Page 16 of The Professor's Possession (Crystal River Billionaire Brothers)

“Good. I’ll hand it back to your mother now.”

Short and sweet, just as we both like it.

“Your father is upset because the weather’s been so bad and so he can’t fish this weekend,” Mom says like it’s exciting gossip when the phone is back in her hands.

“That’s a shame,” I reply. “He loves his fishing.”

“Is university what you imagined it would be, Olivia? You used to always talk about how excited you were to go. For years I had to listen to you go on and on about all your plans and dreams. Is it as good as you thought it would be?”

I shrug. “It’s strange I’m finally here,” I reply. “It’s like I can step onto the next stage of my life.”

“You sound more mature already,” Mom says. “Oh, it’s like you’ve grown up completely. A different person.”

“I literally left this time yesterday, Mom.”

“And it’s already feeling so long,” she replies.

“It’s weird living away from home,” I say. A lump forms in my throat. I had a lot of expectations about college, but I never thought about how hard it might be to leave my loving parents. It’s harder to admit than I had planned, even to Mom.

“I’m proud of you, Olivia,” Mom says. Her voice lowers. She’s dropping her usual frantic, verbose self and sliding into a far more serious tone. “Moving by yourself to a town you don’t know. It makes me proud of you, sweetheart, even if I never wanted you to go. I am proud of the little girl who never took no for an answer and made her dreams come true.”

I push open the door to the library trying my hardest not to cry. “Thanks, Mom. I’m excited about what’s to come. I love you and I will see you soon.”

7

SPENCER

I lockthe door to the lecture hall the moment the last students leave, and for good reason.

I need a minute alone.

To think. To comprehend.

To understand what the hell I just saw sitting there.

The girl in my class this morning. The girl in the middle row on her own. The brown eyes. The brown hair. The creamy skin.

She couldn’t be...

The beautiful girl in my dreams... the same girl from last night on the street... the girl that made my whole body stop when I looked down at her in the pouring rain and noticed those eyes in the darkness... the same gorgeous, soft eyes from my dreams that make me wake in a cold sweat every night... they are the same eyes staring back at me in class today.

It can’t be her.

I didn’t get a full picture of her last night on the street - it was far too wet and windy and dark to even make her out properly - but I cannot forget those coffee-brown eyes: the very same ones I just saw in my own lecture hall mere moments ago.

So, my suspicions were true.

I am a usually composed man – to the point of fame to everyone who knows me - but this girl has rattled me to my very core.

Dreams aren’t real. They can’t be. Ghosts in dreams don’t walk among the living earth.

That’s what I’m telling myself. What Ikeeptelling myself futilely.

Dreams belong in books. Not here. Not in my lecture hall.

I’ve got to find out more about her.

This is not what I had planned when I came back to Crystal River, my hometown. A girl was definitely not on the cards when I made that move, especially not a supposedly fictional one from my imagination. Things were meant to be purposefully easy, moving back here to take on English Lit at the town college in a new quiet, breezy life, but now I am struggling to form a single coherent thought because ofher.

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