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.
“You wouldn’t believe the stuff I had to do. Including sober her up.” Heather rolls her eyes when she notices my shocked expression. “She’s a total drinker, you know.”
“Really?” I frown, turning my attention to Heather more fully. Michael doesn’t need my help lighting fireworks. He’s doing a mighty fine job of it on his own so I’m going to dig for information. “Like…has a problem with drinking-type drinker?”
Heather nods slowly. “She got into a huge fight with her daughter last night right before her birthday party started. I saw it all happen and it was ugly.” She mock shudders.
Now I’m really interested in what she’s saying. “What about?” I keep my voice casual. I already knew what it was about, at least according to Reverie. But maybe it involved something more.
“She’d been drinking all day.” Heather lowers her voice, like we’re surrounded by a ton of people and she doesn’t want them to hear. Considering we’re only hanging out with Michael and his stash of fireworks, she doesn’t have to worry about that. “And she was mad at everyone. Just on a total rampage, calling Rev a whore, accusing Reverend Hale of cheating on her.” Heather’s eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t believe she just said that. “God, you really have to make sure you never say anything about this to anyone. I’d lose my job in a heartbeat.”
“I swear.” I cross my heart with my index finger. Cheating? That was a pretty damn harsh accusation. “This doesn’t go beyond me and you.” If I was sitting down, I’d be hanging by the very edge of my seat, waiting to hear what Heather has to say next.
“What doesn’t go on beyond you two?”
Everything inside of me goes still at the sound of that voice. That very sweet, very female and very familiar voice. The look on Heather’s face says it all. Holy shit and every other cuss word I can think of.
We almost got caught spilling some very private information.
Slowly I turn to find Reverie standing in front of me. Looking fucking hot as sin in a white tank top that makes her tits look huge and faded denim shorts that I wish were way shorter.
But I’ll take what I can get.
“Reverie.” I smile at her dopily, feeling a little buzzed and not just because she’s in my presence though that’s definitely a major influence. I chugged that beer Heather had only just cracked open plus the first one Michael handed me. And I haven’t eaten anything in hours. I’m a total fucking lightweight at the moment and it doesn’t help that the girl of my jack-off dreams is staring at me like I’m her favorite ice cream and she wants to lick me up.
My entire body tightens and I breathe deep.
Jesus. I need to be careful with where my thoughts go.
“Nicholas,” she returns, flashing me an equally dopey smile.
This gives me hope, as much as I tell myself to knock that shit off.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, glancing around to make sure she didn’t bring anyone else with her. Like her rude as hell brother and all of his rude as hell friends.
I don’t like those punks. The majority of them are older than me and I see the judgment in their eyes when they look at me. They think they’re so much better than me. Jerks. The only difference between me and those assholes is that they have money and I don’t.
“Um, I live here?” She glances around before her gaze lands on Heather. “Hi.”
Heather steps up to stand beside me and I’m instantly afraid we’re giving off the wrong vibe. “Hey, Rev. You wandered off from the party? Get a little lost?”
“Heather,” I warn, shocked she would talk to her boss’s daughter in such a snide tone. I don’t even know Heather but no way am I going to let her speak to Reverie like she’s some dumb little girl.
“I was looking for Nicholas.” She hesitates, her smile falling from her face as she sinks her perfect white teeth into her perfect lower lip. “But maybe you’re busy?”
Michael chooses that moment to light off the biggest bottle rocket he had in his collection, along with a bunch of little ones, all at once. Not quite sure how he did that but he yells out an enthusiastic fuck yeah as they all shoot into the sky, exploding with bursts of color that casts Reverie’s face in a rainbow of red, white and blue.
Fuck yeah is right. Just looking at her hurts. What if I actually got a chance to get my hands on her? I might not be able to stand it.
“I’m not busy,” I say as I take a step toward her. Heather follows me and I shoot her a look that says what the hell?
Because really. What the hell?
“Rev!” Michael jogs over and stops in our circle of three, making it four, which fills me with relief. Heather’s being totally weird and I don’t like it. She came here for Michael but she’s following after me like she wants to be with me or something. Is she trying to make Michael jealous? Or maybe even Reverie? That makes no damn sense. “Whatcha doing? Come to watch the master at work?”
“You know it.” Reverie shoves him on the shoulder, all easy flirtatious girl, not resembling the timid, crying girl I’d rescued not twenty-four hours ago.
“Everyone like the show? That was the grand finale, if you were paying any attention.” Michael puffs up his chest, as if he’s looking to make a career out of lighting fireworks. Reverie giggles and Heather sends her a deathly stare before moving away from me and going to Michael’s side, curling her arm around his and looking nice and cozy.
