His Reverie

by Monica Murphy

  Not what I need.

  I think of what I really need. What I want. Who I want.

  Reverie.

  I still can’t believe I kissed her. It wasn’t much of a kiss. More like an accidental brush of lips though it was no accident. She’d looked so upset and I wanted to reassure her. A totally impulsive move.

  And then she bailed on me. Didn’t say a word, she just ran.

  Weird. Her leaving made me feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t have touched her at all. She came out there to see me. I know she did. But she didn’t like how Heather talked to her, followed me. This entire night went down in flames and there’s no one to blame for it but me.

  You’ll miss me you fucking douche. And when you come back begging for a taste of my body and I tell you no? You’ll cry like the big baby you really are. FUCK YOU ASSHOLE.

  Great. Krista’s pissed at me. Maybe she’ll stop harassing me once and for all.

  A guy can wish.

  Frustrated: disappointed, dissatisfied

  July 8th

  I’ve worked my ass off the last four days straight with no time off. I get two days off starting tomorrow and I’m freaking exhausted. Every night since the Fourth, I get home late, scarf down whatever fast food I picked up on the drive home and then collapse into bed. Sleep like the dead until I have to wake up and start all over again.

  On a few of those nights though, I dreamed. Of Reverie. Of taking that little kiss between us further. Of touching her, slipping my fingers into her hair to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Pulling her closer until her sweet curves mold to my body and she wraps her arms around my neck, moaning against my lips as I take the kiss deeper…

  Yeah. Dreams. Definitely not my reality.

  Last night Michael came over with a twelve pack of beer and we polished it off quick. Too quick. I’m not usually a big drinker. Alcohol causes nothing but trouble. Considering that Reverie’s been ignoring me since the Fourth of July, I’ve been frustrated.

  So I drowned my sorrows in beer.

  Unfortunately, Michael met Krista. She can’t stay away, even though she’s still pissed at me. Within five minutes of us arriving she was knocking on the door, as if she could scent new meat. The dirty looks she shot me when I opened the door didn’t stop her from pushing her way inside like she owned the place, her eyes alighting on Michael as if she just discovered a pot of gold at the end of some sparkly rainbow.

  She flirted with me, she flirted with Michael and then after about ten minutes of that bullshit, I grabbed her arm and escorted her pretty little ass right on out of there. Krista whined and complained, Michael even shooting me a look that said let her stay but I ignored him. Ignored her too as I shoved her right on out of the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

  “She’s trouble,” I told him when he expressed interest. “Trust me. You don’t want to get tangled up in that mess.”

  He left it alone and so did I. We drank. And drank. Michael moaned and groaned over Heather and I let him. She’d been all into him after the fireworks show. They’d made out in his truck and she’d even given him a hand job. The dude had been ecstatic, talking about her nonstop the day after she jerked him. How this was going to be the best summer ever because for once, he nabbed a girl early in the season.

  His words, not mine.

  Two days off and she shows up yesterday acting like he didn’t exist. Heather had barely looked at him, let alone spoken to him. I felt his pain, not that I’d told him. No way I could let him know how far gone I was over Reverie. How I barely kissed her and she ran like I shoved my hand in her panties.

  We were good and drunk within an hour. I refused to let Michael drive home so he crashed out on my couch. We woke up hungover and grumpy as shit. I drove to work wincing against the sun, pissed that I lost my sunglasses somewhere at the Hales yesterday. And later that afternoon, when I realized it was my turn to clean out the horse stables, my grumpy mood went straight to quietly furious. Downright fucking hostile.

  Yeah. This week went from full of potential to absolute bullshit, just like that.

  Glancing around the stables, I let forth a growl, pissed that I gotta clean this mess. I whipped off my shirt just before I walked inside since I knew it was gonna be hotter than balls in here. I rest my hands on my hips, surveying the area, making mental notes of what I need to take care of.

  Mostly all of it since there’s chaos everywhere. Guests had come for the holiday and their kids loved to ride the horses every day. Lucky me.

