Chapter 1 #2
We walked side by side toward the line of cars and as the bonfire’s light grew fainter I wondered belatedly if I’d just made a very bad decision.
“I’m Otto,” he said, looking down at me.
“Esther,” I replied.
“Pretty name.”
“It’s an old lady name,” I argued easily.
He jerked a little in surprise, then relaxed again as if it hadn’t happened.
“I don’t know any old ladies named Esther,” he said in amusement. “Do you?”
“Well, no,” I conceded. “Except from the Bible.”
“Oh,” he joked. “So really old ladies.”
“You could say that.”
“I like it.” He shrugged. “Don’t meet a lot of Esthers.”
“I’ve never met another Otto.”
“My parents have a sense of humor,” he muttered.
“No, I think it’s cool,” I argued, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I like unique names.”
“So do my parents,” he said dryly as we reached his car. “Give me a second, I think they’re in the back seat.”
“You carry water bottles around in your car?” I asked, stopping at the hood while he walked toward the driver’s side.
“You don’t?” he asked, ducking into the car.
“I don’t have a car,” I replied, raising my voice so he could hear me.
“You drive?” he asked, his big body straightening as he lifted two bottles in one hand.
“I can,” I replied. “But I don’t have a car. I just borrow my parents’ car for work and stuff.”
“Oh, yeah? Where do you work?” He strode back over and handed me a water as he leaned back and rested his butt against the hood of the car.
“My family has a nursery,” I replied. “Thanks.” The water was a little warm from sitting in the car, but I’d broken the seal on the top so I figured it was okay.
“You just graduated with the rest of those bozos, right?” he asked.
I choked on the water in my mouth.
“Yes,” I wheezed. “With my cousin, Becka.”
There was no sign of recognition on his face.
“Pretty? Blonde? Goes out with Matt Shepherd?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Oh.” I looked away and twisted the cap back on my water. I wasn’t really sure what to say. Everyone knew Becka. Considering the way we’d been raised, it was incredible really, but she was one of the most popular girls in our class.
“I didn’t spend much time with underclassmen,” he said easily. “I graduated year before last.”
“You went to school with us?” I asked in surprise, looking at him again. “No you didn’t. I definitely would have remembered you.”
He laughed and it felt like my entire belly and chest filled with hot lava. The smile changed his entire face. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his teeth were perfectly white and straight and oh, god, I was staring again.
“I remember you,” he replied, elbowing me lightly.
“No you don’t.”
He laughed again. “Swear.”
“Why?” I asked dubiously. “It’s the skirts, right? Anyone else can wear a skirt but just because I do I’m weird.”
“It wasn’t the skirts,” he said, his laughter fading. “Did kind of wonder about that, though.”
“My parents think females should wear skirts,” I answered simply. There were far more detailed reasons, but I wasn’t willing to get into them when I had this beautiful man’s full attention.
“Got it,” he replied, nodding. “Well, it wasn’t the skirts anyway. It was the hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I demanded, reaching for the bun at the back of my head. Everyone wore buns in their hair, it was cool! The other girls wore them messier than I wore mine, but they were basically the same hairstyle.
“Nothin’ wrong with it,” he said, watching as I smoothed my hand over it. “I just always wondered what it looked like down.”
“Oh.” I dropped my hand. Okay, that wasn’t so bad.
For the first time in my entire life, I cared that this guy didn’t think I was a freak.
“It’s so thick,” he murmured, shrugging. He opened his water and took a drink. “It’s long, huh?”
“Pretty long, yeah.”
“I bet it’s heavy.”
“It gives me a headache sometimes,” I agreed, ruefully.
“You ever wear it down?” he asked, his voice quiet.
“Only at home.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, watching as the crowd around the bonfire grew louder and rowdier. The two of us weren’t that far away from the group, but our little place in the darkness still felt isolated somehow. Separate.
“So, Esther,” he said, glancing down at me with a smile. “I’m guessin’ this isn’t really your scene.”
I let out a choked laugh at the amusement in his words and shook my head.
“Not really,” I replied. His smile was contagious.
“What would you rather be doin’ right now?” he asked, relaxing against the hood of the car.
“Reading,” I replied immediately. “Or knitting.”
“Party animal,” he teased. “My mom knits.”
“I can make clothing from strings,” I said loftily, lifting my hands and wiggling my fingers. “Don’t knock it.”
“You make any of that?” he asked, waving his hand toward my clothes.
I held back a snort. “No, these were bought from a store,” I replied dryly. “Probably the same one you shop at.”
