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

THERE’S A STRONG POSSIBILITY THAT I could be hallucinating, because there’s an alarmingly attractive man eating my welcome cookies.

After placing half of the chairs in a circle, I went into the storage room for approximately ten seconds to get the rest, and when I came back out, there he was.

Is. Maybe? Possibly, depending on the hallucination thing.

Starting a brand-new book club has had my nerves out of control all day, not to mention I’ve had an excessive amount of caffeine. I’d originally said no when the owner of Enchanted asked me to run her book club last term, because I thought running two would be too much work. However, in a slightly frantic I’ll show you, Will Ellington!–type moment, when I saw her at the store’s opening night, I told her my schedule had opened up. Meaning the two weeks since Will and I split have involved me zooming around to try to ensure this venture isn’t a flop.

The “real” first session is next week, but when I started posting about the club, many of the prospective members asked for a welcome session to get a feel for what to expect. I picked a book that most people said they’d already read to give us something to talk about.

So, under the circumstances, hallucination is not quite as unbelievable as it may have originally sounded. I will admit, though, if I am hallucinating, my imagination has certainly stepped it up.

When he takes a seat and picks up a book from the pile beside his chair, I decide, albeit not confidently, that he’s real. Which brings me to my next predicament: introducing myself.

Introductions have always been my least favorite part of book club. I’ve spent my life relying on Grayson, or, as a teen, Will, to make introductions for me. Even Gigi and Maisie, my younger sisters, are better at it than I am.

This has always been the one place they haven’t been able to pick up the slack socially. It’s not that I don’t know how to have a conversation with people; I just don’t know where to start. Once I have started, I spend the conversation worrying if I’m making a good first impression. I wouldn’t call myself shy; I’ve just spent my life around louder, more dominant personalities, which has never allowed me to properly challenge myself to get confident in these scenarios.

However, books are a great equalizer, and I just need to remember that everyone comes here with the same purpose.

Thankfully he’s so engrossed in reading the back of his book that he hasn’t noticed my minor confidence crisis in the corner of the room. The more I stare—to work out what to say, not to be a creep—the more I’m beginning to feel like I know him from somewhere.

Right on cue, he leans back in his chair to stretch for another cookie from the table, and the hem of his T-shirt rises enough to reveal a sliver of light brown skin covering his solid, muscular stomach.

I know he isn’t one of my neighbors, given that I’m surrounded by senior citizens.

And he isn’t in my major, because I would not forget him.

I don’t go to parties, so I can rule that out.

He isn’t here with anyone, so he doesn’t appear to be someone’s boyfriend.

Maybe he’s a model and I’ve seen him on a billboard. He has the bone structure for it, my God. Sharp and yet soft at the same time, an oxymoron I know, but it makes sense with his face, I swear. Reddish-brown curls cut short. Dark lashes line his brown eyes, fanning against his cheek as he watches me. Full lips settled in a relaxed smile. Wait, as he watches me.

As. He. Watches. Me.

It could be my imagination and/or the coffee again, but I swear he smirks. I’ve never broken eye contact so quickly in my life.

“Hi!” I choke out as I speed across the hardwood floor toward him. “Welcome to book club!”

My God, he’s even prettier up close. I’m firmly backing my billboard theory. I make the split-second decision as I reach him not to shake his hand, because not only would it mean I had to do it to every other person who comes in here, it’s also really weird. What I’m slowly realizing is my brain is coming out of a deep slumber and it’s just remembering that other men exist, and some of them look like models. I give him my most welcoming smile, and God, I really feel like I know him from somewhere. “Hi, I’m Halle.”

“Henry.”

“Hi.” You’ve said that. “Have we met?”

“No. I’d remember you,” he says. Ironic, because I’d definitely say the same thing about him, but I still can’t place him. “Do you want some help with the chairs?”

“I’m well practiced doing it by myself, don’t worry.” Henry ignores me and stands to start repositioning the chairs anyway, so I copy, even though it was my task in the first place. It’s so quiet up here and I feel like this might be the worst I’ve ever been at welcoming someone to group. Say something, Halle. “So, big fan of romance?”

“Are you asking me out?” he asks, and the chair I’m holding slips out of my hand and crashes to the floor.

“What? No!” I say, my voice rising a few octaves.

“That’s a shame.” If I wasn’t already blushing, I definitely am now. “Kinda sounded like you were hitting on me.”

There are tomatoes that will never be as red as me right now. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was just asking about your reading preferences.”

He heads toward the storage room to get more chairs and looks back at me over his shoulder. “I don’t really have any. I’m more of a hands-on person.”

