In My Dreams (First Tracks Book 2) Page 5

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to hang onto him for the rest of the day.

  Then Tom cleared his throat behind us. He was probably counting the minutes until I left. I pulled back from Marcus and searched his eyes, hoping he’d remember our connection even after I left, even when his dad was trying to talk him out of being with me.

  We kissed one last time, a soft kiss on the lips, before I stood up. He looked like I felt—I couldn’t talk. So we nodded and I squeezed his hand and left the room, glancing back when I reached the door. He watched me leave.

  As I stepped out of his room, I remembered how his voice sounded when he said, It’ll be okay.

  Jen waited in the hallway. I thought Tom might come out and talk to me but he didn’t, and I didn’t see Elaina anyway.

  “So, you’re heading back?” Jen tried for a perky tone.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll walk with you. I could stretch my legs.”

  We started off together, and she added, “In a way, you’re lucky you have something to go do to keep busy.”

  “I wish I didn’t.”

  She scoffed. “You might be glad later. It gets so old just staying here. But now that Marcus is doing better, I might go home.”

  “Home? And leave him here with Tom and Elaina?” Ouch. That wasn’t the nicest tone, and I was talking about her parents. I glanced over.

  “I know they can be a bit much.” She looked down. Was she hiding her expression? They were great parents, sure, and I know they’ve been there supporting Marcus… But they don’t like me. I’m not sure how to prove to them that I’m helping Marcus and want the best for him. I let the topic drop, not wanting to argue with Jen, not when she’s helped me so much. She was the one that got me in to see Marcus while he was in a coma.

  We talked about other things on the way down to the parking garage, where she hugged me goodbye.

  “Thanks for being there for Marcus,” she said when she pulled away.

  “You’ve really been there for him all along,” I said in return. “I hope you know how much he appreciates it.”

  Tears clouded her eyes as she nodded. She stepped back, and then we both waved and turned away, her heading back inside and me walking out in the garage to find my car.

  I tried to think ahead to school. If I made it back to class tomorrow, I could get in a few days this week. That is, if my professors let me. The term started without me, and I’m not sure if I’ve missed the deadline to attend classes. I have to try, though. If for nothing else, because I made a promise to Marcus.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus

  The dim, bland room felt small and empty without Avery. I ran my hands over my face, wanting to hold it together, and ended up leaving them there. Hiding.

  Dude, this is seriously messed up. I never let anything shake me or get me down. I’ve lost competitions. I’ve totally yardsaled so many times. I’ve fallen and broken stuff before. I’ve always gotten right back up…but not this time.

  I heard my family walk in but didn’t have the energy to compose myself.

  I felt my mom’s hand on my shoulder. “Marcus?”

  I pulled my hands away. She was right there, with my dad and Jen lurking behind her. Man, was I getting tired of looking up at everyone from this freaking bed. Mom sat down, her hand still on me.

  “You know, this is pretty normal,” she started.

  “How could any of this be normal?”

  “I’ve been reading up on this. When people come out of a coma, they can have short term memory problems, and be agitated and emotional.” She pulled up a brochure and began reading. “Your family member by be disorientated and confused about the time, where they are, and even who they are. They might not understand what is happening.”

  “Mom, what the fuck? I know exactly who I am and where I am.”

  She jumped at my words. I was shocked myself. I still felt that boiling hot pressure in my head but I knew I’d crossed a line.

  “Sorry. Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve been letting myself get way too frustrated. But what are you worried about?” I glanced at my dad, still standing behind her. He turned and busied himself with putting things on a counter. Seriously? He wasn’t going to say anything?

  “This is about Avery, not me. Isn’t it?” I pointed the question at my parents, but mostly at my dad. “You can all see my mental state is fine. I’m doing pretty damn well according to that cheesy grin doctor.” I struggled to lift my head so I could see Jen. My mom adjusted my pillow and then the bed so I was sitting up.

