Page 6 of Her Second Chance

In line, I see the blond, spiky hair I remember feeling soft under my fingertips, and I hear the deep timbre of his laugh. I try to get as close as I can without being conspicuous, but there’s a girl in front of me who keeps her distance. Maybe I should shove her out of the way. We are in a dream world, after all.

I try to invade her space and force her to step closer to Jason so I can as well, but she refuses. She’s wearing pink scrubs and looking intently at a tablet that seems so out of place in this dream world. It’s like she’s completely unaware of her surroundings.

I slip past her, deciding she can yell at me for cutting the line, but she doesn’t. Instead, she remains rooted in place. When she looks up, she stares through me.

Weird.

I step right behind Jason, waiting for the perfect moment to introduce myself. He rocks on his heels, tapping the scuffed toe of his Adidas in time with the song playing on his headphones. His baggy jeans sit low on his hips and his wallet chain sways in time with his movements as he keeps the beat. The t-shirt of some random underground band I’m not cool enough to have heard of stretches across his lean but muscular chest. From the gages in his ears, to the tattoo on his forearm, he screams bad boy, something I loved before he broke my heart and sent me into Hunter’s waiting arms.

His deep voice sends chills down my spine when he orders his drink. I miss the way that deep voice used to whisper sweet nothings in my ears, even if it sounds different than I remember. My panties practically flood at the sound. I get a flash of that voice from my memories whispering, ‘I love you’ first thing in the morning.

I’m so entranced that I almost miss the fact that the barista is waiting for my order.

“Caramel Latte,” I say, handing over my student ID.

I miss the days of swiping my ID card for food and drinks. Now, I get an allowance from Hunter. It’s generous, but that makes him think he deserves a say in my spending. Well, I guess I used to get an allowance. That’s all over now. My entire world feels shattered, like I have no idea where I really belong. Maybe that’s why my mind brought me back here.

I step to the side to wait for my drink, watching Jason take his cup and walk to a booth. He sits down, pulling out a textbook and highlighter. I forgot how serious of a student he was.

I take my drink, and it spills over the side, scalding my hand. I set it on the counter, licking the sweet liquid that just burnt me from my tender flesh. The sensation causes me to pause. I didn’t think you could feel pain in a dream. I’ve never had one this realistic.

Jason notices me staring and tips his chin at me before going back to what he’s reading. I leave to go find Grace when I realize this is a dream that’s almost exactly like the first time I met Jason. Since there are no repercussions for dream actions, I decide to throw caution to the wind and approach him like I did the first time we met.

I slide into the booth across from him. He looks up, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey,” I say with a wink. Then, remembering it’s a dream, I add, “I’m Hannah, your future wife.”

He laughs. “Jase. And I’m not interested.”

I smile, not letting his easy dismissal deter me. I know how this goes. “Well, Jase, now that we’ve established our destiny, what do you say you take me on a date?”

He looks me up and down. “I’m not into sorority girls.”

I frown. I forgot how we didn’t really speak much when we first met. It wasn’t until we ran into each other at a party one night that the sparks flew.

I stand. “I guess we’ll see.”

I leave to find Grace. On my way out the door, I hit my knee on a table. Shit. That hurt. I pull up my pant leg and find a bruise forming. Everything feels way too real. I’m beginning to suspect this isn’t a dream.

But if it’s not, then what the fuck is going on?

Chapter 3

Hannah

While my sorority’s new member educator, whose name I can’t remember, tells us about the upcoming social hour we have with some fraternity in thirty minutes, I mull over what is happening. It appears I’m a thirty-one-year-old who woke up in my eighteen-year-old body after a night of drinking. That is completely ludicrous and yet it’s the only thing that seems plausible. What else would explain the reason I haven’t woken up yet? And the fact that I know my pledge sister Gayle is about to be scolded by our president in 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .

“Gayle, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?” Her voice is sharp, as if she’s annoyed with having to engage with her least favorite new member.

Another pledge snickers when Gayle’s cheeks turn a deep red. I shoot the girl a withering look. That is not how we treat sisters.

Her friend speaks up on her behalf. “Gayle’s ex-boyfriend is a Sig Chi. She’s worried about the social hour with them.”

Our new member educator rolls her eyes. “Well, they’re our number one choice for homecoming next year, so suck it up and represent your sisters.” She makes eye contact with each of us before continuing. “Making a good impression on them is your number one goal.”

Gayle nods, swallowing hard.

It takes every ounce of my restraint to keep from laughing. Who the hell cares about that shit in the real world? Like, I get that it’s important to pick the right house for homecoming, but will they even remember whether or not we took first place ten years from now? I doubt it. I know I sure don’t. Hell, I can’t remember any of the houses we paired with for Homecoming during my four years here.

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