Page 50 of Moonstruck at Midnight
Unknown:William asked for your number. I didn’t want to give it to him at first, but he insisted. He mentioned how he wanted to apologize. I think that’s progress. I just wanted to give you a heads up.
Me:Hey Lily! Don’t worry about it, but he didn’t apologize. He did the exact opposite. I think I’m just going to block him.
Lily:What? What happened?
Me:Long story short. He “borrowed” Saturday’s film from my camera. He must’ve grabbed it on his way to return my bag. He returned it to my mailbox and wanted to make sure I received it AND let me know he wasn’t sorry at all.
Lily:OMG!!! This is getting out of hand. I’ll talk to Joel.
Me:Please don’t. I think it’s best if we just all ignored him. He’s probably just bored or something.
Lily:Hmm. Maybe. I’ll talk to you soon.
I opened Google Translate and looked up the word: älskling. I bit my lower lip and shook my head at the screen after seeing the translation result.
SWEDISH
älskling
ENGLISH
darling
A smile wanted to draw itself on my face, but I forced it to vanish. After seriously considering changing my phone number, I thought it would only raise more questions with Thomas and Caleb. I knew Caleb reported back to my father.
I grabbed my phone and clicked the block button ten times in a row instead, hoping William would feel it all the way to wherever “out” was.
Never my ass.
June 26, 2009
THOMAS AND Iwere enjoying his summer schedule more than ever. He knew what I liked, how to pamper me, and now that we had more time, we loved spending it just the two of us, alone—savoring and enjoying every moment. I felt so happy and lucky to have him. We loved taking long walks in Central Park, where I would always take my camera and take pictures of everything I saw, but most were of him.
Our typical Friday routine of going out for dinner was changing this weekend. We were invited to Michael Taylor’s birthday party, one of Thomas’s best friends from Princeton.
I was excited about finally meeting his friends for the first time because I thought it would allow me to know Thomas better. His schedule had been so hectic that we usually spent the little time we had just the two of us.
Thomas arrived at my apartment. He looked so handsome, wearing black jeans and a white dress shirt with a few top buttons undone. I kissed him and rushed back to my bedroom to put my shoes on.
I stepped into the foyer feeling like a million bucks. My cheekbone was still bruised from the blow, but I covered it with makeup—you could barely see it.
“I’m ready.” I smiled, waiting for the usual compliment.
Thomas lifted one of his brows, stared at my legs, and said, “Isthatwhat you’re wearing?”
Uh, yeah.
I wore a simple, elegant little black dress—nothing too fancy or revealing. It was perfect for the occasion, and I honestly didn’t understand what he meant bythat. I’ve never owned or worn tacky clothes.
I looked down and examined myself, trying to figure out what the problem was.
“It’s too short. Go change,” he said, rubbing his jaw and looking away.
Excuse me!It really wasn’t.
“Thomas, this is not short at all. I’ve worn shorter skirts with you before. I’mnotchanging. This isnottoo short, and we’re running late.”
He stared at me, as if trying to decide what to say next. “Every-one’s going to be looking at your legs, and I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.”