“Oh, so you’re hoping to get into reading romance?”

“No,” he says, dragging a stack of chairs like they weigh absolutely nothing.

“I see.” I don’t see actually. This is probably the least I’ve seen, ever. I take a seat on the chair he vacated and pick up the hardback on the top of the pile beside the chair leg. It’s a book about leadership. “If you’re joining book club to talk about nonfiction, I’m really sorry, but this one is specifically for romance fiction. You could join the club at The Next Chapter; I don’t run that one anymore, but they rotate different genres and themes there. The new person who runs it is really nice.”

“I’m not joining a book club. My roommate’s girlfriend convinced me to come here with her to buy books on how to be a better leader. She thinks it’ll solve all my problems. I don’t think she’s right, but she says things in a way that makes you believe her. I just wanted somewhere to sit until she’s done.”

No wonder he thought I was hitting on him. “It seems I’ve massively misunderstood, sorry. It’s a new club and we’re doing an icebreaker session and I, uh, assumed.”

“Icebreakers are one of my least favorite things.” He takes the seat beside me, and I concentrate on the shiny dust jacket of his book. “But you don’t need to apologize.”

“What are you supposed to be leading?” I ask, picking up the next book from his stack. “To be a better leader for?”

I recognize this memoir because Will has the same one in his bedroom. I look up at Henry and everything clicks into place. “Hockey,” we both say at the same time.

His brow creases, the smallest lines forming between his eyebrows. I put the book back on the pile, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling plaguing me as I try to force out words. “Sorry, I just realized I recognize you from watching hockey. My boyfr—ex-boyfriend has played against you before. That’s why I thought we’d met.”

“Who’s your ex-boyfriend?”

My stomach sinks, because how in the hell have I managed to make this about Will? “Is it bad taste for me to talk about an ex? Sorry, I’m new to the whole ex-girlfriend thing.”

“I wouldn’t know. Dating isn’t my thing,” he says casually.

“Will Ellington,” I respond. “He goes to a school in S—”

“San Diego. I know him.” My stomach sinks again. What if he tells Will I’m talking about him? Will it make me look bitter or something? This is what happens when I have to socialize unsupervised. “He’s not as good at hockey as he thinks he is.”

I snort. Literally. My body clearly didn’t know what to do with the shock of that statement. “Sorry!”

“You apologize a lot when you don’t need to.”

“Force of habit… I don’t think I’ve made that sound before. It’s just Will and I have known each other since we were kids, and all I’ve heard for a decade is how amazing he is and how he’ll be the star of the NHL in a few years.”

Henry’s eyes widen, disbelief shadowing his very handsome face. “He plays with the ego of a guy who’s been told that his whole life. I’ve played him. It’s not true.”

I don’t quite know how to react. I’ve never heard anyone other than Grayson be critical of Will, and I always put that down to him being a protective older brother. Will has always been the golden boy. Since we agreed to stay friends after our breakup, I shouldn’t feel happy hearing someone talk about him so negatively, but I do. I suppose given how our conversation ended, I’m entitled not to feel super friendly toward him at the moment. “Good to know.”

“You should come watch me play. I’m much better than your ex.”

Before I can answer, not that I had an answer prepared, we’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “Didn’t have you down as a Pride and Prejudice lover,” she says as she approaches us. I’m about to throw out a loud huh before I realize she isn’t talking to me.

Aurora Roberts looks like someone bought Malibu Barbie and brought her to life. She’s gorgeous, confident, and funny. We have some very drastic differences in opinion on books, but she’s a total sweetheart the rest of the time. We’ve had practically the same class schedule since freshman year, and even though I only see her outside of class at book club, she always makes the effort to be kind to me.

She sent me a nice message when I posted that I wouldn’t be continuing with The Next Chapter book club, and an even nicer message when I posted that I was starting a romance-only book club here at Enchanted. I’ve always thought that maybe we could be friends, but Will said rich girls like her want rich friends who can afford to do the things they do.

“Hey, Halle,” she says cheerfully before putting her hands on her hips and staring at Henry. “I genuinely thought you’d just left me here. I thought I was going to have to call Russ and tell him to come get me.”

“How do you lose someone who tells you their location?”

“I, apparently incorrectly, assumed you wouldn’t be waiting for book club. I’ve been calling you. Have you bought your books already?”

I quickly realize that Aurora is the roommate’s girlfriend Henry referred to earlier.

“Not yet,” he says, grabbing the remaining books on the floor. He rests his arms on top of the pile and smiles as I hand the two in my lap back to him. “Do you want to hang out with us? Aurora bribed me with chili fries and milkshakes, so we’re heading to Blaise’s diner.”

