From a Dream: Darkly Dreaming Part I Read online

  I stopped, breathless. We were standing outside my house, and here I was practically shouting at my History partner. It began misting again, and glimmering droplets of water in his hair were forming a halo around Will’s face. Without warning, I felt an irrational desire to reach out and trace his perfect features with my fingertips—to convince myself he was real. He was beautiful, perfect, but somehow alien. It wasn’t just that he didn’t belong here with me. Actually, he didn’t belong anywhere with mere mortals.

  “We should go inside,” Will said quietly.

  Chastened by my outburst, I nodded and turned toward the house. Darcy clattered up the stairs ahead of us, and I followed behind Will. When he unlocked the front door, I shook my head. Had I given him the key? I couldn’t remember. Will could easily make a person crazy, I thought as I followed him inside and sat stiffly on the couch, still embarrassed.

  “Have you thought of any topics you’re interested in pursuing?” Will asked pleasantly, as though I hadn’t just unleashed a torrent of wild accusations in his direction.

  “I was thinking maybe a juxtaposition between passage of the Fugitive Slave Act and invention of the cotton gin.”

  “That sounds manageable,” Will nodded. “We can draw up an outline over the weekend.”

  “The weekend?” I looked at him blankly.

  “Unless you would prefer I met your father this evening?”

  I glared at him as Will smiled his irrationally beautiful smile and stood to leave, apparently satisfied he had outmaneuvered me.

  “I’ll see you in class,” he called back as he glided away from me. “Remember, no going anywhere with strangers or wandering dark streets alone …”

  He laughed, and I turned from where I was sitting on the couch, about to make a comment, only to find myself alone in the room. It was like talking with a ghost who disappeared and reappeared at will, I thought testily. After gathering my books, I trudged up to my room. But I found it nearly impossible to concentrate on schoolwork. My mind kept drifting back to Will.

  Each time I thought of him, a rush of adrenaline would make the words in my Health Sciences textbook turn to nonsense, forcing me to start all over again. I was sure I had been reading the same page for at least an hour when I heard my dad’s car pull into the driveway. I hadn’t even thought about what to make for dinner—or how I was going to tell him about Will coming over, which I was sure was going to be … awkward.

  “Aven, you home?” my dad called as he entered the house.

  Where else would I be without a car or driver’s license? I wondered.

  “Upstairs!”

  Homework would have to wait while I tried to figure out dinner. Darcy stood at the door, waiting to be released from my room so that he could race downstairs to greet my dad. I got up, opened the door, and followed my dog downstairs. My dad was still in the entryway sorting mail. After pecking him on the cheek, I moved toward the kitchen to rifle through the refrigerator for potential dinner items. I scanned the contents, scribbling notes on a list I had left out the day before, which meant that my dad had forgotten to go to the store.

  “How does mac and cheese sound?” I called.

  “Great. Do you need me to do a grocery run?” he asked as he joined me in the kitchen.

  “Yeah, I’m adding a few things to the list now. Is there anything you wanted this week?”

  “I’ll leave it up to you,” he said, still studying a piece of mail.

  There was a reason why my dad wasn’t in charge of meal planning. My mom had always said he would starve if left to his own devices. Since that wasn’t an option for me, dinners that didn’t come with plastic utensils were my responsibility. As I updated the grocery list, I realized that I hadn’t asked Will about his dietary preferences, but since he was coming over on a Friday, I decided he could deal with my pasta sauce.

  My dad probably wouldn’t have noticed if I made macaroni and cheese straight out of a box, but the thought of powdered cheese made me gag. From the refrigerator, I pulled out three different types of cheese, broccoli, milk, and butter before going to the pantry to retrieve an onion, dried chives, and a bag of flour. As I grated the cheese, I heard my cell phone ringing upstairs and ran to grab it. It was Sean.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I caught my breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  I frowned. He sounded uncharacteristically … nervous. Oops. I had totally forgotten about my episode in History—and that I had skipped Journalism.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just felt a little sick in class.”