  Jen glanced at me several times but kept dropping her gaze, her arms folded and her body turned away. She didn’t want to argue with our parents, but she believed Avery and me.

  “Marcus,” mom said, glancing at dad for support. “We need to talk about a physical therapy center.”

  What? Where’d that come from? I sighed, realizing she was changing the subject. I wanted to deal with this shit and make them see that Avery would be a part of my life. It’s my life—they’ll have to see that at some point. Maybe when I’m on feet again. Fuck! God damn, this is frustrating.

  “Why do I need another center?” I asked.

  “After this one, not right now,” Mom clarified.

  Oh, hell, no. I can’t handle another center after this one. Mom and Jen took turns explaining it to me and reading out of different pamphlets until my doctor came in. Great. More questions and poking. My family had a list of questions for him too—literally. They’d written a list.

  I let them talk while I read over one of the pamphlets on recovery. A lot of it I knew from talking to the doctors and nurses, but it had some good news. Damaged brain cells can repair themselves. The brain can even rewire itself and grow new pathways so you can get motor control back.

  The pamphlet shook while I tried to read it, thanks to my damn hand or nerves or whatever wasn’t working anymore. While she was here, I did my best to hide all this from Avery. She’d feel guilty if she knew how hard this was, and I didn’t want that. Or worse, she might quit college to help me.

  “Hey, listen,” I said, interrupting two different conversations. The doctor, nurses, my parents and Jen all looked at me, startled. “I need some rest. Some quiet.”

  I closed my eyes before I could see them all pass around a hurt look. After some murmurs, the light went out and the room went quiet.

  I didn’t really want quiet or to be alone. I wanted to be out there somewhere, on a slope training or even on a run. Hell, I’d take being in Avery’s head while she went for a run. Anything but this, away from her, hardly able to control my body.

  I knew I was slipping down in a hole of self-pity, but it felt kinda good at the moment. I tried rolling onto my side, giving it to it just this once.

  Chapter Eight

  Jasmine

  “See you tomorrow, Jasmine!” Matt called as we left advanced drawing. I gave a little wave, wishing once again that I could like him. He’s super friendly and good looking with dark brown eyes and this rich, golden brown skin that I want to paint in a portrait sometime, and he’s been talking to me since we had a class together last term. But I just haven’t felt it.

  Truth be told, I haven’t really felt it with anyone for a while, not since Corbin. I’ve had a few dates and some hanging out with different guys, and then I tried a relationship with Drake. He was great for a couple of weeks, but then he kept cancelling on me and always had something else to do. I dumped him in a text. Maybe he knew I wasn’t that into him anyway. It doesn’t work that well to try something new when you’re stuck on someone else.

  I’ve spent a year and a half trying to get over Corbin, and it’s been like pulling myself out of molasses…while not wanting to give up the molasses. Even while I tried dating other people, I ended up seeing him again and ruining everything.

  My phone buzzed. Avery was supposed to be heading back down here soon so I pulled it out right away, but then I got a funny feeling before looking at it. I
checked it while walking down the hallway. It was from him.

  What you up to?

  Corbin’s face came up beside the text, stopping me like it does every time. I stepped to the side of the hallway.

  God, I hated this. I hated how one tiny little text from him sent my heart pounding and my entire body lighting up. And I especially hated how I would spend at least five minutes thinking about what to text back.

  Not seeing you today asshole—That’s what I wanted to send and should send, but I knew I wouldn’t. I could just say I was busy. I was. And I didn’t have to drop my plans every time he got horny or bored. He’d spend a few hours with me and then disappear again. Why couldn’t I write him off? I didn’t need this anymore.

  Corbin was my artist when I got my first tattoo. I researched online to find the perfect style, and he worked at a shop in Medford. The tattoo took three hours and we talked the entire time. We clicked, like really really clicked. He thought like me on so many things. He said the same lines as me. He had some of the same mannerisms as me. He even loved art like me. He ended up asking me out for a date that night to celebrate my first ink.

