Daydream: A Novel (The Maple Hills Series Book 3)

“TURNER, MY OFFICE!” COACH YELLS into the locker room.

There’s a chorus of “ooooooooos” from my teammates, which I ignore as I walk past them all in the direction of Faulkner’s office.

“Take a seat,” he says, not looking up from whatever he’s writing. I watch his untidy scribble mark the page over and over before he eventually stops and sits back in his seat to look at me. That’s the thing with Faulkner: he couldn’t make it clearer that he does not give a shit about anyone’s time but his own.

“How do you think things are going?” he asks casually.

“I think I wish JJ and Joe were still here,” I say honestly. “But I think we’re in a much better place than we were. Matthews and Garcia are working hard—I’ve talked to both of them. I think we’ll be okay next week.”

“Okay or great? Because I need you to be great, Turner.”

I want to let out a loud, tired groan, but I don’t. I hate this side of things. Of course I want us to be great; the entire team wants us to be great. It’s almost like if I don’t hit the buzzwords then I’m not doing things right. Why does it matter if I say okay or great? I want us to win and so does everyone else.

“I think we will be great,” I say back, apparently hitting whatever benchmark of enthusiasm I’m supposed to.

“Happy to hear it. How are you getting on with your classes?”

Did Nate have to answer these questions? Probably not. I doubt Nate’s ever failed a class in his life. He made balancing hockey, studying, and having a relationship all at the same time look easy.

“Great,” I respond, remembering that “okay” doesn’t cut it. “Rocky start, but I listened when you said to do whatever it takes, and someone is helping me now. That’s what I’m doing tomorrow after I do my workout; I have an assignment due on Tuesday.”

He runs his hand through his nonexistent hair, not picking up on my hint that I want to leave. “You’re paying a tutor?”

I think Halle would make a great tutor. She’s so patient and soft-spoken. I can’t imagine her ever getting irritated when someone can’t work something out. “Not quite. She’s a friend.”

“From your class?”

I’ve seen her doodles. I’m not sure she’d make it through a fine art BA. “No. She studies English.”

“I’m confused.” You and me both, big guy. “How can she help you?”

“She’s done Professor Thornton’s classes before, so she knows what he’s looking for. And she makes the research material more accessible for me. Making it less overwhelming to face,” I explain, repeating how Halle worded it to me when we talked about it again while making the cake.

“And what are you doing for her?” Faulkner asks. I don’t know what he means, and whatever expression my face has twisted into is telling him that. “If she’s doing all this work for you, and she isn’t a paid tutor, what are you doing for her?”

I think about it for a little while before finally answering him. “Nothing. I bought her flowers to say thank you when I received good feedback on my essay. We’re friends. She’s a nice person.”

“Hmm,” he says, and that little noise maybe guts me more than him barking my name. It’s the noise people make when they’re about to say something I haven’t considered. Then I spend the rest of my day mad that I didn’t consider it. “Make sure you’re not abusing her kindness. You don’t want to lose your friend. You don’t need distractions this year. That’s all, Turner. Enjoy your weekend.”

Abusing her kindness plays on a loop in my head as I exit Faulkner’s office. The locker room has emptied out now, my teammates eager to get their Friday started. Russ is waiting for me in the lobby, smiling at his cell phone. I think maybe I need to use my savings to buy myself a car instead of relying on him. Am I abusing his kindness by getting him to give me rides everywhere? I give him gas money.

“You okay, man?” Russ asks as I approach.

“Do I give you enough gas money?”

Russ slow-blinks twice, nodding his head. Surprise, maybe. “Yeah, why?”

“I don’t want to abuse your kindness.”

He stands from the bench, his eyes narrowed as he stares at me. “You’re not, at all. Where’s this coming from?”

“Faulkner. Do you think I’m abusing Halle’s kindness by letting her help me and doing nothing for her in return?”

“Uh.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I honestly don’t, since she offered to help you. She seems like that type of girl, y’know? Rory has been borrowing her notes for years apparently, and she runs the book club and other stuff. I think she’s just one of those people who is generous with their time. She’s your friend, right? Friends help each other. You’re still doing ninety-nine percent of the work, dude. I don’t see how it’s any different from if you joined a study group and you guys shared stuff. Don’t let Faulkner get in your head.”

“She is my friend. I really like her. I just don’t want to take advantage of her. I hadn’t even thought about it until he mentioned that she was getting nothing in return.”

I should have thought more about her when she offered. I was just so relieved to have one less thing to worry about this year that I didn’t take the time to think about it.

We climb into Russ’s truck and he rolls his eyes at me as he slips the key into the ignition. “I really don’t think you need to take advice about friendship from Faulkner. Try talking to her when you get there. Maybe there is something you can help her with, and then you both win.”

“I just want to be a good friend to her,” I admit.

“You like her? As more than a friend?” Russ asks carefully.

“I like being around her.” There’s something about her that I’m drawn to. Something about her that makes sense to me. “She’s so calm. Being with her doesn’t drain me. Does that make sense?”