  I’m shoveling horse shit within minutes, sweat dripping down my face and chest, the air so close and sticky I feel like I can hardly breathe. The old khaki shorts I pulled on this morning because everything else I own is in the laundry basket are slipping low on my hips. I forgot to put on my belt before I left for work and with one wrong move the shorts could fall to my feet in an instant. I’m constantly hitching them up which is driving me crazy.

  This entire day is driving me crazy. I just want it to be over and done with.

  After I finish cleaning out the manure, I replenish the hay and refill all the water buckets. I shuck my work gloves and even groom the damn horses, not that I mind that job. I like brushing their coats and murmuring soothing words to them in the hopes that I’ll gain their trust. It soothes me too and considering how riled up I’d been when I first got there, I’d needed to relax as much as they did.

  I even brought them carrots to chew on, trying to get on their good side because a couple of them are old and cranky. It works. Soon they’re all snorting and neighing at me, demanding my attention, and when one in particular leans over to snatch the carrot right out of my fingers that was not meant for him, I start laughing.

  It feels good to laugh. I’ve been tense for days. Frustrated. Hungover. Riled up.

  “He’s always been greedy.”

  I jump about a mile at the sound of Reverie’s lilting voice and turn to find her standing directly in front of me, wearing…God. She tries to kill me every single day with her wardrobe I swear. A sky blue T-shirt that stretches across her chest, the fabric so thin I can see the lace trim of her bra. Denim shorts again, these a little shorter and revealing her long, tanned legs, her feet encased in dark brown cowboy boots.

  She doesn’t even try to be sexy. She’s more on the modest side but every time I see her, she gets to me. Makes my entire body go on high alert. Just having her close sends a crackling energy between us, one I can’t control no matter what I do. It’s just…there. Like we have no choice but to either ignore it or deal with it.

  I prefer dealing with it though I know I should ignore it. I get the sense Reverie would rather deal with it too.

  “You like sneaking up on me don’t you?” I ask when I finally find my tongue.

  She slowly shakes her head, a little smile curling her dark pink lips. Damn, just seeing that smile sends a surge of want through me. The urge to grab her and give her a real kiss threatens to take over me. “I was coming out here to do exactly what you’re doing.”

  “Clean the stables?”

  Her smile grows. “Groom the horses.”

  “Ah.” Heaven forbid Princess Reverie gets her hands dirty. That was kind of a crappy thought but there it is. She is a princess. And I’m the lowly grunt who works for her daddy the king. “Well, I beat you to it.”

  “Yeah, you did. Looks like they like you too.”

  More than you like me, I want to say to her but don’t. Instead I don’t answer her at all and start putting everything away instead. The brush I used, the broom and the shovel and the buckets and all the miscellaneous cleaning supplies. I keep myself busy, not wanting to look at her, talk to her, get distracted by her. Don’t want to get my hopes up either because that’s the biggest waste of my time ever. I’m done chasing after Reverie.

  Maybe Krista’s right after all. Maybe no one else really does get me but her. Maybe Krista’s all I deserve.

  “Are you mad at me?” Reverie asks after almost five minutes
of stone cold silence on my end.

  I pause and hitch up my damn shorts again, noticing how her gaze drops to my hips then jerks back up to my face. I refuse to read anything into that. She’s not checking out my underwear or my naked chest or any of that. More like she’s scandalized that I’m wearing hardly any clothes. I’m probably freaking her out completely. “Why would I be mad at you?” My voice comes out colder than I mean it to and I clear my throat, feeling like a jerk.

  She clasps her hands together in front of her and sways to and fro like a little girl caught doing something bad and trying to sweet talk her way out of it. “I ran away from you the other night.”

  My heart leaps to my throat. Well, look at her just coming right out with it. I’m shocked. “Yeah, you did.” I decide to be just as straightforward as she is. “I get why though.”

  She blinks. “You do?”

  “Sure.” I shrug but don’t say anything else. What could I say? Sorry for pushing myself on you and giving you a two second kiss? That just sounds…ridiculous.

