“Is my dad taking us to Rêverie?” I asked as I made my way over to the dresser. I laid down the flowers, unsure of where else to put them. The only vase I had in here was gone, and I just assumed Mom or Nova took it. It didn’t matter anyway, as I hadn’t planned on moving back for all too long.
“No,” Reece replied. I could hear him walk around my room, but I didn’t bother to look at him as I had to get ready. “He’s already at the restaurant, I believe.”
“So… who’s driving us?” I slid into my sheer, black tights, then reached for some white socks.
“I am.”
Finally, I looked up at Reece, and I was almost sure he could see the worry etched into my face had he looked at me. He was too busy folding the clothes on my bed to pay any attention to my expression.
He didn’t have to fold my clothes, but the gesture was highly appreciated. Ihatedfolding clothes. Ironing them or doing the laundry in the first place, no problem. But folding? Nope.
“The entire way?” I asked carefully. It wasn’t the shortest drive, and under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have even questioned him, but given his recent history, forty minutes seemed like a long time. I didn’t have a driver’s license, but driving a car sure looked like it wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
Reece chuckled lightly. “It’s alright, Brooke. I promise.”
“Alright. Good.” I grasped my favorite pair of black loafers and slipped into them.
Making my way over to my makeup vanity, I took a seat and just stared at myself in the mirror for a second. I didn’t need a lot of makeup today, it was just breakfast at my dad’s restaurant. A still-closedrestaurant. Surely some concealer and mascara would suffice.
Opening one of the drawers, I was hoping to find my makeup but instead, I was greeted by my old straightener that I hadn’t touched in a while. Almost immediately, flashbacks from Reece and me getting ready for our first official date came flooding into my brain.
Somehow, this morning felt the same as it did back when I was thirteen.
“Reece?” I said as I closed the drawer again and tried theother one. Finally, I found my concealer. “Do you think you still know how to straighten hair?”
I taught him back when we were fifteen. I used to straighten my hair a lot back in middle school and high school because I thought it made me blend in with all the other girls better. Sure, I wasn’t the only one with textured hair, but all the popular girls had straight hair—or at least straightened them. While I had no desire to be popular at school, I preferred not to get bullied for standing out so much.
Blonde hair and curls? Yeah, that screamed for all sorts of drama. I never understood why it was such a big deal, but whatever.
I loved my curly hair now, and that was all that mattered.
While I was doing my makeup for school, Reece used to straighten my hair, which allowed me to wake up at a reasonable time and not two hours earlier.
At seventeen, I stopped straightening my hair, and if I did, I’d done it myself.
“Why do you want to straighten your hair?” Reece asked in return, not quite answering my question. “Your hair is beautiful just the way it is.”
A smile crept onto my face, cheeks getting slightly warmer.
Through the mirror, I watched him get up, turn around, and make his way over to me. He laid his hands on my shoulders, eyes meeting mine.
“I don’t,” I answered. “I just wondered if you still know how to do it.”
“I don’t think straightening hair is a skill that can be unlearned.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Besides, I had the best teacher ever. There’s no way I could forget what she had taught me.”
My eyes rolled, but the smile on my face refused to disappear. “Flattery won’t help you today.”
A smirk pulled on his lips, and there was something playful in his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
55
REECE
“Oh, and could you please make sure the fruit platter is prepared without strawberries? My date’s highly allergic,” I said, to which our waiter nodded and began to scribble it down on his notepad.
Brooke giggled at my request, and when my eyes laid on her beautiful face, I watched her shake her head softly. “You know we’re the only ones here, right? And my dad’s in the kitchen. He’s not going to put strawberries on our plates.”
While I knew Miles wasn’t going to serve her some, I would’ve requested no strawberries at any other restaurant. This was supposed to be a date, and since Brooke always forgot to mention her allergy or make sure her fruits didn’t include strawberries, I had to make sure to mention it.
