Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  Omar retreats, and although Duke tries to say goodbye, his brooding friend shoulders him toward the door.

  “I’m sorry about that.” Cael pulls off his beanie and runs a hand through his hair. “Omar can be… well, let’s just say he has a giant stick up his ass most of the time.”

  I stifle the urge to giggle. “It’s getting late, we should probably head to class. But thanks for the coffee.” I drain the remaining liquid and drop the empty cup in the nearby trashcan.

  “Anytime, Terra Materson, anytime.”

  Cael holds the door as I slip outside. The oak trees seem to sway in greeting, their energy and history brushing up against me like a cool breeze.

  “Terra?”

  Blinking at him, I smile, realizing I’m doing it again. But it’s impossible not to feel them. We walk side by side, and I focus on the notes of Cael’s voice as he tells me more about Omar and their less-than-friendly competitiveness on the track team.

  “Do you play?”

  “Play?” I ask as we come to a stop outside a building marked Malcolm Building.

  “Sports, do you play?” His eyes watch me expectantly and I give a little shake of my head.

  “It’s not really my scene.”

  “And here’s me thinking you had a body for running or swimming. Yeah, I could totally see you in the pool.” My mouth drops open and his cheeks flush. “Ah, shit, that came out all wrong. I just mean your legs are long and… I’m shutting up now.”

  “Thanks.” I tilt my head to the side, unable to hide the uncertain smile on my lips. “I think.”

  “So, this is you.” Cael motions behind me.

  “Thanks, for coffee and walking me to class. I guess I’ll see you around?” My heart flutters wildly as if we’re on the precipice of something. New and thrilling, it has my stomach coiling tight like a spring.

  Maybe he’ll give me his number? The thought should terrify me, but I’m not scared. I’m the total opposite of scared. And I realize this is what it must feel like to connect with someone—to want to see them again. My skin hums with anticipation.

  “So … yeah.” Cael swipes his thumb over his lip and I wonder if he also feels nervous. He holds my gaze another second before shaking his head to himself, as if he’d been about to say something but stopped himself at the last second. “See you around, Terra.” He heads off toward his building, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my chest.

  But what did I expect?

  Cael is vibrant and sociable and full of life. And I’m… well, I’m completely average. He probably feels sorry for me. Lost and alone and so obviously out of my depth. With a resigned sigh, I hitch my backpack up my shoulder and head for class relieved that at least I got to have coffee.

  By the time class ends, I feel better. But when I check my watch and realize I only have five minutes to find my next class, panic sets in. I’m hurrying down the hallway when my body collides with a solid frame. “I'm sorry,” I rush out as strong hands steady me, helping me to straighten. Feeling heat creep into my cheeks, I finally look up through my lashes.

  And wish I hadn’t.

  “Hi,” the guy flashes me a tight smile.

  “I, hmm...” The words die on the tip of my tongue as I find myself lost in eyes so blue it's like staring at the ocean on a sunny day. My mouth dries, and I know I'm staring. But I can’t stop.

  It's like I'm not fit to be around people, rendered speechless by the simplest thing.

  “In a rush?” His voice snaps me out of my trance and I nod, my mouth still agape.

  “I'm lost. Again. You'd think it was impossible.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Professor Klaxon’s class. I know it's in this building somewhere. I'm just having an awful time figuring out...” I swallow my words as I realize the truth behind them. Because I'm not just lost—I'm disoriented. I hadn't noticed before, too overwhelmed with being here and preparing for classes. But if I shut it all out—the chaos, the excitement, the overwhelming newness of everything—I feel it. The murky haze lingering over me.

  What is that?

  “Are you okay?”

  I blink at the guy and his hard eyes search my face. He's gorgeous, but unlike Cael who is light and warmth on a summer’s day, this guy reminds me of rain clouds and thunder. A dark stormy sky waiting to strike.

  “I'm fine. I'm sorry for running into you, I should be goi—” I start to move around him, but he snags my wrist. “Wait.”

  Electricity zips through my skin, flooding my body with heat and I jerk back, my eyes snapping to the place where his fingers met my flesh. He releases me, and I instantly feel the loss of his touch. Dumbfounded, I slowly meet his cool gaze and murmur, “I really have to go.”

  His eyes follow me as I weave through the crowds of students moving to their next class. I have no idea if I'm even going the right way, but I need space. I need to figure out what's happening to me. Because whatever happened back there—and something did happen—is too much for my mind to process.

