His Reverie (Reverie #1)(19)

I ran toward the woods. I always went to the woods by the house when I was upset. I cried there a lot. I would read there sometimes too. It smelled good, all the pine trees and fresh air, the salty scent of the ocean lingering. Always lingering.

There’s a clearing in the middle of the pines with an old fallen tree I like to sit on and cry like a stupid baby. But it was fine if no one caught me, you know? I could ball my eyes out and no one was the wiser except the birds and the bugs and maybe a stray squirrel or deer.

But he followed me. I don’t know why. I didn’t notice him, as unbelievable as that sounds. He breathes and I usually sit up and take notice. Not this time though. He followed me down the path, through the trees and found me at the clearing.

Nicholas Fairfield.

I was so angry at Mom and what she said to me. How she treated me. I was sort of hysterical when Nick found me and I told him to go away. Can you imagine? Why would I tell him to go away? I flipped out in front of him. Just completely lost it and tried to take off my dress (!!!) because I hated it. I wanted to get myself something beautiful and Evan helped me and all it did was cause problems. So I tried to take it off like a crazy person. I’m pretty sure I flashed my underwear at him.

So embarrassing. I’ve never lost it like that in front of anyone, especially a boy.

He calmed me down though. Invited me to leave with him so I did. He took me to the Snack Shack down by the ocean and bought me a burger and fries. It smelled so good that I ate practically all of it because Mom never allows me to eat food like that.

It was delicious. Being with Nick, talking to him, all of it was delicious. Wonderful. He smiled at me. Touched my hand with his. His hand is big and kind of rough and his fingers are so long. A shiver moves through me every time he touches me.

Every time.

His mom died a few months ago. Isn’t that sad? I almost wanted to cry. He’s so young and strong. I’d fall apart if something like that happened to me. I even think he lives alone. He’s already graduated from high school and he works. He’s like a seventeen-year-old kid living an adult life.

I can’t even begin to imagine.

Spending those few hours with him, staring at him from across a picnic table, wishing I could touch his face, his hair, his lips (he has the most beautiful mouth I’ve ever, ever seen), I knew right then I wanted him to be mine. That sounds greedy and foolish but it’s true. I want a boyfriend, but not just any boy.

It’s always been this unattainable goal. This ethereal, dreamy kind of yearning for a boyfriend with no real substance behind it. Watching romantic movies I’d think, I want that. Sneak reading all those books on my Kindle, I’d sigh at the happy ending and think I want THAT.

I think I know who could give me that. I look at him and my entire body tingles. He smiles at me and my heart feels like it’s tripping over itself. He touches me and the strangest sensations flood my lower body.

Nick. I wonder if he likes me? He acts like he does.

But I don’t know. I’m not good at this sort of thing. I have zero experience with boys, especially extremely good looking ones like Nick.

He drove me back home and dropped me off sort of close to the house, which I thought was risky but he insisted. Wanted to make sure I got into the house safe, he said. It was so sweet, I couldn’t protest. So I didn’t.

For whatever dumb reason I was hoping he’d kiss me goodnight but he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t. Silly of me to believe he would because we don’t know each other that well but a girl can hope. I’ve never been kissed. Ever. I feel so stupid and inexperienced but I have a feeling Nick wouldn’t make me feel dumb. He would probably touch my face and give me a soft, sweet kiss. One that would make my heart skip about a thousand beats and my skin feel like it caught fire.

I need to spend more time with him. I need to not be shy and talk to him. Figure out a way to get him to like me as much as I like him.

I hope I can.

11

Fireworks: an exciting or spectacular exhibition

The Fourth of July

I’m setting off explosives and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.

Michael’s doing most of the launching of the bottle rockets and all that other shit and he’s having so much fun I’m starting to wonder if he’s a secret pyromaniac. He hoots and hollers like some sort of good ol’ boy, a beer clutched in his hand as he stares up at the sky. Heather is nearby, clutching a beer as well though she’s barely eighteen and she’s wobbling on her feet, looking a little sloppy. I wonder how many she’s had.

Hell I wonder how many Michael has had. The moment we made our escape from the house, we cracked open a couple from his secret stash. He’s been pounding them, especially because Heather showed up and that made him nervous.

The grins Michael shoots her way every freaking five seconds tells me he is desperate to get into her panties.

I feel his pain though it’s not Heather I want.

My problem? I can’t stop thinking about Reverie. I couldn’t sleep last night. Krista was waiting on my doorstep when I got home, wearing an American flag bikini that just about showed all her goods. Tiny triangles strained across her tits and I knew if she turned around her ass would be hanging out.

Didn’t matter though. I was still on a high from my stolen time with Reverie. I had zero interest in Krista. The more time I spend with Reverie, the more everyone else starts to fade. Looking at Krista, all I feel is shame. Shame for using her. Shame for how she puts herself on such blatant display to try and entice me. It used to work.