  Corbin was tall, but not too tall at five foot eight. His eyes were light brown with tiny flecks of gold and green in them, and his skin was light cocoa. He had two full sleeve tattoos and others all over his body, some he did himself. The guy was amazing with a tattoo machine. I couldn’t argue that even if I wished I could forget him.

  Corbin came on strong and romantic in the beginning, and I fell like I’ve never fallen.

  He was charming too, almost in an old fashioned way where he made a show of getting the door or putting an arm around me. Somehow he knew all the things I liked, and he’d play with my hair and touch my side when he walked by me.

  I still don’t understand it. He wasn’t that good looking. And now I know he wasn’t even that great of a kisser. Thinking back, though, I loved everything about him at the time. Just being around him made everything feel okay. The world slowed down and I could breathe. He was like my center.

  But about six weeks into it he said he didn’t want to commit to one person. It didn’t change things, though, not at first. We still hung out and had fun, but then he dropped off the radar for two weeks. The next time, it was a month. Every time I thought I could move on and get over him, he came around.

  I loved and fucking hated him all at the same time. Maybe that’s what kept me so addicted, how he popped in and out of my life, making me chase him.

  So now I’d spent more than five minutes starting a text and deleting it again. How did he do this to me? My anger sparked and grew, and suddenly my head felt so hot that I couldn’t breathe. The floor felt like it was tilting.

  What the hell?

  This couldn’t be just from the text. The feeling lifted and I stumbled toward the exit, but then it got worse as I left the building. People pushed by me while I tried to orientate myself.

  “Jazz?” A male voice said my name right next to me. Only a few people use that version of my name, but I didn’t recognize the voice. I reached a hand out and got shocked. Literally. I got zapped when my hand touched a wool sweater. “Are you all right?”

  I shook my head and peeked over, too woozy to really look at him. The wool sweater was a dark green. His faint cologne drifted to me, smelling slightly familiar, a very subtle mix of something exciting and spicy, but light at the same time.

  Before I could place the cologne, I felt his arm come around my back and I let him lead me off to the side of the building where I could lean against the wall. That helped. I hadn’t realized how badly everything was spinning.

  I stood sideways, the wall holding me up and whoever helped me standing in front of me waiting for some kind of answer.

  “Thanks. Yes, I’m fine. I just felt odd for a moment.” I still did, actually, so I kept my eyes closed and rubbed my forehead with the palm on my hand.

  “Odd?” he asked, and when he kept talking it sounded like he was talking to himself. “I felt some kind of odd sensation a second ago too, like I wasn’t here. I mean… never mind. You texted about Avery’s homework. That’s why I came up to you, but are you okay?”

  Memory clicked then. The dizziness lifted like a fog when the morning sun hits it.

  “Nash. Hi…” I looked up at Nash Phillips—way up since he’s around six foot and I’m a short Japanese girl. He leaned toward me, protectively I thought, but I pushed that idea away. He hardly knew me. Still, he watched me with troubled eyes like he was worried about me.

  Tall, handsome, quiet Nash. The man with the beautiful olive skin and dark brown eyes that hint at green. I thought Avery was so lucky when they got together, but then that whole thing fell apart in a bloody mess.

  He’s book smart and nerdy from what I’ve heard about him, but still really hot.

  “Do you need to sit down?” he asked, searching my face, and probably wondering why I was gawking up at him.

  “Uh, no. I’m fine.” I looked down, trying to remember the line of conversation. “Avery’s coming back to class and I wanted to help her catch up.”

  His eyes narrowed just enough for me to notice, and his mouth turned down at the corners. I hadn’t noticed before, but he had very nice lips.

  “You didn’t answer,” I said, “so I can assume you’re not interested in helping?”

  He held my gaze.

