His Reverie

by Monica Murphy

  I’m going somewhere though. I need to. Not sure where but I don’t want to stay here anymore. I need a fresh start.

  I need a new life.

  The Hales have designated parking for employees and I walk along the graveled driveway toward the small lot. My car and Michael’s is still there, along with a few others, including Heather’s. She just graduated high school and she works inside the house, as assistant to Mrs. Hale’s assistant, which we all think is hilarious. Michael loves to give her grief for being the assistant to the assistant.

  I think Michael is hot for Heather and I can’t blame him. She’s all long limbs and straight dark hair with exotic features. She feeds him snippets of information about the Hales, specifically Valerie Hale. What Heather sees in Michael I don’t know but those two are always flirting. She’s way out of his league.

  Just like Reverie Hale is out of mine.

  I’m about to turn into the lot when I hear a noise come from the other side of the driveway. Turning, I catch a flash of red, then blonde. My entire body goes still as I watch someone run into the thick pine trees that line that side of the property.

  It’s Reverie.

  Without thought I take off, hoping to catch up with her. The sun is low, casting beams of saturated gold light through the thick pine trees and if I look toward my left, I’m blinded. There are so many trails here I don’t know which one she took and so I head down the middle one that goes straight through the trees.

  She’s fast. I don’t see her anywhere and I run for a while then stop, looking all around me. I try to calm my breathing, my racing heart. I’m worried that I can’t find her. My gut tells me she’s upset and I want to know why.

  I want to be the one who reassures her.

  A breeze rustles through the pines, the branches swaying to and fro and I glance to my right. I see her, her long hair trailing behind her as she jogs through the trees. I follow her, thankful I can keep her in sight, slowing down when I see she is as well. The trees give way to an open spot and I watch as she drops to the ground, disappearing from view.

  Holy shit. Did she faint? Hurt herself? I increase my pace, coming to a stop at the edge of the clearing to find her sitting on a fallen log, her body bent forward, her forehead pressed against her knees. She’s covering her face with her hands and her shoulders are gently shaking.

  She’s crying. Should I stay? Ask her if she’s all right? I should probably go. I don’t know her, not really, and I’m clearly infringing on a private moment.

  Backing up, I start to turn and leave but I step on a branch, the crack loud in the otherwise quiet forest. I pause, my back to her as I close my eyes and hang my head. I’m caught and I know it.

  “Go away,” she says with a sniff.

  I slowly turn to face her and her eyes widen when she spots me. Who did she think I really was? “Are you okay?”

  She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, another loud sniff escaping her. Her nose is red, her eyes are glittering with unshed tears. She looks…beautiful despite the pain emanating from her. “I’m fine. I just…I want some privacy please.”

  Always polite, even when she should tell me to get the hell away from her. “I don’t feel right leaving you out here all alone.”

  Reverie drops her hands into her lap and makes an exasperated noise. “I’m out here alone all the time. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Are you sure?” I don’t want to leave her. She looks so sad, so lost.

  “Fine. You want to stay? Stay. I don’t care.” She throws her hands up, then flicks her hair over her shoulder. I’m staring at her, I can’t help it because she’s wearing this red strapless dress that exposes all sorts of skin and she looks….

  Freaking amazing.

  “You hate it too, huh?” She stands and gestures at the dress. “Do I look trashy? Like a prostitute? That’s what my mom said. She told me I couldn’t come to her stupid party looking like this. She said I looked like…like…”

  I stand there, scared out of my mind as a sob escapes her and she slaps her hand over her mouth, trying to stop it. But there’s no use. She’s full on ugly crying now as she reaches for the hem of her skirt with both hands and starts to yank it up. “I hate her,” she cries. “I just wanted to look pretty for once and she never lets me. I want to burn this stupid dress. Burn it!”

  There’s a flash of slender thighs and then—holy God—the palest pink panties I’ve ever seen. I lunge toward her, my hands batting her skirt down, holding hers to keep them from lifting her skirt again and she glares up at me, her tear-stained face making my heart ache as I stare at her. “Calm down,” I murmur as I grip her trembling hands. “It’s okay.”

  “Oh no,” she whispers, her face crumpling again. “Y-you must think I’m s-so dumb.”

  Crying girls. I just…I don’t know how to deal with them. Yeah, I had a girlfriend before jail but nothing serious. That’s how I look at my life. Before jail and after jail.

  I hate it.

  “You’re not dumb,” I say, keeping my voice soft so I don’t scare her. She’s shaking and I pull her toward me, wishing I could console her. “I just think you’re really upset.”

  Reverie dips her head, her hair falling forward, concealing her from me. Her hands are small, her fingers slender as they curl around mine. Warmth spreads through my body at her touch, at her nearness. We’re standing toe to toe and her chest is so close to mine we’re almost touching. “You should probably go back home,” I suggest, knowing it’s the right thing to say, though it’s the last thing I want.

  She shakes her head, her fingers tightly gripping my hands. “I don’t want to go home,” she whispers. “I don’t want to go to that stupid party. She said I couldn’t if I wore the dress. We got in a huge fight and Daddy yelled at me for making my mom mad. They think I’m still locked up in my room pouting.”

