Stolen Wishes (5 page)

She frowns. “A date? Who’s the boy?”

“William Bailey.” I lift my chin. I know
she’ll recognize the name, and I want her to understand that not
everyone who lives in this house has sold out. I want her to know
that nice boys still want to be with me.

Even if it’s not exactly true.

“Oh, sweet Cally. What do you think a Bailey
wants with you? Don’t give it up to him. Your dad was so sweet to
me when I was your age and I got pregnant. Look what became of my
life. Don’t let him steal your chances for a good future.”

I clench my fist because I want to slap her.
The only one who’s stolen my chances is standing right in front of
me.

William

“Make sure you save room for dessert,” the
waiter says.

The little restaurant is in a restored brick
mansion on the New Hope square. Candlelight illuminates our
white-clothed table and reflects in Cally’s deep brown eyes.

She’s nervous, and it’s the most adorable
thing I’ve ever seen. She pushes her food around on her plate and
studies me through those thick lashes when she thinks I’m not
looking. I noticed her the first day she walked into French class
this semester, all that dark hair hanging past her shoulder blades,
her eyes guarded when someone talked to her.

Does it make sense to say that I felt
instantly connected to her, long before we ever had a conversation?
She was a girl who understood loneliness the way I did, who didn’t
want anything from me.

I picked her up at six, just like I
promised, and she was waiting outside for me, no doubt to make sure
I didn’t go into her house.

I wish she weren’t so self-conscious about
her home and her family. I don’t care that she doesn’t have money.
I have more than I’ll ever need, and I hate it. I’d trade every
penny to have my parents back for a single day.

“Did you want dessert?” I ask.

“No thanks.”

I want to reassure her that I’m paying for
this and she can order whatever she likes, but the words would only
make her more self-conscious. Instead I order the chocolate lava
cake, and when it comes, I pull my chair around the table so it’s
next to hers.

The dark chocolate cake steams, the ice
cream on top already melting. I cut into the center with my spoon.
Gooey, melted chocolate rushes out.

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “That
looks amazing.”

I scoop a bite—making sure to get cake,
melted chocolate, and a bit of ice cream all onto the spoon—then I
offer it to her. “Try it.”

I slide the bite past her parted lips, and
pleasure lights up her face. My breath catches at the sight, and I
immediately prepare another spoonful, then another.

When I offer the fourth bite, she puts her
hand to her mouth and shakes her head. “It’s your turn,” she
insists.

“I’m good.”

She licks her bottom lip but misses the
smudge of chocolate just beneath. “Then why did you order it?”

Cupping her chin in my hand, I wipe the
chocolate off with my thumb. Her lips part and she’s so close I can
feel her breath as it rushes past her lips. I want to kiss her.
Damn. I can’t believe how badly I want to kiss her. Instead, I say,
“Go for a walk with me?”

She nods, and after I pay the bill, I lead
her out of the restaurant and toward the path along the river,
linking my fingers through hers as we walk. The night is clear and
the stars shine bright, their pinpoints of light reflecting off the
water. Cally looks up at the stars and her whole body seems to
soften. I feel the tension rush out of her with her sigh.

“Thank you for tonight,” she says. “Most
guys wouldn’t have gone to such lengths because of a stupid
rumor.”

“You think I wanted to date you to satisfy
the rumor mill?”

She focuses on the pavement in front of us,
avoiding my gaze. “Didn’t you?”

“You’re not that naïve, are you?” That gets
her to look at me. Her eyes are narrow and frustrated. “Cally, I
took you to dinner tonight because I wanted to. I don’t like what
they’re saying about you, but my reasons for asking you out were
more selfish than they were noble.”

She stops and leans one shoulder against the
trunk of a thick maple as she studies me. “How were they
selfish?”

“I wanted a chance to have some time alone
with a pretty girl.”

She stares at me for two heartbeats. “I
really like you, William Bailey.”

I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear then
shove my hands in my pockets to keep myself from touching her more.
“I like you too, Cally Fisher.”

Her teeth sink down into her bottom lip and
her eyes drop to my mouth.

