Page 14 of Tempest

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Odette?”

“A few more, I guess,” she answers. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“We’ll work on that,” I tell her, patting her shoulder. “And yes, she is an amazing house.”

“This is the dream, though. Right?”

“For some of us, it is, sure. It’s taken me all this time to realize that, though. Dreams change, Celine. Don’t ever stop chasing them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, darling, that’s even worse.” I laugh.

“Sorry,” Celine says with a surprising giggle of her own. “Your outfit is fabulous, too. That’s Halston, isn’t it?”

“You know your fashion history, Celine. Enjoy yourself,” I tell her, as the doorbell rings again.

Opening it, I find a few more students and Preston. Greeting the younger ones first, I send them in to find their cohorts before I turn to Preston.

“Hi, I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says, placing his hand on my waist and leaning down to kiss my cheek. His cologne permeates the air around us—it’s neither strong nor unpleasant. Though I prefer the smell of a man.

The faint hint of sweat, or dirt, or oil. A sign that says they’ve been physical at something. I don’t meet many men like that in my line of work, unfortunately. My memory fails me on the last time I had that in life, something other than posh and clean.

“Of course. I hardly have any friends in this city, it was nice to meet someone new. And I would really like help to find some art pieces. Especially if you know of any great local artists.”

“Sure,” he says, his face falling slightly. I didn’t invite him strictly for the help, but I don’t mind that he’s hanging on that hook a bit. “Any style in particular?”

“No, as long as it’s as fabulous as this house. Feel free to look around. Every place there is a blank space, needs to be filled. This house needs life again. Especially the primary bedroom,” I say with a flirtatious smile, pumping his ego back up again. It’s not a ploy though, my bedroom has been something of an afterthought in the design sense. It was painted a yellowish-white when I moved in. I had the painters cover that with a peacock blue, but that’s where the work stopped.

“I’ll let you play hostess and catch up with you later,” he says, winking before he walks away as another few people walk through my front door.

I lose myself to the crowd for a time, mingling, meeting all my students’ partners or friends, and answering the variety of questions about this house. What made me buy it? What are my plans for it? How do you even fill so much space? A few of the students know some of its history and ask me about that, too.

She’s a great conversation starter. Luckily, the weather has been pleasant today, and many of my guests are enjoying the large yard that overlooks the water. Watching from the windows, I smile as I see George talking to Preston, giving him that look.

“Odette?” I recognize Tori’s voice from behind me. She still carries a hint of New York with her. Turning to greet her, I freeze. An unfamiliar tingle races up my spine as I come eye to eye with her father.

Gavin Vaughn, as I live and fucking die all over again.

5

Odette

Then

“Where are you taking me?” It’s been three nights since the incident with Kyle outside of work. Gavin asked for my number that night and he’s called every day since. Last night, he was even waiting for me outside the shop when I closed. He followed me home to make sure I got there safely, then he asked if he could take me out today.

It might be a bad idea, a big mistake, but I said yes. Resisting those eyes and that crooked smile is hard. Gavin is charming without even trying to be. It’s no wonder the whole student body loved him all throughout school. Even though he runs with the elite, nobody ever had a bad thing to say about Gavin Vaughn.

We’ve had minimal interaction with each other, a few classes together, is all. But it isn’t like we had group projects together, or that he ever gave me a second glance. That’s probably for the best since he was with Caroline, and had he focused even a small amount of his addictive personality on me, I’d have been crushing pretty hard.

It’s only been a few days and I already am. Like I’m a thirteen-year-old girl instead of an eighteen-year-old young woman about to start a life of her own.

“Watkins Glen.”

“The state park?” I roll my eyes over my outfit; high-waisted yellow shorts, ivory Swiss dot blouse. At least I have Keds on, but they’re white.

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