Someone Like You: A Friends to Lovers Romance Read online

  Someone Like You

  Olivia M. Jones

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Someone Like You

  Olivia M. Jones

  Copyright © 2021 Olivia M. Jones

  Cover art by Books and Moods

  Oliviamjonesauthor

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

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the publisher and author/illustrator.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For everyone who supported

  and believed in me when I didn’t

  Thank you.

  “Where are you with the risotto and sea bass, Elyse?” my executive chef, Dave, screamed out over the line to get my attention.

  “Two minutes on the sea bass and stirring until the liquid absorbs into the risotto, chef,” I yelled over the loud kitchen ruckus. After taking the sea bass out to rest, I stirred the risotto until the broth evaporated.

  “Make it quick. This is the last table to be seated,” Dave said, watching my steady movements before checking on the other staff. “The quicker, the better.”

  I’d been working at Eleven for about two years. I came in as the underdog but quickly proved everyone wrong. My passion for cooking came from my mom, and even after her death nearly twelve years earlier, everything I did was because of her. I’d been cooking since I was little, fascinated by how people can speak through food—the best language. I had recently taken it more seriously after working a few bullshit jobs that didn’t promise growth. Eleven was a major improvement, an upscale steakhouse on Main Street—one of the busiest streets in Pasadena. A typical night for us was a long waiting list, all seats taken. But I preferred that.

  Coming to work had kept my mind off how badly my life had shifted three months prior, when I’d caught my fiancé in bed with my best friend of five years. I’d been put in a position that I never thought I would find myself in. Jason, my ex of three years, had blamed me and my busy work schedule, not understanding that I had to bust my ass to support both of us after he’d lost his job. He’d spent his days drinking, wanting me to stay home with him, but I couldn’t be with him every second of the day. And he hated me for it. I should’ve seen the red flags, but I thought he loved me. Guess I was wrong.

  When we’d first started dating, I was the happiest I had been since my parents died. After their car accident, I had to become a parent at fifteen, missing out on a normal childhood to take care of my younger sister. But when I met Jason, I felt alive again. Our relationship moved quickly, but it felt right. And now, I was alone in an empty house by myself, wondering what I could’ve done to avoid all the pain, embarrassment, and unhappiness.

  Since Jason and I had split, I’d been working my ass off, trying to prove to Dave that I was a viable candidate for the sous-chef position that had recently become available. I’d put everything on the back burner for Jason, and now, I wanted to improve myself and my job. I had devoted myself to work.

  After Jason, I didn’t believe I even knew what fun was anymore. Well, I had fun when I cooked because it cleared my mind, but it wasn’t the same. I was still young, only twenty-six, and had so much life left to live, but I’d chosen to isolate myself from the world, at least until the pain wasn’t so fresh.

  Once I plated the entrée, I set it on the line and called out for a server. “Last order out!” I shouted, tapping my hands against the stainless steel.

  I loved the kitchen at Eleven because management kept up with the appliances, making sure the staff had the best of the best. The kitchen was split into different stations—deep-frying, grilling, sautéing, and the ovens. In the middle was what we liked to call inventory, housing pans, plates, knives, and anything else needed to run a high-end kitchen.

  “Yeah, but we still have to wait for everyone to finish eating and leave,” Alex, the other nighttime chef, said, releasing her long, brown wavy hair from her chef hat.

  Alex and I had worked together for some time, building a great work friendship. We’d tried to meet outside of work, but those plans usually fell through.

  I shrugged, exhausted. “Which means we have more time to clean.”

  I looked around at the mess from tonight’s service. It never ends.

  “Just tell me what the fuck I can do to fix this, fix us,” Jason said, looking at me with his sunken blue eyes after putting his shirt back on. He looked rough; his spiky beard traveled down his neck and his dark hair longer than it had ever been. He had always been thin, sometimes smaller than me, but all the drinking added a few extra pounds—not in a good way.

  I got in his face. “Do you love her?” I asked, trying to push the very words out of my mouth.

  Alana, my best friend, the girl I had confided in and been there for since college, slept with my fiancé. In our fucking bed. I had all kinds of chaotic thoughts running through my head. My skin burned with rage, and my heart beat so fast that I thought I was going to pass out.

  “No!” he yelled, his voice strained. “What the hell kind of question is that, Elyse?” He spoke to me as if I had done something wrong, apparently forgetting that I was the one that had caught him cheating.

