Two months later, I’m accused of a crime I didn’t commit. By my very best friend—the same guy she screwed around with that eventually led to our breakup. My life changed completely.
And she wasn’t there for me. She was before. She definitely was after. But during the hard stuff, when I struggled and I needed a friend to stand by my side? Nope. Krista disappeared.
She knocks again, rattling the cheap-ass door so bad I’m afraid she’s gonna punch a hole through it. I climb off the couch and go to answer it, wrenching the door open to find Krista standing on my doorstep, looking practically naked in a red string bikini top that barely covers her tits and the tiniest white shorts I’ve ever seen.
I immediately think of Reverie. What would she look like in an outfit like Krista’s? Fucking hot, is what.
“There you are.” She reaches out, plants her hand in the center of my chest and shoves me as she walks inside, slamming the door behind her. “You’re looking good, Fairfield. Where ya been?”
“Krista. Wassup.” I grab hold of her bare upper arms, telling myself I need to stay immune to her charms. Because she’s got them. The girl is sexy and she knows it. All that wavy brown hair, the pretty, sometimes overly made-up face and the tempting curves. She is stacked. And her ass is pretty damn tight.
She’s fucked a lot of the guys at school, including David. That was the reason I dumped her. I can’t be with a girl who’d screw around with my best friend behind my back.
But I’d been weak and horny when I got out of jail and she knew it. We’d fooled around in the backseat of her Dad’s beat up old car and I’d immediately regretted it after. Then I got wrapped up in Mom’s illness. Wrapped up in the shit that became my new life. Death and sadness and wondering how I was going to survive.
Getting lost with Krista… was a way to forget. At least for a little while.
“I’ve missed you. Haven’t seen you around much the last few days.” She somehow breaks free of my hold and steps in close to me, curling her arms around my neck, her hands in my hair.
“I got a new job. It’s keeping me busy.” I reach behind me, trying to disengage her hold on my neck but she presses even closer, her huge tits smashed against my chest. I can feel the heat of her skin through my T-shirt.
I know what she’s doing. And I hate to admit it but it’s working.
“Too busy for me?” she asks, blinking her heavily mascara-ed eyes at me. She tugs on my hair, pulling my face close to hers. “You don’t want me anymore, Nick? Don’t bother lying. I can feel that you do.”
I close my eyes, trying to fight this. She’s persistent. Greedy. And so am I. I can’t help it. When you have nothing, you grasp at any pleasure you can find, no matter how fleeting. No matter how empty. “We can’t keep doing this,” I say as I rest my hands lightly on her hips. I mean to set her away but instead I pull her even closer. So close, not even a piece of paper could fit between us.
“Who says? I don’t have a boyfriend and you don’t have a girlfriend. I’m bored, Nick. Nothing’s the same anymore. None of our friends are around this summer and David’s still in jail. They didn’t let him out quick like they did you, since he lied and all. So let’s have some fun.” She drags her lips down my neck, her hand slipping from my hair to touch my chest. And lower.
I hate that she mentioned David but it doesn’t kill the sexual buzz running through me. Not with the way she’s boldly touching me. And I don’t want to think about David. How he wronged me. How he’s still in jail and I’m not.
So I keep my eyes closed and think of Reverie instead. I don’t deserve her. I’m not a good person. I’m letting some girl use me to get her kicks because I want to get off too. Reverie would never do that. I bet she’s never been touched. Never been kissed. I’m used up goods and she’s virginal perfection.
Tonight…this very moment, it almost feels like I’m being unfaithful to Reverie, being with Krista. I can’t believe I’m thinking like this but there it is. And I don’t know how to deal with it.
So I don’t.
We’re kissing now. Or at least Krista is trying to kiss me and I keep avoiding her lips so she dives for my neck. We’re stripping off each other’s clothes, falling onto the couch, hands everywhere. I’m trying to lose myself like I’m so good at doing but all I can envision is Reverie.
Earlier today she was out by the pool, shooting me shy glances whenever she thought I wasn’t looking. But I’ve become quite adept at looking at her all the time, as slyly as possible. She passed by me and I called her Daydream, making her smile and blush. That smile made my heart swell, the scent of her made something else want to swell and I could hardly contain myself.
It seemed she felt the same way because she tripped somehow and nearly fell into the pool but I rescued her. Slipped my arm right around her tiny waist, making her breath hitch when I tugged her close to prevent her from falling right into the water. I held her to me for one too-long second, savoring the feel of her nestled close to me.
She was a perfect fit. And it was a struggle to let her go.
Krista is tugging on my T-shirt and I pull away so she can yank it off me. I’m like a robot, going through the motions, intent on finding my satisfaction. Drowning out the sounds of Krista moaning against my neck, how she seems to get her lessons from porn stars in how she should act when she’s having sex.
All the while I can imagine Reverie’s disappointment if she knew what I was doing. How much I’d rather be doing it with Reverie.
“Come on, Nicky. Act like you want it at least,” Krista mutters, her fingers curling around my dick and giving it an almost too firm squeeze.
