8. VERENA GRAVENHURST
EIGHT
VERENA GRAVENHURST
Awoman whom I don’t quite recognize stares back at me through the tall, decorative mirror as I pull the strings of my top tight against my body.
Mauve brought me to a popular boutique in town.
Though her second warning about the Sullivans as we roamed the shop made me uneasy, excitement for tonight still coursed through me like crashing waves.
The corset I ended up selecting, after extensive encouragement from Mauve, fits me as if it were made specifically for my figure.
Its red silk material catches the light beneath the black lace lining, and with each tug of the strings, the fabric molds closer to my body.
It draws in my waist, lifting my bust and showcasing curves I’ve never quite noticed before.
I pray to whatever God will listen that I’m not entirely overdressed for what Reed has planned for us tonight.
My obsidian hair falls in loose waves over my shoulders down to my hips, and I smooth my hands over the front of my torso.
My chest tightens when it dawns on me that I’m the spitting image of my mother with my hair and makeup done this way.
I swallow the knot forming in my throat, and my body stiffens when the loud bells from the grandfather clock in the hallway chime six times, alerting me that it’s six p.m.—the time Reed said he’d be waiting outside for me.
“Shit,” I mutter, and sprint like a bat out of hell to the window overlooking the front of the manor. I don’t spot any cars out front, but I decide to wait for him outside just in case.
Nerves twist inside of me as I make my way towards the front foyer, heart thudding violently behind my ribs like a caged animal as I take hurried steps down the staircase.
I was hoping to see Archie before I left.
The old man seems to calm my restless nerves, but I don’t spot him on the main floor, and the manor is oddly quiet for this time of evening.
I step outside and immediately regret my sleeveless attire as the crisp evening air greets me.
Descending the steps two by two, gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I set foot onto the driveway.
I scan the driveway and can’t help but feel a little disappointed when I don’t see Reed here yet.
Leaning back against the pillar, I let out an exasperated breath that I feel like I’ve been holding since I arrived at the manor.
For a second, my breath is visible against the cold air, dissipating in front of me like a ghost escaping my lungs.
“Sneaking out again so soon?” a familiar, grating voice asks, slicing through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.
Loxen leans lazily against the stone wall of the manor, as if he owns the place.
His dark hair is in its usual disarray, but tonight he wears a clean white t-shirt and a pair of worn black jeans.
A cigarette hangs loose between his fingers as he stares forward, seemingly lost in thought.
I catch myself wondering what demons are tormenting his thoughts tonight, but I stop myself.
Why should I care about the asshole’s troubles?
“I have a date, actually. Not that it’s any of your business,” I grit out.
His eyes drift towards me then, and my heart forgets how to beat. His gaze slowly trails up the length of my body, lingering for a moment too long on my exposed thighs. I shiver, and I can’t decipher if it’s from the bite in the air or the way his jaw flexes before he speaks. “With who?”
Those two little words send a wave of heat rolling through me. “Why do you care?” I stand my ground, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I don’t.” He’s quick to reply, sounding bored. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, and his dismissive tone digs beneath my skin, claiming a home there. I don’t know why I care what he thinks. The opinions of a man have never stirred me before.
Clenching my jaw, a flicker of anger comes to life. I look forward down the vast driveway; no sign of Reed’s arrival any time soon. What if he doesn’t show, and this was all just some big joke? The thought is like gasoline, fueling the seed of self-doubt Loxen planted inside of me.
“You seem to have a lot of interest in where I’m going for someone who doesn’t care,” I spit out.
My short temper seems to amuse him, because a sinful grin tugs at his lips as he grinds his boot on what’s left of his cigarette, snuffing it out in the gravel.
Loxen saunters over to me as if he has all the time in the world and steps directly into my personal space.
His large frame towers over me, and when I peer up at him, his eyes darken.
He’s handsome, the kind of appearance that would undeniably have heads turning as he walked into a room.
But his arrogance is appalling, and his ego, entirely too big.