  “Just fucking tell me!” I shouted at him, pushing his hand out of the way, as he tried to grab me. “How long has it been going on? And don’t lie to me, Jason.”

  I never thought this would happen to me. I did everything for him—got a house in my name and took care of all the expenses—and here I was, asking him how long he’d been sleeping with my best friend.

  He took a while to respond.

  “I asked you a question,” I repeated, trying to calm myself down. My throat dried as I prepared myself for his answer. Either way, it hurt because I trusted him so muc
h. I always thought he would take care of my damaged heart. Instead, he had damaged it himself.

  Jason stepped back and paced in a circle. “A couple of months,” he stated, aggressively running his hands through his hair.

  The air between us grew silent until I laughed. Hysterically too. It was the only thing that made sense from the atrocity that had just come from his mouth. God, he was pathetic. I bent over and grabbed my stomach, trying to catch my breath. When I rose to his level again, I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as anger washed over his face.

  “A couple of months?” I repeated, raising my hand to slap him. But he stopped me. “You fucking pig! How could you do this to me after everything?”

  He cocked his fist as if he wanted to hit me but held himself back. Why couldn’t I have found out sooner that he was an asshole? It would’ve saved me so much pain and heartache.

  I pushed him as he backed into the nightstand. Once he got himself together, he shouted, “You told me to be honest!”

  I stepped away, shaking my head in disgust. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? We are supposed to get married in less than seven months, Jason. Married. I booked the venue and got my wedding dress, and you fucking cheated on me? Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” I roared. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Elyse, I love you,” he said, trying to grab me again. “I’ll make it—”

  “Get out of my house!” I shouted, pointing toward the door.

  When he didn’t move quickly enough, I leaped toward the front of the room and began opening all the drawers and tossing his shit to the ground. I didn’t realize how fast I was moving until a mountain formed on the floor.

  “What the fuck, Elyse?” I heard Jason punch the wall, cursing under his breath. “I live here. Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

  “Maybe Alana’s. Your parents’ place,” I suggested, slamming the wooden drawers closed. “Either way, it’s not my problem. I just want you to get out of my house. Now.”

  I tried screaming, but it came out more like a broken cry.

  “I’ll let you know when you can get your shit,” I mumbled.

  “What are we going to do about the wedding? Please let me fix this,” he begged.

  “The wedding is off.”

  Alex shook me from my thoughts. “A few of us are going out for drinks after work. You’re welcome to tag along,” she said.

  I shook my head and blinked rapidly, trying to pull myself together. I felt dizzy from the heat and the stress.

  “I have a date, and it will be rude to cancel. Sorry,” I lied, something I’d been so good at lately.

  “A date? I thought you just—”

  “Don’t,” I stopped her. “My date is with Merlot. At home.”

  “You always say that,” Alex snickered. “We miss you.”

  “Next time. I promise.”

  Needing a second to cool off before breaking down my station, I stepped into the walk-in freezer and leaned against one of the racks. Being near deep fryers and ovens all day was like working in a sauna. Sometimes it was hard to focus and even breathe under all that heat.

  I closed my eyes, feeling a crisp, chill breeze hit my skin. My heartbeat slowed as I took long inhales and exhales. I needed the energy to get through the rest of my shift. Just as I felt myself relax a bit, the door slammed open.

  “This ends today,” my younger sister Alyssa said, waving her hands around before walking closer to me. Alyssa had worked as a server at Eleven for a year, ever since I got her the job. Restaurant success seemed to run in the family, because she was good at her job when she wasn’t arguing with someone. She wasn’t rude; she was the kindest person I’ve ever known, but she sure had a mouth on her.

  I paused, scratching my temple, as I waited for her to tell me what the hell she was talking about. I stared at her for a second, confused.

  “You hear me talking to you, Elyse Marie?” she called out, crossing her arms to her chest.

  It’s serious. She used my middle name.

  I looked helplessly into her big green eyes; she got them from our father. She took most of his features while I inherited my blue eyes from my mom. To most, we resembled each other, but we could always see our differences. Alyssa’s blonde hair was longer than mine and curly, and she had flawless, tanned skin. And although we’d always been close in size, I was a few inches taller than she was. Despite our age gap, with her being twenty-two, we were still close.

  “Am I missing something?” I asked, too tired for mind games.