  Her words put all sorts of crazy ideas in my head. Ideas I have no business suggesting. “They won’t worry about you?”

  “They don’t even know I’m gone.” She lifts her head, her damp eyes meeting mine. Her nose is red and so are her cheeks. She’s beautiful despite the lingering sadness that clings to her.

  I want to be the one who wipes it away and helps her forget.

  “So. You want to get out of here then?” I ask, my voice hoarse. What am I doing? I should take her back home. Deposit her in front of her house where she’ll be safe with her mommy and daddy and then I can drive away with my dirty thoughts. I shouldn’t even be touching her right now. This girl screams off limits.

  I wonder if that's what makes me want her more.

  Her eyes light up. “With you?”

  I nod quietly. Worried I’ll ruin the moment by saying something stupid. I’ve never been great with words. And I won’t lie. Reverie Hale intimidates the hell out of me.

  A tremulous smile curves her lips and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. “Yes, please.”

  Rebel: to resist or rise against authority, control or tradition.

  July 3rd, later that night

  Reverie Hale is sitting in the passenger seat of my car and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with her. How I’m supposed to act. This is crazy, what I’m doing. Her parents could accuse me of kidnapping their daughter and they’d probably be right. I could get tossed right back in jail for taking Reverie away from her house.

  But here I am, turning onto the highway and heading toward town.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask, keeping my voice nonchalant. I don’t want her to know I’m nervous.

  “The beach maybe?”

  I glance at her and catch her watching me. Her long hair covers most of her chest and the red skirt of her dress hits high, stopping about mid-thigh. I remember seeing all of her thighs. Her panties. My breath comes a little shallower at the memory and my skin tightens.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  “Yes. Um. Sort of.” When I look at her again she shrugs. “Probably not,” she say
s weakly.

  If she’s saying that sort of thing because she thinks I don’t like it when girls eat, she’s wrong. “I’m starving,” I say pointedly. “We could go to the shit shack if you want.”

  Her brows rise so far they look like they’re gonna disappear in her hairline. “The what?”

  I grimace, feeling like an idiot. “Sorry.” I shouldn’t have said that in front of her. That’s what we used to call the burger place at the public beach when I was younger. I bet they still call it that. Not that I have any friends to hang out with anymore. “The Snack Shack, down by the pier.”

  “I’ve never been there,” she admits, then glances away from me so she can stare out the passenger side window.

  I’m surprised. I know she doesn’t live here year round but most everyone who comes around for the summer has been to the shit shack at least once in their lives. “You like hamburgers?”

  She turns to look at me once more. “Maybe?”

  I hate how unsure she looks. And sad. I want to cheer her up. Make her forget why she’s so upset in the first place. “They have good ones. But their fries are killer.” I wince the moment the word falls out of my mouth. Killer. If she knew what I’d been accused of, she’d run back to her house screaming. I shouldn’t even joke around and use a word like that. At one point, most everyone thought I was a killer.

  “Killer as in good or killer as in bad?” she asks.

  “Good,” I say, pushing my grim thoughts out of my head. “Really good.”

  “I am a little hungry,” she admits and I smile at her.

  “Then I’m taking you to the Snack Shack.”

  We’re pretty quiet as we pull into the pier parking lot, not too far from the restaurant. The place is packed. There are a lot of people waiting outside and there’s a line at the take out window. I put the car in park and cut the engine, reaching for the door handle when her voice stops me.

  “Can I just…wait here? In your car?”

  I let go of the handle. Dread makes my movements slow as I turn toward her, my gaze meeting hers. “You want to go home?”

  “No!” She shakes her head, her eyes wide. The skin around them is still pink and puffy. It’s pretty obvious she’s been crying a lot. “That’s the last thing I want to do. It’s just…I look terrible.”

  “You don’t look that bad,” I say, wanting to reassure her.

  “Please.” She rolls her eyes and I appreciate the show of sass. “My head hurts. And my eyes sting from all the crying, which is so stupid.” She whispers the last word, her frustration clear. “I just…I don’t want people to see me like this. And in this dress.” She tugs at the skirt, her fingers pinching the fabric tight before letting it go.

  “What’s wrong with the dress?” The color looks good against her golden skin and blonde hair. Really, good doesn’t even cut it. She looks fucking amazing.

  “It’s too short. Too sexy. My mom says—”

  “Forget what your mom says,” I say, cutting her off.

  Her eyes go even wider. “But…”

  “Do you like it?”

  She bends her head down, her wavy hair falling across her face and obscuring her from view. I wish I could reach out and tuck all that pretty hair behind her ear but I keep myself in check. She seems too fragile right now and I don’t want to push my luck. “Yes. I bought it when I went shopping for her birthday present. My brother encouraged me but he’s always looking for a way to rebel against our parents.” She lifts her head, panic written all over her face. “Oh no. I never gave my mom her gift.”

  “You can give it to her later.” I give in to my urges and reach out, tuck a few strands of silky soft hair behind her ear, my finger tracing the gentle curve before my hand drops away. I don’t dare touch her anywhere else. Once I start I might not be able to stop. “I can go stand in line and order at the pickup window.”

