His Reverie (10 page)

Dear Diary,

(July 3
rd
, 11:49 p.m.) I can’t even begin to describe what happened tonight. What started out as completely awful turned into one of the most incredible nights of my life. It’s Mom’s birthday and of course, she’d been on a rampage all day. Demanding everyone treat her like a queen (like she doesn’t get enough of that treatment already) and that it was her SPECIAL DAY. She started screaming at Dad for not paying enough attention to her (which is true—he never pays attention to her anymore, not really).

Evan flat out left. Just flipped her off and walked out of the house, which of course, left her fuming. Me too. I was so jealous. I wanted to be my big brother at that very moment. Bold and defiant and doing whatever I wanted. That’s how it’s always been. Evan gets away with everything and I get away with nothing.

Right before her party, I came down the stairs and she glared at me. Started yelling when she saw what I was wearing. It’s no big deal. I’ve seen plenty of girls wear practically nothing compared to my dress. She didn’t like that it was strapless. I might’ve been pushing my limits but the dress covered me pretty well. Not a hint of cleavage and my legs were covered almost to my knees. I thought I looked nice.

I don’t think Mom liked seeing me look cute. I’m not saying I think I’m beautiful or whatever, but Daddy said when he saw me that I looked pretty and that made her mad. She wanted all eyes on her.

Not me.

She called me a whore and that made me start to cry. She said only whores wore red. Daddy shushed her, grabbed her arms and asked her how much did she have to drink before he turned to glare at me, the message in his eyes all too clear.

I was nothing but trouble. He wanted me gone.

So I left. Locked myself out of my room, hid the little key on top of the door frame and left the house through the back door where no one noticed me. All they cared about was her stupid party anyway so what does it matter, where Rev is?

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.

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.

Not anymore.

Krista flattened herself against my door when I said I wasn’t interested, her hand covering the door handle, which only pissed me off. She then whisked off her bikini top, her tits on display for anyone to see if they happened to pass by and I shoved her away, making her yell and curse at me like some sort of hardened biker.

Considering her dad is a former motorcycle gang member, this shouldn’t come as a surprise.

No way could I even touch Krista after spending a few hours with Reverie alone. Just…No. Way. So I locked myself in my apartment, stripped off all my clothes and jacked off to thoughts of Reverie. Flashing me one of those shy smiles. Touching me. Kissing me. I can’t imagine her being so obvious and crass like Krista but I could imagine her being sweet and trembling in my arms. Telling me to go slow and make her feel good and I’d promise I would. I’d do my damnedest to help her forget everything but just the two of us.

Yeah. I’m a total goner over a girl who took off with me because I’m her one rebellious moment. Do I really want to be that to Reverie? A meaningless act of defiance against her parents? Because I know that’s all I am. That’s all I can be.

“Fucking Fairfield, what is your problem?” Michael yells, knocking me from my thoughts. “You afraid of getting burned?”

I turn to glare at him and gave him the finger. I know he’s referring to the fireworks but his statement could be taken in so many ways. “Light another bottle rocket, asshole.”

Michael laughs and does exactly that, making Heather squeal and jump, clapping her hands like some sort of Independence Day cheerleader.

We’re on the opposite side of the Hale property, lighting the fireworks for the guests that still remain at Hale House, and there are a ton of them. The party started at straight up noon and hasn’t lessened. In fact, I think it’s gotten busier, if that’s possible. There are so many people spilling out of that house, onto the back patio, near the pool, all over the freaking place, I’ve never seen such a huge party.

I’ve been hanging on the peripheral all day. I started out directing cars into the drive and making sure they parked right without blocking each other in. Then I made an ice run to the local grocery store. Twice. Restocked the soda buckets. Brought in the empty platters and bowls from the buffet tables.

I didn’t hang out much close to the house, which was probably best. I caught glimpses of her. Reverie. Smiling and laughing with a group of kids her age, which only filled me with irrational jealousy. She wore some sort of cover-up that covered her too much and I know her suit is black. Thicker straps than I’m used to seeing but considering I’m used to Krista’s hooker bikinis made of thread, that’s no surprise.

If I saw Reverie splashing around in the pool in a swimsuit I’d probably make an ass of myself by staring too long. So I avoided the pool as much as I could.

Best I stay away.

After a hard day in the hot sun, dealing with painfully perfect people having a good time while I slaved to take care of all their needs, I was ready to let off some steam. By making fun of Michael and setting off fireworks. Though I’ve pretty much left that responsibility to him since he’s enjoying it so much.

“They’re all oohing and aahing over there,” Heather says, pointing toward Hale House. “I can hear them.”

I could too, faintly. “Why aren’t you over there?” I ask, swiping the beer out of her hand and taking a huge swig.

She glares with those intensely dark eyes of hers, mutters
asshole
under her breath when I finish it off. She really is pretty and she seems at ease in any situation. I can see why Michael’s hot for her. “Valerie—Mrs. Hale finally said I could go. I was so scared she might change her mind, I practically ran out of the house.”

“She have you running all day or what?” The woman has a reputation. We all gripe about it. She makes up work just to watch us bust our asses to ensure she’s happy, I swear.