The Dream - Whitney Dineen Page 0,24
another year at this school without losing my ever-loving mind.
The woman who walks into the bathroom looks like a porcelain doll with her flawless skin and shiny brown hair. She smiles at me in the mirror with no apparent sign of recognition. Jessica-frickin’-Holt walks into a stall without a backward glance. Unbelievable.
I hurry to blot my lipstick before nearly sprinting out the door. There’s nothing like having your past walk right up to you and smack you in the face. Not that Jessica actually hit me, but she might as well have for the amount of adrenaline that’s coursing through my body.
My eyes dart nervously around the dining room for Chad. I figure the only way tonight could get worse is if he were here, too. Luckily, I don’t spot him.
Davis stands when I get back to the table and pulls my chair out. I don’t think a man has ever done that for me before tonight, but he does it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I went ahead and ordered,” he says. After he slides my chair in, I collapse into it. I hope that looked more elegant than it felt.
“Thank you,” I reply for lack of anything else coming to mind.
As I take a fortifying gulp of wine to help calm my nerves, I wonder if everyone feels a degree of dread when they’re confronted by their teenage past. I can’t imagine Davis or Jessica ever do, but who knows. Maybe no one likes who they were in high school, and it’s a cross we all have to bear.
Happily, I’m facing the river, so my back is toward the dining room. I don’t want to know where my old nemesis is sitting. I’d be too anxious to eat my meal otherwise. Davis says, “I’m starving, so I may have ordered too much, but we can always take it home.”
“Yup,” I reply, having lost all ability to form a coherent sentence.
“You okay?”
“Sure.” What a conversationalist I am. I finally kick in and ask, “How are you? Are you feeling any better?”
He offers a tentative smile. “It’s hard seeing the people you love struggle. But I don’t have to tell you that with your mama dying so young and all. Do you have any siblings?” he wants to know.
“No, it was just me and Mom. My grandmother died when I was a kid.”
“So, you don’t have any other family?” he asks like he can’t imagine such a thing.
“I have my friend Sammy,” I tell him. “I’ve known her since I moved here. She and my mom were best friends.”
“Good,” he says. “I hate the thought of you being without anyone.”
“Do you see your parents a lot?” I ask, trying to redirect the subject matter away from my sorry life.
“Not as much as they’d like,” he answers. “My mama is a force of nature. She fancies herself the ringleader of a circus, always needing to know who’s doing what and with whom. She’s a bit of a busybody, so I try to keep my personal affairs off her radar.”
“I think it would be nice to have somebody so interested in my life,” I confess.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I don’t meet his eyes. “No.”
“Why not?” he wants to know.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I retaliate.
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Point taken,” he concedes.
We’re sitting and staring at each other when Davis puts his hand on mine. He clears his throat in preparation to speak. A wave of anticipation washes over me, and I subconsciously hold my breath like I’m deep sea diving without an oxygen tank.
He’s probably not going to say, “Ashley, I’ve known who you were since the moment I saw you in the nursing home. I’ve secretly loved you since high school and wanted more than anything to tell you the depth of my feelings ever since, but I was afraid you’d turn me down.”
I’m fully aware I’m having some kind of mental break here, so you’re just gonna have to bear with me. I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to declare, “You’re the woman of my dreams and I long to hold you in my arms until the end of time.”
Chances are he won’t conclude this imaginary monologue by picking me up and carrying me out of the restaurant so he can take me to his house and ravish me. But the bottom line is that we’ll never know because just as he opens his mouth, a voice behind me says, “Davis Frothingham? My heavens, how long has