“You did an awesome job,” Heather murmurs to Michael, her face so close to his I swear her lips are brushing against his cheek as she speaks.
Michael looks stunned and thrilled. He’s been after Heather since the moment she started working for the Hales and she constantly plays hard to get. I have no idea what she’s doing tonight but it’s weird. Like she’s jealous of Reverie or something.
“I’ll uh, let you guys get back to whatever you were doing. I just wanted to say hi.” She offers a tremulous smile, once again the unsure girl of last night. My chest aches. I hate how uncomfortable she seems. “I should head back to the house before they send out the search and rescue.” Reverie starts walking backward, offering us a little wave. “See ya.”
“Bye,” Heather calls, all sugary sweet as Reverie turns on her heel and practically starts running away from us.
“Reverie, wait,” I say, shooting Heather a dirty look over my shoulder before I take off after Reverie.
Second time in twenty four hours that I’m literally chasing this girl. She’s fast I’ll give her that but I catch up with her quick.
“Reverie.” I grab hold of her arm and turn her around so she’s facing me. She looks upset, her eyes narrowed into slits as she yanks out of my hold and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The move only makes her boobs look bigger and my gaze drops. Lingers.
Wishes.
“What do you want Nick?” She sounds irritated. Sweet but irritated.
I jerk my gaze back up to hers. “Why did you leave just now?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” She practically spits the last two words out.
“What are you talking about?” I think I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“Are you with Heather?”
“What? No way.” I shake my head, shocked she would come out and ask me point blank. “Michael’s hot for her, not me.”
Her expression softens though she still sounds skeptical. “Well, she seemed very interested in you.”
“It was nothing, I swear. We were talking while Michael was lighting the fireworks. He let me set a few off but after a while, he wanted to take over completely. So I let him.” I shrug. “He was just showing off for Heather. Trying to impress her.”
“She acted like she was trying to impress you.” She sounds jealous. And sick ass that I am, I like it.
“Not even,” I scoff because yeah. I doubt she’s interested in me. Maybe she was trying to rile Michael up?
Heather had acted pretty weird when Reverie appeared. But she’s a girl. They always act weird. And I rarely understand them and their motives. Look at Krista. Though really she’s a terrible example because that girl is flat out crazy.
“Are you sure? Gosh, I feel stupid for asking. And insecure. You must think I’m overreacting, which I probably am.” Reverie’s voice softens even more until she’s practically whispering. “I just…after last night…I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I thought…”
“You thought what?” I encourage when she stops talking. I’m dying to know what she was going to say.
“I thought you...” She presses her lips together and shakes her head again. Closes her eyes for the briefest moment before she pops them open. She’s struggling with something and I wish I knew what. “Never mind.”
I step close. Closer. And she doesn’t back up. I’m invading her space, I can smell her, feel the heat radiate off her body and mine reacts. My skin tightens and I break out in a sweat. I take her hand and entwine my fingers with hers, notice that they’re trembling. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even seem to be breathing and I realize I’m holding my breath too.
Letting out a ragged exhale, I wonder what the hell is happening between us. The air is charged, heavy with unspoken declarations. I shouldn’t push her. She’s innocent. Sweet and virginal and sheltered. But I want to know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. I can only hope it’s about me. “Say it,” I murmur, needing to hear her confession.
It won’t mean anything though, what she’s going to say. It can’t. Not really. We’re the last two people who should be interested in each other.
“I like you. And I thought you liked me.” The words come out in a rush and she closes her eyes again, her expression pained. “Stupid right?”
My heart speeds up as relief floods me. She likes me. “Not stupid,” I murmur, dipping my head, my lips so close to hers that I…
Go for it.
And I kiss her.
It’s light. A kiss but not a kiss at all because I barely feel her lips. But I know from that one singular moment when my lips touched hers that they are soft. And warm.
And perfect.
A shaky breath escapes her, I feel it waft across my face and her eyes crack open when I withdraw from her. She’s staring at me with a horrified expression. Looking scared out of her ever-loving mind. Not the look I want a girl to wear after I kiss her for the first time.
She touches her mouth with her free hand, her fingers shaking when they brush against her lips. Without a word she releases her grip on my hand, turns around.
And runs.
Dear Diary,
(July 4th, 11:32 p.m.) I did the dumbest thing ever. EVER. I got jealous when I saw Nick standing there talking to Mom’s assistant. That girl doesn’t like me. Heather. The minute she saw me approach, she got all friendly like with Nick. Then Michael.
And I got jealous. Not over Michael but over Nick.
He belongs to me.