  “Are you missing something?” she snapped, throwing her arms up. “Every first Friday, we get drinks. Considering what happened, I let this slide for a few months. But not tonight. It would help if you were around people, sis. Stop doing this to yourself. For me?”

  She finally inched her way to me and huffed loudly, her rosy cheeks puffing out as she exhaled. I sighed, dropping my shoulders.

  “Word gets around quickly here, doesn’t it? Besides, Lyss, I’m tired. I told Alex next time. Please, just let me sleep, and I’ll be better tomorrow. Promise.” I grabbed her hand, hoping it was enough for her to let me go this one time.

  “You’re such a terrible liar,” she said.

  Damn. I thought I was at least decent.

  “Everyone knows that ‘sleep’ to you means drinking a bottle of cheap wine, eating Ben & Jerry’s until you cry, and then tossing and turning for the rest of the night. You can’t bullshit me, so you’re going. I don’t really care what you say,” my sister hissed, changing the tone of her usually high-pitched voice.

  “You can’t make me,” I snickered. “You forget that I’m the older sister here.”

  “One drink, and I promise you can go home,” she whined, begging even louder and more obnoxiously. I wanted to shoot her down, but unfortunately, I knew my sister, and she was relentless.

  “Fine. One drink, then I’m going home,” I caved, rolling my eyes as I huffed and puffed. “I hope you know I hate you.”

  “The feeling is mutual. See you shortly.” She blew a kiss before strutting out of the freezer, her long hair following.

  I fell against the rack, tangling my hands in my messy blonde hair. I knew if I’d stood there a second longer, I wouldn’t have had the energy to finish my shift.

  Two hours later, my coworkers and I sat in a booth at a bar across the street from Eleven. The old bar consisted of wooden tables, a jukebox, and pictures of the staff in their twenties. The owners, Ben and Charlene, had run the bar since they were married ages ago.

  Alyssa and I had started this tradition last year as a way of letting loose. We never hung out in the kitchen because we were always busy, so we celebrated with drinks after work.

  I toyed with my straw, casually sipping my rum and coke, while everyone else conversed about nothing that mattered—work, chef being a pain in the ass, and the long hours.

  “I overheard Dave going off on your little boyfriend before we left,” Alex said to me as she tossed back her beer.

  I arched my eyebrow. “He is not my boyfriend. What happened?”

  “He has the world’s biggest crush on you, Elyse. You can be his sugar mama!” she teased. “But anyway, he wanted to request a day off tomorrow, but chef said the notice was too late. Dave’s been meaner than usual this week.”

  Ricky was the youngest chef at Eleven, but he was talented and knew what he was doing. It was true. He’d always had a crush on me, but he was twenty, and I hated men. Nonetheless, everyone thought it was funny to pick on me about it.

  Before I could say anything, Alyssa yelled over the music, “Everyone, shut up! Let’s all drink to celebrate Elyse finally coming out of hibernation. Yes, it was my doing, and yes, you guys can toast to me instead.” She grinned at me from across the table.

  All gazes fell on me as I faked a smile and tightened my lips. Well, this is awkward.

  “We’re all happy you came out tonight,” Chris cheered. He loved cooking, but he wo
uld tell anyone his dream was to become a burlesque dancer. Or a stripper, if it had come down to it. “And Ricky just tweeted about how pissed he is that he couldn’t make it tonight. Sucks being young.”

  Does it, though?

  I looked down at the wooden table, swirling the liquor in my cup before taking a long sip. I’d finished the drink and hadn’t even realized it. I hoped everyone would forget about the toast idea. The last thing I wanted was attention on me. Luckily, the subject changed quickly.

  Alyssa laid her head on my shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this. You’ve always been the strong one, and I need you. I know this pain won’t go away soon, but I want to be there for you like you are for me.”

  She was right. I was the older sister, and it was my job to set an example. But I wasn’t doing a great job of that.

  “Not to be nosy, but I need you too, Elyse,” Alex teased, glancing over my shoulder. “You’ve been a real bitch lately.”

  The rest of the table laughed.

  “Thanks, Alexandra,” I barked, using her actual name before peering down at my sister. “I’m sorry, Lyss. You’re right, and I’m going to change how I’ve been acting.”

  “Aren’t I always?” She lifted her head off my shoulder and flipped her hair back.

  “You’re so much better than a low-life piece of shit that impregnates your best friend. Like, come on, really? Cheers to the start of somethi—”