  “Why didn’t you go on that trip to the coast?” he asked, and it was so random and sudden that I just opened my mouth in confusion, unable to find any words. He meant the one where Kyle kissed Avery and our circle of friends got obliterated? “Sorry. Never mind that too. I have some notes and papers for…her.” He opened his backpack and took out a folder.

  I planned to put it in my bag but for some reason I opened the folder instead and glanced at the two sets of neatly labeled papers. It looked like I had put it together. Guess I’m not the only organization freak around here.

  “Nash, thank you.” I did put them away then, and suddenly I wondered why he was on this part of campus. “You don’t take any art classes, do you?”

  “No, why?” He kept his gaze on me all this time. I had to look away from the intensity. “Oh, I just knew you did, and I wanted to give those to you.”

  He tracked me down for this? I glanced back up at those searching eyes and that feeling hit again. It wasn’t the dizziness, but something that had been coming and going for about a week now, just some kind of strange sensation of knowing.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Jazz?”

  I liked how my name sounded on his lips when he used the shortened form. I stared for a minute before realizing I hadn’t made any attempt to answer.

  “I have to go. I’m late for class.”

  He tilted his head, squinting a little like he was curious, but he didn’t say anything or try to stop me as I hurried off.

  What was that?

  Had I made myself sick thinking about Corbin? Or did I just need to eat?

  I hurried to my next class—in the English department—even though I was really late. Everyone was seated and our professor Tony was walking to the board when I slipped in and sat in my normal seat. I dug a energy bar out of my backpack pocket and nibbled it, trying to pull together some scattered thought. That feeling, it’d started in a dream the first time. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

  I found myself wishing this was drawing or painting, instead of an English lecture, because I’d rather be doing something than sitting with my thoughts running crazy circles in my head.

  Nash was hot, smart, and a little mysterious to me, but he wasn’t my type at all. I mean, yeah, he was hot and looked somewhat like Corbin. But he’d dated a friend. So why had that thought even crossed my mind?

  I began discreetly sketching a blurry, dreamlike picture of a boat on water in my notebook so I could keep my mind off of Nash. It quickly became apparent I’d have to paint this. It’d work much better in oils than pencil. So I switched to practicing henna
designs, making circles, swirls and flowers. I have a box of new henna mud waiting for me at home, and I’m dying to try some designs on skin again.

  Will Avery miss drawing, if she can’t anymore? That whole situation blew my mind. I can’t believe it, and yet I saw the artwork she did while Marcus was supposedly in her head. I’m just glad it’s over…and secretly glad it wasn’t me dealing with all of that.

  For some reason, that thought led me back to Nash. Whatever weird thing happened back there, I’m staying the hell away from it.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me jump. I slipped it out as carefully as I could so the professor wouldn’t see. It was a text—from Nash. Odd, since I was just thinking about him. And also odd because we’d just talked.

  When is Avery coming back?

  Damn. He was still in love with her. I sighed and texted, Tonight.

  He texted right back: So you don’t need tomorrow’s notes?

  Is that why he was asking? I puzzled over it, realized I was overthinking it like I usually do, and then answered: I don’t think so. I’ll let you know. Thanks so much.

  When his next text came, it wasn’t what I expected.

  I’m happy to help you.

  Help me, not Avery?

  Could he actually be over her? I know how mad he was after the coast trip when Kyle kissed Avery…or Avery kissed Kyle, according to Kristina’s point of view. Whatever happened, somehow it brought out the whole thing about Marcus in Avery’s head—at least Nash heard about it. Kristina never did. Shit, it was a lot of drama.

  Part of me hoped Avery wouldn’t make it back today, or at all, so Nash would keep talking to me instead of directly to Avery. The rest of me felt horrible for feeling that way of course. I wanted Avery to come back and catch up in school and fix things with Kristina. We were all so tight, and now Kristina was avoiding all of us. I haven’t talked to Dawn because she was more Kristina’s friend, but she was still a part of our group.