Page 19 of Daydream

Iwantto want someone, and it’s beginning to make me a little frustrated.

“Thanks,” I say back, finally responding to Mason’s compliment. “Uh, so do you.”

I can feel my cheeks heating as I hear what I said in my head, and that honestly wasn’t the kind of bodily reaction I was looking for. It sounded flustered and ungenuine. Like when someone wishes you happy birthday and you respond with, “You, too.” Immediately followed by cursing yourself for saying something so silly.

I reluctantly lean backward to assess how embarrassed I should be, and I’m surprised to find he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me.

“Do you want to find somewhere quieter?” he shouts. “More private?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

I don’t need to turn around to check who just spoke on my behalf, because even with the loud drum from the speakers, I recognize his deep voice. My heart rate picks up. Looking up, I see Mason’s face has turned sour.

“Didn’t realize you’d started bodyguarding, Turner,” he snaps. “Surprised you have the time, Captain.”

“C’mon, Halle,” Henry says, placing both of his hands on my shoulders and guiding me backward, slipping out of a now irritated Mason’s grasp. “Have the night you deserve, Wright.”

I’m basically a puppet. I put up zero resistance as Henry takes my hand in his, tucking me close to him as he navigates us through the crowd toward the back of the house. I really would be easy to kidnap is the recurring thought running through my head as we approach the den.

Henry still hasn’t said anything, and as we head toward a beer pong table my survival instincts finally kick in. “Wait!” I say a little more enthusiastically than is necessary, grinding to a halt. “What the hell was that?”

He turns to face me, the same neutral expression he normally wears painting his face. “I was saving you from your terrible taste in men.”

Ouch. It’s like a sobering slap to the face. “That felt personal.”

“I already told you Mason Wright is a douche bag,” he says calmly. “If you want a rebound, he isn’t the place to go.”

Sober Halle would drop it immediately, too embarrassed at her dance partner faux pas to ask more questions. Punch Bowl Halle doesn’t have the same reservations. “Do you always interfere in the activities of your party guests?”

“What happened to always approaching you at parties?” Henry’ssmirking, and I feel like I’m missing something until I remember he’s using my own words against me. “I interfere in the activities of my friends, if needed. If you want to hook up with someone, there are better options than him,” he says, and Punch Bowl Halle loses the small amount of drunk defiance she had. “I know him. He went to my high school. He’s angry and irresponsible and not good enough for you.”

“I wasn’t trying to hook up with him. He didn’t try anything,” I explain, like somehow I need to justify myself. “Sorry.”

“You’re beautiful, Halle. Of course he was trying something. You don’t need to apologize.”

My mouth opens to immediately offer something more but closes when his words register. Beautiful. I push it to the back of my brain to mull over tomorrow when he isn’t watching my every reaction.

“I just wanted to get drunk and dance with a guy at a party. Have the experience or whatever. It’s silly.”

“Nothing you say is silly. You’re starting to look sad, and I think I’ve caused it when I didn’t mean to. Can we start again?”

I nod, grateful for the chance to start over. “Hi.”

He smiles. “Hi. I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy you invited me.”

“It’s my turn to apologize to you,” he says, moving to my right to walk beside me toward where his friends are now waiting. “I’m about to make you play beer pong against Aurora, and she’s really annoying and competitive. And she’s going to spend the rest of the night telling you how much she hates Mason, too, because she’s the one who spotted you.”

I feel a little like I’m walking into the lion’s den as we reach the table, and I would really benefit from more punch right now. Henry picks up the ball and bounces it against the table once, catching it in his palm and holding it out to me. Tucking my concerning lack of coordination in the back of my mind, I scoop the ball from his hand.“I’ve spent the last two years hearing about how much Aurora hates poetry. This will be easy.”

More of Henry’s friends appear from the garden, including Aurora, who immediately beelines for me and traps me in a tight hug. “I’m so happy you’re hereeeee. Are you with me?” she asks, looking between me and Henry.

“She’s mine,” he says. “Find your own teammate.”

Before I have a chance to speak for myself, I’m beaten to it by one of Henry’s friends walking through the doors dragging a chair behind him. “There was a minor incident,” he says. Mattie, Kris, or Bobby, he’s called. From height and build to ethnicity and hair color, they all look totally different, as well as having accents clearly from different states. But when I first met them at book club, they introduced themselves almost at the same time and now I can’t remember who is who.

“I can see that,” Henry drawls as we look at the crushed camping chair on the ground.

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