Her Perfect 10 Read online

  Her

  Perfect 10

  Stars in the Sand Book 1

  Brianna Cash

  Her Perfect 10 Copyright © 2020 by Brianna Cash. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Cole Gordon @ ArtofCole.weebly.com

  Edited by Pam Ebeler @ UndividedEditing.com

  Proofreading by Julia @ Luna Imprints Services

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

  Brianna Cash

  Visit my website at www.BriannaCash.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: April 2020

  Dedicated to: Miss Marί

  You are:

  The friend who can always make me laugh.

  The one who truly gets me and understands my craziness.

  The sister I loved before we ever met.

  The confidante I can share anything with.

  The artist that inspires me every time I see your work.

  The daughter I’ll never have but can give advice to.

  The first person who made me want to be a better person.

  You showed me that there’s a bigger world out there than the one I could see. My wish for you is to go get it. Dream big. Dream often. Dream fearlessly. And when you stumble, take a day—or a week—to cry, and reflect, and feel all the feels. I’ll be here to help you back up on your feet and to tell you that whatever you’re feeling, it isn’t wrong, but it also isn’t permanent. We all fall. And the mistakes we make are what make us learn and grow. Get up, adjust your expectations, and dream bigger.

  Because you are amazing, and you will accomplish whatever you decide to.

  You showed me there’s a bigger world out there. I want you to experience it.

  Then call me, and tell me all about it.

  Summary

  Owen

  When I enroll in an online writing course, I’m assigned a partner for the entire semester. The syllabus says we’re to remain anonymous. While I never learn her name, she breaks every other rule there is. She’s dragging my grade down with hers, even after I’ve repeatedly asked her not to.

  As our conversations turn personal—another broken rule—she encourages me to push my boundaries, and I learn why she has none: she doesn’t believe in love. Instead of looking for a guy who’ll sweep her off her feet, she rates them in different categories with an equation she created to find someone that’s supposedly perfect for her.

  I have no idea what she looks like, how old she is, or where she lives. But I know I can change her mind about love.

  Too bad I’d never measure up.

  According to her equation, there’s no way I’m her perfect ten.

  Prologue

  To: [email protected], [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Writing Partner

  Students,

  You have both agreed electronically that you have received and reviewed the syllabus outlining this creative online writing course. Some of you might be taking this course to start off your required credits towards a literature degree, while for others it may be to fulfill your general education credits for a different major. Whatever your reason for enrolling in this class, you should take it seriously.

  Class will be held every Thursday evening throughout the semester, from six to eight-thirty p.m. Eastern Standard Time. There will be no class during the week of Thanksgiving.

  Every week at the start of class, you will receive the question for that assignment. Please refrain from using the back space or delete keys. Spelling, punctuation, and grammar will not be graded, so please use this time to focus on transferring your thoughts into text.

  Remember, there is to be no communication outside of the assignments. If you are confused about what was written, you may address your partner through a follow-up email, but I must be included in the correspondence. Otherwise, I will assume there were no questions, and you completely understood whatever your partner was trying to convey with the work that was submitted.

  At the end of this course, you will critique your writing partner’s progress, so feel free to make notes as you read their assignment every week. This is one of the main reasons you are to remain anonymous. It is easier to give non-biased, truthful feedback when you know very little about the person you are critiquing. And you, as the reader, will be better able to focus on what is written, and what the person is trying to convey, if you don’t know the person doing the writing. As mentioned in the syllabus, your partner’s critique of your work will be twenty percent of your overall grade.

  Keep the email listed above that is not your own. This is your writing partner’s email address.

  If you have any questions regarding your grades, an assignment, or the class in general, contact me directly. Otherwise, happy writing.

  Sincerely,

  Professor Michael E. Reeder

  Chapter 1

  Assignment #1

  What is the most interesting thing about you?

  To: [email protected], [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Assignment #1 What is the most interesting thing about you?

  To Whom It May Concern:

  Yeah, sorry, that’s way too formal.

  Dear… Reader?

  Nope. Too general.

  How about: Dear Friend?

  I know, I know, now I’m just lying. You know nothing about me. At least not yet. Well, except the fact that I can’t make up my mind. And that I’m a bit of a procrastinator. And…now, you also know that I ramble.

  Let’s try: Dear Person Who Is Taking The Same Online Course As Me, And Who Now Has To Read All The Random Shit In My Brain That’s Being Set Free By Our Insane Professor.

  That works.