Russ nods, pulling out of the parking lot. “It does. Talk to her. At least she’ll know you’re thinking about her, even if there isn’t anything she wants from you.”

I rehearse what I’m going to say in my head for the rest of the drive.

IT’S NOT UNTIL I’M STANDING at Halle’s front door with a bag filled with Chinese food that I forget everything I’ve been rehearsing since I saw Faulkner yesterday.

“Hi,” she says softly as she pulls the door open. “That smells good.”

I immediately notice something is off about her as I follow her into the living room, dropping the bag of food onto the coffee table and putting my tablet, sketchbook, and laptop next to it.

She looks the same as usual. Glossy lips, thick dark eyelashes lined with black, a glow to her cheeks. Loose blue jeans, a white camisole with buttons up the middle, the lace of her bra peeking out at the top, finished with the thick, oversized cream knitted cardigan with stars on the elbows I’ve seen her wear a few times. The cow slippers are new, but still feel oddly appropriate for her.

But there’s something not right.

Halle knocks her laptop closed as she passes it, throwing herself onto the couch on the opposite side of the room. The device snaps as the lid closes, making her cat jump up and move to circle my feet. I catch Halle force a smile when she spots me watching her. “That was aggressive,” I say, taking the seat beside her, trying not to fall over Joy.

“I’m so—wait,” she says, interrupting herself. “I’m not apologizing. It was aggressive, you’re right. It wasn’t intentional.”

I don’t believe that it wasn’t intentional. “Are you hangry? I didn’t mean to be so long. I’ve been trying to actually complete my workouts this year instead of goofing off at the gym.”

She twists on the couch to look at me, pulling her knees to her chest with her head resting against the cushion. “That’s okay. I’m not hangry, but maybe we should eat before we start working. That way it doesn’t go cold.”

Halle is good at diverting conversations like Russ is. Which is why I think there is actually something wrong. “I’d like it if you told me what’s wrong with you. Something is clearly bothering you.”

“It’s silly,” she whispers.

“I don’t think anything you say is silly,” I whisper back.

She rests her head on the top of her knees. “Do you have siblings?”

I shake my head. “Only child.”

“You’re lucky. No, no, I don’t mean that. I love my family, but sometimes.” She tugs at the sleeves of her cardigan and shuts her eyes. “Sometimes they make me feel like I’m losing my mind. It’s like nothing can happen without my intervention, and it’s so fucking tiring. I thought it’d change when I moved out, but if anything, I feel like they’re worse… Like how is that possible? And they don’t care what I’m doing when they call, or even consider that I might be busy and doing something for me.”

When her eyes reopen and she looks right at me, I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. “Keep going.”

“It’s just boring drama, Henry. We should eat.”

“Tell me.”

“When Will broke up with me, I promised myself I was going to do things for myself. This writing competition was supposed to be that thing, and I was so excited. And I feel like a broken record, but I’m not getting anywhere with it, and it’s making me frustrated. Because all I’ve ever wanted to do is write books, and I can’t even do something for an amateur competition.

“I’m going around in circles and then my stepsister calls because she’s had a fight with my mom, then my mom calls to tell me her side of it, then my youngest sister calls because she’s upset that everyone is fighting. When I’m finally done being mediator, I can’t remember what plot idea I was developing in the first place. Not that it matters, because it’s all weak and it’s impossible to make strong because the ideas aren’t the problem, I’m the problem.”

She looks like she’s about to burst into tears and is doing everything to hold it in. I hate it. “How are you the problem?”

Five words that cause her face to sink. “Because I haven’t lived, Henry.”

“Oh.”

“I want to write about a relationship and experiences that I’ve never had and it shows. I have these moments of clarity and it’s like the sun finally poking through the clouds after a storm, and I feel unstoppable. I write something, then I get to something simple that shouldn’t be hard and it’s like I don’t even speak English anymore and I delete it all. I stare at my screen and nothing happens because nothing happens in my life.”

Experiences. Halle talked about having the experience when I interrupted her with Mason, but I didn’t think much of it. “But Will…”

She huffs and I regret saying his name instantly. “Our relationship made sense on paper but not in reality. I was never in love with him. We didn’t even go on a date in the whole year we were together. We just hung out with his friends or our families. Our relationship changed in title, but it never felt like anything progressed romantically.”

“I’ll take you on a date.”

“Henry, no,” she says, panic seeping into her voice. “I wasn’t hinting that I wanted you to take me on a date. I was just venting, ignore me. I’ll get through it! Honestly, it’s totally fine.”

“Let me take you on a date. You need the experience to write it in your book, right?” I say calmly. “Let me help.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” she says quietly.

“Technically I’m asking,” I argue. “You want experiences, and I want to pass Thornton’s class, so let’s help each other. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, Halle. Let’s make things even.”

“You’re not taking advantage. I like helping you,” she argues back.

“And I’m going to like taking you on a date.” I’ve been on a few dates before and I’ve never had the strong desire to go on more, but something tells me that this will be different.

The pink flush of her cheeks returns. “What will people think?”

