?”

  “I wasn’t throwing it!” I defend myself. “I just...what else was I supposed to do?”