Written in the Stars

By Jennifer Martinez

Believers of fate, destiny, whatever, say that there are many paths to your one final destination. No matter what choices you make you will always end up right where you are supposed to be. Well I guess I took the road less traveled because God knows I’m broken, bruised, and damaged.
This is my story. It’s about all the wrong turns that led to the right destination. We were written in the stars from the very beginning and neither of us knew it. Love is something you can’t fight and can’t hide from no matter how bad you want to. This is my cosmic turn of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Martinez
• Release date: May 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301778539

Jennifer Martinez

Jennifer Martinez is a beautiful conundrum. When she is not writing, she can be found surrounded by her amazing family and 4 dogs. She loves who she is and doesn’t mind at all when she get strange looks from people. She is a tattoo covered, child and animal lover who looks forward to destroying peoples preconceived notions of what “someone like me” would be interested in. She lives by the motto; “You only live life once... you may as well make it interesting.” She loves to get lost in a good book and hopes that everyone will get lost in hers.

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Written in the Stars

All rights reserved.

Published by Jennifer Martinez at Smashwords

Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Martinez.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work.

Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Cover Art and Design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal

Table of Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Sample Chapter Losing Me, Finding You

About the Author

Dedication:

To all the women who tried, failed, and got back up again. This book is for you.

fate (ft) n.

1.

a. The supposed force, principle, or power that predetermines events.

b. The inevitable events predestined by this force.

I've never been a believer in fate. I grew up with a strong willed mom who instilled in me, from a very young age, that I could do anything I want. Throughout my life what I wanted changed quite a few times. When I was seven, I wanted to be a star soccer player for Team USA. At eleven, I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast. Come high school, an environmental lawyer. I prided myself on never being a girl who needed a guy. I remember in high school I laughed at the girls fussing over prom dates when all I cared about was the lives of the chickens our cafeteria turned into chicken fries.

Sometime between high school and college, my goals changed again. I wanted to be a philanthropic housewife. Marry rich and use his money for the betterment of society. That was my first mistake. I still wanted to be an environmental lawyer, but the long term plan was to find that perfect someone, move into a big house with a white picket fence and have my two point five children. After dropping them off at school, I would go to the museum where I would be a committee member and work on getting art into the inner city.

The problem with this plan was that I now needed a guy, man, whatever. I needed someone who would treat me right and had a good head on his shoulders. Just because I no longer wanted a typical career didn't mean I was going to bend over for just anyone. This is my story to all young women. The story about kissing a few frogs before I found my prince and how I didn't even see it coming.

CHAPTER 1

My True Love

Curtis was my first hope for my American dream. He was perfect! He was a few years older than me but we worked together at Macy's. I will never forget the first time he talked to me. I was only eighteen and yea, I had totally scoped him out and deemed him out of my reach. He was a perfect Southern gentleman. Thin, but toned with years of hard work etched into the lines on his hands. He has a slight Southern drawl and chestnut brown hair that curled into perfect ringlets at the base of his neck. He was kind and gentle to everyone and to this day, I still don't believe he has a bad bone in his body. I was focused on my Calculus one homework, fighting with the fact that I had to learn the manual steps to the equation when it was easier to press two buttons on my hand painted TI-89 calculator for the right answer. He must have seen my frustration because he walked over and plopped unceremoniously down on the bench to my left. He had an unopened bag of Cheetos in his hand and leaned over my arm to see what was frustrating me.

I was so lost in the light musky scent of his cologne and the fresh lavender smell of those perfect brown curls, I didn't even hear him the first time he asked me what I was having trouble with. It wasn't until those perfect, soul searching brown eyes of his made contact with mine that I even realized he had said something. I finally snapped back to reality and told him about my horrid bout with manual mathematical labor. He chuckled as he scooted a few inches closer to me and said, Here, let me see if I can help. I love math. Yep, he just got even more attractive. I tried to stop the flutter of a million butterflies wreaking havoc on my abdomen as I smiled and said, Thanks. I'm MacKinzie.

It's a pleasure to meet you MacKinzie; I'm Curtis. he replied. He was genuinely kind about it. You could tell he had no ulterior motive but to help rid me of my hate of calculus.

