Only in Your Dreams (Oakwood Bay, #1)

by Ellie K. Wilde

“Only in your dreams, Zac Porter.”

I just don’t see why I have to walk around with a beauty queen smile if I don’t particularly feel like giving one.

I have been desperately, pathetically, feel-nothing-unless-she’s-in-the-room in love with Melody Woods for fourteen years.

And that’s how I find myself crawling around on hands and knees at Melody Woods’s feet. Sounds about right.

Because… he dumped her? He actually dumped Melody Woods? Is he insane?

I’m properly seething. Rage boiling the content of my stomach. Making me sick. But mostly, making me want to commit a crime.

If Zac Porter wasn’t Zac Porter, I’d let him destroy my life. Ruin my credit rating.

I seem to be an expert at it. Building up men who don’t deserve it.

The bright dot I can see through the top tells me the sun is out, and I stare at it resentfully, as though it personally came out to mock me and my circumstances.

I cough out a laugh. “In your dreams—” “Believe it or not,” he says wryly. “When I dream about you naked, you’re not usually so hobbled, and you’re a lot more enthusiastic about it.”

“I wasn’t offering that. I’d also be on the mattress. With you.” So, this is what it feels like. Wishing for something all your life, aching for it, and then having it appear at your feet.

Getting that vote of confidence from Melody Woods, the infamous skeptic, is enough to make me feel like I can conquer anything.

That’s a man effortlessly pushing strands of soaked hair off his face, like he’s in some kind of pornographic shampoo commercial.

“I’m practically fully clothed. Yet you seem to be blushing, Clover.” Oh, not the nickname, too. What’s this guy playing at?

Quick and dirty— Shut up, Summer.

“Hold up,” Zac says and raises his palms, grin spreading over his face. “Please confirm for the record that you just tacitly admitted that you did pee your pants while we were watching Friday the Thirteenth—

“You want that sound again, Zac?” I rest my head on the tree behind me, fascinated by the effect I seem to have on him. “Earn it.”

“I want… fuck, Melody. I want everything with you.”

And then I realize I actually punctuated the hey with a period. A damn period. Fucking. Kill me.

ZAC: Hey. CLOVER: Hey with a period, Porter? What are you, a serial killer?

“Point of clarification—” She raises her eyebrows. “Unfortunately, I’m not accepting addendums at this time.”

“Don’t worry, I trust you with my virtue.” I kill the light and then shift her so that she backs into my front. “Though if you feel your hands start to wander in the night, just go with it. See where it takes you.”

When I look back, I see Zac is still intent on me. As though he’d consider tearing it all down, starting from scratch, if I hated it.

“You realize you’re encouraging me to come up with a plan to meet a guy, right?” “You already have a guy. He’s sitting fucking right here.”

“That was because of the Hands-Off Melody Woods Rule. Things are different now.” Summer frowns at my brother. “The what rule?” “The Hands-Off Melody Woods Rule,”

A chorus of howls go off on the field, players tipping their heads back as though baying at the moon. The Huskies Howl. That cheer used to thrill me while I played here. You’d hear it whenever we scored or pulled off an impressive play. Not that it happens much these days.

Let’s be realistic, here. Am I actually threatened by a twenty-year-old golden boy? Yes. Yes, I am fucking threatened by a twenty-year-old golden boy.

Something’s happening here. I don’t know what. I don’t even know if she means for it to be happening, but— “Zac—come here a sec!” I will ruin his life.

The kid in the glasses leaps up like a real-life motherfucking Clark Kent,

She tips back her head and lets rip a damn good Huskies Howl. And that might be enough to tide me over into the next century.

“I really wish you were. You realize you’re being possessive over nothing, right? I’m not actually interested in dating her—” My eyes narrow. “And why not? You think you’re too good for her, or something?” “What? Did you bang your head into a concrete wall before this conversation—” “Because she’s out of your league. And she’s way out of mine.” “You’re acting unhinged.”

At the door, he turns to give me as close to a firm look as he can muster. “And you. While you’re with my girlfriend, there’ll be no touching. No staring. No cutesy nicknames. And don’t even smile at her. Do you hear me?”

“You’re telling me you have an infestation of benevolent gnomes, who leave around your favorite snack and my exact brand of lip balm?” I shrug. “In hindsight, it explains the cost of the property.”

I will never, ever, fall out of love with this woman. It’ll never happen.

“This is a hypothetical scenario, right? Because if that really did happen, he’d also have sworn me to secrecy.” I chuckle. “Yes. Totally hypothetically, would Zac be the type to ask his friend to orchestrate a shopping spree for…” “A woman named… Belody?” I manage a laugh. “The one and only.” “Hypothetically, I do think that’s something he’d do.” “And why would he do that? Hypothetically.”

She’s wearing an oversized, ancient jersey. White with the teal accent color from our high school. The number ten, and my last name plastered on the back. I can’t tell whether I’m about to come or laugh or cry. It’s a fascinating combination of emotions.

She nuzzles into me. “I don’t understand how you’re single.” “I’ve never been single. I’ve been yours.”

Gina Matthews gives Mel an encouraging pat on the back, and I need to remember to give her husband a raise one of these days.

Surely—surely—he did not just call her babe. Does he have a death wish?

“Clover.” I brush a lock of hair off her forehead. She opens her eyes. “Give in to me.” She sucks her lower lip into her mouth, eyes on mine. “But we’re not in Paris.” “I can live without Paris.” I press my forehead to hers. “Give in.” “There’s no Eiffel Tower.” I grin. “I’m terrified of heights, anyway.” “It’s not even raining.”

Those are the moments I feel Grams the most, know she’s still looking after me from wherever she is. Tonight, I feel her in that first drop of rain, landing on Melody’s cheek.

“Their defensive backs tend to cheat up toward the line of scrimmage on first and second down.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head. “Fuck, you’re so hot. I love it when you talk football to me.”

“Mel, we’re friends now, right?” I straighten, apple in hand. “Are we?” “The three of us watched Drive together last night. Do you know how sacred that is?

“He’s your friend. And his sheets are imaginary.” I pause, pretending to consider. “I bet they’re really soft, though.” His eyes narrow. “Mention his imaginary sheets one more time and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

ZAC: Clover. MELODY: I’m coming. I’m sorry I missed it, but I’m heading there now, okay? Where are you? Three grey dots appear at the bottom of our text thread, flickering as he types. ZAC: Open your front door.

Don’t they realize what’s happening? Melody Woods is gracing the place with the rare, precious sound of her laugh, and they’re all letting it pass them by without a care in the world.

“Don’t you dare downplay this. Who did this to you?” “No one—” “Who did this to you?”

“People don’t get to go around hurting you with impunity—I swear to God, I will kill him—tear him apart, limb by limb until there’s nothing left—

“Is it a forks-and-knives kind of night?” Noah asks her. “Or a sauce all over your face night?” She waves away the cutlery. “Sauce everywhere. Drowning in sauce. Sticky fingers and stains on the couch we’ll need to clean up in the morning.”

ZAC PORTER flashes across the screen. “Zac—” “I swear to God, I will murder him. I will tear him to fucking shreds.” Zac’s voice is shaking, livid. He must be out on the field already because I can hear vague sounds around him, and the wind rushing into the phone. “Melody, are you okay?”