by Karole Cozzo
I sit up, thinking nothing of taking my bra off beneath my tank top before I change.
I see the muscle in Miller’s jaw tense. He closes his eyes. “Seriously. I need to tuck you in now. Hold off on the changing.”
“You’re a buzzkill,” I mutter with a smile.
“Yeah, okay. You’ll thank me in the morning, Alyssa.”
He pulls back the covers; I grab his clothes and climb beneath them. “What does that mean?”
He does, actually, tuck me in. “Nothing.” Miller kisses my forehead. “Go to sleep.”
I close my eyes. But still try one more time. “Come onnnn…,” I say, reaching my arm out, feeling how wide his bed is. “This is a huge bed. You don’t need to sleep on that thing.”
He chuckles. “Yes, I do.”
Miller’s pillow feels like a cloud, and his mattress is so soft, and suddenly I’m too tired to argue anymore. “Fine. Good night, Miller.”
“Good night, Alyssa.” He turns off the light and closes the door.
I inhale deeply. This cloud smells just like Miller. I fall asleep with a smile on my face. I always was a soft mattress type of girl. And I like falling asleep here.
* * *
I OPEN MY eyes and stare blurrily at the numbers on his clock. 6:08. I sit up with a start. I’m due at the park in less than two hours. I never expected to sleep so soundly.
I creep out into the living room. Miller is still asleep, and I allow myself thirty seconds to gaze upon him, his lips parted, his face pressed against the flimsy little futon pillow. I’m tempted to wake him, direct him back to that heavenly bed of his, but he’s out cold, so I decide to leave him be.
I jot him a quick note that I leave on the coffee table and turn to go. When I ease the door open, I hear his voice.
“You’re still in my pajama pants, you know,” he murmurs groggily. “With your heels, that’s going to make for one hell of a walk of shame.”
I smile and turn around. “No shame. I just didn’t want to wake you.” I point to my note. “I have to work in two hours. And I figured you didn’t get a particularly good night’s sleep last night.”
He sits up and looks me over. A bashful smile appears on his face. His one cheek is ruddy from the pillow. “Actually I had a great night’s sleep.”
Miller comes over and stands before me, in sweats, chest bare. It’s the first time I’ve seen him half-naked, and my cheeks heat at this new intimacy between us, the memories from last night.
It’s not a bad feeling, not at all. It just … takes some getting used to. Last night surprised the hell out of me, and even the next morning, it continues to surprise the hell out of me. How natural it all seems after the fact.
He scratches his beard and studies me. “Ya know what?”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure you tried to seduce me last night.”
“I did not!”
“Yeah, you did. I barely escaped your clutches.” He gives me another grin. “You practically tried to lock me in the bedroom. With a can of whipped cream.”
“Stop.” I put a hand to his chest. “You’re going to embarrass me! I was exhausted and delirious and … out of it.”
Miller looks down. “Yeah, I know.”
I find his hand. “No, I mean, but … I remember every second.” I wait for Miller to look up. I shake my head. “I don’t regret any of them.”
This makes a small light appear in his eyes.
I clear my throat. “And all kidding aside. Thanks for being one of the good guys.”
“Of course. I’d hate for things to get weird between us.”
I’m standing in his threshold, in his pajamas, holding my bra. My hair is ratty, and I can taste the horror of my morning breath. Still the same, I kiss his lips softly. “I don’t feel weird. Do you?”
Miller gives me the sweetest smile. “No.”
“Okay, then.”
“Okay, then.”
We stare at each other.
“Okay, now it feels a tiny bit weird,” I say.
Miller cracks up. “Get out of here.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Don’t dodge my calls. I want those pants back. They’re my favorites.”
“I’m good for it,” I promise.
“Bye.”
“Bye.” I’m all smiles as I turn around and head down the stairs.
It’s not a walk of shame at all. I pretty much skip.
I skip past the gardeners, barefoot, pesky heels swinging from my hands.
