Page 1 of Nightmare

Chapter One

Olivia

I’m hitwith the thick air of New York in the summertime, humidity and smog that makes your lungs constrict, leaving you just on the edge of suffocation. A smile snakes across my face because it’s one of my favorite feelings in the world. Sure, California is hot and clammy in its own way, but nothing beats the smell of industrial fumes and stale hot dogs.

Cars honk for miles, tires screech and pedestrians shout as they skip and weave through the traffic, andfuck, I am home. The bliss blooms through my chest, a smile spreading across my face.

I’ve missed the busyness that the city brings, the shuffle of feet andclick-clackof the businesswomen’s high heels as they race back to the office from their extra-long lunch breaks.

A horn honks to my right, making me snap back to reality, making me notice that I’m standing on the frame of the automatic sliding doors of the airport, still staring off at the skyline grinning like a fool.

People hustle around me, trying not to shove me but getting annoyed that I’m directly in the path of their next destination. I can’t find myself caring, because I am here after four long years trapped in California.

I’m home.

“Yo!” A familiar voice cuts through the air. I squint as I focus my attention on the SUV’s and limos parked at the curb about five feet from where I’m standing. “Earth to Olivia!”

My smile widens even more when my eyes find my best friend, who’s hanging out the back window of a black-on-black SUV, waving her arms to try to get my attention.

I wonder how long I’ve been standing here.

I laugh a little under my breath, yanking at the handle of my rolling luggage, pulling it behind me as I start shimmying towards my girl.

“Summer, Summer, Summer, Summer.” I notice myself chanting under my breath as I make the seconds-long trek to her silhouette shadowed on the concrete under where she hangs out the window

It’s been months since I’ve seen my best friend in the flesh – and for me and Summer Knight, that’s just about the worst form of torture.

And now? We’ll never go that long without each other again.

By the time I reach the window of the car, she’s throwing her entire body through it to land on top of me, squealing as her arms wrap around my entire head and squeeze.

“Oh my god,” I muffle through her thick sheet of blonde hair. Her overwhelming scent of vanilla and mint has me tightening my hold on her.Home.

“You couldn’t have opened the damn door, you maniac?” I laugh, dragging her legs the rest of the way through the window, making her dress ride up to her waist and flash the world her skimpy underwear. I drop her on the heels of her boots, her laughter flooding my ears and warming me to my core.

She pulls back a little to look at me, her crystal blues piercing me like they always do, “I’m a little tipsy.”

I snort, because I’m not surprised at all.

In the past week, we both graduated from high school. So, we’re officially free for the summer.And my best friend made it clear she was spending the entire summer“At least a little buzzed at all times.”

I take a moment to study her face, feeling warmth flood my skin at the pure happiness I feel now that I’m finally breathing the same air as her again. She’s tanned, making the freckles on her cheeks stand out more. Her blonde hair is framing her face, like she’s a work of art.

I breathe, a smile spread across my face still, then nod towards the idling SUV behind her, “Let’s go.”

She wags her eyebrows at me before she turns to pull the door open, the driver circles and throws my bags in the trunk, then a minute later we’re buckled in, pulling out into the slow-moving line of black cars and yellow cabs making their way out of JFK.

I dig my phone out of my crossbody, scrolling to find the playlist I’m looking for, then pop my AirPods in. I hit shuffle, then lean my head against the window just as we’re heading over the Brooklyn Bridge, into the heart of the city.

Summer reaches over to lace her fingers through mine as she leans back in the seat and closes her eyes – letting me have the moment to myself that I’ve been dreaming of for four years.

I let out a breath, latch my fingers onto hers tighter as I take in the beautiful architecture that’s passing by, the smile on my face feeling like a permanent fixture now.

I’m home.

I rub my thumb over the faint outline of the stick n poke tattoo I got a few months ago on my left hand’s middle finger. Remembering the sting, the blood pooling on the edge of my skin in the back room of the club I was in. The smell of smoke lingering in the air, the thumping of the bass through the thin, cracked walls as the shirtless, heavyset man pressed the needle across my skin.

A broken heart to remind everyone I flip the bird that I’m already broken and they can’t hurt me.

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