It takes everything in me to not ask him to repeat himself. Blaise’s diner is popular with students because it’s cheap, the food is great, and it’s fairly close to campus. Will and I went there for lunch sometimes when he visited, and it’s usually full of big groups of friends hanging out. This is my third year at Maple Hills, and not once has someone asked me to hang out within an hour of meeting. I don’t think anyone’s asked me to hang out, period.

“That’s really sweet of you, but I sort of have to host a welcome meeting in fifteen minutes.”

He tsks. “Oh yeah. After?”

“After book club I’m starting a new job.” I need someone to remind me why I’m starting a new job, pronto. “Sorry.”

“New book club and new job in the same day?” Aurora says. “I don’t know where you find the time. You’re like Superwoman.”

“Yeah, my schedule opened up,” I explain coyly, hoping she doesn’t make me delve in deeper.

Henry doesn’t look happy or sad at my refusal, just neutral. “Another time.”

“Bye, Halle,” Aurora says as they both turn to leave. “See you in class. And good luck! I promise I’ll be here when you do a romance book that’s actually a romance book.”

“YOU SURVIVED!” INAYAH SHOUTS AS I descend the stairs to the main store. “How did it go? I wanted to come up, but I got an influx of moms who just dropped their kids off at Simone’s for ice skating lessons. They’re going to come to the meeting next week. As soon as I said ‘social media influencer and farmer reconnect after a one-night stand,’ they all bought the book immediately! How cool? I didn’t even think about the rink for potential members!”

Even though the past few weeks have been a rush of recruiting members, planning my life, getting back into the swing of college, and resisting the urge to check my phone for messages from Will ten million times a day, it’s truly worth it to be a part of someone living their dream.

When the Enchanted page first followed me and I saw it was going to be opening in Maple Hills, I immediately messaged to share my excitement. Inayah introduced herself and told me it was a lifelong goal of hers to open her own bookstore. This building had sat empty for a couple of years, probably because of the fights that used to happen outside the bar next door before it was shut down.

It’s full of charm, with high ceilings and tons of light, and now that the building next door is being renovated, Inayah thought that this store would be the perfect place for her. When I came for the grand opening, I fell in love immediately when I walked through the soft lilac painted door.

In reality, even without Will taking up my time, I don’t really have the time for a book club. Junior year is for sure going to kick my ass, but I’m the eldest daughter and nobody taught me how to say no. Not technically true in this specific scenario, because I did say no at first, but I felt bad about it, that’s for sure, and here we are.

I’m supposed to be doing things for myself, and I really like Inayah. Plus, romance is my favorite genre, so when she said she wanted to try a romance-focused book club, it felt like fate.

“Good, I think.” She accepts the storage room keys from me and puts them in the drawer beneath the counter. “It was a really good turnout for an intro session at a brand-new club, and everyone was enthusiastic. Only a few of them had watched the adaptation instead of reading the book.”

She leans against the counter, resting her chin on her fist. “Firth or MacFadyen?”

“MacFadyen.”

Inayah nods with approval. “I, too, am a twenty-seven-year-old frightened burden to my parents. How did they react to your final question?”

“Really well, and I have about fifteen more people in my Team Romance camp. I’m happy I started with Pride and Prejudice, because asking people if it’s actually a romance book started some really interesting conversations.”

“I’m so grateful you changed your mind, Halle. I know you have to get to your new job, so I won’t keep you chatting all afternoon.”

“I’m grateful you still wanted me! Do you have those fliers you mentioned earlier? I’ll put them up around college.”

Sliding off her stool, she dips behind the desk, only the top of her glossy black hair visible as she rummages around before reappearing with a stack of fliers and pot of pins. She begins to separate them into piles, dashing beneath the desk again when she realizes she’s missing some. “Do you want one about the writing competition?”

I feel like a dog that was just told she’s going on a walk. My ears all but prick up. “Writing competition?”

“Yeah,” she says, putting an extra flier on the pile. “Calliope Publishing is hosting it; their indie team reached out to me about advertising to customers. You have to submit a novel of at least seventy thousand words, and the winner gets a place in some fancy creative writing course in New York City during the summer. I think the deadline is around spring break, but double-check the flier. It sounds cool, but with the exception of some questionable fan fiction when I was fifteen, I’m definitely not author material.”

I feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head like a cartoon character as I skim the glossy paper. This couldn’t be more perfect, and I have no shortage of ideas, and I have all this free time now, and… I need to go to work. “I’ll take a look. Thanks, Inayah. I should get going.”

