I KNOW I SHOULDN’T FEEL this way.
I know this entire night will all be for show. One giant lie.
I know this isn’t going to mean anything, and whatever happens at this party will be done based on the need to make our roles believable.
But I can’t help my excitement. Reed has made me feel more comfortable in the short time we’ve spent together than any other person I’ve ever been around. It’s easy with him, and not in a chummy friend sort of way. My heartbeat rivals a hummingbird on crack in his presence. I’ve never had many friends, but the ones I did have never elicited that type of reaction.
And now I can’t even hide it.
Now, when it all becomes too much, when the warmth in my blood reaches the surface of my skin, when an unforgiving pressure forms between my hips, and my lungs struggle to keep up with the pace my heart is setting, I can’t look away to catch my breath. He forces me to keep my eyes on his. He overloads me with stimuli, and then pins me down, stealing my reaction as if he’s earned it, or as if it was his all along and he’s taking it back. I’m sure it’ll be like this tonight. I’m sure he’ll do something, or say something that will provoke my body. Even if it is a night where every touch will be an act, I get to be around someone who makes me smile more than I’ve ever smiled in my entire life. So, no, I can’t help my excitement. I want to be around Reed, and I’m not ashamed to admit that.
Even though I am filled with unrestrained enthusiasm, I hold off getting ready for as long as I can. I read a little, watch The Fault In Our Stars with my aunt, hold ice cubes under my eyes to relieve some of the puffiness brought on from watching The Fault In Our Stars, and read some more. I take a bath instead of a shower, trying to stretch out my minutes. I spend longer than I ever have on my hair and makeup, and still finish with an hour and forty-five minutes to spare before Reed is due to arrive.
It’s a habit of mine. I’m an early person, and I always have been. Luckily I’m also stellar at killing time. Being a lover of books has its perks. There’s always a story waiting to be read. A hero to fall in love with. A heroine to adore. Sometimes I think I should change genres and actually give the potential men in my life a chance.
My expectations of love are dangerously unrealistic.
Danny is already at the bar, and I know Hattie will be leaving soon to head into work. She mentioned earlier when we were sobbing next to each other on the couch that she wished she had memories of me. She would’ve loved to have held me when I was a baby, or been there to watch me walk across the stage at my high school graduation. I would’ve loved that too. I want her to have the time she missed with me. I can’t give her that, but I can give her something that might help ease some of the ache of knowing she’ll never get those moments. A small thank you for being here for me now.
She’s at the kitchen island, sifting through some mail when I walk into the room. Her face turns up and gentles considerably at the sight of me.
“Wow, darlin,’ you look so beautiful.” She grabs her purse and digs out her phone, holding it out to take a picture. “Sorry. I have to do this.”
I hold the shoebox behind my back and bend my knee, giving her my best smile. “Good?”
She looks down at her phone, nodding before setting it back in her purse. “Of course it is. Davis genes, honey. We can never take a bad photo.”
I step up to the island and pull the shoebox out from behind my back. A crease forms between her eyebrows as I slide it across the counter.
“I wanted you to have this. There’s so many pictures of me in here. Ones when I was a baby, up until right before my momma died. I thought you could look through them and live out some of the memories with me.”
Hattie attempts to blink away her tears, but a few slip past her lashes and drop to her cheeks. She brushes them away quickly and places a hand on top of the shoebox.
“You are just the sweetest thing, Beth. Thank you. Of course I won’t keep this. These are yours, but I would love to look through them.”
“There might be a few of me with my mom. I don’t think I’ve ever really looked through the entire box.”
She pops off the lid and peers inside. “Would you mind if I scanned them into the computer? I’d love to get copies printed.”
“Nope. I don’t mind.” I grab a mint from the small dish in front of me and pop it into my mouth. When she doesn’t say anything more, I think Hattie is flipping through the photos, until I look up and catch her eyes on me.
“Are you sure this isn’t a real date?” she asks, lifting a skeptical brow.