Read Dante’s Girl for Free Online

my options before I even get out of bed.  And this is a bed that is surprisingly uncomfortable considering that Napoleon himself once slept in it during a visit to Valese.  I lay still for a moment, my arm dangling over the side. 
    The bed is gigantic and I briefly wonder how little ‘ol Napoleon even climbed into it at all.  It’s a gigantic carved mahogany monstrosity, really.  But thinking about Napoleon and his size or lack of or even the ugliness of this bed isn’t helping me decide what to do with my day.
    I can tell from the cheerful sunlight streaming in my windows that it is beautiful outdoors.  Although, I imagine that it’s always beautiful here in Caberra.  Because of that I should do something outside, like sight-see. 
    Maybe. 
    But my problem is, what do I do about Dante?  I’m a guest in his home.  Am I supposed to wait until I am summoned before I leave my bedroom?  Or can I just get up and search him out?  This is a Capitol building so I’m pretty sure that I’m not allowed to just go poking around. 
    The room phone ringing from my bed stand interrupts my quandary. 
    “Reece?”
    Dante’s voice fills my ear, husky and beautiful. Yes, beautiful.  He’s a boy and he’s beautiful.  It’s a fact that I am constantly reconciling myself with.
    “Good morning,” I tell him.  Why is my tongue instantly tied?
    “Good morning.”  I hear him smile through the phone as he speaks and my heart picks up. “Did I wake you?”
    “No,” I answer.  “I’m just laying here trying to decide what to do with my day.”
    “So you’re still in bed?”
    I look at the clock.  It’s only 9:00am.  I don’t need to lie so that I don’t seem lazy.
    “Yep.  But I’m getting ready to get up.”
    “Perfect,” he smiles again, I just know it.  “Would you like to spend the day at the beach?  It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
    “Are all days beautiful here?” I ask.
    He laughs.  “Yes. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”
    I cringe. “I’ve heard that one before, you know.”
    “I’m sure.  So, how about it?  Do you want to spend the day with me?”
    More than anything , I think.
    “Sounds good,” I actually say. 
    “Then it’s a date,” he answers.  “Wear shorts and I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”
    A date.
    The line goes dead and I sit limply for just a second before I leap from the bed and fly into def-con-five-hyper-speed.  I have a lot to accomplish in thirty short minutes.  I have to go from looking like a rumpled farm girl who just woke up to looking like an ultra-glam, sexy siren.
    It’s not happening.
    It’s impossible, in fact. 
    I decide this twenty-eight minutes later as I stare into the mirror. 
    I do, and always will until the end of time, look like the girl next door.  It is my curse.  My eternal fate. They’re probably going to put it on my tombstone. 
    Here lies Reece Ellis, the cute little girl next door.  
    There’s nothing I can do about it.  I’ve tried a thousand times to be a bombshell, but it’s just not going to work for me.
    My blonde hair is a pretty color with high and low lights, but it’s not sleek and sophisticated and doesn’t even have sexy round curls by any stretch of the imagination.  It’s wavy.  Just wavy.  Like it couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted to be.  And for lack of something better or more creative, it’s clipped back in a barrette right now.  My hair straightener is in my checked luggage which is still being held at Schiphol airport.  I only have what I was carrying in my carry-on.
    And it’s true that my eyes are a pretty blue.  But they always seem to sparkle, which makes me seem young.  And pair that trait with the smattering of light freckles on my nose, and I will forever be the dreaded girl next door, not a glamorous Marilyn Monroe type of girl.  I sigh.  Oh well. I’ll just have to resign myself to being more like Doris Day.  That’s okay.  There are worse