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second chance. try again. - What We Dream...
...When We're Awake.
whatwedream
second chance. try again.

As I straightened the wrinkles gathering at the waist of my dress, I began to feel downtrodden about why I was even here. Sipping apple cider from a champagne flute in this dolled up dress, I felt like I should be at least ten years older, and with REAL champagne. Mom hardly took me to these company parties - I'm still not of age - so why n-

"Honey, come here for a moment, I'd like you to meet somebody."

I could hardly swallow down the sip I'd taken as that sentence reached my ears. Swiveling around as gracefully as I could, I pro-offered a smile to the elderly man my mother was standing with. Well, he wasn't that old, or if he was, he certainly didn't look it. His skin was a rough shade of tan, but didn't over power the wheat colored hair that sat in full atop his head. His eyes were a light shade of grey, and I swear if he were much younger..

"This is Nicolas Revonlair, he's the president and CEO of his own wine corporation. Nicolas, this is my daughter, Aarika."

I froze and couldn't breathe. Did she just say...?

"Charmed to make your acquaintance, young lady," the man named Nicolas said with a smile. Gently, he grasped my hand and with his middle-aged lips, left a stamp of affection on the skin of my thumb. My mind barely grasped his actions, still running with the surname that my mother uttered so sweetly.

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