Page 3 of Beautiful Nightmare
I let out a troubled sigh, thinking about how easily Raven was able to strike up a conversation with me. This whole talking to other people thing on a regular basis—I’d forgotten what it was like. And I guess I hadn’t considered that I’d need to voluntarily interact with the people I’m living with. It’s probably a good thing that I didn’t arrive first like Star had… because I can’t say I wouldn’t have done exactly what she’d done. Close the door and block out the very thought that there are other people nearby. Hide away from all of this unfamiliar newness.
I make a silent promise to myself that I’ll try not to do that. I need to move on with my life. It does help to know that I have my own room to retreat to when needed, but I refuse to lose out on my college experience because of my bullshit past. It’s been holding me back for far too long. This is going to be okay. It really is.
As I unpack, I can’t help but notice that despite the positive pep talk I’ve been giving myself, my hands are shaky. I wonder if it’s too soon—if I’ll ever feel normal again.Suck it up, Lux. You have to start somewhere.It may as well be here and now. And with everything being fresh and new, this may be the chance I’ve been waiting for. It’s so damn hard feeling like I’ve been stuck in place, never moving forward.
I’d been allowed to attend classes remotely after the accident, and that had helped my recovery in some ways, but I honestly think my parents should have pushed to send me last year. The isolation that had once served to calm me eventually gave me some anxious tendencies. But maybe a new start is exactly what I’ve needed—someplace no one knows about me or my past.
Trying to put myself in a better frame of mind, I put in my earbuds and scroll through playlists on my phone until I find one of my favorites. Singing along with Billie Eilish, I unpack rather quickly, dumping clothing into drawers and hanging things in the closet, then putting my toiletries away in the bathroom. All of my notebooks and other school things end up either on top of the desk or in the drawers that go down one side of it. The few books I’d brought with me get lined up on one of the bookshelves, and I put a couple framed photos out, too. There’s one of my best friend, Evie—she was my bestie before we grew apart, anyway. The car accident robbed me of a lot of things, and losing her had been tough on me. I couldn’t handle all the questions about what had happened, and she was miffed I didn’t trust her enough. But the problem was never her. It was me. And the memories I have of the two of us, I cherish, no matter the current state of our friendship.
The other photo is the only decent one I have of me and my parents. It had also been taken pre-accident. We have the appearance of a happy family in the photo, but I know the truth. Mom and Dad had both been on edge because our vacation had been poorly timed, and a huge case had needed their attention. They’d spent half of the time we were at the beach on their laptops and phones, furiously trying to get things done. I honestly don’t know why I bothered to bring the photo with me, except I thought it’d look weird if I didn’t.
Once I’ve finished making the bed with the pretty new sheets and duvet I’d purchased before leaving, all that’s left are a few items to tuck away inside a kitchen drawer.
With that in mind, I pick up the handful of metal cooking utensils I’d thought might come in handy—though the only thing I know how to make is chocolate chip cookies—and leave my room.
Noting that both Raven and Star’s doors are still closed, I hum along to yet another song as I cross the living area to the kitchen. Before I get there, it registers that the suite door opposite ours is standing open. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a few guys moving in. I guess it’s proof of Matty’s claim that this is a coed dorm. We’ve literally got dudes directly across the hall from us. I slow, noticing with interest the tattoos on a bare-chested guy with tousled, dirty-blond hair before my gaze flicks to a dark-haired one who flashes a smile at his friend, dimples popping on his cheeks. He wanders among the boxes, obviously on the hunt for something.
Of their own volition, my feet stop moving, almost as if a sixth sense warns me of something I’m not aware of yet. The third suitemate comes into view from the right. Every fiber of my being screams out in confusion. The utensils fall from my hand with a horrible clatter. I’m frozen in place.
Panic.
Cold sweat.
Nausea.
Terror.
Hawk. The beautiful boy I once thought I loved. He haunts my nightmares. And against all logic, he’shere.
My brain short-circuits then begins to race.No. He’sdead.They told me he was dead. I've had to remind myself every day since I woke up from the coma that I'm safe because he's dead. But he's not dead. He's here. How is he here?
I lurch forward, slamming our suite door shut and squeeze my eyes closed as dread washes over me, blackness encroaching upon my vision. The grip on reality that I’ve so carefully put back into place slips through my fingers like water.
Question after question hammers through me. I barely manage to get into my room, locking my door behind me before a raw, distressed sob bursts from me. I stumble into my bathroom where I really begin to lose it. Hands shaking, vision tunneling, I fumble in my bag for my meds.He can’t be here. He can’t.
TWO
HAWK
“What the fuck was that?” Maddox frowns, his dark head snapping in the direction of the obnoxious sound of metal hitting the floor and a door slamming across the hall.
Kellan shrugs, rolling his eyes as he digs in a box. Apparently, true to his artistic nature, he’s going to let everything get really messy as he unpacks before he finally gets it under control. “Not a fucking clue. It’s a bunch of chicks over there. I saw a lot of girlie-looking luggage earlier when I came in. Dude, I can’t handle drama, so I hope they get along.”
My jaw twitches in disbelief. This is not how my sophomore year is supposed to start. It’s her. I’m positive. I’d recognize her anywhere, despite the passing of two years.
In the mere seconds we’d stared at each other, I’d taken notice of a few things. She’s grown into her body, no longer possessing the boyish figure she once had, but instead rocking some killer curves. Her tits stretched the bounds of her purple V-neck shirt, and long, tanned legs extended for miles from the white denim shorts she wore. Her ash-blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders, the way she always used to wear it. And those doe eyes—a unique color, more gray than blue. They don’t fool me into thinking she’s innocent, yet they suck me in like nobody’s business. Finally, her mouth—those plump, juicy lips. I’ve spent hours studying them. I close my eyes, letting my brain take a fucked-up detour, giving me an erection-inducing vision of her sweet lips wrapped around my dick.
I shake myself free of the tantalizing image, a growl rumbling deep in my chest. She’s the last person I need to think about like that, no matter how attractive I find her. This shit-stained life of mine is all her fault. Nothing is as it should have been. Nothing will ever be right again.
She’s the reason I took the gap year before starting college.
She’s the one who almost fucked up my football career.
And now she’s here. Not just on my campus. But across the fucking hall, thinking she’s going to live her best life here at Shadow River.
My blood pressure rises proportionally to the hate that courses through my veins. How the fuck am I going to manage to coexist with her when all I want to do is put my hands around her throat and squeeze? Demand answers. Make her tell me why.
My fists clench tightly, and it takes everything in me not to punch something. Or someone. I force myself to unfurl them. To breathe.
