His Reverie (18 page)

I hope like hell she never tries to pull something like that on me.

“Glad to hear this,” she finally says. “I’ll be frank. I don’t like that my daughter is asking about you.”

I swallow hard and say nothing.

“I want you to stay away from her,” she continues as she takes a step toward me. Then another. “I don’t know exactly what she’s doing, inquiring about you. Making up stories about missing necklaces and then miraculously finding them. She’s young and curious and naïve. Someone like you could easily take advantage of her.”

Anger flares inside of me at her words. Someone like me? What is she accusing me of? She’s making me sound like some sort of creeper rapist.

“So I suggest you stay away from my daughter.” Mrs. Hale taps me on the chest with one red lacquered red fingernail. Her finger presses into me, lifts away and then does it again. Like she’s testing me out or something.

Weird.

“I have no plans of going after your daughter,” I tell her firmly because damn it, it’s the truth. I don't need the trouble. I don’t need some crazy girl going after me, accusing me of things I didn’t do, getting me in trouble with her parents, my employers.

“Good.” Mrs. Hale tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine. She smiles and presses her entire hand against my chest, her fingers curling ever so slightly into the fabric of my shirt. “Because I will
ruin
you if you so much as lay a finger on her.”

With those final words, she shoves at my chest and then turns, walking away without a backward glance. I watch her slip back inside the house through the French door and take a deep breath the moment she disappears from view.

A mixture of frustration and anger swirls within me and I breathe deep, wishing I could punch something. What the hell was that all about? Stolen necklaces? Veiled threats? The woman sounded like she wanted to chop my balls off and then turn around and play with them. And that is scary as shit.

I’m starting to think spending even a minute with Reverie Hale isn’t worth the risk.

Dear Diary,

(July 11
th
, 7:52 p.m.) I don’t know what I did wrong. Nick ignored me all day. Any time I tried to get his attention, he looked away from me. Not that I saw him much. Mom kept him and Michael busy and then she forced me to go with her while she ran a bunch of errands, which really turned into us going out to lunch and going shopping. An early birthday present, she told me.

For once in my life, I wasn’t in the mood for shopping. All I wanted was to see Nick. Talk to Nick. Find out what happened, see how he’s feeling after we kissed. Because I was alternating between feeling great about it and then worried. Now though. Now I’m just…

Confused.

I’m also tired. I don’t have anything to say. Nothing good happened today. My expectations were so high that I think I’m crashing. In fact, I know I’m crashing. If I keep writing about how disappointing this day was, I think I might start crying.

I’d like to avoid that so I think I’m going to lie in bed and read. I’d rather lose myself in a book than worry if Nick hates me or not.

For so long I wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to know what it would be like, to kiss a guy, talk with him, flirt with him, touch him. Hold hands, go out on a date, talk about meaningful things, make each other laugh. I wanted all of that. I thought for a quick minute I would get that with Nick.

I wanted too much too soon I guess. Or maybe I put all my focus on liking him and not realizing he wasn’t feeling the same way. Whatever. I must say this though.

I didn’t realize liking a boy, kissing a boy only to have that boy ignore me would hurt so much. Because it hurts.

A lot.

Dear Diary,

(July 17
th
, 8:05 a.m.)
I am now seventeen. I don’t feel different but I never do. When you’re little you think birthdays are magical moments. Perfect days where nothing can ever go wrong. And even if it does, cake and ice cream and prettily wrapped presents can solve all your problems.

It’s not true. Don’t get me wrong. I still love cake and ice cream. Presents too. Mama and Daddy have already been so generous. She took me shopping and bought me so much stuff. Pretty things. I didn’t get the, ‘Don’t be vain,’ or ‘Remember to pick something modest,’ lectures either.

It was nice.

But I still don’t have what I want most. He’s still ignoring me. I think I know why too and it must have something to do with Mama. I think she talked to him. Told him to stay away from me. He steers clear of me completely. Won’t even look at me. It’s so weird.

I miss him.

This morning though, I woke up feeling hopeful. Feeling strong. Before I even got out of bed I made a wish. Closed my eyes tight and squeezed my hands together, almost in prayer.

I wished for one more chance with Nick.

Tonight is my birthday party. I’m going to wear my new dress and put on the makeup Mama allowed me to buy. I’m going to put my hair up and try my best to walk in those new heels. Most everyone coming to the party are friends of Daddy’s but that’s okay. At least the Williamsons are coming. Glenn Williamson has always had a crush on me. I used to have a tiny crush on him too.

Not anymore. This may sound mean but I’m going to use that crush to my advantage. Maybe my flirting with Glenn will make Nick sit up and pay attention. I feel like a mean girl for using Glenn but he won’t mind. He’s too sweet to mind.

Here’s to new adventures. To capturing my dreams. To becoming a woman.

Here’s to turning seventeen.

Jealousy: resentment against a rival

July 17
th

“Y
ou look ready to tear his arms off and make him eat them for dinner,” Michael mutters.

I jerk my head toward him, glowering at my friend. “What are you talking about?” I clench my hands into fists, barely able to keep my focus on him when all I can hear is Reverie’s happy shouts as she splashes around in the pool.

With a guy.

“Douchebag in the pool with Rev.” Michael waves his hand toward them. Reverie’s laughter rings out, light and sweet and it’s killing me that I’m not the one making her laugh like that. I’ve blown my chance thanks to her witch of a mom. “Though I’m pretty sure he’s harmless. You could take him on.”

“I don’t want to take him on,” I lie between clenched teeth, feeling like an idiot for even acting this way. Thinking this way. I have no business feeling so possessive. She’s not mine. She never was mine. I talked to her a few times. Kissed her a couple of times. So why do I feel so strongly for her? The pull I have toward her is undeniable.

And frustrating as hell.

I’ve done so good. All week I’ve ignored Reverie. I refused to look at her, talk to her, even think of her and focused solely on my job. The job I can’t risk losing for showing any interest in my boss’s daughter. Ever since my enlightening talk with Valerie Hale a few days ago, I’ve avoided Reverie. We haven’t talked. She won’t approach me and I sure as hell won’t approach her.

It’s all working out perfectly. Just like Mrs. Hale wanted. So why the hell am I so miserable?

Because you still want her, jackass.

And now there’s some guy here, some dude who’s her age and more her speed. An old family friend who came to visit with the rest of his clan, Glenn Williamson and his parents arrived yesterday, just in time for Reverie’s birthday.

She’s splashing around in the pool with him right now, playing some sort of game that looks like grab ass to me. She’s laughing and yelling at him every time he splashes her, which only makes him do it more. When he’s not splashing her, he’s trying his best to grab hold of her. Constantly. Puts his hands all over her.