I wave to them and call cheery greetings, not caring at all that last night’s makeup is all over my face and I actually look like a train wreck.
I skip past Starbucks, because I’m high on life and have no need for caffeine even after a mere four hours of sleep.
And I skip past Jake’s apartment building. I skip past it and don’t feel a single bit of a pull, even knowing Harper’s probably inside. I draw my fingers to my lips, kiss them with a loud smack, and blow a kiss in the direction of his window before continuing on my way.
chapter 21
Turns out that “high on life” feeling only lasts so long. An hour later, coffee is my BFF.
I grab a large on the way to the shuttle and another inside the park on the way to my dressing room. I need it to even think about keeping my eyes open, and I’m desperate for the caffeine to work its magic on the headache that seems to be the by-product of sleep deprivation and maybe of eating too much whipped cream in the middle of the night. By the time I’m supposed to be undergoing my magical transformation, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely do up the rows of tiny buttons on both sleeves.
It’s going to be a rough morning.
Luckily, without my even hearing her, my personal fairy godmother slips inside the curtain and takes over for me, tackling the even longer row of buttons running down my back. “Happy Thursday, my lovely!” Chrissi trills, all sparkle and spunk in her midnight-blue fairy godmother dress and rainbow iridescent wings.
“Hi.” I barely manage a grunt. It comes out sounding like “huh.” It’s the best I can do, trying to conserve my energy for when it really matters.
There’s a waiting room off the Palace tunnel where we meet up with our park attendants before every meet-and-greet outside the Palace. Glancing at one attendant’s watch, I take a deep breath. We’re due out in less than two minutes.
I glance at Chrissi, then do a double take at the pensive look on her face as she taps the sparkly fingernail of her index finger against her lips.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling suddenly self-conscious. I attempt to smooth my gown with my trembling fingers.
She keeps looking me over. “Something’s off. Something doesn’t look right.”
Inexplicably, my hand flies up to my neck, covering the hickey that may or may not be noticeable through the heavy lace.
Then Chrissi snaps her fingers. “I know what it is. You forgot your necklace.”
My eyes widen as my hand slides around to my bare throat. She’s right—Cinderella’s trademark heart-shaped gemstone is missing from my ensemble. It’s a total rookie mistake.
“Thank you!” They’re going to announce us any second, and I have to dash down two flights of stairs to my wardrobe locker to retrieve it. Dashing in glass slippers, on about four hours of sleep, feeling queasy from not having time to eat much breakfast, is a decidedly less-than-princessly experience. Oh god.
I make it back just in time, panting and feeling like I actually might throw up. I puff my cheeks up with air and turn to meet Chrissi’s worried expression. “Thank you,” I whisper once more.
Then we’re all business; after making a silent wish with my hand over Chrissi’s wand for survival, I do manage to pull myself together to sit through two hours of hugging little girls, shaking young princes’ hands, and posing for pictures with entire families. Thankfully, they’re easy on me today. No one makes any weird demands; no one comments that it seems like Cinderella stayed out wa
aay past midnight last night.
Without offering an explanation for it, I let my full weight lean upon Chrissi’s frame as we head back down the stairs when our shift is over. And then, when we finally make it to the bottom, when we’ve made it out of the glaring sun and blissfully bathed in the artificial cool of the air-conditioning unit, I groan out loud. “Craaap!” I look around. “Did I leave one of my gloves out there?” I glance at the staircase wearily. “I really don’t know if I have it in me to climb those stairs one more time today.”
“Don’t bother going back,” Chrissi says. “You know someone’s snagged it as a special souvenir by now”—she giggles—“that the next Cinderella they run into will be forced to autograph.”
I decide she’s absolutely right and, before even thinking about getting out of my costume, collapse into the nearest sofa.
She shakes her head. “You’re a mess today, lady. What’s up with you?”
What’s up with me. What’s up with me.