  “Well, when you didn’t come back …” Sean sounded sheepish. “Well. I sort of thought the new guy had kidnapped you or something. I mean, he had you out of class so fast Anderson didn’t even have a chance to figure out what was going on.”

  Obviously my exit from History hadn’t been as subtle as I had hoped for.

  “He just drove me home, and we talked a little about the History paper,” I said as casually as possible.

  “Oh.”

  I felt like a liar, but that was what had happened—with a few minor omissions about my crazy behavior.

  “Hey, are you up for going to Ford’s this week?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.

  “Always.”

  “You mind if I bring a friend?” When Sean didn’t say anything, I rushed ahead. “Her name’s Lizzie. She’s really nice …”

  I could hear Sean exhale, and I wondered if he had thought I was going to invite Will Kincaid. I almost laughed at the thought of Will and Sean in the same vehicle. Like night and day.

  “You want me to invite Matt and Jeff?”

  “Um ...” I started, stalling as I thought about having two additional bodies jammed into Sean’s Civic. “Maybe next time?”

  “You wanna go Wednesday then?” Sean asked.

  “Sure. I’ll ask her tomorrow in fifth.”

  “If you make it that far,” he teased.

  “Ha, ha.”

  “All right. I gotta go.”

  Throwing the phone on the bed, I sighed when I remembered that tomorrow was Tuesday. Sean had morning band practice, so I would have to take the bus. I still hadn’t made the appointment for my driver’s exam, but another day of the bus would provide ample motivation. My dad had mentioned that one of the professors in his department was looking to sell his car for cheap, but so far our conversation hadn’t progressed to the point where I even knew what type of car it was. Didn’t matter, though. A vehicle of any kind would have to wait until I had a driver’s license.

  On my way downstairs, I noticed that my dad had drifted into his office, absorbed in his work, as usual. I set a pot of water on the stove while I grated the rest of the cheese before moving on to chop the onion and broccoli, which I would stir into the cheese sauce. My mind drifted aimlessly across my few encounters with Will as I sniffled against the onion’s fumes.

  In every memory, Will seemed to float, appearing instantaneously or disappearing without warning like I hadn’t been paying close enough attention. I tried futilely to remember a single misstep or less than graceful movement. I couldn’t capture one. I envisioned his silhouette perched at the top of the play structure in the park, his features obscured by the setting sun behind him, his golden hair set aflame. The image sent a chill down my spine.

  Once the cheese sauce was bubbling, I decided on the simplest salad possible, quickly tearing some lettuce and slicing a tomato. When the macaroni was almost ready, I called up the stairs to my dad. If I didn’t bring up the subject of dinner with Will tonight, I would never do it. It was now, or let Will show up Friday without warning. My dad came into the kitchen and sniffed the air.

  “Smells great,” he said appreciatively. “Your old dad would starve without you.”

  “Correction. You’d live on pizza and Chinese take-out,” I said with a smirk.

  I finished setting the table while he got drinks from the refrigerator.

  “As usual, you’ve outdone yourse
lf. You know, any time you want, we can order a pizza.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I groaned when Darcy settled at my feet and whimpered imploringly. “Oops. I forgot about someone else’s dinner.”

  I walked over, took some wet food from the refrigerator, added a cup of dog food from the pantry, and then mixed them into Darcy’s bowl on the other side of the kitchen.

  “Anything interesting happen at work?” I asked as I washed my hands.

  My dad’s eyes lit up by the time I sat down.

  “I’ve already had eight sign ups for the class I’m planning for next semester.”

  “That’s great,” I said, tasting the macaroni.

  I looked up when my dad paused—in that way of his that signaled bad news was imminent. I swallowed and held my breath.

  “I think I mentioned Dr. Pitt? The one who’s thinking of selling his son’s old car?” I nodded and waited expectantly, thinking maybe it was good news after all. “Well, he asked if I could go to a conference over the weekend. I don’t have a lot of time to prepare, but it’s a great chance to represent the department and the university. I have to fly out to Denver, though.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “When do you leave?”

