Page 7 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)

Trey

I tiptoed through the Mason home, toward the bear-like snores echoing from my best friend’s room. Peering past the door, I confirmed that Liam really was sleeping, despite his racket.

I didn’t understand how the girls in this house got any rest with that kind of noise reverberating through the halls, but I was thankful for it at the moment.

The noise was a signal that gave me the confidence to sneak down the hall toward the bedroom I’d only caught glimpses of through a slightly ajar door.

Natural light and a balmy breeze seeped in through her open window. I checked down the hall one more time before I pushed the door open and went inside.

Grinning, I stepped over a few pieces of clothing strewn across the floor. I padded up to her bed, the one I’d briefly seen her doing homework in or reading her books. Atop her nightstand was a picture frame. The picture was of Maybelle and her mom, embracing on the beach.

Maybelle Mason.

Her room wasn’t what I pictured. I thought for sure the quiet girl would be tidier. More nit-picky. Instead, her bed was disheveled, and there were clothes littering the floor. Makeup cluttered a white-painted vanity on the far wall, but there was one area of her room that was pristine.

In the corner was a bookshelf. One layered in novels of every length, color, texture and width. Lowering to peer at the squat shelving, I confirmed my assumptions. The books were stacked in alphabetical order. I smirked, dragging my fingers along the spines of a few.

I liked knowing this about her. I liked knowing she was a little messy, except with her precious books. I liked knowing anything I could about her.

I was confident, borderline cocky. I could speak to any girl and not get flustered. But Maybelle freaking Mason was a whole other story. She terrified me. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I’d been speechless.

The first time I saw Maybelle, she was picking Liam up from football camp and I all about drooled over my new best friend’s twin sister.

My sixteen-year-old heart wanted nothing more than to hold her hand, kiss her, and take her to the movies. Now, my bit older heart wanted to do a few more mature things—but you get the picture.

I tried to talk to her when we first met, but she avoided me like the plague. I didn’t take it too personally, though, because I soon realized that Maybelle thoroughly avoided everyone .

I thought she wasn’t interested and couldn’t care less that I existed.

Probably wanting nothing to do with her twin brother’s annoying best friend.

I tried to move on with life. I focused on football and indulged in the occasional flings with other girls—mostly as a distraction from what I couldn’t have.

Unfortunately, no one sent my pulse rocketing or my stomach spinning the way my best friend’s sister did.

As rejected as I felt by Maybelle racing away or shutting down when I was near, I had to consider it a blessing .

From day one of meeting Liam, he and I easily clicked. Before Liam, I didn’t have friends.

I mostly kept to myself before the Masons had moved in.

I focused solely on sports, my grades, and my mom.

Those three things were enough to take over every spare moment I had, which left little room for friends and free time.

When Liam came crashing through my life, I felt for the first time in a long time that I could just breathe. Like I wasn’t so alone.

Maybelle, not liking me back, removed a potentially catastrophic hurtle from mine and Liam’s friendship. Or, well, so I had thought… All that changed when she fell from my Jeep into my long-awaiting arms.

I got this kick of courage to try one more time to at least be a friend to her. Maybe get her to notice me as more than her brother’s best friend before high school was done, and we all went our separate ways. I leapt from the vehicle to open her door like a gentleman because girls like that stuff.

Except, I didn’t think to warn her. So, when the door swung open and she toppled out of the lifted vehicle, I panicked. I thought she’d be annoyed, making my efforts worthless. But fortunately for me, Maybelle wasn’t annoyed—she was nervous.

I felt her tense in my arms. Her breathing quickened, and her heart rate rampaged. At that moment, I realized Maybelle Mason liked me because I made her every bit as flustered as she made me. This alone filled me with all the confidence to try harder for the girl I spent so long liking from afar.

Except, after the rally, when she ran back to the car and ignored me, I got stuck in my head again.

Did I read too much into her reaction? Maybe it was solely embarrassment and not nerves. Then I contemplated all the complications.

If it didn’t go well with her, would it hurt my friendship with Liam? Would Liam even approve ?