Memories from last night flood my mind. Suddenly I’m picturing myself lying beneath Miller on his carpet, him grinning above me as he shakes the whipped cream can. I’m totally sleep deprived and overcaffeinated and a bit hysterical from all of it, and the memories are churning up giggles deep in my belly. A giddy smile starts threatening to overtake my face.
As I try to hide it with my hand, this makes Chrissi giggle. “What? What it is?”
The confession comes out on its own accord.
“I hooked up with Miller last night!”
Her eyes pop out of her head. She tosses her wand across the room as she screeches. “What?!”
“I hooked up with Miller last night.”
“What?!”
“Okay, we have got to get past this.” I giggle.
She flitters over to sit beside me, oversize wings bopping my temple. “Oh my god, how did this happen?”
We sit there, side by side on the couch, both still in costume, while I fill her in on what’s been happening, the things I haven’t shared with anyone—the dinner, and the boxing classes, and the impromptu hangouts, and … the kissing. I tell her how incredibly awesome he’s been. I tell her about the confusion about his relationship with Yael and what happened instantaneously once we sorted it out.
I spare no details, because I’m realizing exactly how much I’ve missed dishing with girlfriends, and it’s fun to talk about a boy without a lump of dread in my stomach for once.
When I start, Chrissi’s eyes are sparkling in anticipation of a good tale. But her face changes over the course of the story—from excited to hesitant, then from hesitant to worried—and eventually I stop, midsentence, and ask about it.
“What is it?” I wonder, tucking a wayward wig curl behind my ear. “What’s that face?”
Her smile slides back into place. “Nothing.” She waves her hand in circles. “This is a good story. Go on.”
“No. You had this look on your face. What is it?”
She refuses to answer me for a solid minute. Then, “I’m not telling you.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Chrissi…”
“I wasn’t thinking anything.” She covers her eyes with her hand. “Come on. You were so happy a second ago and so caught up in the story … just … go on.”
“I can’t now.” I grab her wrist, pull her hand away from her face. “Just tell me. I swear it will be okay.”
Chrissi, by nature, is a bit of a worrier when it comes to other people. I’m not overly concerned about what she might have to say.
“Fine.” She sighs. She nibbles on her bottom lip for a minute. “It’s just…” She looks pleadingly over at me. “You’ve had a really rough summer, right? You were heartbroken, Alyssa.” She pauses. “And Miller’s such a nice guy. It would just … make me really sad if either one of you ended up hurt.”
It takes me a while to process her words. Because, to be honest, even after very recently enduring quite a bit of hurt, the idea of Miller or me hurting each other has never crossed my mind. It seems like a silly concept when she presents it to me.
“It was just some kissing,” I tell her, even though I can feel that I’m downplaying something as I say the words. “We had this fun night, and we were tipsy, and we did some kissing. There’s no ‘hurting’ in the equation, okay?”
I don’t want her worrying. I don’t want her putting any kind of negative spin on this.
But she’s not ready to let it go, not yet.
“And Miller? He’s on the same page? It’s just some kissing for him, too?”
I stare down at my glass slipper, caught off guard. “Yes,” I assure her right away. “Of course.”
Then I’m quiet, and she’s quiet. Eventually she sighs. “See, look? I brought you down. When you were on this wonderful little … Miller high.”
The phrase makes me smile. In part just because I like hearing his name.
“I’m just looking out. For both of you.”
“I know that. But I’m okay on this one. I promise.”
“Okay,” she finally acknowledges. She rubs my arm. “Just please be careful. I can’t take any more sadness this summer. Summer is not supposed to be sad!”
I have to agree with her on this. I’m not really up for any more sadness myself.
She stands up and helps pull me to my feet. “Are you done for today?”
“Yes. Thank the heavens! I’m about to fall over.”
“I’m stuck here. Can we hang out tomorrow, though?”
“Tomorrow afternoon work?”
