Chapter 1
Dina
Itugged at the hem of my black skater skirt, a little self-conscious at how much of my thighs were on display. I’d never worn a skirt this short before, and for some reason it felt like it was getting shorter as the night progressed.
When I'd slid it on earlier this evening, I thought I looked pretty damn good. And when I turned to check my butt out in the mirror, it only bolstered my confidence. My long legs were waxed, buffed and tanned. I felt bold, powerful, and a lot older than I was.
Now, though…with the house teeming with my friends and parents—I felt awkward and insecure; like I was cosplaying the role of someone so far removed from who I really was.
Deep laughter carried over and above the thump of the music system and the loud chatter of my friends. The sound of that familiar chuckle injected a rush of newfound confidence and adrenaline—as well as an excited shiver low in my belly. I was reminded just why I was dressed this way, and I chastised myself for almost failing at my plan on the first hurdle.
I straightened my shoulders and shook my hands out from their clenched fists. I called out to my inner vixen and brought her to the surface. After all, I was sixteen now—practically an adult.
Kind of.
Well, there was certainly nothing childish about my feelings for Mr Thomas.
Michael.
If I was going to act like an adult, I couldn’t go around calling him Mr Thomas. I needed him to see me as a mature grown-up; someone who was his equal.
My desperate gaze swept the crowded room, seeking out the object of my affection—the owner of that masculine, deep laugh that set my body on fire.
My best friend’s dad.
I spotted his dark head first, and my heart kicked up a rapid beat. He was chatting with a group of other parents, and even from here I could make out his gorgeous blue eyes. They were crinkled at the corners as he smiled widely at whoever was talking. A delicious tingle made itself known low in my belly, and I placed a hand on the spot, trying to calm the ache of longing.
When other girls my age crushed on boys in our class, I had the hots for Michael Thomas—and have had since I was fourteen. I preened under his presence, my cheeks heating every time he turned those intense blue eyes towards me. And when he spoke to me…I thought I would die on the spot from both joy and embarrassment.
Unfortunately, his conversations usually revolved around how I was doing in my classes and whether I wanted a refill on my soda at dinner. No matter how much I tried to steer our talks towards more grown-up topics… politics, the economy, what books he was reading, he would politely side-step myquestions before leaving Lucy and me to our own devices. It was frustrating.
But the worst part was that I was 99 per cent certain he knew about my embarrassing crush. A month ago, when I came over to see Lucy, Michael was on his way out for a date. My nose tickled and turned pink before I’d rushed to the bathroom with the excuse that I had something in my eye. Talk about being obvious.
When I’d composed myself, Michael had gifted me with a gentle smile and patted my head like I was a child. “You’ll be okay, Dee.”
I’d been on the verge of tears all night until he’d come home at eleven; sans his date. Not that I thought he would bring another woman home while Lucy and I were there, but it also meant that he hadn’t spent the night atherhouse.
But then Luce and I stayed up to watchGrease, and when a scene came on showing teens kissing in a car, I suddenly had visions of Michael and Betty making out somewhere in his car…or possibly more. My eyes had watered all over again, and my stupid heart broke.
But that was then, and this was now. Fortune favored the brave, and I had a whole plan tonight to show Michael that I was grown.
I pushed my shoulders back and made my way confidently towards my soul mate. But just before I reached his group, a feminine hand reached out to clutch at Michael’s arm. My stomach dropped, and my steps faltered when his head turned and he smiled at the newcomer.
Betty.
My resolve crumbled at the sight of the willowy, age-appropriate blonde. My nose started to swell again, so instead of grabbing two cokes and joining his conversation as I’d planned,I quickly pivoted to the right and pushed open the French doors leading out into the cool night air.
My high heels, which were pinching my toes, clacked noisily against the wooden porch. I fell against the railings and let out a dramatic sigh. The wind ruffled my skirt, and goosebumps pricked my bare arms. Visions of Betty and Michael assaulted my thoughts and my heart sank when I realized just how over my head I was. Betty was wearing tight black jeans that brought out the womanly curves of her body. Her sheer top was sexy, yet still conservative. She looked classy and was way more worldly and appropriate for Michael than I was.
Meanwhile, what I’d thought was a sexy and provocative outfit—made to entice a particular male—probably just made me look like some cheap floozy who was trying way too hard to seduce by showing as much skin as possible.
Like an immature teenager.
I leaned an elbow on the railing, my chin meeting my hand as another tortured sigh fluttered past my lips.
“What are you doing out here?”
My elbow slipped so fast that I almost got a splinter. My heart shuttered at that familiar voice. I swallowed hard, needing a moment to compose my anguished emotions before I faced the man of my obsession.