  Reverie starts walking toward me, making me nervous. This girl gets too close to me and I don’t know what I might do. “I don’t know why I did it,” she blurts, then presses her lips together.

  “Did what?” I frown and back away a step, wishing I had a towel or something to wipe away the sweat on my forehead. I must smell ripe. And I’m all dirty and shirtless and if anyone walked in on us right now, my job would be toast.

  “Why I ran away.” Another step toward me, close enough that I can smell her now. Sweet and innocent and so damn seductive I wish I could bury my nose in her hair or her neck and discover exactly where that delicious smell is coming from. “It was dumb.”

  “Dumb?” I’m not quite sure what we’re talking about. I’ve lost track. Just having her come closer and closer is sending me into the land of stupid. Zapping brain cells left and right with her pretty looks and determined glare.

  “I shouldn’t have run from you,” she admits softly as she bends her head, her hair falling forward to conceal her. Like she doesn’t want to face me.

  “Hey, if I did something I shouldn’t have done, I get it,” I say, trying to play this off. “Because that kiss…it wasn’t a big deal you know? It lasted what? Two seconds?”

  Reverie lifts her head, her eyes clashing with mine. “No big deal?”

  I shrug, nervousness filling me, making my stomach cramp. She looks mad again. “It was just a little kiss,” I offer weakly.

  “Just a little kiss.” She makes a face. “Why’d you do it then?”

  “Why did I kiss you?”

  “Yes, why?” She points a finger at me. “And don’t you dare say it’s because you felt sorry for me. That would be the absolute worst thing ever for you to say.”

  “That wasn’t the reason,” I say, my voice low. One of the horses gently neighs as if encouraging me to go on. “That wasn’t the reason at all.”

  “Then why?”

  I rest my hand on my hips, hating that we’re having this serious conversation in the middle of the stables, me wearing hardly anything and stinking to high heaven and her perfectly dressed, perfectly beautiful, just flat out…perfect. “You said you thought I liked you.”

  Her cheeks color the faintest pink and she nods. Doesn’t say a word.

  “You also said that you liked me,” I add.

  Now her cheeks blaze red. She nibbles her lower lip but still doesn’t say anything.

  “And you seemed sort of worked up over it.” When she parts her lips to surely offer a protest I cut her off. “So I wanted to show you that I…felt the same way.”

  She clamps her lips shut. Then parts them again, her tongue darting out for a quick lick.

  She is straight up killing me and doesn’t have a clue.

  “You feel the same way?” Her voice is the barest of whispers. “I-I don’t believe you.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who ran,” I point out. “Not me.”

  We don’t speak for what feels like an eternity but really is only two minutes tops. I hear the horses rustling around in their stalls, the buzz of an airplane flying overhead. A soft little sigh escapes Reverie and she tucks her hair behind her ear, running her fingers through the rest of it so it flips out behind her shoulder.

  I catalog every little thing about her. The tiny gold hoop in her ear, the thin gold chain bracelet around her right wrist and the ring on her middle finger. It’s a simple gold band with a single pearl in the center and tiny diamond chips flanking either side.

  This girl likes jewelry. Gold jewelry. Her clothing isn’t fussy. No crazy patterns or frills or lace beyond what I spy on her bra. She reeks of money and class, of a girl who could have everything she could ever want. While I’m a guy who struggles for every little thing, who can never, ever have what he wants.

  And right now, what I want is…

  Her.

  “You’re staring,” she whispers, startling me.

  I smile sheepishly. “Busted.”

  “Did you know that was my first?”

  “Your first what?” I’m frowning again. Damn this girl is making my head spin, how she keeps changing the conversation.

  “My um, first…” Her voice trails off and I watch her struggle. “My first kiss. From a boy.”

  I’m shocked. Then again, I’m not. From what I can figure, she’s lived a sheltered, protected life. She hasn’t done much. Lived much. She’s terribly shy but so achingly beautiful it hurts for me to watch her too long.