“Doubt that,” he chuckled.
“What do you like to do for fun?”
“Hang out with my brothers,” he said after a moment. “Work on my house—”
“You have your own house?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
“I do.” He nodded. “It’s a pile, so I’m always workin’ on shit, but it’s mine.”
“That’s so cool.”
He grinned and my stomach flipped over. “You’ll have to come by sometime. I’ll show you around.”
I smiled back but couldn’t hold his gaze. We both knew that I’d never in a million years see his house. The chance of us ever speaking again was practically non-existent.
I was playing with fire. I knew I should say thank you for the drink and walk away. I didn’t know him from Adam, and I’d probably never see him again. I should say goodbye and go find Becka and get the heck out of there before my parents noticed that we weren’t where we’d said we’d be.
But I couldn’t make myself go. I wanted to soak in the moment just a little longer. He was so perfect. Nice and huge and handsome.
Someday soon, my parents would find a man that they thought was a good match, and we’d court for a while, fully chaperoned, and then we’d eventually get married and have kids and my entire world would consist of housework and weekly trips to the grocery store and I was fine with that.
Mostly. It was what I’d been raised to expect.
I honestly couldn’t imagine anything different.
But I’d also probably never feel the nervous butterflies in my stomach again, and that felt like such a tragedy. I told myself I’d stay just a few more minutes and then I’d go find Becka.
“I’m kind of obsessed with your hair,” he blurted out of nowhere.
“You’re what?” I asked incredulously, looking back at him. He was scrubbing a hand over his face sheepishly, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“There’s so damn much of it,” he mumbled in embarrassment.
“I’m pretty sure I have a normal amount of hair.”
“You don’t,” he replied, shaking his head. “Have you ever cut it?”
“Of course I’ve cut it.” I rolled my eyes. The conversation was getting really weird, but I couldn’t help but be intrigued. He was staring at me. Me.
Invisible Esther.
I was sure that I’d never held anyone’s attention before. It was a heady sensation, to say the least.
“Bullshit,” he said, his lips twitching.
“I’ve trimmed it,” I clarified, crossing my arms over my chest. “If I didn’t, it would get all stringy at the ends.”
“Can’t have that,” he replied in amusement.
“You want to see it down?” I asked, sighing like it was a huge pain to even offer. In reality, my stomach was somersaulting like I’d swallowed a hive of bees. He watched me like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen, and in that moment I would’ve done anything to hold his gaze.
“Seriously?” he asked, straightening.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck yeah,” he said quickly. He laughed a little at himself. “I mean yes. I’ve been dyin’ to see it.”
“Seems like a weird thing to be dying to see,” I replied as I reached for my hair.
“Maybe to you,” he said, his eyes on my hands. “You’ve seen it.”
“It’s really nothing special,” I warned, handing him a bobby pin.
I searched around, finding them easily. I could do my hair in my sleep, I’d been wearing it the same way for so long.
I’d handed him five pins when my hair started to droop in the back, and I slid my fingers into the hair tie and pulled it out. “Brown and mostly straight.”
“Holy hell,” he murmured as my hair fell down my back.
I laughed self-consciously as I ran my fingers through it and turned away from him. “See? It’s just hair.”
I froze as his fingers touched the back of my neck and slid down, following the strands of hair until they ended right above my butt. I wanted to turn, so I could see his face, but as his fingers started again at my neck I felt almost hypnotized.
“Why the hell would you wear this up all the time?” he murmured, both hands running through my hair.
“It’s kind of like the skirt thing,” I replied, looking at him over my shoulder.
“Your parents have rules about your hair?”
“Yep.” They had rules about everything, and I was breaking them one by one.
His hand wrapped lightly around the back of my neck and for some reason, I didn’t feel nervous as he turned me to face him.
“Is it everything you hoped for?” I teased uncomfortably as his hand tightened in the hair at my nape.
“I get it now,” he replied, staring at me. “You wear this down and your parents would be puttin’ bars on the windows to keep the guys away.”
I rolled my eyes. It was just hair. It was long and annoying and took forever to wash. I was still me when it was down and I’d never had a single boy show any kind of interest.
“I’m not jokin’,” he breathed. “Jesus Christ.”
“I doubt he cares what my hair looks like,” I said lightly.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said incredulously.
“Uh, thank you?” I wasn’t sure it was a compliment considering his tone.
He didn’t reply as he pulled my hair forward, smoothing it down over my shoulders.
“Can I put it back up now?” I asked, tilting my head in question.