  “Saturday, and I’ll get back Monday night,” he said, looking at me apologetically. “It should be a really quick trip. I’m going to ask Mrs. Hendrix to look in on you. Do you have a friend who can come over to keep you company?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Dad, I’ll be fine. Remember, I used to stay overnight to baby-sit the Wheelers’ kids on the weekends in that huge house. And I can call Sean if I need anything. I just need you to pick up some stuff at the store before you leave,” I said confidently.

  But that still left Friday night wide open for dinner with Will and my dad together. I couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I sucked in my breath. Now was as good a time as any.

  “So, I finally got a partner for my History paper,” I said slowly. “He wanted to meet you, so I invited him to dinner on Friday, if that’s all right.”

  I glanced at my dad. He didn’t seem alarmed, but why would he be? I wondered if that would remain the case when he saw Will at the door.

  “You’re not working with Sean?”

  “Mr. Anderson assigned us partners.”

  “Is it someone you know?” my dad asked.

  Other than Sean, I didn’t really know anyone at Winters, but I wasn’t about to bring up my lack of social life.

  “He just transferred from out of state,” I offered.

  “Does he seem like a nice boy?” he asked absently.

  I almost choked on my sparkling water. Nice? Boy? Neither of those words came close to accurately describing Will Kincaid. Combined, they were absurd.

  “I like him a lot,” I said quietly.

  More than a lot, and I barely knew him. We finished the rest of dinner in silence, and I did the dishes quickly. When I got to my room, I fared slightly better with my Health Sciences chapter. Math was another matter. After double-checking my work, I curled up in bed with my copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls, trying to guess which character—Robert Jordan or Maria—would die in the end. Because someone always died in the end.

  I looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was getting late, and as jumbled as my thoughts of Will Kincaid had me, I was exhausted. After changing into my pajamas, I went down the hall to brush my teeth, and when I peeked into my dad’s room, I saw that he had fallen asleep reading. I reached over and pulled off his glasses before turning off his reading lamp.

  Back in my room, I turned out the light and made my way carefully to the bed with my hands out in front of me. I still couldn’t make it through the new room in the dark without tripping. Once I got under the covers, I curled onto my side, but Will’s face haunted me the moment I closed my eyes. Memories of him flitted through my head. … The shock of seeing his face for the first time as he walked into class. His fiery silhouette in the park. The relief of seeing him on the balcony at Jason Everett’s house. The look in his eyes as we stood all alone in the hills above town. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, making sleep even more elusive.

  The only rational explanation for our proximity was coincidence. But the pull toward him felt inescapable, like gravity. And I was already bracing for impact. With a sigh, I got up, turned on the lamp, and walked over to the computer. Unlike the old dinosaur that had dominated my desk before, the new computer’s screen came to life the second I touched the mouse. I opened the file I had saved, blushing when I read the solitary sentence.

  I met Will Kincaid today.

  Chapter 8: A Message

  It was the strangest feeling knowing that Will was coming to my house for dinner in a matter of days. Not that it was a date—far from it, but I still couldn’t bring myself to tell Sean. And it made the thought of seeing Will in class oddly terrifying. Already, I was dreading the looks from other students after my performance in History the day before. Or maybe no one had noticed. I could always hope that my invisibility had stuck. For whatever reason, I trusted Will’s prediction that Scott Adams remembered nothing from the party, and I was thankful for that much. Actually, I hoped that Scott had forgotten I existed.

  As I walked to fourth period, I scribbled down a reminder about a quiz in Ms. Gilbert’s English class. Looking up, I felt my heart practically stop when I saw Will Kincaid standing outside Mr. Anderson’s class, his arms folded casually as he leaned against the lockers. He looked more perfect than I remembered—if that was even possible. Other faces in the hallway blurred next to his.