I stressed myself back into silence until this incredible morning.

I was sound asleep on the Mason’s couch, when I woke to Maybelle bouncing and singing through the kitchen.

As I sat in awe, watching the quiet girl dance and squawk, all I could think was what a wonderful life it would be to wake up every morning to this version of Maybelle.

I’d always thought she was beautiful, but this morning I got to take her all in and I memorized her.

Her skin was a perfect, glowing bronze in the morning light that had flooded the kitchen.

She had a twisted, mixed color of blue and green in her round eyes that were so goddamned enchanting when they were lit up by the sun.

Maybelle didn’t smile much, but I learned that, when she did, she smiled with her entire face.

She had this nose that was paint-splattered with freckles that folded against each other when she scrunched her face.

I wanted her—needed her tone-deaf singing, her dancing, her shy smiles, her pouty, full lips, and oh god—that hair.

Maybelle didn’t wear her hair down, but one day, I would see it. It was a personal goal of mine to get her in a position where she would have it down and I could tangle my fingers through the curls.

Our successful encounter was why I’d given into temptation and snuck into her room. I’d never been inside and after this morning, I was curious.

Everything about Maybelle intrigued me.

I pulled one book from the shelving. I flipped through the well-kept pages. A smile pulled from me as I learned that Maybelle liked books of other worlds, magic and romance. I mentally filed away the mental image of the cover, title and author for later use as I slid the book back into its place.

Turning from the bookcase, I swept one last look around the room, ready to leave before Liam or Stephanie could catch me. But something grabbed my eye.

On Maybelle’s left side nightstand, sat another book. I didn’t think as I strolled around the bed, eager to know what fantastical world she was currently living in. Except, there wasn’t a title on the cover.

It was a black, leather-bound book. Old and worn by the looks of it. Cautiously, I plucked it up, opening the cover trying to find a titlepage, but there wasn’t one.

Instead, written in swooping cursive handwriting, I read:

Hi,

My name is Maybelle Mason.

Frantically, I slapped the book shut and dropped it back onto the table’s surface. Obviously, this was a journal. I was already traipsing through her room like a creep. The least I could do was leave her journal, of all things, alone.

Except, I didn’t turn around. I didn’t leave the way I’d come in.

No, I was still staring at that leather-bound book.

Flexing my fingers, I tried to move, to look away, but again, I was curious.

Too curious for my own good. I meant it when I told Maybelle I planned to learn about her.

Everything about her. Fascination forced me forward and I reached for the book.

“Trey?”

“Shit.” I flinched, shying behind Maybelle’s bed.

Dead still, I crouched as I listened to Liam’s footfalls down the hall and past Maybelle’s closed bedroom door.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I sat baffled that those few written words were enough to distract me from the obvious silence that now swallowed the house.

Shaking my head, I spun for the door, creeping it open.

I could hear Liam bustling through the kitchen.

I let myself out of the room, snicking the door closed behind me.

I hoped to snake my way around the opposite side of the house, creating the illusion that I came from the bathroom.

Turning, I took one long step, only to find myself face to face with Stephanie Mason.

Just my luck.

Stephanie’s wide, sea foam green eyes bounced from Maybelle’s bedroom door to me, then back to the door. I could see understanding leak into her features when Liam called my name again, and I still didn’t answer.

I wasn’t sure if I should run or beg for forgiveness as a knowing smile pulled up Stephanie’s face. My knees buckled when she didn’t speak and pressed her forefinger to her closed, upturned lips. Leaving me with a wink, she walked past me into the kitchen.

“Hey, mom,” Liam said through a yawn. “Have you seen Trey? He stayed over last night, but I can’t find him. And his Jeep is still out front.”

I waited as an apprehensive sweat heated the back of my neck. But Stephanie continued to surprise me as she said, “I think I heard him in the bathroom. Just give him a minute. I bet he’ll be out soon.”

Swallowing, I sighed out the breath I was holding. Then I continued down the hall through the planned path around the house, unable to get my mind off that journal.