His Reverie (20 page)

“Tell me.” I grab her hand and entwine our fingers, pressing my palm flat to hers. “And make it fast before your mom shows up and ruins everything.”

She giggles. “I wished for another chance with you,” she whispers, her eyes wide and full of fear. “I’ve missed you.”

I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I don’t measure up. But I can’t hurt her. I don’t want to. I love how direct she is. She’s a total contradiction. Shy and direct. Sweet and sexy. “I’ve missed you too,” I admit, wishing I hadn’t the second the words fall from my lips.

Too late.

“I’d rather be with you tonight than that stupid dinner my mom planned,” she confesses.

My heart starts racing triple time. No way can she mean that. “I’ve seen what she planned for you. Trust me, you don’t want to miss it.”

“Meet me later then.” She squeezes my hand, her slender fingers strong. I can literally see her gain more strength with every word we exchange. I’m giving her hope and that is the last thing I should be doing. “In the woods by my house. In the clearing where you found me last time.”

A matching hope lights within me and I tell it to get lost. “Reverie…no way. It’ll be too late and you can’t sneak out like that. Not on your birthday.”

“Why not? I’ve snuck out before remember? They won’t know. I’ll give them an excuse and bail early. Tell them I’m not feeling very well.” She smiles and the sight of it strikes at my dumb with lust heart. “Please Nick? Do this for me? For my birthday?”

“I didn’t buy you a birthday present.” And I feel like a real ass for it too.

“Don’t you get it?
You’re
my birthday present.” Her smile grows. “Come on, you have to say yes. You’re what I want for my birthday. Nothing else.”

Damn. When she puts it like that…

“Won’t it be too dark to walk the trails?” I sound like an overly concerned grandma with all my protests but shit. It’s to protect her. I don’t want her to get hurt.

“It’s a full moon. You haven’t noticed how bright it is?” She steps closer to me, the scent of her enveloping me in a heady rush. With the heels on, she’s much taller. It would take nothing for me to lean down and kiss her. “I can find my way and so can you. Meet me at ten?”

“Uh…” My brain is scrambling for an excuse to give her. Anything.

But I’ve got nothing but a yes waiting to spring from my lips.

She stands on tiptoe before I can get another word out and brushes her mouth against mine, leaving a smudge of lipgloss on my lips. It smells like watermelon. “Don’t say no,” she whispers. “Please?”

How can I say no to her? It’s humanly impossible. “Are you sure?”

Reverie nods and kisses me again, a gentle press of her mouth against mine that makes my head spin. “I’m sure. See you in a couple of hours?”

I lick my lips and taste watermelon. “All right. But Reverie?”

“Yes?” She releases my hand and steps away from me.

“Don’t wear those heels when you walk in the woods,” I tell her.

“You don’t like them?” She kicks out one foot, swaying it this way and that. I’m practically drooling as I stare at her leg, imagining exactly what I could be doing with those legs later tonight.

“Oh I freaking love them. I just don’t want you to break your ankle later.” I pause. “But don’t change. I like the dress. And the hair.” Hair up means I have better access to her neck, which I’m dying to kiss.

She laughs and shakes her head. “So I’ll see you later? Promise?”

“I promise.”

Anticipation: expectation or hope

July 17
th
, later that night

I’
m nervous. Pacing around the clearing, waiting for Reverie to show up. I went straight home after talking to her, my head spinning over what happened the entire drive to my apartment complex. I took a shower, gathered up a couple of thick blankets and pillows, found an unopened bottle of wine in the cabinet that must’ve been Mom’s. I put it on ice in a small ice chest, threw in a couple of plastic glasses and stashed it all in the trunk of my car.

I shaved, wore my best jeans and a button up shirt. I tried to tame my hair but it was no use. Only a haircut would save that mess. So I combed it as best I could. I’m trying to look my best for her because she’s so damn pretty and I’m just…

Me.

It’s past ten and she’s not here but I’m not surprised. I figured she might be late. She’s trying to escape her birthday party. They’re all going to want to keep her there. Feed her cake. Give her presents. Hell¸ Glenn Williamson is probably trying to cop a feel at this very moment and that thought alone makes me want to sock him in the nose so hard I can feel the bones crunch beneath my knuckles and see the blood spurt from his nostrils.

I’m not a violent guy despite what I’ve been accused of. I got into a couple of fights at school when I was in junior high but they were minor. Nothing serious. I’m not one to get majorly pissed off, it’s just not part of my personality.

But I will defend what’s mine. And right now, I’m feeling so proprietary over Reverie Hale it’s almost scary.

Shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, I stare up at the sky. Reverie definitely hadn’t lied about the full moon. It’s so bright outside I can see almost everything. It cooled down nicely too and there’s a breeze coming off the ocean, bringing with it the salty scent of the sea.

I’m anxious. I need to keep myself busy so I rearrange the pillows, straighten out the blankets and check the ice chest. I’m close to breaking out the bottle of wine and drinking it but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Will she even want to drink any? Am I being too presumptuous in bringing alcohol? I was just looking for a way to celebrate. I brought something else for her too. A little present for her birthday. It’s nothing major and the best I could come up with in such a short amount of time so I hope she likes it.