  I slowed automatically as Allison Monroe, followed by Natasha and Shelley, entered his line of vision. Steeling myself, I waited for him to gawk at Allison and turn into a puppy the way every other guy in school did. I willed myself not to feel disappointed by something that was inevitable. When she tilted her perfectly made-up face toward him, clearly expecting his automatic worship, I looked away.

  Confusion washed over me when I looked back at them, and I almost stopped walking. Allison had obviously said something to him, but when he glanced down at her, his features were indifferent, almost cold. After another second, she walked away, obviously pissed off. I couldn’t help smiling. Impervious to Allison Monroe? Maybe he’s from an alien planet, I thought dryly.

  When I reached the door, Will still stood waiting. Smiling at him like I hadn’t acted like a nutcase the day before, I began to pass by him when he caught me in his gaze. Before I knew what was happening, he placed one hand firmly under my elbow and escorted me into the classroom like we were at a cotillion, not History class.

  I scowled, speechless, as he steered me to our row. I could almost feel the stares boring into the back of my head. So much for my powers of anonymity when I needed them. Even Mr. Anderson stared quizzically as Will released me and I dropped into my seat, breathless and completely flustered. Trying to keep my breathing even—which was not even a remote possibility—I removed my textbook from my bag and prayed the bell would ring.

  My heart was racing, though not in the same way as the day before when Scott Adams had hobbled into class. I wasn’t afraid. Instead, heat was coming off me in waves. My cheeks were burning, which meant they were probably as red as my hair. What the hell was this guy’s problem? Was he trying to put a target on my back?

  I sat rigidly still for the next fifty minutes, trying not to focus on Will’s presence behind me. I didn’t even notice if Scott was in class. I took meticulous notes, but Mr. Anderson didn’t call on me once. When the bell finally rang for lunch, I bolted out of my seat, avoiding Sean’s questioning look as I rushed out the door without a backwards glance. I ducked into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Looking into the mirror, I cringed. My cheeks were still flushed bright red. I couldn’t even think coherently. And my legs had turned to jelly. All this from Will walking me into class. I was starting to wonder if he was purposely trying to make me crazy. Stepping cauti
ously into the hallway, I looked around before hurrying toward my locker. When I turned the corner, my eyes widened. I stopped abruptly. Will Kincaid was leaning against my locker, waiting for me. I sped up until I was standing directly in front of him.

  “We need to talk,” I whispered fiercely.

  Will held out his hands in a placating gesture and smiled disarmingly. I didn’t know whether I wanted to slug him or grab his shirt and kiss him. … Not that I had ever kissed a guy. I shook my head and blushed again at the thought as I motioned for him to let me by so I could open my locker. He stood back, but not enough for my blood to slow. I opened my locker, retrieved the lunch I had packed in the morning, and slammed my bag down.

  “You don’t need that,” Will said like it was some indisputable truth.

  “I’m hungry,” I snapped back.

  “Leave it. You won’t starve. I promise.”

  I sighed. I was fresh out of arguments. When Will held out his hand, gesturing in the direction of the parking lot, I turned and began marching forward, not daring for one second to meet anyone’s eyes. Still, I could feel people staring, and it made me walk even faster. When we reached the parking lot, a long line of cars idled, waiting to exit the parking lot. I looked around for Will’s wildly out of place Aston Martin. Instead, my eyes locked onto the black motorcycle parked nose-out of a space. I stopped and shook my head.

  “No way,” I warned, digging my heels into the pavement and refusing to move.

  With his hand lightly gripping my elbow, Will easily propelled me toward the bike and handed me a helmet, which I reluctantly put on. My eyes narrowed when I saw he had his own helmet this time. It made me wonder how much of his behavior was premeditated. Before I could argue further, he was on the bike with his hand extended. It was déjà vu from the night of the party. I reached out hesitantly, feeling my heart race as he pulled me behind him. Still deathly afraid of losing my grip, I locked my arms around his waist.