Dragonfly

Chapter 8

Jack was very punctual picking me up for school, and I was almost late after trying ten different uniform combinations hoping for the sexiest. Why my hair had to look the way it did was my own personal burden, but I noticed my clothes were a little looser. Having a hot potential-boyfriend kept my stomach so twisted, my appetite had virtually disappeared. My last snack-out had been my miserable night with The Notebook. It was simply impossible to be sad now with Jack in the picture, and I loved the racing butterflies. They made me feel all bubbly and amazing.

I finally settled on the navy skirt option with a light-blue polo and brown flats when I heard him downstairs talking to my dad. I jerked my hair back in a ponytail and ran down hoping to derail any discussion of me as a baby, or bananas, or other embarrassing topics.

“Hey!” I was breathless when I reached the kitchen, and Jack’s smile when he saw me didn’t help.

“You look nice,” he said.

Dad cleared his throat, “So be careful on the roads.”

“Sure, Dad. See you tonight.”

When we drove into the parking lot, I noticed a few heads turn. “How’d Lucy get here?” I asked.

“She has her own car.”

I noticed a bright yellow Cabrio parked in the next space and wondered what it would be like to grow up getting whatever you wanted. Jack helped me out, then he took my book bag and slid his arm across my shoulders. “Maybe we should do this every morning.”

“That’d be great!” My voice sounded squeaky to me, so I cleared my throat. He was just so confident and rich and gorgeous. I imagined everyone as bewildered by this turn of events as me.

“How was golf?” I said.

“The same,” he looked away, and I noticed his jaw tighten. “The course was hot. Dad talked nonstop about my future. But I shot a two under.”

“And you lost me.”

“I’d rather have been teaching you to sail.”

“I can’t wait. How soon can we start lessons?”

“Not this weekend,” he frowned. “We’re headed to New Orleans to visit my brother and let Lucy tour Tulane.”

“Tulane? Your brother?” I stopped and faced him. “Fill me in.”

“William’s working on his MBA at Tulane, and Dad’s talking about enrolling her there.”

“William.” I thought about what my dad said. “So, like, Bill, Jr.?”

“He’s named after my dad, but he’s not really called that.”

“What? Junior or Bill?”

“Neither. But he does like to think they’re exactly alike.”

“He wants to be exactly like your dad?” We started walking again, and I considered Mr. Kyser’s cold eyes and rude remarks.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t really get Dad.” Jack looked down still frowning. “Will’s all power and conquest, and Dad’s not really into that. He just likes a good deal. He’s not ruthless.”

“Is William ruthless?”

“He wants to take over, and he wants me right there with him.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I think I’m happy where I am.” He gave me a squeeze, and we were at English.

I looked up at his bright blue eyes and wondered if he was thinking the same thing as me—kissing on the beach, moonlight, skin against skin…