Leaning back, I study Krista, the way she’s rubbing against me like a cat in heat, her lids lowered, her lips pursed. Deciding the hell with it, I grab hold of her hand and drag her back to my bedroom where I can close the door, shut off the lights and pretend I’m with someone else.
Someone else I absolutely one hundred percent do not deserve.
Feeling like this is ridiculous. Pointless. I mean nothing to that girl. She might flirt with me, smile at me but it’s meaningless for her. I’m not the type of guy she’d ever be involved with. If she knew what I’ve done, what I’ve been accused of, she would freak out. She should freak out. I have secrets I can never tell her. She wouldn’t understand.
I know it.
Dear Diary,
(June 30th, 10:43 p.m.) I spied on Nick today. I know, I know, I feel silly for even writing it, but I want to remember every detail of what I saw. He’s so incredibly good looking. I know I shouldn't care. It’s about the integrity of a person that counts. Not how someone looks on the outside, but who they are on the inside.
I believe Nicholas Fairfield (I love his name!) is a beautiful person both inside and out.
How do I know this you ask? Because I watched him, first from my secret spot in the living room, in Daddy’s old chair that sits close to the window. The back of the chair is so high I can peek around it and see the backyard without anyone noticing me.
Nick definitely didn’t notice me. He was outside working around the pool. Taking the net and picking out every single leaf and bug floating at the top of the water, his dark brows wrinkled in concentration, his mouth scrunched. His mouth…I think about his mouth all the time. I have an unhealthy fixation on it. I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like on mine.
Anyway. He was wearing khaki shorts that hit him just above his knees and a plain white polo shirt that was wrinkled. No little navy blue jockey on his chest, like what Evan wears and the rest of his friends. Only my brother can get away with being so completely materialistic while Mom insists I shop at Old Navy or Target or Walmart and nowhere else. She wears brand name stuff too, which makes me so incredibly mad. It’s unfair. I don’t know why they treat me this way. Why I can’t have the same privileges everyone else has.
Sigh. I need to stay on topic. So I spied on Nick cleaning the pool, my eyes constantly dropping to his legs. He has r
eally nice ones. They’re kind of hairy but not in a gross way. No, more in a, I wish I knew what they felt like when they rub against mine sort of way.
(Oh my God if my parents ever threaten to search my room again like they used to all the time when I was fourteen and boy crazy, I must burn this book forever!)
Michael was with him and I know he likes to joke a lot. I couldn't hear what they were saying but Nick smiled and laughed. And shook his head constantly, which I totally get because Michael can say crazy stuff. I’ve heard him before. Anyway.
Nick’s smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. He has nice teeth. And cheekbones. And jaw. I don’t think he shaved this morning. The sunlight would hit him just right and would highlight the golden stubble on his jaw and chin. Every time I thought about his stubble-covered cheek against mine a shiver went through me…
I have it so bad. This crush on him is...crazy. After about an hour of me playing spy, I finally worked up the nerve to go outside in my swimsuit cover-up with plans to take it off and lay on one of the lounge chairs, but I chickened out at the last minute. I skipped right by them like I was five years old, my sandal catching on a lone piece of bark on the concrete and I nearly went sprawling. Like, almost into the pool.
But Nick caught me. His strong fingers curled around my waist, stopping me from falling into the water. I was pressed against him and my skin sizzled where our bodies connected. I felt my face go hot with embarrassment. Then he said to me, his voice all low and deep,
“Better watch it, Daydream.”
I wanted to swoon. Seriously, just fall into a heap on the ground and hope like crazy he’d pick me up again. When he calls me Daydream, I just melt a little inside. It’s the way he looks at me too. As if he likes me. As if he thinks I’m pretty and not some idiot girl who trips over her own feet and can’t even manage to take off her cover-up to show off her boring, ugly, black one-piece swimsuit. The only suit her parents will let her wear.
I couldn't say anything back to him. Not really. Michael was watching us with this amused look on his face. Nick slowly let go of me, his fingers sliding against my skin in an almost caress. I rocked on my feet when he did that, a little shaky breath escaping me.
Then I said thanks and practically ran away from him. I worked up the nerve to look over my shoulder real quick to see if he was still watching me.
And he was.
I wanted to die.
Instead I jumped up and down in victory once I got out of his sight behind the house, punching the air with my fist. Mama caught me, the frown on her face marring her Botoxed forehead as she asked what in the world was wrong with me, direct quote.
She took all the wind out of my sails. She has a way of doing that so easily. I feel like sometimes she doesn’t like me much and I don’t know why. What did I ever do to her? I always follow the rules. I’m a good girl. I’m downright boring, just like they want me to be.
But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.
I want to be enough for someone. For Nick. Nicholas Fairfield. I want to be more than enough because I think he could be enough for me.
I know he could.
So there it is. On June 30th, somewhere around 10 a.m. on the most perfect summer morning ever, Nick Fairfield touched me. Smiled at me. Called me Daydream.
I want to remember this moment forever.
Faith: confidence and trust in a person or thing.
July 3rd
I’m tired and the blowout for the Fourth hasn’t even happened yet. Well, the big one. Tonight is a small party for just the family and a few close friends, which in the Hales’ interpretation, that means about fifty people. It’s Mrs. Hale’s birthday. She’s turning forty so it’s kind of a big deal. I think she wants it to be a big deal but then again…
She doesn’t like it. It upsets her. Makes her feel old.