My one hour lunch break flew by with Curtis explaining to me exactly why numbers meant letters and vice versa. This was a teacher I actually enjoyed. I went back to work with my head swimming with exponents, variables and perfect curls. Every day for the next month, he would help me on our lunch breaks and my grade drastically improved. Every once in a while, I would glance over at him while we talked about math, the migration of great whites and stained glass. And I would think for just a second, that I saw a hint of something more in his eyes than just a friendly look; it was a longing. I would spend my nights staring at the ceiling of my studio apartment, hugging a pillow, daydreaming about my calculus Romeo and how one day, he would finally kiss me. And in that moment, I would finally know we were meant to be.

The months passed and Curtis was transferred to another department. My breaks weren't the same without him but eventually my life returned to normal. I ended up with a B in calculus and had a few uneventful dates in the time between my first meeting with Curtis and my nineteenth birthday. No one ever got to me the way he did so I knew I wasn't over my fantasy crush yet. He had stolen a piece of my heart during our tutoring sessions and I wasn't ready to ask for it back yet.

My nineteenth birthday arrived in a blaze of pink and green balloons care of my amazing roommate, Hazel. We spent our day walking along the quaint streets of our city’s downtown area and eating lunch at the cereal bar. I would have bet a hundred dollars against the name that popped up on my caller ID as I palmed the cold, metal door leading back out into our city. Curtis. I picked up the phone and tried to say hi as friendly and calmly as possible but according to Hazel, it was more of a screech. It was a short and sweet conversation; he told me happy birthday and asked me to accompany him to dinner that night. I gave him my address and he told me he'd pick me up at seven.

Being my roommate and best girlfriend, Hazel knew all about Curtis and we had spent hours gushing over what his kiss would feel like. I turned to her slowly with a shocked smile, turning my lips slightly upwards when I finally managed to say, Curtis just asked me out to dinner. He's picking me up at seven. We both squealed and jumped up and down like tweens meeting Hanson. We decided to go back to our dorm so we could fully prepare for the evening.

Three hours later and two small burns from my Chi hair straightener, I was ready for my date. We had finally decided on a cute, black mid-length skirt and an embellished pink top. He called me from the bottom door of our dorms and Hazel gave me a hug as I walked down the stairs to the date I had been waiting for for nine months. When I got downstairs, I saw him in all his Southern splendor. He had on a black button down shirt with the sleeves cuffed showing off his muscular forearms. Light blue jeans with tears in all the right places and a nice worn in pair of Doc Martens. He was sporting his favorite Auburn University baseball cap and his signature brown curls were peeking out of the back just like I remembered. I'm nearly certain I blushed as he intertwined his strong hand in mine and led me to his Honda Civic. We were about halfway through the quad when Hazel stuck her head out our third story window and yelled, Don't freak out when I'm gone tonight! I'm spending the night at Zoe's! I won't be home til after class tomorrow. I shook my head and tried to contain my laugh knowing what she really meant by her statement. She truly was the best roomy a girl could ask for.

We arrived at Steamers fifteen minutes later. It was an awesome local restaurant that only served ethically sound, fair trade food. You pay more but it tastes way better than all the cheap processed food right around campus. We caught up on the nine months we spent apart in between bites of Shriacha Chicken and wild rice. He had landed the promotion into security, which was a step in the right direction of his main goal of becoming an FBI agent. He worked hard and the company knew it; he was phenomenal at his job. I told him about my B in calculus and how it wouldn't have been possible without his help. We talked about my new classes and about how excited I was for Marine Bio the following spring.

After dinner, we grabbed some froyo and continued our conversation. It was just like my daydreams. We were talking and laughing, staring right into each others souls like we knew we were meant to be together. Even those romantic movie montages had nothing on the night I was having. We finished our Pinkberry and decided to head back to campus for a late night stroll. He had moved here after graduating from Auburn and had no idea just how beautiful our historical brick college really was. We parked his car and I began leading him to all my favorite spots. It wasn't until we were sitting on the stone bench under the bell tower that we got into the conversation I was really interested in. We were looking out over the lake covered in lily pads and filled with ducks when he picked up my hand in his and placed it on his thigh. I tried to focus on keeping my breath normal as his rough finger traced the lines of my knuckles. He turned to me with my hand sandwiched between his and looked right at me. Now when I say looked right at me, I don't mean in my direction; I mean looked right through my eyes and into my soul before he said, I'm sorry about not calling you sooner. I opened my mouth to respond but he