Page 35 of Busted Dreams

“It’s a school night,” I quipped without even stopping to think about what I was saying.

“Yeah…” One side of his mouth edged up a little higher.

“Sorry. I’ve been such a good kid my whole life, that was my automatic response.” I grimaced. “But I don’t want to miss school tomorrow. How late are we talking?”

Rhys shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on how good of a party it turns out to be. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re home by midnight at the latest.”

“Just us?” I hedged. I really loved anytime we were all together, but I loved being with the guys one on one too.

His face blanked, giving nothing away about how he felt, and that said it all. “If you want. Or…it can be just us?”

What would a party be like on the arm of the star hockey player? Wincing, I had too many images running through my head. “Okay, another thought entered my mind. How likely is it going to be that people remember me there? Or stare at me?” I hated the staring more than anything.

Laughing, he pulled his chair out and fell into it. The way he sprawled back pulled my attention to the tight muscles under his shirt as he crossed his arms behind his head. From the moment I met him, he had been the epitome of an aloof but well-bred son of society. The more time I spent around him, the more he morphed into just another guy, but in a way that made him more touchable.

He still exuded wealth and good breeding, but he was charming and sexy in a way that he seemed to save just for me. And wasn’t that intoxicating?

“Real talk? If we go together, people will notice you just because you’ll be with me. But I highly doubt they haven’t noticed you before. You’re the only girl I hang out with at school, and you are equally seen with Jonah. That’s without getting dropped off by the mysterious local rock star and having private art lessons with the college heartthrob.”

The more he talked, the brighter the twinkle in his eyes grew and the more I wanted to sink into the ground.

“Thanks, Rhys. I didn’t need to know that.” I tossed my water bottle cap at him. “No one openly stares at school, so I could have pretended I was completely anonymous. And now you’ve made the party sound about as fun as a bible retreat. No, thank you.”

“Aw, come on, Astrid.” He laughed, hooking his foot around the leg of my chair, then I was sliding around the table. Damn, his legs were long to reach that far across.

I sighed.

I wanted to go. I wanted to experience all the things a normal teenager did, and do it without any fear. Then there was this other part of me that literally detested any kind of unsolicited attention. Who was I kidding, there was never a time I solicited attention.

“You know you want to. Don’t worry, you can still pretend no one sees you. They wouldn’t dare approach you when you’re with me.” His foot slid up and down the backside of my calf, my skin tingling at the contact through the thin fabric of my boho pants.

“My heart starts to pound, and my hands and upper lip get sweaty anytime I feel a lot of attention on me. That’s not fun for anyone, Rhys.”

He laughed some more. “Just come out with me. If you really aren’t having a good time, then I’ll bring you back home.” He picked up my hand and stroked his thumb over the back of my knuckles. “I’d really like to spend some time with you outside of this cottage. What do you say?” he murmured.

My senses were on overload, the synapses not quite firing like they should be. Somehow, I nodded my head, trying to ignore the inconspicuous beads of sweat on the edge of my hairline from my sudden rise in temperature.

“Great. We have a few hours. Do your homework while I make us a bite to eat, and then we’ll head over. The party won’t even start until after nine.”

Glancing at the clock, it was barely after five. That was four hours to stress over it. Couldn’t these kids do a right after school party?

Yes, Astrid, and those are kindergarten birthday parties.

“Don’t stress. Do what you were going to do anyway.” With one last swipe across my knuckles, he stood and went to his room.

I worked on two still life projects for what seemed like hours. My brain barely registered the clanking and slamming cabinets from the kitchen as I erased, resketched, erased, then shaded in. It was a wash, rinse, repeat that went more like, draw, mistake, erase, try again. By the time Rhys set two clean and incredibly fancy plates on the table, I was one big charcoal smudge with frizzy hair climbing around my face.

“Astrid, I have to say, I love the side of you that only comes out when we’re alone.” The baritone of his chuckle warmed me as his words reminded me of another time he saw a completely new side of me. A side that drooled while sleeping.

Shuddering in revulsion, I closed the cover on my failed attempts at a smiley face mug in shadow and an elegant kitchen chair.

The smell of spaghetti breached my mental walls, just as Rhys set down two big bowls and a plate on the table. One bowl filled with spaghetti sauce, one with noodles, and a stack of garlic bread on the plate. It seemed like such normal food to be served on delicate, finely crafted china. But it smelled delicious.

“Spaghetti? Yum.” I definitely didn’t have the same etiquette bred into me. My plate was already dished up with two pieces of bread teetering on the edge while he was still carrying out parmesan cheese and two wine glasses.

The glass held me captive as I wondered why he’d bring those out, when he reappeared with an open bottle of chilled red wine. I mean, I knew wine glasses were for wine, but he’d never given me alcohol before, not unless we were all together at Thatcher’s. In fact, I barely saw him drink unless we were at Thatcher’s.

“Wine?”

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