I fist my hands in my pockets and let my
exhale slowly. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“I really want you to,” she whispers,
flicking her eyes to mine.

I take a cautious step forward and press my
hands against the tree trunk on either side of her head, then
slowly lower my mouth until it’s a breath above hers. “Has anyone
ever kissed you before?”

“Yes.”

Jealousy burns in my gut. It’s silly, but
it’s there at the thought of another guy touching his lips to hers.
“Who?”

“Davey Mills kissed me on the lips behind
the school in second grade.” Her eyes flash with mischief and she
bites back her smile.

“Lucky Davey,” I grumble. “Must have been
memorable.”

“Yes. He kissed me during a game of truth or
dare. I remember he had peanut butter breath.”

I chuckle, and her face breaks into a
full-out grin. I close the breath between us and brush my lips over
hers. Unlike Cally, I have some experience with this, so I’m
surprised how much it affects me. Just a kiss. An innocent
connection of lips. But the contact is electric and it sends a
shockwave of pleasure through me.

I slide my hand into her hair, and she opens
under me, meeting the sweep of my tongue with the hesitant touch of
hers. She tastes like sweet tea and makes this soft little sound at
the back of her throat. I break the kiss before I’m ready because
my hands itch to touch her, to slip under her shirt and cup her
breasts, to slide around her hips and squeeze her ass. She’s not
ready for that, and I won’t rush her.

Her tongue darts out and skims over her
lips. “Come with me.”

She takes my hand, and I follow her farther
down the path and along the river until there’s a break in the
trees. She leads me onto the grass and sits on the ground.

I sink to my haunches and settle beside her,
the dew seeping into my jeans.

“Lie back.” She leans on her elbows and
points to the sky. “This is my favorite spot.”

We settle onto our backs, bodies aligned,
fingers entwined, and look up at the stars. From this spot, the sky
is all I can see, and it feels like I’m being swallowed up in
it.

“Tell me something no one knows about you,”
I ask into the silence. It’s probably a stupid request, but I don’t
care. I like her and I want to know more about her.

“Like what?”

“Tell me what you wish for when you look up
at those stars.”

She’s quiet for a long beat, then another.
When I hear the whoosh of her exhale, I think she’s not going to
share anything, but then she says, “Lately, I’ve been wishing that
my parents would get a divorce.”

That surprises me, and I roll to my side to
look at her as she speaks.

She winces but continues. “They make each
other miserable, but instead of facing it or doing anything about
it, they both hide. It’s the worst possible thing for my parents.”
She faces me and forces a smile. “Pretty boring stuff, isn’t
it?”

I trace the worry lines around her eyes
until they relax. “It’s not boring at all. It’s real.” The girls I
know are so proficient at being fake, they could give lessons.
Cally is the opposite of fake. She’s authentic.

“I just think they could be happier, you
know? And maybe coming out here and making wishes is juvenile, but
I like to think of it as throwing positive energy into the universe
and hoping it comes back something better.”

“You’re not like other girls, Cally.”

She rolls her eyes. “You say that like it’s
a good thing.”

“It’s so refreshing. You have no idea.” I
slide a hand into her hair and kiss her again. This time, I linger.
Our lips brush, our tongues rub, and before I know it, she’s on her
back and I’m on my side, pulling her body close to mine and
resisting the instinct to slide my thigh between her legs.

She keeps her eyes closed for a long time
after I draw back, and I’m struck for the thousandth time by how
beautiful she is. Dark hair. Pale skin. Rosy lips. “I should get
home,” she whispers.

I nod, but I stay there looking at her for a
few more beats. She doesn’t rush me, doesn’t seem uncomfortable
sitting in the silence.

When walk back to her house, I take her the
long way, through town, knowing everyone will see us and talk.
Wanting them to.

***

Cally

Three weeks and six amazing dates, and
William Bailey doesn’t seem bored with me yet.

The gossip mill isn’t giving up on us
entirely. There’s all sorts of speculation as to why a guy like
William would spend so much time with a girl like me. But the worst
of it has died down. Apparently, the possibility of us having sex
in the bleachers isn’t nearly as juicy if we’re actually
dating.