  A shuddery breath escapes her. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Yeah. Sure. We can eat in the car. Or if you’re feeling more comfortable by the time I’ve got the food, we could eat at one of the tables over there.” I gesture toward the group of picnic tables that are in the back of the tiny restaurant, facing the ocean. A few of them are occupied.

  She glances down, presses her lips together, as if she was trying to suppress a smile. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  Her words are like a victory.

  And I feel like I just won the grand prize.

  I order our food to go and the chick behind the counter flirts with me as she bags it up. She has no idea I have the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met sitting in my car, waiting for me. I can hardly believe it.

  “Hot date?” she asks as she hands over the bag of burgers and fries. I already took Reverie’s drink to her and she accepted it gratefully, taking a big sip of her Sprite, those pretty lips pursed tight around the straw.

  She’s so good she doesn’t even drink caffeine. Realizing that reminds me yet again I could never measure up.

  I take the bag from the cashier, not wanting to encourage her. “Yeah.”

  “Does she know she’s a lucky girl?” She flashes me a smile, obviously flirting with me despite my saying I’m on a date. Which I guess I am. Sort of.

  I don’t know what to call what I’m doing with Reverie Hale but I don’t want to question it.

  Saying nothing, I turn and leave, knowing I probably pissed her off but not really caring. I stride toward my car, notice that the picnic tables are fast filling up, mostly with families coming off the ocean after a day in the sun and sand. I go and knock on the passenger side window. Reverie rolls the window down, smiling at me.

  “Dinner?” She nods toward the bag.

  “Yeah.” I hold it up. “So have you decided?”

  She frowns. “Decided what?”

  “Car or picnic table? Your choice,” I offer, tilting my head toward the tables, indicating my preference without saying a word. The weather has cooled down and there’s the usual breeze coming off the ocean. It’s a beautiful night and I want her to forget all her troubles and enjoy it.

  “Oh.” She chews on her lower lip with her teeth, dropping her gaze so she can study her lap. I try my best to be patient, but my stomach is growling and I’m hopping from one foot to the other like I’m eight and ready to run.

  “If you’d prefer sitting in the car—”

  “No.” Reverie cuts me off, her gaze meeting mine, direct and sure. “Let’s go sit outside at one of the tables,” she says, her voice firm.

  “Let’s do it,” I agree, opening her door.

  She steps out, my drink and hers gripped in her hands as she walks by me with a small smile. I slam the door behind her and lock the car, then follow her as she makes her way to the tables. Her scent trails after her, bathing me in her sugary sweet fragrance and I inhale as discreetly as I can so I don’t look like some sort of crazed junkie.

  But I am. A junkie. Addicted to Reverie.

  “It’s so nice out here,” she says as she settles at a table, setting both drinks on top.

  “It is. Really cooled down since it was so hot earlier.” I slide onto the bench seat across from her and open the bag, the scent of the freshly cooked food making my stomach growl. Loud.

  Reverie stifles a laugh behind her hand before she asks, “Hungry?”

  “Hell yeah,” I say as I hand over her burger and fries.

  She blushes. Again. She is definitely not used to bad language. I really need to learn how to control my mouth around her. “Smells good,” she murmurs as she unwraps her burger.

  “Tastes even better.” I glance up to see her cheeks look like they’re on fire so I decide to leave her alone and attack my burger instead.

  We’re quiet for a while as we eat, which allows me to check her out more closely. She’s devouring that sloppy burger and pile of fries like they’re the best meal she’s ever had. I wonder what sort of food they eat at the Hale house. Probably healthy food, no junk allowed. Definitely no greasy burger
s and fries from the Shit Shack. Her dad—and especially her stick-up-her-butt mom—would probably have a heart attack if they saw their precious little girl right now. Eating fast food all alone with the summer hire that just got out of jail a few months ago.

  I didn’t commit the crime but they wouldn’t care. They’d hear the word jail and their daughter in the same sentence and my ass would be out the door. No one can know about us spending time together.

  Nobody.

  “I like it here,” she says, her soft voice breaking through my thoughts. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “You’re welcome.” I take a sip of my drink. “You don’t come to the ocean much?”

  “Not really.” She shrugs.

  “Why? You’re so close. Like ten minutes away.” I grew up here and I still love coming to the beach, especially in the summer when the weather is perfect and the girls in bikinis are out in force.

  “I don’t know. I don’t leave the house much when we’re here. Everything I want is there, you know?”

  I didn’t know. I would go stir crazy if I had to stay at that house for days and days on end with no escape. It’s weird. Almost like she’s Rapunzel or whichever princess I’m thinking of, trapped in her castle.

  “You should come to the ocean more often,” I suggest.

  “Maybe you should bring me here more often.” Her eyes light up with hope.

  “Your parents would probably freak out.”

  “They would never have to know,” she says, her voice soft and suggestive.

  Shit. They would know. Parents always find out, especially diligent ones like hers. From everything I’ve seen and heard, it’s like they keep her under lock and key.

  I decide to change the subject. I can’t confront this right now. “You feel better?” I see her burger is almost gone and there are only a few fries left. “You’re not upset anymore, are you?”