Page 34 of Dreaming About the Boy Next Door

Why did it seem like I was always only rambling withhim?

In a panicked half second, I thought he was going to continue to stare at the books, or even turn them down. Slowly but surely, Reed lifted his hand to take the small stack from me, angling the covers to read the front. “Where’d you get these?”

“The antique shop over in Jefferson. The one where Rachel gets her dolls.” Reed still eyed the comics with that strange expression, in a way that planted a seed of insecurity behind my ribs. “Don’t worry about it if you don’t read them. You can throw them away if you want. They were, like, a dollar.”

Reed’s head lifted, and the insecurity swelling inside me vanished with just one look. His gaze was light, and lips pulled into a soft smile that knotted up my stomach. “No, I love them. Thank you, Ava.”

Ava. The paparazzi nickname had always grated on my nerves, but I didn’t realize until that very moment how much I liked it when he called me by my true name.

“Jeez, that line was stupid freaking long,” Rachel grumbled, and we both jumped at her sudden presence. She noticed too, because she squinted between us as she approached. “What? Why are you two just standing here? Why aren’t you in the car?”

“We wanted to make sure you’d see us,” Reed replied evenly, the look gone in a flash, replaced with the casual look he always shot his sister. He’d expertly hidden the comic books out of view. “Took you long enough.”

“Uh, yeah, I could see you. What were you talking about?” Rachel narrowed her eyes between us. “You better not have been talking about me.”

I tried to imagine what she might’ve seen as she walked up. Had she seen him touch my cheek? “I asked him if he kissed Cindy,” I told Rachel, but even though I was focused on her, there was no missing Reed’s steady intake of air. “The people of Babble have to know.”

“You totally did, right?” Rachel asked, starting around the front of the car to the passenger’s side. “See, Ava, I called it, didn’t I?”

I stepped past Reed and his stiff spine, opening the door directly behind his. He wrapped his hand around the top part of it, trying to catch my eye, but I slid into the backseat. “You did.”

Before I had a chance to shut my door, Reed ducked in and slid the comic books in the pocket attached to the back of the driver’s seat. He moved so quickly that Rachel, who was in the process of twisting her long hair into a ponytail, didn’t notice. When he glanced at me, all I could see were his eyes, brown framed by black lashes, and the little freckle below his waterline. So many details all at once that, even in the dim light, I could see clear as day. “You two are so annoying.”

Ashrill, eardrum shattering sound had me bolting awake, and my first thought wasDad really needs to fix that coffee machine.

But with the thought came reality, crashing into me like a wave. My lungs clenched as if they’d filled with water. As similar as the sounds were, it couldn’t have been Dad’s coffee maker acting as an alarm. I might’ve been still waking up, but I was lucid enough to know that if Dad was making coffee, he was making it at his apartment.

I blinked at the sunlight filtering through my curtains, but the sound never came again.

So, we were starting Saturday morning off with hallucinations. Awesome.

Despite the age-old advice of never looking at your electronics when you first wake up, I reached for my phone anyway out of an impossible-to-break habit, checking the comments on my last post. I’d announced the final score of last night’s football game, and the comments were in typical Brentwood Bobcats fashion.

BundlesOfBobcats: woohoo, let’s go number 22!!! Look at all of those touchdowns!

GirlWithBangs: thanks for reporting on this! I couldn’t make it, but with all the pictures, it feels like I was there! Xoxo

MrTwister123: Missed Reed on the field. Or maybe I missed looking at those pants… ;)

BundlesofBobcats: @MrTwister123 You SO aren’t alone in that!

I smirked at Reed’s little fan club before moving over to my inbox to see if I’d gotten any submissions overnight. Nothing too crazy—unless you counted Riley Huntington’s house getting TP’d—but as I scrolled, I found the message from Mr. Manning again, opened but unanswered.

Please email me back once you’ve received this so I know it didn’t go to spam.

With a deep breath, I worked painstakingly through a response.

Hi Mr. Manning,

Thank you for sending over that ZIP file—I’ll get right to work! Since it’s a redesign and not a full build, it shouldn’t take too long. I’ll have everything for you to review on homecoming!

Reed and Rachel—

I stopped. That topic of conversation was outside the realm of professionalism, which meant I probably didn’thaveto answer, but how could I just ignore him? I couldn’t even imagine what he must’ve been feeling anyway, not being able to check on his kids. That was the deciding factor. I’d be vague, but still answer.

Reed and Rachel are doing well. Rachel and I went to the game last night and cheered on the team. Go Bobcats! I’ll get started right away and update you when I can.

There. Short and sweet and sufficient. Vague enough, but not rude. Right?

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