Beautiful Dream

Beautiful Dream

By:
Paige Laurens

Beautiful Series (Book Two)

It is advised you read book one (
Beautiful Torment
) prior to reading this.

“A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities.”

- J. R. R. Tolkein

Table Of Contents

Nostalgia Part III (January 2005)

Chapter 1 - Luci

Chapter 2 - Josh

Chapter 3 - Luci

Chapter 4 - Josh

Chapter 5 - Luci

Chapter 6 - Josh

Chapter 7 - Luci

Chapter 8 - Josh

Chapter 9 - Luci

Chapter 10 - Josh

Chapter 11 - Luci

Chapter 12 - Josh

Chapter 13 - Luci

Chapter 14 - Josh

Chapter 15 - Luci

Chapter 16 - Josh

Chapter 17 - Luci

Chapter 18 - Josh

Chapter 19 - Luci

Chapter 20 - Josh

Chapter 21 - Luci

Chapter 22 - Josh

Chapter 23 - Luci

January 2006

Nostalgia Part III (January 2005)

-Luci-

If you can wear stockings, and within ten minutes not rip them, then you’re my hero. Personally, I can’t do it. They always tear!

I throw my latest nylon victim off to the side, before sliding into another pair - the very last pair I own, mind you. I zip up my boots (again), and give myself a once over in the mirror. My hands shake as I tug down on my almost short brown dress, before hooking the buckle in the middle. My hands travel up, pulling on the sleeves, until they are brushing through my newly blonde highlighted brown hair, placing it back into the ponytail
I just
took it out of
.

Maybe I should put on more blush, or less lipstick, or maybe a different shade all together? Or, hell, maybe I should change into something else entirely? Actually, now that I’m really looking, I think my hair looked better down.

I undo the ponytail as I glance towards my bed, or in the general direction of it. I can’t really see it with the pile of clothes on top. The blue digits on the clock catch my eye. It’s dangerously close to 6:30, and I have to get a move on or I’ll be late, and I hate being late.

I linger for another few seconds, debating, thinking, well aware that this is possibly the
best
and
worst
thing I’m about to go do. I wonder, for the umpteenth time since yesterday, if I should cancel, but my feet start moving, making me leave my bedroom before I gain any sense of rational.

“Luci!” Mom’s shout takes me out of my dream-like, reflective state.

“Yeah?” I make my way down the hallway, towards the upstairs landing.

“Oh!” She exclaims when I come into view, surprised to see me all dressed up. “You look nice!” Her smile reaches her eyes and it lights up her face. “Where are you off to?”

“Um,” I hesitate, descending the stairs. “I’m going out with an old
friend
.”

I’m not about to tell her the truth now, two and a half years later. Or, make that ever. I can’t ever tell her the truth.

“A friend,” she repeats, still smiling.

No, Mom
, I think.
I’m going out on a date. Nope, not with my current boyfriend from school in Boston, who’s away while we’re on winter break, but with my once high school chemistry teacher. Yes, the one I secretly had sex with on a daily basis throughout senior year. The one who broke my heart so badly it left you and Dad thinking the worst. Yep, that very one!

“Luci?” Mom waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my daze.

Stupid Josh Harrington.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble. She’s not too taken aback, and for the first time in what seems like forever, she’s actually happy and relaxed as she regards me. It’s probably from seeing me giddy, ready to go out, and
not
sitting locked in my room like I usually am. I’m sure she’s pleased that I’m doing something
normal
, like the
old me
would.

I’m growing back into her, slowly.

“Well, have a good time with your
friend
that has you getting dressed so beautifully,” she smiles, and I start for the door. “And call if you’re going to be after 11, just so I don’t worry.” I nod, grabbing my coat and bracing myself for the freezing late January air.

My car rumbles to life as I back out of the driveway, and I grab onto the steering wheel tighter than usual, my head spinning and heart swelling.

I’m about to see
him
. The one person I never wanted to see again. The
only
person I’d ever hope to see again. The one who broke my heart when I found out he was married, and his wife about to have a baby.

I told him to
never
speak to me again. That was the last thing I said to him, until yesterday. Yesterday, my sister Gracie had me drop off a paper she left home, and out of all the
many
people at the high school, I see
him
.

I should’ve said no when he asked to get together tonight, but I was so stunned by our sudden encounter that I couldn’t get a damn word out. He always had a way of rendering me speechless, and clearly that hasn’t changed.

Of course, I’m mad at myself for agreeing to this. I
really
should’ve said no. I should have told him how I’ve moved on, and that I’m seeing someone now.

Well, sort of.

Nevertheless, I should have thought about this new guy, and I curse
him
yet again for always taking up
so much of me
. My life is
finally
getting back on track, and
how dare
he mess it up again! I won’t let him, and I refuse to think back to last night, how all I could do was replay
his
words in my head.

“And Luci?” His eyebrows rose in that way I always loved, his intense eyes on nothing but me.

“It’s a date.”

All I wanted senior year was to go out on a date with him, and I’m getting that now,
even though it’s too late
.

It’s too late
, I tell myself.

It’s too late.

I drive to the center of town, just beyond the high school and the local ballpark. I’m turning right on Main Street as a jolt of electricity shocks me.

I can’t believe I’m going to see him. Again.

I park a couple of blocks from the restaurant and pause before getting out of the car to take a few calming, slow breaths.

Blasts of cold air hit me as I walk towards the restaurant. It’s easily the nicest eatery this small town has to offer, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll run into anyone else I know. Despite the tiny town, the school district is so large that it’s hit or miss, and a new bundle of nerves washes over me.