I want to say that I’m sure my friends already have bets running on what’s happening, but I don’t, because I don’t think she’d take it very well. She feels embarrassed about the smallest things and I think that would be one of them. I’m trying really hard to think before I say something that might make her feel that way.

“I don’t care what people think. It’s none of their business.”

“But your friends—”

“Will be jealous they didn’t ask you out first.”

She chews on her lip. Thinking hard. “What if they think we’re dating?”

“Do you always worry about what other people think about things that have nothing to do with them?”

“Yeah, I sort of do, actually.”

“Is people thinking we’re dating worse than not achieving your goal?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head frantically. “Oh my God, I’m not worried about me. I’m thinking about you. I don’t want to, like, I don’t know, mess things up for you. You have a lot on your plate.”

“You don’t need to worry. Go on a date with me, Halle. Live.”

Her bottom lip juts out while she considers it and I just watch her. The slow way her eyelashes brush against her skin when she blinks. How shiny her hair is when she tucks it behind her ear. Her big brown eyes staring at me. The way she’s actually smiling even as her mouth moves. Her mouth is moving. “Sorry, run that by me again.”

“I don’t want to be a burden. If you don’t have the time, we stop, promise?”

“Yes, Cap.”

She rolls her eyes, but I sense her begin to relax. She lets go of the death grip she’s had on her legs and removes her chin from her knees, letting her legs cross in front of her. I slide a little closer as she pulls out her phone, tilting it so I can see her open a notes app. I fight the urge to point out that she hasn’t changed her phone background from the picture of me in the bookstore. I watch her type “RULE BOOK” in bold letters along the top. “Okay, what do I need to write down?”

“Nothing. We don’t need a rule book.”

“Of course we do. Number one: you have to be honest with me if you’re too busy. Hockey and school are more important than inspiration for my silly book.”

I take the phone from her hands and huff. “New number one: we have to be honest with each other about how busy we are, and you have to stop belittling things that are important to you by calling them silly.” She reaches to take the phone out of my hand but I move it out of the way. “And number two: you have to stop being embarrassed around me. You won’t be able to tell me what you need for inspiration if you’re embarrassed about everything. I’ve seen four of my friends naked since you, by the way.”

This time she snatches the phone out of my hand, typing frantically. “Number two continued: we are not allowed to talk about the fact you’ve seen me naked ever again.” I try to take the phone back but she holds it in the air out of my reach. “Number three: if you want to date someone and our arrangement is uncomfortable for them—we can end it straightaway. I don’t want to ruin your chances with someone.”

“Delete number three,” I say before she’s even finished typing. “People who don’t understand our friendship don’t get to stick around. I have the same rule for people who have an issue with my other friends, so you can’t argue.”

“New number three: since this is for my benefit, I pay for everything,” she says, squeaking when I snatch the phone from her hands.

“Delete,” I grumble, tapping at the delete key aggressively. Halle moves onto her knees, leaning across, mumbling my name in a disgruntled fashion. My arms are longer than hers so all her attempts fail. “New new number three,” I say as she admits defeat and sits back on her legs. “Finance is reviewed on a case-by-case basis. I’m paying for our dates and other stuff, but if one of your experiences is that you want to go to Bora Bora on a private jet you can pay for that.”

“What if we fly coach?” A grin spreads across her face and I know she’s kidding.

“I can fly you coach to anywhere in the surrounding states.”

She laughs and it’s a sound I’ve grown to really like. “If you whisk me away to Reno, I may simply fall in love.”

“There’s rule number four,” I say, adding the number to our rule book. “You can’t fall in love with me. You’re going to want to. Anastasia tells me I’m very lovable, and the more time you spend with me the harder it’ll be.”

Now she’s really laughing, and I feel so relieved that I’ve managed to improve the sour mood she was in when I arrived. “I couldn’t fall in love with my actual boyfriend so I’m pretty sure I’m incapable of it anyway.”

“Yes, but he’s a dick. I’m not.” She pins me with a look that I can’t decipher. She looks both annoyed and amused. As bad as Will Ellington is, I bet it’s hard for him to know she never loved him. “Like I said, very lovable.”

“Okay, Mr. Very Lovable,” she sighs, gently taking the phone out of my hand. She maneuvers onto her butt, her body pressed up against mine as we sit side by side. I watch her fingers as she types number five. “Our final rule: Henry must break Halle’s heart if she falls in love with him. Hey, it’ll even double as a new experience! Give me plenty to write about.”

“You sound unusually happy at the prospect of heartbreak.”

“And you sound unusually confident that you’re going to be able to melt my ice cold heart,” she says, locking her cell phone now that our rule book is complete.

“There isn’t anything about you that isn’t warm, Halle.”

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just watches me, her face ten inches from mine and her body still pressed against my arm, taking slow and steady breaths.

“You know what isn’t warm anymore?” she says, quickly standing from the couch. “Our food. I’m going to go and heat it up for us.”

And with that, she disappears into the kitchen, takeout bag in hand, leaving me to wonder what exactly it was about Will that she couldn’t love.