January Dreams by Carrigan Richards (read people like a book .txt) 📗

whatever the excuse, and it’s never his fault. I think he makes it all up for attention so that we’ll be impressed.

But he’s a liar. This isn’t the first job he’s been like this with. And it’s his third job this year.

I nod and pretend I care. He talks only because he likes the sound of his own voice. He does this with everything. Even when he’s giving Jonathan or me a lecture. He will spend a good thirty minutes to an hour discussing what we did wrong to how stressed he and Mom are with their jobs to how we need to do better jobs at life to something completely random and off topic. I hardly pay attention to him prattle on about stupid things.

“Do you have your late slip?” he asks when he’s done with his annoying tangent.

I pull it out of my bag and hand it to him.

“Good,” he says. “Remember you have to set your alarm every night before you go to bed so you’ll wake up in the morning,” he says as if I’m a five-year-old.

I bite my tongue from saying something I shouldn’t and nod. When he finally leaves, I roll my eyes and relax. I place my elbows on my desk and hold my head in my hands.

A year and a half. That’s all I have until I can leave.

Chapter Eight

Throughout the week, I try ignoring the dreams with Casper and try focusing on Vincent, which sometimes works. Casper and I still run for our lives in the dreams and avoid each other in real life. He hasn’t stopped staring at me in the halls, but I pretend like he isn’t there. No one’s called me a witch or a crazy psycho, save for Cherry, so I consider myself lucky, and grateful, that Casper seems to have kept Monday’s incident private.

Friday finally rolls in and the whole time I’m getting ready for Vincent to arrive, my nerves are rampant. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date.

I settle on a cozy black sweater and dark jeans with booties. I curl the ends of my long hair, contemplating cutting it as it reaches my lower back. I like my long hair though.

When the doorbell rings, all five of my dogs bark because of the intruder, and I start freaking out internally. I really like Vincent, but my parents make it so awkward. Especially Ron.

Walking down the hall, I feel heat race up my neck to my cheeks as I see Vincent standing by the door with deep purple calla lilies. My heart swells. Those are my favorite flowers. How did he know? He must have talked to Cherry.

“Hi.” I smile, taking the flowers.

“Hey.” I can’t stop looking at him. He’s wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but he makes it look good.

“Mom, Ron, this is Vincent.”

Mom reaches out to shake his hand and Ron follows.

“Hi, I’m Ron. I’m not Megan’s dad.”

I stiffen and die of embarrassment. Can he make this worse for me? I throw a glare in his direction. What is wrong with him?

I see a flicker of confusion in Vincent’s eyes, but he holds out his hand and shakes Ron’s.

Mom offers him a seat on the sofa in the living room, the one room we never use except for Christmas. Both of us sit on the couch, but all I want to do is run.

Vincent takes my hand, giving it a light squeeze, and I relax.

“So, Vincent, tell us about yourself,” Mom says.

I hate being asked this question, but Vincent answers like it’s the easiest answer in the world.

“I’m seventeen, an only child to my parents who are still married after twenty years. I’m a straight-A student and I plan to attend LSU for architecture.”

Mom raises her eyebrows, obviously impressed, but Ron stands there, staring at our clasped hands. I try to remove mine, but Vincent holds tight.

“I really like your daughter, and I promise to take care of her.”

I bite my lip, knowing Mom hates it when a guy she barely knows promises something. She thinks it’s something guys say in order to please, and she wants to see results. And to a degree, I’m like her.

“Where are you taking Megan tonight?” Mom asks.

“To Cosmo’s Restaurant, and to see a movie.”

“What time is the movie?”

“It starts at nine and should be out around eleven.”

Mom looks to me. “Be home by eleven thirty, no later.”

I nod, and she turns back into cheerful Mom and smiles. “Have fun.”

Vincent and I walk out to his car and when we’re strapped in, he lets out a breath. “That was intense.”

I release a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

He starts the engine and backs out of the driveway. “No worries.”

“You get an A.”

“For?”

“Well, for showing up on time and for impressing my parents.”

He smiles showing his dimple, which I think is adorable. “That’s good. Are they the only ones I’ve impressed?”

“Hmmm, don’t push your luck, now.”

He takes my hand in his again, and my heart goes crazy.

“So, architecture?” I ask.

“Yeah, my dad was an architect. Designed a lot of buildings.”

“Wow. Is he retired now?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your mom?”

He loses his smile and tenses. “I’d rather not talk about her right now.” When he glances at me, I don’t miss the sad look in his eyes.

“Sure. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The rest of the drive is a little awkward, but only because I feel like I brought up something bad and ruined the night. I don’t want to screw things up with Vincent.

He pulls into a parking space at the restaurant, and when I reach for the door handle, Vincent stops me. I bite my lip, seeing the torment on his face, and all I want to do