He showed up to my house tonight and asked
my dad if he could take me on a walk. It was the sweetest thing,
though my dad looked a little puzzled by it. We find ourselves down
by the river again, the early spring breeze ruffling our hair, the
sun loosing its grip on the edge of the horizon.

“This is my favorite time of day,” Will
whispers.

I lean against him and sigh. “Sunset?”

“No.” He reaches over and slides a hand into
my hair. “The part where I’m next to you.” Then he brings his mouth
down to mine and kisses me softly.

I live for these kisses. These happy moments
between the craziness at home, the demands of the girls, and the
stress of school.

“You are beautiful. You know that?”

“Hmm,” I say. “I’m not sure. Tell me
again?”

“You.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my
mouth. “Are.” Another kiss right under my earlobe. “Gorgeous.” His
hand slides up my side until his thumb is brushing the underside of
my breast.

That light touch feels so good, and I arch
into it, even as my brain screams it’s time to pull away. He lowers
his mouth to mine and kisses me until I’m breathless. My body wants
more, but I’m terrified of what it will mean if we go further. I
need to know I’m enough. To know I’m not my mother.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, pulling back. “I
can’t.”

He leans his forehead against mine and
closes his eyes. He’s breathing heavily, and I like that I can do
that to him. I like it too much.

When he pulls back and looks at me, he says,
“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You don’t need to be ready for anything. I
just got a little carried away.”

“It’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s just…”
I draw in a shaky breath and force a smile. “I liked it a lot. I
like kissing you, but that’s all we can do, and I’d understand if
that meant you didn’t want to date me.”

He stiffens and turns toward the river,
resting his forearms on his knees. “Not all guys are shallow jerks
who only care about the physical stuff.”

“I don’t think that of you at all,” I
protest. “But I want to be fair to you.”

“Then give me a chance,” he says, turning to
me. “Be my girl, Cally. I don’t want there to be any confusion
about what we are to each other.”

My stomach flips at the idea, and I can’t
figure out what I could have done to deserve someone like him. “Did
you miss the memo?”

The breeze floats by, and I can smell him.
Boy soap and aftershave. It’s a scent I could snuggle into and
drift away on.

“What memo?” he asks.

“The one that says the quarterback is
supposed to date the head cheerleader?”

“Hmm. I’ve dated a cheerleader before. It’s
pretty much overrated. Though”—he drops his gaze to my legs—“I
wouldn’t complain if you wanted to wear the uniform.”

I swat him, and my hand stings when it
connects with his solid chest. “Ouch.”

“That’ll teach you to hit me.”

I giggle, then admit, “I like that
idea.”

“Oh, the uniform.”

“No,” I squeak. “Of…being your girl. But I
need to tell you something first.”

He brushes my hair from my face and traces
the line of my jaw, his eyes following his finger. “What’s
that?”

“That night Kenny was harassing me at the
stadium?”

His body tenses. “I remember.”

I swallow. I need him to know more than the
rumors. I need him to know the truth. “He said he’d gotten a hand
job from my mom.”

“Jesus,” he hisses. “He’s such an ass.”

I pull my lip between my teeth and chew on
the corner before confessing, “I don’t think he was lying.”

“Why would you say that?”

“We don’t have much money. My parents are
terrible with it, and then there’s not much coming in and…” I take
a breath, wondering if I dare say the rest out loud when I’ve never
even told Hanna and Lizzy. “My mom’s been taking Vicodin since
Gabby was born.”

“Did she have some sort of
complication?”

I shake my head. “No, she just…likes it. She
hides in her pills. I don’t know where she gets them, but I have no
doubt in my mind that her addiction is to blame for at least part
of our money trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She’s always had this little massage
business, but it’s changed in the last couple of years. The ladies
don’t come to her anymore, and people whisper about her. About what
she does. The worst part is that I think the rumors are true. I
think she got desperate and…” The truth is too sickening to put
into words. “Are you sure you want to get involved with me?”