Leftover Christmas decorations remain hanging on the street lamps. Snow covers the outside tables, and the way the lights are twinkling inside the restaurant leaves me with an unknown sense of magic, because that’s who Josh Harrington always been to me - a dream.

I take a deep breath and head inside, trying to push away the
real
reason I know I’m feeling so great right now. It’s not magic; it’s simply
him
.

I recognize the hostess immediately, and so much for not seeing anyone I know. She says something, but I have no idea what, because I instantly spot
him
.

He’s sitting at a small table in the very back, and my knees nearly give out. I all but lean up against some stand that’s displaying tonight’s specials, just so I don’t fall over. All the feelings I felt yesterday - my heart restarting, the tingling, the air being pushed right out of my lungs, everything that I thought was no longer
in me
anymore comes flooding back, drowning me.

I let it.

He shaved since yesterday, the stubble no longer there, and his cheeks and chiseled chin appear smooth and soft. I want to feel to be sure, but I shake my head, compelling the thought away. I take another deep breath, bracing myself to meet his eye, and even my warning isn’t enough to stop the rush I get when I look into them. His blue eyes shine like crystals, like the way I remember them most. Desire crashes into me as I soak him in, blinking hard as I move my gaze towards his dark hair, which is still on the longer side. I do all that I can to take my mind off just
how badly
I want to
grab
it and
pull
.
Hard.

He adjusts his tie, and the nervousness in his eyes only lasts a second before they blaze a burning fire that I recognize well. The change in them is like a punch in the gut, mirroring the exact way they used to look at me while he’d hold me against something, anything - the wall, the counter, his chest, the desk, before I’d feel whole again.

Coming here was a bad idea. I can finally think about him and all that’s happened between us without breaking down.

One step forward, five steps back.

His eyes slowly travel up and down my body, and forget this being a terrible idea; it’s an outright slaughter. What am I expecting to get out of this? Am I supposed to sit and
talk
with him about his family and his life? And what am I supposed to say when he asks me about mine?

I close my eyes and pinch the top of my nose as regret weighs me down. I try to think of my semi-boyfriend’s name. It starts with an L, like my name.

Shit, I can’t even remember his name right now!

He has blonde hair and
shit, shit, shit
! I don’t know what color his eyes are! Probably brown like mine, or green? Definitely not blue, like
his
.

His.

No, no, no!

Luke! It’s Luke! My semi-boyfriend’s name is Luke!

I abruptly open my eyes, and I’m in full anxiety mode now, watching as
he
stands and walks over.

This certainly isn’t Luke approaching me, and I swallow hard.

“Oh,” I register the hostess’s voice in the background; realizing I don’t need a table, because the other half of my party is already here. That’s what she asked me before, if I would like a table! The door opens as more patrons enter, and the cold outside air rushes in, pushing my hair into my face.

Damn, I should’ve gone with the ponytail!

I’m thankful when the hostess immediately begins talking to them, or at least that’s what I think is happening. I don’t know, because my eyes haven’t left his. I hope he can’t hear just how loud my heart is beating, but by the time he stops directly in front of me, I’m sure he can.

“Let me take your coat,” he smiles hesitantly.

He’s nervous, good, but there’s something about his eyes that are gloating, laughing at me, like
he knew
I simply couldn’t stay away tonight.

I smile back, an automatic reaction he brings out in me, and his eyes sparkle in response. I wish they didn’t do that, or maybe I just wish I didn’t notice how they do that.

Why is he so perfect?!

He’s not though
.
He’s a liar.

I waver some more. I’m a thousand shades pale, especially after this winter, yet here he is, and his complexion remains flawless. It fits him, though, since to me, he’s never been anything but - always appearing so model-like and out of place in this boring, ordinary town.

I bite my lip nervously as he removes my jacket. He’s careful not to touch anything but the fabric, and I let out a sigh of relief, that is, until I look up at him, regarding me with nothing but lust.

He mindlessly hands the jacket to the coat check lady, telling her to put it with his. I don’t miss the fact that my coat will now smell like him when we leave, and once again, I’m reminded how pathetic I am, just like I was in high school - longing and falling for a guy who could never be mine.

It wasn’t your fault
, I remind myself.
He
lied.
He’s
a liar!

“You look…
beautiful
,” his smooth, manly voice is airy and taken aback, and I know my face is full of nothing but pain now, remembering all his lies.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I confess. He eludes every ounce of honesty I have, every bit of love I was ever capable of giving, and the most hurt I’ve ever known. Even now, something in me just knows that I’m going to love him forever, no matter how hard I try not to, and that alone makes me want to leave and never see him ever again.

He shakes his head, his expression soft. “This is the best idea,” he plainly states, before walking back towards the table.

I stand in place, my mind telling me to turn back and head out the way I came, but my eyes are watching his back as he walks away, and my feet are soon to follow.

I’ve never been smart when it comes to him. If I were, I never would have asked him to kiss me in the first place.

He pulls out the chair, and I take my seat, closing my eyes as I try to reword all the phrases going through my head, most of which are harsh and mean. I have so much I want to say, and I try to take out the animated language, since we’re in public and I have to be civil. Meanwhile, he takes the seat across from mine, and our table is so small that his knee accidentally brushes against me. Thankfully, he pulls away immediately, but the shock that runs up and down my body has me placing a few of those F words back in.

He’s about to say something, but stops as the busboy brings us water, and then the waitress immediately follows with bread. I focus on the flickering candle in the center of the table, knowing his eyes are on me, watching and wondering, before letting out a deep breath and picking up the menu.

“I don’t think ziti pizza is on the menu here,” his voice is just above a whisper.