  First off, seriously? The delete and backspace keys are great. Some of the best on the keyboard. I often wish I could use one of those keys in real life. It would be awesome to hit one after the fourth or fifth pain-in-the-ass thing that happens within the first ten minutes of your work shift. Or after you get that look from someone when you said the first thing that came to mind about their new haircut. Or the outfit they wore. Or that totally offensive comment you let slip about their lack of intelligence.

  I’m rambling. Sorry. Back to the topic at hand. Our assignment. What is the most interesting thing about me?

  I was asked that once, during a job interview. Normally, the questions I get asked at interviews are the standard, what are your greatest weaknesses? or some shit like that. Yeah, because anyone really answers that question honestly during a job interview. Who’s going to be like, I have severe abandonment issues? Or, I have a disturbingly sick fetish for feet, it’s the only thing that will get me off?

  Yeah. No one. Definitely not me.

  And no, those aren’t my greatest weaknesses.

  Oh! Then there’s the question about how you handled a disagreement with your boss. Love that question. The answer I always want to say, but don’t? I’m going to give an extremely snarky response, in a very polite tone of voice, with a shit-eating grin on my face, so you think I’m actually going to be compliant with your new off-the-fucking-wall policy. You have no idea how to do my job and while you think you’re making it better, you’re actually making it so much fucking worse.

  An
d I’ll have a bitchfest with my friends that evening, to talk as much shit about my boss as is possible in one sitting.

  How do you handle disagreements with your boss?

  Sorry. I’m not rambling anymore; I’m just evading the real question.

  You want to know why?

  Of course, you do. You’re totally sucked into my brand of crazy right now, aren’t you?

  Truth: I’m trying to figure out if I’m going to be honest, or if I’m going to come up with some polite, fairytale response.

  You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and who the hell are we kidding? This question could be a meet-and-greet for one of those speed dating things you always think is a great idea. Until you get there and realize you’re the only person in the entire room that you’d go out with and you can’t because you’re, well…you.

  We’re running out of time here, so I guess I’d better get down to it.

  To answer this question, I’m going to go with… Honesty.

  The most interesting thing about me is…my little black book.

  Little black book? you ask. Yes. Little black book. The stuff of legends to our grandparents, because cell phones have wiped out the need for paper books of almost any kind.

  I’m talking about the little black books guys used to carry around, the ones that were supposed to be unknown to all their lady friends. The ones that were treasure troves of girls’ phone numbers they wanted to keep. The physical gods would always have a much thicker black book than the less-worshiped average Joes with charming smiles. Or the guys who were simply nice. Who wants nice when there’s an available set of abs you can bounce a quarter off of? Or a bad boy that will break your heart but will make all of your fantasies come true first, plus supply you with enough new material that you won’t need to create your own for a good, long while?

  Am I right?

  Of course, I’m right.

  My little black book doesn’t hold numbers, though. Well, that’s not true. My little black book doesn’t hold phone numbers. My little black book holds ratings and comments that will help me accomplish my most important mission.

  Maybe it’s not my little black book that’s the most interesting thing about me.

  Maybe it’s my mission.

  Sincerely, Entirely, Me

  To: [email protected], [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Assignment #1 What is the most interesting thing about you?

  The most interesting thing about me is that I’m a baker.

  The concentration required, the exact measurements, the way something could easily change the outcome in the blink of an eye is the same precision I long for in every aspect of my life. While baking, everything has to be done exactly so, for it to reach its maximum potential.

  Baking helps me relax. And watching someone else’s face light up when they see what I made, makes me proud.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Are you kidding me?

  That was the shortest answer possible! Do you not know how to type? Do you hunt and peck for every key stroke? That’s the only reason I can come up with as to why you wrote so little in such a long period of time.

  Total cop out!

  Great. I’m paired up with a freaking hunt and peck coward.

  This class is going to totally suck. Don’t expect honesty from me in the next assignment. I’m getting nothing from you.

  Happy slow, boring pecking until our next assignment.

  PS: And baking isn’t interesting!

  Me, SD

  To: [email protected], [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: Are you kidding me?

  We’re not supposed to be communicating outside of the assignments unless we include the professor. I’ve added his email address. Please hit the “reply all” button if you’re going to continue this conversation.

  Also, I’m not a coward, and my answer wasn’t a cop out.

  OC

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: What the fuck ever.

  Until you tell me why that wasn’t a total cop out, I will continue believing that’s what you are!

  And I don’t care about the rules! I’m still trying to get the first damn assignment out of you! So, you bake. Big fucking deal. Why do you bake? What’s your favorite thing to bake? What do you do with your creations? Why do you think it’s the most interesting thing about yourself?