My phone beeps in my pocket and I pull it out to find a text from Krista. Fucking great.

I miss you.

Yeah. I don’t miss her at all. I don’t reply and turn off the volume, shoving the phone back into my pocket. Krista is the last person I want to think about right now. Tonight is all about Reverie. I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this. That I’m actually going to see her. Touch her. Spend time with her. Alone.

I hear her before I see her, walking along the trail, her feet snapping a branch much like I did the first time I found her here.

And then she appears, still wearing that gorgeous as hell dress, her hair still up and flat sandals on her feet, just like I requested. The moment she spots me a giant smile spreads across her face and she increases her pace, practically running toward me. I meet her halfway, grabbing hold of her so I can pull her into my arms.

“You came,” she breathes against my chest as she wraps her arms around me, her breath warm even through the fabric of my shirt.

“I said I would.” I press my lips against her forehead and close my eyes, savoring the feel of her. I touch her shoulder, drift my fingers across her skin and she shivers. “You got away okay? No one’s suspicious?”

“They think I have a headache. Chocolate does that to me sometimes.” She pulls away slightly to smile up at me.

“Chocolate?” I frown.

She laughs. “My cake was made out of all this rich, decadent chocolate. I couldn’t even finish my piece and it was tiny. I started complaining that my head hurt and my mom said I should go lie down. So I ran up to my room, changed my shoes and here I am.”

“I’m glad,” I murmur, staring deep into her eyes. My luck has changed for the better. I’m embracing this. Embracing what I share with Reverie. “You look so pretty tonight.”

“Thank you.” We study each other for a long, tension filled minute. I’m about to kiss her but then she steps out of my hold and turns away from me to look at the blankets I spread out. “You’ve been busy.”

“Yeah. I have.” I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious. I want to impress this girl. It matters to me, what she thinks. “You like it?”

“I love it.” She flashes a smile at me from over her shoulder. “Looks cozy.”

“Come on.” I take her hand and we sit on the layers of blankets, me closer to the ice chest. I pop open the lid and pull out the bottle of wine. “You want some?”

“Um, sure. Did you bring a corkscrew? Glasses? Or are we going to have to break the glass over a rock and sip out of the bottle?”

Shaking my head, I chuckle. “Don’t worry, I brought it all. I’m classier than you think.”

She laughs in return but says nothing. I wonder if she realizes how true my statement is. I don’t want to seem like some sort of dumbass loser in her eyes. I want to impress her. To be someone. Someone important.

I get to work on opening the bottle of wine, having a hell of a time with the corkscrew at first but I finally figure it out, yanking the cork out of the bottle with a loud pop. I grab one of the glasses and fill it, then hand it to Reverie before I fill one for myself. I watch as she takes a sip, grimaces a little then takes another one.

“You like it?” I ask.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” she admits as she takes another sip. “I had a glass of champagne at a wedding once.”

Ah jeez. I’m not a big drinker either but I’ve been doing it more lately with Michael. Not wine though. Mostly beer. “If you don’t want to drink it…” I start but she shakes her head, cutting me off.

“I do. I love that you brought this for me. Thank you.” She takes another swallow, a bigger one this time and I take a swig as well, hoping the alcohol will calm my nerves.

Ridiculous but I’m nervous around Reverie. I want this next hour, couple of hours, whatever, to be perfect. This might be my only chance with her so I’m going to make it as good as I can get.

“I have something else for you,” I tell her, watching her closely as she keeps drinking her wine. The surprise that flashes in her eyes makes me smile.

“You do? I thought you said you didn’t get me a present.”

“Well, I did.” Reaching into the ice chest, I pull out the wrapped package that I kept safe in a plastic shopping bag. I hand it to her, pleased at the eager way she plucks it from my fingers and holds it in front of her, smoothing her thumb over the already wrinkled wrapping paper.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Open it and find out.”

Slowly, she tears the paper away, revealing the dark pink decorative bottle that I found on Mom’s dresser. I think it held lotion in it at one point because when I unscrewed the top, I could still smell it. Faint and floral and reminding me so much of Mom, nostalgia hit me strong, right in my chest, directly at my heart.

The color of the bottle reminded me of Reverie. I stopped by the local Walmart and bought a jar of iridescent glitter. The girl at the checkout counter helped me create a label out of a plain white sticker she had and let me use her pink glitter pen. I’ve known her since we were in Kindergarten and she’s one of the few people from my past I’ve bumped into since I was released from jail who treated me like normal.

“Dreams,” Reverie says as she reads the label on the bottle. She lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. “You made this?”

I nod, suddenly embarrassed. It’s a cheesy gift, clearly made by someone who’s broke. “The bottle was my mom’s.”

“Oh.” She studies it again, smoothing her fingers over the bottle, the label. She’s cradling it like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever held when really it’s just an old empty bottle of cheap lotion now filled with messy glitter. “I…I love it.”