“Good luck!”

The drive to the hotel takes half the time I’d planned, and I spend fifteen minutes sitting in the parking lot debating with myself if it’s rude or conscientious to arrive thirty minutes early. In my defense, I’d imagined every possible thing that could go wrong and planned for it. It’s not my fault that I returned to my car in the parking lot of Enchanted and still had all four of my tires.

The writing competition flier is staring at me from my passenger seat, but I’ve already read it ten times to confirm that yes, I am 100 percent going to submit something. If I were dating Will, he’d tell me it isn’t enough time or that the competition is too tough. He’d convince me that it was selfish to spend time I could be with him working on something I’m excited about, since I already have so many commitments.

But I’m not dating Will, and I want this for myself. I refuse to feel guilty about it, and even if I don’t win, I’ll have finally put myself first and completed a goal that I’m excited about.

The impatient part of me wishes I could head home and start working on it straight away, but the responsible Halle that I’m so good at being decides to put it in the back of my head and concentrate on my current task: working at The Huntington hotel.

I originally interviewed for a summer job at The Huntington back in May, when I was trying not to have to go back to Phoenix for three months. I love my family, but spending my time off being used as free childcare for my two younger sisters is not my idea of a productive summer. At least a job would pay me for my labor, and looking after a fifteen-year-old and an eight-year-old is labor. I’m still recovering from the constant tears, arguing, and door slamming.

I’m also still trying to remember a time when Grayson was expected to put aside his summer to play third parent and look after us, even before he started playing football professionally in the NFL and moved to the East Coast.

It might take me until next summer to come up with an answer to that one.

I obviously didn’t get the job I interviewed for; they had a member of staff transfer from a different hotel, but Pete, the manager, said he was impressed with my interview and he’d call if there was ever a vacancy.

True to his word, Pete called last week to say there was a position at reception that could be mine if I wanted it, and I’d need to come in today to do the paperwork and online training before picking up shifts from next week. The hours he wants me to work overlap with the time I was supposed to be visiting Will, which feels like another instance of fate intervening.

The Huntington hotel is one of those chains you can’t escape. Their hotels and country clubs are all over the world, catering to rich and famous clientele. That’s why it’s so wild to me that Maple Hills students are some of the brains behind this particular hotel’s operations. Jokes aside, this hotel has excellent reviews, so they’re doing something right.

Pete is friendly but quick to give me the rundown on the day-to-day of the hotel. I feel like I’m on a Huntington-themed roller coaster as he flies through information I’m supposed to remember. My head feels like it’s going to explode when he finally introduces me to the woman I’ll be working alongside on most of my shifts.

“Halle Jacobs, meet Campbell Walker. Campbell, Halle,” he says quickly. “I have a meeting to go to, but if you can let Halle shadow you, maybe introduce her to the computer system if you get any periods of quiet. I’ve given Halle West’s old pass and locker. Could you track down his old training folder because it might have some guides I can repurpose? I’ll be back in an hour.”

I feel a little like I’ve been dropped off at day care and my parent is leaving me to fend for myself as Pete walks away. I immediately forget what to do with my hands. Letting them hang at my sides feels unnatural, but folding my arms feels standoffish.

“I don’t bite, I swear,” Campbell says gently. “Unless you’re into that.” She gestures to the chair beside her and smiles. “And please, call me Cami. It’ll be quiet for the next hour or so, so don’t stress too much. As for West, the man has never taken a legible note in his life, so let’s not bother trying to track down his stuff.”

“Is West the guy I’m replacing?”

Her smile fades a little, like she’s remembering something she’d rather not. “Yup. He graduated and decided to get as far away from this place as he could. He was useless anyway. Always goofing around and being annoying and…” Her voice trails off. “Anyway, tell me about yourself, Halle Jacobs. What brought you here?”

It’s a second-long decision on whether to sugarcoat it or be totally honest. Will broke up with me, and all the friends we shared removed me from our various group chats, leaving my phone practically silent. I’m avoiding my mom’s calls so she can’t ask me about him, while simultaneously telling myself that having sex with him to keep him around would not have been better than the loneliness I’m feeling because he hasn’t checked in.

In summary, I don’t have a lot to lose and even less to gain from lying to her.

“My boyfriend broke up with me and the people I called my friends shut me out, which wasn’t surprising because I knew they were his friends deep down, but it was surprising how much it hurt me. So now I’m doing things for myself, but equally filling my time so the whole experience doesn’t have a chance to hit me in the face one day.”

Cami is quiet at least three seconds longer than I’d like her to be. Then she smiles. “We are going to get along really, really great.”