  Because I think the fact that you bake is boring as hell!

  Me, SD

  To: [email protected], [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: What the fuck ever.

  Do you know what/where the “reply all” button is?

  I was being completely honest with you, so you should keep being honest with me.

  It wasn’t a cop out. Hardly anyone outside of my family knows I love to bake. You should feel privileged that I chose to admit it to you.

  Baking is a way to flaunt my perfectionist side without seeming like a know-it-all. I love that I can spend time in the kitchen with simple ingredients, and make something magical out of them. I enjoy baking soufflés the most because they’re so delicate. They’re like a newborn. Everything has to be very precise in order for them to come out right. I give away most of my creations, as you called them, because they’re much too tempting to stay in my kitchen. I usually give them to the local church, or to my neighbor, who occasionally fosters unfortunate children. Watching a child’s face light up when you give them treats makes my whole day. And it’s the most interesting thing about me, because it totally contradicts who most people think I am.

  It was short because, obviously, I need this class. I have no idea what to write while under the pressure of a time constraint.

  Your assignment was fascinating. What’s your mission? Or, what’s in your little black book? I feel like you didn’t tell me on purpose.

  Remember: Reply All. Not just Reply.

  OC

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Wouldn’t you like to know?

  First of all, your comparison sucks. Newborns are hardy. Have you seen some of the fine examples of awful parenting out there? Yet, almost all babies turn out to be mostly functioning adults. It’s scary how hardy newborns, toddlers, and children are in general.

  Although, from the last three seconds of research I’ve done on soufflés, they do seem delicate. In all my non-existent expertise, I would compare them to crêpe-paper centerpieces at an outdoor event with a high chance of rain. Kudos for even attempting them.

  Whatever you were thinking when you hunt and pecked the second paragraph of your incredibly short assignment, capture it again and go with it. That was the only semi-decent part of the email you submitted. And just write like you’re having a conversation with me. That’s what I do.

  Lastly, of course, I left you hanging on purpose! That was the entire point of what I wrote. I planned it as the hook, to get you interested. My life is obviously a lot more interesting than yours, so maybe you’ll be able to live vicariously through me. We’ll have to wait and see what next week’s assignment might be.

  Thanks for finally giving me a little bit of information.

  And PS: You’re still boring.

  Me, SD

  Owen

  She thinks I’m boring.

  That sentence replays in my head over and over—endlessly. Even now, the day after the first assignment in the creative writing class I secretly signed up for.

  She thinks I’m boring.

  She’s gotta be a girl. From her essay, story, piece—whatever you want to call it—I’m going to assume she’s female. The bitchfest about her inept boss gave it away. Plus, the speed dating thing. And the part about bad boys and gods with abs of steel…

  Guys don’t say stuff like that. Not even in their heads.


  Either way, her words have been echoing in my brain, where everything else has apparently ceased to exist. What’s her mission? What kind of information does she keep in her little black book? What does her little black book look like? Is it really black? Is it actually little? Or is the term metaphorical, and it’s a file she keeps on her computer or phone?

  Is she young? Neat? Pretty? Smart? Funny? Annoying?

  Definitely annoying.

  Other than that, I don’t know anything about her. Except that she called me out on my inadequacies three minutes after we submitted our assignments. And she didn’t even try to be polite.

  Boring.

  Cowardly.

  A cop-out.

  The list of things she called me pisses me off.

  But it’s kind of giving me a thrill, too.

  No one in my life tells me what they’re really thinking. However, this girl has no issues telling me exactly how she feels. I don’t like what she’s saying, but at least she’s not holding back or saying things just to make me feel better about myself.

  This writing course is going to teach me a lot. Only time will tell if it’s because of the person I’ve been paired up with, or the professor.

  “Clive. Sadie.”

  Nodding at one of the security guys and the early receptionist, I push my way through the crowded lobby and head to the elevators. Every morning, I go through the same routine. Get up and around, make my way into and through downtown traffic, find my parking spot in the garage across the street, greet the one or two employees standing at the receptionist’s desk, and head up to the office I work in on the eighteenth floor.

  Once I’m in my cubicle, I rearrange everything the way I like it. Someone always touches something when I’m not here. There’s probably a hidden camera trained on my desk, recording me as I put everything back in place. The stapler has to be at the perfect angle. The phone needs to be in the right spot so it’s easy to reach, but not in the way. The wire to the mouse must be as hidden as possible. My monitor has to be tilted just so. Whoever moves my stuff hasn’t caught on to that yet. I only have to reposition the monitor after the deep cleaning the housekeeping staff does once a month.