I find myself conflicted, unable to decide if I want to kiss the jerk, or punch him, though the latter sounds far more gratifying at the moment.
“Don’t get excited,” he says, leaning in. “I have zero interest in whatever tragic little outing you’re all dressed up for. I was simply curious which guy you managed to sucker into wasting his night. Though, by the looks of it, he finally grew a brain and decided he had better things to—”
That’s when I hear it, the sound of stones crunching beneath tires in the distance, and I smirk. Reed was just late. Loxen’s jaw tics, and I watch his confidence falter for only a moment, but it was all the ammunition I needed. “Cat got your tongue, Lox?”
Headlights pierce through the darkness, illuminating the side of Loxen’s face as Reed quickly approaches.
He stares at me for a long moment, eyes flickering to my red-stained lips.
He glances towards the driveway, then back at me, and an emotion that I can’t quite name flickers over his features. Is he jealous?
My eyebrows knit together, and I open my mouth to speak when Reed comes to a stop in front of us, but Loxen’s eyes are fixed on mine. “Guess I gave him too much credit. Enjoy your date, little crow.”
Loxen walks past me into the manor without so much as a glance back, and I suck in a breath, feeling flustered, like he took all of my confidence with him when he left.
A white Mercedes is parked before me, its windows so tinted I’m unable to see anything but my reflection.
My cheeks are an embarrassing shade of pink, and it isn’t until Reed pushes open the passenger door that I realize he had just seen Loxen and I together.
However, if it stirred him, he doesn’t let it show. “Hey, beautiful, you okay?” Reed asks, genuine concern on his face. I nod, sliding into his car, offering him a soft smile.
“I’m okay, just a little cold,” I admit, running my hands over my arms to bring warmth back into them. His features soften as he flicks the heat on. Warm air immediately fills the small space as I adjust my seatbelt.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he says, then gives me a once-over, offering a low whistle. “You look stunning, though.”
“Thank you,” a blush creeps into my cheeks, “you don’t look half bad yourself.”
He’s as handsome as ever in his dark-wash jeans and a white t-shirt, giving the impression that he put a lot of effort into his appearance for me tonight.
Reed begins driving; the smooth hum of the motor fills the air between us. “So…” I drawl, tipping my chin up to him. “Where are you taking me, Sullivan?”
He grins, shifting into drive before sliding his hand into mine. Butterflies swarm my stomach. “You’ll find out soon enough, Gravenhurst.”
Night Moves by Bob Seger plays softly from the speakers, and my anxiety begins to creep up on me the further Reed drives us into the outskirts of town.
“Still not giving me a hint?” I press.
He smirks, giving my hand a light squeeze. “Patience. We’re almost there.”
We drive past multiple town establishments, and every time I think Reed is going to make a turn, he doesn’t; he just gives me a devilish smirk.
There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye, like he’s enjoying toying with me by not giving me the answers I’m looking for.
The houses fade in the distance, and the wooded area around us becomes thicker and denser by the minute.
He turns us down an old dirt road, rocks and dirt kicking up behind the tires.
The car slows, and my nerves flare as we roll past a set of iron gates.
Directly above them, curled metal spells out the words Sullivan Estate Theatre.
My brows pinch together as he drives through.
Just past the gate, sits a stone booth lit by a warm golden lantern, the inside of the glass fogged slightly from the cool air.
A man in a grey coat and a funny hat leans out the window, smiling and waving us through.
“Evening, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Evening, Henry.” Reed cracks his window open. Henry hands him two glossy tickets, black with a silver embossing, and Reed passes them over to me.
Tonight’s Feature: Pride I’ve always wanted to go to a drive-in.
Thick trees line the road, and as Reed makes another turn, we emerge into a clearing that steals my breath away.
It looks like something straight out of another era.
A massive white screen glows softly against the trees.
Rows of cars fill the spaces around the lot, each spot marked with vintage lamp posts with numbers engraved into them, wrapped in dry autumn flowers.