I only know this because Michael told me. He’s confessed a lot more to me lately. Crazy stuff that I find hard to believe sometimes but he says it so earnestly I kinda have to believe him. I mean…why would he make up shit like that?
And I like that he tells me so much even though I like to give him grief for the way he always talks. I feel like I actually have a friend again.
It’s nice.
He’s regaling me with his latest story at this very second as we’re moving the outdoor furniture around yet again. I swear Mrs. Hale makes us do it just to watch us lift stuff. I think she gets off on being difficult, but she’s not around right now. She’s still getting ready for her party.
I haven’t seen Reverie at all today. I remember how a few days ago she’d walked by the pool, almost tripped and fell in but I saved her. I remember the sensation of her soft skin under my palm nearly doing me in.
I had to act like it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But she does. I don’t even know her so it’s crazy that I react to her this way.
That was the same day Krista and I did it. Haven’t seen her since either. I kicked her out the minute we finished, which made her mad. I really didn’t care. I was already mad at myself for letting it happen again.
I didn’t see Reverie at all today and I missed her. Missed seeing her smiling face, hearing her voice, catching a glimpse of that sweet as hell body. Though I shouldn’t miss her because she’s not for me. I need to remember my place. And it’s not with Reverie.
Not even close.
“So yeah,” Michael says, warming up with his new story. “It’s Labor Day and that’s when the Hales have their big end of summer party and we’re invited as guests instead of employees, you know? The sun is out, not a cloud in the sky and I’m swimming. We’re all having fun. There’s a barbecue going and the food smells amazing. I’m sneaking in some booze in a flask someone else brought to the party so I’m feeling good. I’m buzzin’.”
“Yeah?” I urge when he stops. He likes it when I encourage him to keep talking. Plus, I can tell this story is gonna be a good one. His talking helps make the time go by fast.
“Uh huh. So I climb out of the pool and I’m dripping water everywhere. I grab my towel off a lounge chair that’s in the farthest corner, right next to the pool room, you know where I’m talking about? Anyway, I’m over there, drying myself off when I feel someone touch my lower back, then fingers curl around the waistband of my trunks and those fingers are practically touching my ass.” His voice lowers and I lean into him, waiting for the big reveal. “I thought it was Brenda, this hot chick who worked here last summer, but it wasn’t. Dude, I was shocked as hell when I turned around ” Michael pauses again, his eyes going wide. He loves the dramatic effect. He’s damn good at it too. “It was Valerie.”
I frown. “Who?”
Michael thumps me on the chest, making me stumble backwards. Asshole. “Valerie Hale, dumbass! The reverend’s wife.” He shakes his head. “She ran her nails up and down my back and said I’d filled out over the summer. I mean what the eff? I about leaped out of my skin when she did that. Ran away like a scared little boy with my dick shriveling up faster than you can say cougar on the prowl.”
“Are you saying she hit on you?”
“No, I’m saying she gave me a simple back scratch.” Michael rolls his eyes. “Yes, she was hitting on me! I couldn’t freaking believe it, dude.”
I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen Valerie Hale in action, buzzing around the house and grounds, clapping her hands at us while she yells commands like we’re all her servants. It’s annoying as hell. “Did she ever try and touch you again?”
“Naw, dude. It was my last day of work for the season. I was gone the next day.”
“I’m talking about now. Since you’ve come back this summer,” I say, curious. I keep glancing toward the back of the house. The windows are huge, all of them uncovered and they run the full length of the living and dining room. I saw Mrs. Hale pass by a few times earlier and I want to make sure she doesn’t catch us standing around.
Gossiping about her.
“No, sh
e hasn’t tried anything weird.” Michael smirks. “Caught her checking you out once though.”
Gross. She’s older than Mom. “No way,” I mutter as I lean over and grab the end of a wooden lounge chair. I start dragging it over to the others, not caring that I’m scraping the wood up on the concrete. I’m sick and freaking tired of moving furniture. It’s pointless. She’s just going to make us move it again anyway.
“Dude, let me help you.” Michael runs over to grab the other end of the lounger and helps me heft it over to where Mrs. Hale wants all of them clustered together. “You’re not into cougars, huh?”
“Hell no.” I rest my hands on my hips and glance around, making sure we’ve rearranged everything she asked us to. I want to change the subject. I don’t like the idea of Reverie’s mom hitting on me or whatever. “Don’t tell me we have to stay for the party.”
“Nah. Tomorrow though, we have to. We’re working it till the bitter end so it’s gonna be a long day. No independence for us.” Michael laughs and scratches the back of his head then flicks his chin at me. “You can go. See you tomorrow at eight? Bright and early?”
“Yeah. See ya.” I wave and wander off toward my car. Mom’s car. I want to get rid of it. I’d rather have a truck. Once I get a few more paychecks in my bank account, I think I could sell or trade in Mom’s and buy me a little used truck. Something I can throw all my crap in and use to get the hell out of here at the end of summer. Unless I decide to take some courses at the local community college, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.
His Reverie Page 4