  And I’m the one responsible for her first kiss. A really crappy kiss too.

  “Really?”

  She nods but doesn’t answer.

  “Huh,” I finally mutter because I don’t know how else to respond.

  “You think I’m lame,” she says flatly.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not at all.” That is the last thing I think of when it comes to Reverie.

  “Pitiful then.” She throws her hands up in the air and whirls on her heel to start walking away from me. “Pitiful Reverie Hale, never been kissed, never gone on a date, never done anything but live vicariously through books and movies like some sort of big loser.”

  Speaking of big losers, I’m losing my chance with her here. Despite my earlier promise to myself, I’m chasing Reverie one more time, grabbing her by the crook of her elbow so I can spin her around to face me again. “You’re not a loser,” I tell her.

  She blinks up at me. “I’m not?”

  “No. I’m the loser.” I jerk my thumb at my chest. “I’m the one who gave you a crappy first kiss.”

  “It wasn’t crappy,” she murmurs.

  Well, what else does she have to compare it to? “I can do a lot better than that.” I sound way more confident than I feel but come on.

  I can absolutely do a lot better than that two second kiss.

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah. Definitely.” I’m crazy. Flat out losing my mind if I think I’m really going to get this girl to kiss me again. She should shove me as hard as she can and run. Or I should walk. This isn’t right, playing around with her. She’s a girl who deserves someone better than me. Some respectable kid her father approves of.

  Not me.

  “Okay then.” She pauses and my gaze meets hers. Watch as her gaze drops to my mouth and lingers there.

  “Okay what?” My blood heats at the way she’s looking at me, and my hands itch to grab her. Pull her to me and show her exactly what kind of kiss I can really give her.

  “Prove it.”

  Daring: adventurous courage; boldness

  July 8th

  Prove it.

  She’s practically daring me and I’m not one to back down from a dare. Provoking me while I’m all sweaty and dirty, still feeling a little irritable, the girl is flat out playing with fire.

  And I think she likes it.

  “Come here,” I tell her, my voice deceptively soft while inside, I feel anything but soft.

  Reverie takes those
last remaining steps toward me and I grab her hand, pulling her to me. She gasps when I maneuver her into the position I want her in. Her back is flat against the wall and I’m standing in front of her. We’re a short distance from the horses and they’re watching us, a built in audience for Reverie’s new first kiss.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asks shakily.

  “I’m going to give you a redo on that first kiss,” I say as I brace my hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. She inhales sharply and some of my bravado crumbles at that telltale sound. “I’m probably all sweaty,” I mutter, immediately wishing I never said that.

  “I-I don’t mind,” she admits quietly.

  Okay. This girl is just…fuck. What is she doing to me? “I should put my shirt on.” I don’t even remember where it is. Inside? Outside? I honestly don’t know.

  “Don’t.” She shakes her head, then tentatively reaches out to settle her hand on my shoulder. Her touch is electric, her nails grazing my skin and making me shiver. “You’re hot.”

  Hell yeah, and so is she but I think she’s meaning literally. “Keep that up and I’m going to get hotter.”

  “Oh.” A shuddery breath escapes her and my gaze drops to her chest, watching as her tits rise and fall with her quickened breathing. Slowly I let my eyes wander up. Along her shoulders, her throat, her chin, my gaze settling heavily on her mouth for a beat too long before I finally look into her eyes. I tuck one stray strand of blond hair behind her ear, let my finger trace the tempting curve. She closes her eyes, lush lips parting in anticipation and my blood heats just looking at her.

  I want it. Want her bad. But I’m going to draw this out for as long as I can.

  “You smell good too,” I whisper, pressing my nose against her hair. It’s silky soft, the feel of it on my skin ratcheting my need for her another million notches. “Sweet.” I inhale deeply. “Like candy.”

  Her eyes remain closed as she smiles. She turns her head toward mine, her nose nuzzling my cheek and I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. “Are you teasing me, Nicholas?”