I was mad. Feeling dumb. Feeling like a little girl who doesn’t know how to keep a guy’s interest, which is sort of true. I wanted to leave so I did but Nick chased after me.
Again.
I let him catch me. I let him talk to me, take my hand and connect us. He…
Oh my God, I can barely type this. When I look back at this diary years from now I know I’m going to want to slap myself for what I did but here it goes:
*deep breath*
He kissed me. My first kiss. Ever in my life from the one boy I wanted it to be from. It was nothing and everything all at once. A mere touch of his lips upon mine. They were firm and soft. How can lips be firm AND soft? His are. I told him that I liked him (ack). That I thought he liked me (I still can’t believe I said that) and then he kissed me.
How I wish I could relive that moment and do things differently. I should’ve touched him. His face. His hair. I should’ve grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him to me but I’m not brave enough. What if I did something wrong? What if that kiss had somehow been an…accident?
I want to roll my eyes at myself. How can a kiss be an accident? I’m looking for any excuse to tell myself I’m not worthy. I might’ve proved myself unworthy because of what I did next though.
I ran away. Like a complete idiot I RAN. AWAY. How can I ever face him again? Will he even want to look at me again? I don’t know. Did I blow it? Does he hate me? Is he over this before it ever really begins?
I hope not. I hope I didn’t ruin my chance though it feels like I did. He didn’t chase after me again. Didn’t call my name. He just let me go and maybe that’s a sign that he’s not really interested after all.
That hurts.
You know what I like though? I like how he always calls me Reverie. Not Rev. Everyone calls me Rev, even my family.
Not Nick. He calls me Reverie. And I love it.
I want to be his Reverie. All his.
Guilt: a feeling of remorse for some offense, crime, or wrong
July 5th, early morning
I dreamed. Of brimstone and hellfire. Of Reverend Hale standing behind a pulpit, pounding his fist so hard the wood shook and I was afraid it would splinter into tiny pieces with the force of his blows.
He was yelling at me. Screaming at me. His face red, his voice booming as he threatened me for touching his daughter. He grew and I shrunk. Until it felt like he was ten feet tall and I was about five years old.
You’re vagrant filthy scum! Keep your disgusting hands off my daughter!
Those words—or a variation of them—were slung at me again and again. Until I was nodding in agreement, until I promised him I wouldn’t touch her. I wouldn’t so much as look at her.
I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart racing, my phone lit up as a text message comes in. It’s two in the damn morning. Who the hell would text me?
Grabbing my phone, I check it.
Krista. Of course.
Get your fine ass over her and lick my snatch. I miss your tongue.
I grimace. Gross. She really thinks that’s going to work on me? She must be drunk. I don’t even bother replying. Within sixty seconds she’s texting me again.
Nick!!!! I need you!!!
Groaning, I flop back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I’m straddling two worlds. The one here, in my shitty little apartment with a master bedroom that is still filled with all of Mom’s stuff and dealing with my sex-crazed ex-girlfriend, and there, at Hale House, where I pretend to be an upstanding citizen, do my job and secretly lust after a freaking reverend’s daughter.
Straddling two lines while I lie directly in the middle, bad on one side and bad on the other. I don’t know which side is worse. They’re both equally crap.
My phone dings again and I give it a quick glance.
I nEeD yOuR bIg DiCk NiCk NoW!
Christ. How long did it take her drunk ass to type that nonsense?
Stop texting me, I reply quickly, my fingers flying as if I can hardly stand to text her, which is sort of true. Just reading what she wrote makes me feel…dirty. Stupid considering I’m just as low as Krista. I probably whispered similar words in her ear when we first got together. The both of us were young, experimenting, getting down and dirty, believing that’s what sex is all about.
Not that there’s anything wrong with getting down and dirty but damn. We were kids. And she was whoring herself out to every guy available when I thought she was my girlfriend. She even fucked my best friend.
And then my best friend fucked me over.
I don’t want to stop texting you. I want you. Why can’t I have you?
Because I don’t want you.
I know how to suck your dick real good. Don’t deny it.
Maybe I don’t want my dick sucked by you.
Why? You got somebody else?
Maybe I do.
I wish I did.
No one knows you like I do. NO ONE.
She’s not too far off the mark. And that’s what scares me the most. What if Krista’s right? What if no one else knows me like her? What if she’s the only one in this world who truly understands me?
A scary thought.
Krista’s words feel menacing. Like a threat. I don’t like it.
Leave me alone, I type just before I drop the damn phone by my side. Screw this. I don’t need to have a text battle with Krista tonight. With my luck she’d show up on my doorstep and kick the door in. She’d probably do it naked too, she’s that crazy.