“Yeah, tomorrow afternoon works.” Chrissi smiles slyly. “I need to talk to you about this guy I’m thinking about asking to the Character Ball.”
“I can’t wait to hear,” I tell her. “Now … I need my yoga pants. This dress needs to come off.”
Changing out of costume makes my body hurt, and I’m so tired post–caffeine crash, I’m practically stumbling as I drag myself toward the park exit to catch the next shuttle home. I consider treating myself to a Dragon’s Kiss but ultimately decide I don’t even have the energy to lift a spoon.
Twenty more yards, I tell myself. Just twenty more yards.
Then, as I’m nearly to the staff exit, I see something, someone, that perks me up, puts enough spring in my step to keep going forward. Miller, right inside the gates, sitting on a large boulder at the end of the row of buildings along the main street.
I smile as I approach him. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t on till two.”
He stands when he sees me, looking shy. “I ended up catching an early shuttle, so I’m chilling for a bit.”
I look down. “On a rock?”
“Um, okay.” Miller looks rueful. “I was kind of hoping I’d run into you. I kind of wanted to see you.” He lifts his right hand, bringing his index finger and thumb close together. “Just a little bit.”
My smile widens.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I’m so tired, Miller.” I shake my head and root around for my sunglasses, because the sun is high in the sky now and it’s killing me. “I’m so, so tired.”
“You gonna go home and sleep?”
“Ab-so-lutely!”
“Okay. Are you going to make it to class tomorrow morning, though?”
“I am hopeful I will have made a full recovery by then.” I pause. “Maybe we can have breakfast after.”
“Breakfast. Sure.”
“I have to meet Chrissi later tomorrow. She apparently needs to dish about some guy she wants to take to the ball. But breakfast would be good.”
“I’ll return you in plenty of time,” he says. “Provided you bring my pj’s back.”
I refrain from mentioning I’m planning to change into them before my nap. “They will be washed and folded,” I assure him.
Miller smiles at me one last time. “See you tomorrow, then, Lys.”
“See you then.”
I don’t move. Neither does he. We just stand t
here, looking at each other.
A second later, he narrows his eyes, bites his lip, and ducks his head around the corner of the building I found him in front of.
“What?” I ask.
He grabs me without responding, dragging me around the corner. I find myself with my back against the brick wall, beneath the striped awning, in its shadow. Miller’s so close he’s almost touching. And my heart is pounding.
He smiles at me, all sweet and goofy. “Can we pretend it’s still last night? For a minute?”
“Sure.” I’m confused. “Why?”
Miller comes closer still. He ducks his head, looking right and left, ensuring we’re hidden from the sight of children. “I, uh…” His hand slowly finds my hip. He licks his lips. “… just sort of want to kiss you again,” he whispers.
My heart pounds louder still.
“Okay,” I whisper in return. “Then it’s still last night.”
I’m not really sure why it’s last night, but if it means kissing, then I’m down with turning back the clock.
“Good.” That’s all he says before his lips meet mine—softly, sweetly, lingering … parting just slightly—before he squeezes my hand, and then with a wink and a final smile, sends me on my way. “Now go get some rest.”
I have to catch my breath before making it the rest of the way to the shuttle. I climb aboard, shaking my head as I collapse into the first available seat. Chrissi asked if Miller and I were on the same page. As if it were even a question. Miller and I are always on the same page.
chapter 22
Miller and I end up having breakfast at Dixie Daisy’s. It’s this small scratch kitchen and café famous locally for its sticky buns and cute box lunches. With its white wicker tables, floral cushioned benches, and pitchers of sweet tea, it resembles a grandma’s kitchen in the South. I avoid Dixie Daisy’s most of the time because the food is pretty much too good to resist.
Our server drops off two cups of steaming coffee without even asking. As we peruse the menu, I sip mine through a straw. I notice Miller noticing, and while he smirks just a little, he refrains from making any smart comments.