Page 128 of Daydream

The driver beeps twice before I decide I need to touch Henry before I leave. His arms wrap around me tightly when I step toward him for a hug. His lips press against the crown of my head. “Bye, Cap. See you in a week.”

TO THE ABSOLUTE HORROR OFmy Uber driver, I cry the whole way to LAX.

I don’t even know why I’m crying, and neither does he, given he thinks the best thing to do is turn up the radio and blast rock music. I rate him five stars and leave him a nice tip as an apology, and drag my suitcase through the airport to the check-in counter while promising myself this will be the last time I cry this week.

If I turn up to this vacation emotional it’ll be like blood in the water for the Ellingtons and I won’t know a second of peace. They maintain that their beautiful baby boy was a victim in thedisagreementthat caused so much trouble for Henry. I maintain that they suck.

I decide to label the emotion causing my outburst in the car as relief. Relief he’s okay, relief I’ve seen him with my own eyes, relief that he thinks he was gone too long as well, relief that he wants to see me when I’m home.

The check-in line is moving slowly, as the airport’s normal busy nature is increased exponentially by the number of people leaving for the week. My phone buzzes in my hand to notify me of an email.

Even though Henry told me to expect it, it still catches me by surprise. Digging through my carry-on bag, I retrieve the mailer that’s managed to sink its way to the bottom and click on the notification.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Put your headphones on.

I broke rule number 4 too.

Don’t tell the board.

H

Henry Turner has sent you a file.

Click here to retrieve it!

Password: openthepackage

I fish my headphones out of my bag, slowly nudging forward closer to the front of the line, and slide them over my ears. I’m holding my breath when I click the link, not knowing what to expect when it takes me to an online folder with a huge audio file in it.

My hands shake while I enter the password and click play, then immediately reach for the mailer. Nothing happens at first, the sound of rustling and a bed frame squeak until I finally hear Henry’s voice.

“Halle Jacobs knew she wanted to be an author the first time she attended a library-run author reading. Always daydreaming about people she imagined, Halle credits her mom for getting her her first library card and fueling her love of books, and a childhood obsession withThe Simsfor her overactive imagination. Jacobs is an English major at the University of California, Maple Hills, and lives in Maple Hills with her beloved cat, Joy.”

My hands pull at the sealed flap, desperate to see what’s inside. Henry just read the author biography I wrote for myself for the competition, word for word. I have no idea how he even got it. Then his voice starts again.

“Halle Jacobs is sweet and kind, always doing what she can to be a good person to others. She has a wide friend group of family, classmates, colleagues, and neighbors, who all agree that she’s one of the most giving and loving people they know. Outside of reading and writing,Jacobs is an excellent baker, a skill she inherited from her beloved grandmother. She is funny, beautiful, and smart.

“Jacobs has a boyfriend, whom she has made a better man in every single way, and he hopes he’ll be the love of her lifetime as they both evolve into the people they were always supposed to be together. It is also a widely known fact that Jacobs has the best ass in LA.”

Maybe there can be a long list of complimentary adjectives when someone talks about me.

When Henry talks about me.

I have no choice but to step out of the line with my bags. My heart is pounding, hands shaking as I pull at the envelope, frantically trying to get past what is apparently the world’s strongest adhesive.

It finally comes loose, just as Henry begins talking again.

“Chapter One…”

The book that comes out of the mailer isn’t one I recognize. The cover is hand painted; two people are lying in a meadow full of daisies. The sky is the dreamiest purple and pink and my name is right there beside them.

Turning the first pages as Henry reads my words to me, I notice his tidy scribble on the title page.

This might be my favorite romance book, but we’re my favorite love story.

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