Novel Legend
Chapter 10
I wish Preston wasn’t wearing sunglasses so I could see more of his expression. Instead, he stands on the front doorstep with his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I do play for the NFL,” he answers coolly, as if it’s a totally normal job.
“That’s football, right?” I question, knowing little to nothing about the sport. My aunt raised me, and since it was just me and her, and because she wasn’t a fan of sports, I couldn’t tell you anything about it. “Are you any good?” I push, suddenly even more intrigued by the man standing in front of me.
A small laugh rumbles deep inside his chest. It’s different from the full laugh he let out just a few minutes ago after my comment about the garden party, but it’s still one I cherish. He seems to be serious so much of the time that getting any kind of reaction from him seems like a small win.
“Yes, I play professional football. I guess you could say I’m good.”
“Would Google tell me the same thing?” If he wasn’t standing in front of me, I’d already have my phone out and be looking up his name to find out just how good he is.
“Does my answer matter? I bet the moment I go back to the guesthouse, you’re going to do an extensive search of my name.”
I nod, it just now occurring to me that along with the news that he plays professional football and doesn’t run a hedge fund or something like that, he’ll be staying here at Winnie and Archer’s. “Wait a second,” I say, my arms crossing over my chest. “I had a momentary lapse in judgment. You’re the friend Winnie called about? You’ll be staying in the guesthouse?”
His lips twitch. “Yes, for privacy reasons. Is that a problem?”
Yes. It absolutely is a problem. “No,” I lie. For some reason, my heart rate increases with the lie—or what I think is a lie. It shouldn’t bother me that we’re going to be so close, but it does. I’ve already told him I’ll spend every day with him this week doing wedding events; I don’t know why I’m nervous having him so close even when wedding events aren’t taking place.
Preston cocks his head to the side. He watches me closely, his blue eyes trailing over my face. I wonder if he can see right through my lie. I don’t ask him if he can. My body heats with the intense stare, but I lie and tell myself it’s because of the sun beating down on us.
“I’m going to get ready now,” I declare, shifting on the balls of my feet.
“One hour, Emma,” he says, holding up one thick finger. “I’ll meet you back here then.”
Before I can argue with him, he’s turning around and walking down the long sidewalk that leads to the driveway. I watch him for a minute, wondering what I’ve signed myself up for this week.
I’m slipping into what seems like the twentieth dress I’ve tried on when the smell of coffee wafts into the room I’m staying in. I pause, holding the straps of the halter dress as I try to figure out where that delicious smell could be coming from.
I’d opened some windows when I woke up to let in the ocean breeze throughout the house. Maybe the smell is coming from a nearby house—or even Preston’s guesthouse. I close my eyes for a minute, relishing in how good it smells, even if I won’t have any.
Ignoring the delicious aroma surrounding me, I look at myself in the mirror. My fingers hurriedly work at tying the two straps of the halter dress into a neat bow at the nape of my neck. If Winnie were here, she’d help me pick out an outfit that would probably be more appropriate for a garden party, but I’m working with the options I brought.
The cream-colored dress has little blue flower details all over the fabric that complement my eyes. I was hesitant at first to choose this dress because of the way the ruched fabric hugs my body. It’s formfitting, but it reaches all the way to my mid-calf, so even though it clings to the small curves of my body, it still seems fairly modest.
If I had more time, I would’ve carefully curled my hair and put a little more effort into it. Knowing I didn’t have long to get ready, I opted to pull my hair into a slicked-back bun and spend more time on my makeup. Considering Preston’s sister was the person who kept handing me drinks while we mingled at the party, I have no doubt his entire family will know I’m not feeling my best today. But despite the hangover, I want to look my best.
I take one final glance at myself in the mirror, knowing this will have to do. I don’t have time to overanalyze every dress I brought, and since I’m not well-versed in knowing what one is supposed to wear to a garden party, I’m just going to go with something I feel good in.
And I know even with the hangover I’m still dealing with, I look good.
I grab the Chanel purse Winnie and Margo got me for my birthday last year off my nightstand. I stuff all the things I think I’ll need for the day in the purse and swipe a layer of lip gloss over my lips before tossing it into the bag as well.
Standing at my nightstand for a minute, I debate pulling my phone out of my purse and recording something to go up on my profile. This morning’s video has only gone more viral as each hour has passed. I was embarrassed about it for five minutes before I let Winnie’s words change my mind.
It’s okay to be a bit of a mess, and if my experience is resonating with anyone else, then I want to be the one to tell them it’ll all be okay. And if it isn’t okay, then there’s still so much adventure left that’ll lead to everything working out—at least, I hope that’s the case.
I pull my phone out, plastering a smile on my face, even though it feels a little silly to talk to myself through a camera.
“Hello again,” I tell everyone, keeping my voice low, even though Preston’s in a totally different house than me right now. “I’m terrible with words and might embarrass myself even more if I spend too long talking to myself, but I wanted to say thank you to everyone who saw my slightly tipsy video from last night and decided to follow me. This summer is all about self-discovery and self-love, and I’m excited to take you on the journey with me.” I smile, flipping the camera around so you can see my entire body in the mirror. “On today’s episode of Emma has no idea what she’s doing with her life, I’ll be attending a garden party for the first time.”
I take a step closer to the mirror, panning to the outfit I’d thrown together, hoping that I’ll blend in with everyone else with what I picked out. “So please tell me this outfit is acceptable for a garden party.” I do a mock British accent, even though not a single person I met last night was actually British. “Actually, don’t tell me if it isn’t because by the time I post this, I’ll already be there, and your opinion won’t matter. I’ll check back in with all of you later to tell you about my first official garden party experience.”
Taking a deep breath, I flip the camera around so it’s back on my face. I smile, trying not to show the nerves that are taking over. “Wish me luck,” I say confidently, pretending that I’m not suddenly incredibly nervous. I blow the camera a kiss before stopping the video.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.
I walk out of the room, following the scent down the hallway until I stop in my tracks, finding Preston standing in the kitchen, his back to me as he searches through the refrigerator.