Read Online All I Ever Wanted by Kristan Higgans - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristan Higgans
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couldâve bought.
In the parking lot, Ball Python Woman was sliding her pet into the passenger seat, which made me wonder whatthe heck the snake did while she drove around. âWell, that was a complete waste of time,â she announced as I opened the door for Bowie.
âYouâre telling me,â I answered.
Â
B ACK HOME , I CROSSED New Vet off my list and checked my e-mail. Yesterday, when Annie was supposed to be getting ready for the new school year, she had instead screened several candidates, thoroughly enjoying her foray into Internet dating. This guy is gorgeous! sheâd written, complete with a link to his info. Doug336. What did those numbers mean, anyway? That there were 336 Dougs in the world, all of them looking for love? That was a lot of Dougs. I sighed and turned to look at the framed photo I really should toss.
It was taken at last yearâs company picnic, two months before that fateful foray to Santa Fe. Mark had organized one of those team-building exercise retreat things involving paintball and physical exertion, and though there had been grumblings about why the heck we couldnât have gone on a booze cruise instead, Iâd had a great time. Especially during the Chicken Challenge. Oh, I loved the Chicken Challenge! It was basically a game of piggyback chicken in a lake, and guess who got to partner up with the boss? Me, thatâs who, and Pete had snapped a photo of the two of us, soaked and triumphant, me on Markâs back, my arms around his lovely neck. That was a happy, happy day. Iâd been so sure Mark was feeling it, tooâ¦
Get rid of the picture, Michelle advised.
I didnât. But I dragged my eyes off it and clicked the link. âOkay, Doug336,â I said. âLetâs make a date.â
CHAPTER FIVE
I HAD KNOWN M ARK SINCE I was a kid and, like most of the kids I knew, admired him from afar. I might have been pretty and friendly, but he was older by two years. He was the mayorâs son. He lived up the street, right on the town green, and not in a funeral home, but in a house where, rumor had it, he had an entire floor to himself. He was an only child, he was tall, he was athletic, he was handsome. In my young eyes, Mark Rousseau and Leonardo DiCaprio both had the same appeal and the same unattainabilityâ¦they were fun to look at, sure, someone to swoon overâ¦but someone youâd talk to? No.
And then came Gwen Hardyâs fourteenth birthday party. Boy-girl, rec room, a closetâ¦the classic scene. Despite the fact that several classmates were well into the world of horny teenage groping, I had not yet so much as held hands with a boy. Jake Fiore had asked me out in sixth grade, but I told him my parents were very strict and old-fashionedâ¦not that my parents were paying a lot of attention, but because it seemed easier than negotiating the murky waters of adolescent love.
Anthony Gates approached in seventh grade, and again, I flashed the parent card, apologizing profusely and telling him I thought he was an awfully nice guy,but my dadâ¦gosh, but thanks so much, I was really flattered. (I mastered the art of the nice rejection early in life, as you can see.)
The truth was, I believed in Love. After my father moved out, I resolved that Life Would Still Be Happy. I was helpful with my baby brother, cheerful in the mornings to counterbalance Hester. I made sure I always skipped out to my dadâs car when he came to pick us up for his nights and pretended to love bowling because he loved bowling. Made Mom tea when she came in from work. Always kept my room neat. Smiled when I felt like crying, and when I did cry, made sure I went into my closet so no one would hear.
Love would be my reward. I yearned for love. Iâd have it, and not with any ordinary boy, either. It would be overwhelming, undeniable, meant to be Love with a capital L . The kind that caused Johnny Depp to swing from a rope outside the mental
In the parking lot, Ball Python Woman was sliding her pet into the passenger seat, which made me wonder whatthe heck the snake did while she drove around. âWell, that was a complete waste of time,â she announced as I opened the door for Bowie.
âYouâre telling me,â I answered.
Â
B ACK HOME , I CROSSED New Vet off my list and checked my e-mail. Yesterday, when Annie was supposed to be getting ready for the new school year, she had instead screened several candidates, thoroughly enjoying her foray into Internet dating. This guy is gorgeous! sheâd written, complete with a link to his info. Doug336. What did those numbers mean, anyway? That there were 336 Dougs in the world, all of them looking for love? That was a lot of Dougs. I sighed and turned to look at the framed photo I really should toss.
It was taken at last yearâs company picnic, two months before that fateful foray to Santa Fe. Mark had organized one of those team-building exercise retreat things involving paintball and physical exertion, and though there had been grumblings about why the heck we couldnât have gone on a booze cruise instead, Iâd had a great time. Especially during the Chicken Challenge. Oh, I loved the Chicken Challenge! It was basically a game of piggyback chicken in a lake, and guess who got to partner up with the boss? Me, thatâs who, and Pete had snapped a photo of the two of us, soaked and triumphant, me on Markâs back, my arms around his lovely neck. That was a happy, happy day. Iâd been so sure Mark was feeling it, tooâ¦
Get rid of the picture, Michelle advised.
I didnât. But I dragged my eyes off it and clicked the link. âOkay, Doug336,â I said. âLetâs make a date.â
CHAPTER FIVE
I HAD KNOWN M ARK SINCE I was a kid and, like most of the kids I knew, admired him from afar. I might have been pretty and friendly, but he was older by two years. He was the mayorâs son. He lived up the street, right on the town green, and not in a funeral home, but in a house where, rumor had it, he had an entire floor to himself. He was an only child, he was tall, he was athletic, he was handsome. In my young eyes, Mark Rousseau and Leonardo DiCaprio both had the same appeal and the same unattainabilityâ¦they were fun to look at, sure, someone to swoon overâ¦but someone youâd talk to? No.
And then came Gwen Hardyâs fourteenth birthday party. Boy-girl, rec room, a closetâ¦the classic scene. Despite the fact that several classmates were well into the world of horny teenage groping, I had not yet so much as held hands with a boy. Jake Fiore had asked me out in sixth grade, but I told him my parents were very strict and old-fashionedâ¦not that my parents were paying a lot of attention, but because it seemed easier than negotiating the murky waters of adolescent love.
Anthony Gates approached in seventh grade, and again, I flashed the parent card, apologizing profusely and telling him I thought he was an awfully nice guy,but my dadâ¦gosh, but thanks so much, I was really flattered. (I mastered the art of the nice rejection early in life, as you can see.)
The truth was, I believed in Love. After my father moved out, I resolved that Life Would Still Be Happy. I was helpful with my baby brother, cheerful in the mornings to counterbalance Hester. I made sure I always skipped out to my dadâs car when he came to pick us up for his nights and pretended to love bowling because he loved bowling. Made Mom tea when she came in from work. Always kept my room neat. Smiled when I felt like crying, and when I did cry, made sure I went into my closet so no one would hear.
Love would be my reward. I yearned for love. Iâd have it, and not with any ordinary boy, either. It would be overwhelming, undeniable, meant to be Love with a capital L . The kind that caused Johnny Depp to swing from a rope outside the mental