  EARTH

  He watched her weave through the crowd, one arm hugging her backpack, the other wrapped around her waist. Everything about her screamed ‘stay away’ which wasn’t a bad thing. But it wasn’t ideal either. It meant she was suspicious. Wary of the world around her. It was to be expected though; after all, she was new in this place. And not just Atchison College.

  Terra Materson was the shiny new toy that soon people would want a piece of. Too many people. The wrong people. But not if he had anything to do with it.

  By the gods, he was furious it had come to this. Her roaming freely on Earth. Unprotected. Unaware. They had been waiting, searching. And now she was here. Her spirit called to them like a Siren's. He doubted she understood yet, but she would soon enough. He’d seen the flicker of recognition in her eyes when his fingers grazed her skin. It wouldn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place. And if she resisted, if she fought the inevitable, he’d have to be the one to show her.

  And then everything would change.

  Everything.

  4.

  “Welcome to Nature of the Mind.” A dark-haired man with thick-rimmed glasses and a tweed jacket leans casually on the desk at the front of the room, looking every bit the college professor. “I'm Professor Klaxon.”

  I shift on my chair, pen poised on a fresh page. My eyes glance to the person to my left and I notice his page is already decorated in black patterns. Intricate and detailed swirls flow across the paper. He straightens, and I don’t know why but I look over at him again, quickly ducking my head when I realize he’s looking right back at me.

  “You can expect this course to cover the relationship between mind and body, the structure of action, the nature of desires and beliefs,” the professor's voice fills the room, but I can't concentrate. There's something about the guy's doodles, the way the black contrasts with the white, and I can't help but think they're more than just random patterns and shapes. Shaking the odd thoughts from my head, I try to focus on Professor Klaxon. He's animated, clearly passionate about his subject, and I'm eager to get started. I've always been interested in philosophy. The bigger questions in life. Challenging reason and logic.

  “Okay.” He claps his hands together, and the sound reverberates around the room. “First assignment of the course. Pair up and spend the next ten minutes discussing your motivations for being here.”

  I chew the end of my pen, looking around as everyone starts splitting off into couples.

  “You want to pair up?” The guy beside me asks and my gaze flickers to his.

  It isn't just his drawings that are black. It's him. Darkness radiates from him, embodied in his black sweater, jet black hair and inky eyes. Not to mention the various piercings along his right ear and the ring through his bottom lip.

  “Hmm, sure.” I twist toward him noticing his wrist is lined with bracelets. Leather straps, dark knotted ropes, and a thick silver band.

  “I'm Ross,” he says in
a tone that would usually cause me to look the other way, but I can’t take my eyes off his face. There’s something so… so familiar about him. If I’d had a normal childhood, I might question if I knew him. Maybe from junior high. An old classmate.

  But I didn’t have a normal childhood, and he’s not an old classmate. That much I am certain of.

  I force the thoughts out of my head, silently scolding myself to get a grip. First Cael. Then the guy before class. And now Ross. I’m not sure how much more my heart can take. This is college, Terra. Guys exist here. Get used to it.

  “Terra,” I whisper. “My name is Terra.”

  He nods once and continues moving his black pen over his paper. I lean closer and say, “I like your drawings.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you… are you studying art?”

  “I take a couple of electives, yeah.”

  “You’re very talented.”

  “So, nature of the mind, huh?” His voice is smooth like the way his black ink flows across the page. “What brings you here, Terra?”

  “I guess I’ve always been fascinated by those hard-to-answer questions. Is it possible to know anything and to prove it? What is the meaning of life? Do humans have free will?”

  “You don’t think humans have free will?” He pauses, his pen hovering millimeters above the paper and my lips curve as I look at Ross through my lashes.

  “Do you?” My bold question surprises me—and Ross, if the slight arch of his pierced brow is anything to go by.

  He shuffles to the edge of his seat until there’s only a sliver of space between us. “I think sometimes we’re forced to make choices even if they’re the wrong ones.”

  My eyes slide to his and I suck in a sharp breath at how close we are. So close I can see the flecks of blue in his black eyes. Like flashes of lightning across an inky night’s sky.

  “I—”

  “Okay,” Professor Klaxon’s voice cuts through the room. “Let’s bring it back in.” He starts with an introduction to the class and everyone hangs on his every word. The anticipation of what’s to come in what I already know will be one of my favorite classes, lingers in the air.

  But yet I’m only half listening, instead lost in the moment I just shared with Ross. He’s different. Like me. I’d felt it in his words. Sometimes we’re forced to make choices even if they’re the wrong ones. I can feel it flowing between us, and I’m thankful I ended up in the seat next to him. But as I refocus on Professor Klaxon, I realize Ross didn’t really answer my question.

  Forty-minutes later, and over the rustle of backpacks being stuffed, Professor Klaxon hands out our first assignment. And since it requires partnering up, I look at Ross expectantly but he’s busy packing his things into his black denim satchel.

  “Should we exchange numbers?” I ask, deciding to take matters into my own hands. “So, we can arrange to meet up?” I tack on the end when he doesn't reply.

  Ross pushes back his chair and jams his fingers into his hair sweeping it off his face. “I'll find you,” he says.

  And then in a blur of black, he's gone.

  My encounter with Ross lingers with me for the rest of the day. First Cael. Then Ross. It’s not like I have any experiences to compare with, but I’m pretty sure they both bolted to avoid having to give me their number. And after I thought I felt something… with both of them. Ross is different to Cael. I hadn’t felt the same tug, but I’d felt something. And although our interaction was brief, I know he's probably the most like me. Introverted. Guarded. He wouldn't even trade numbers with me, which spoke volumes.

  Didn’t it?

  “Terra, there you are.” Amalia bounds toward me, her long dark hair swishing behind her.

  “Hi,” I say slightly confused at her words. “Were you looking for me?”

  “No, no. Well, kind of.” She smiles. “The girls are having a thing tonight and since you didn't make it the other night, we hoped you'd come, get to know everyone.”

  “I, ahh, I'm not sure.” I fiddle with the strap of my backpack.

  “Oh, are you busy?” Disappointment glistens in her eyes and for a second, I wish I was different. I wish I was the kind of girl who could jump at the chance to hang out with her new dorm mates.

  “No, it's not that, I just—” I let out a soft sigh and imagined my gran and what she’d have to say about all of this. “I'll come.”

  “You will?” She beams and the nerves bouncing in my stomach settle. “That's great. Everyone is excited to meet you.”

  Somehow, I doubt that, but Amalia’s enthusiasm feels genuine. And I’ll have to meet everyone eventually.

  “We're meeting at seven downstairs.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you later, Terra.” I return her wave and check my schedule. It's my free period next followed by two hours of Psych 101 this afternoon. I debate going back to the dorm but decide my time would be better served getting familiar with my new surroundings.

  Atchison College is a beautiful campus. Steeped in history dating back to the early nineteen-hundreds, its past is imprinted in the trees and plants. The stones and bricks. I feel it all, swirling in the air around me, seeping into my skin, asking me to hear their stories. Some people are born with the ability to solve the world’s greatest math problems. Other kids are blessed with the voice of an angel. I should be so lucky. I’m average at math and I don’t sing unless it’s in the privacy of the shower.

  No, I got cursed with the ability to feel the world around me.

  When I was younger, it was a lingering thought. I’d be playing out with my friends and get a sudden feeling. The flash of some memory through someone else’s eyes. But as I got older, I realized it wasn’t someone else’s eyes at all. It was the world’s… Nature’s. First a fleeting sense of pain or distress. And then the images would come—like a dream, only I wasn’t asleep. Natural disasters. Human destruction. I didn’t understand it then. My parents thought I was sick. The doctors called my trances seizures. But all medical investigations came to the same conclusion: there was nothing wrong with me. I was a healthy child.

  A healthy child seeing the world through its eyes.

  People noticed. My friends. Their parents. And before long, I no longer got invited to birthday parties or play dates. When my parents died, it should have been the worst single moment of my life, but it was a blessing in disguise. They never understood me; always looking for an explanation for my behavior. Forcing me to hide my strange ability, playing it down as the ramblings of a confused child.

  A freak.

  By the time I moved in with my grandmother, the damage was done, and I spent the next six years secreted away on her farm, only mixing with others when absolutely necessary. She’d tried once, before she fell sick, to get me to go out with her friend’s grandson. A nice church boy with a kind smile and even kinder temperament. Joseph had been my only friend in Lebanon. We’d occasionally hung out at the farm. But that all changed when I finally relented and agreed to a date.

  One date.

  I knew he liked me. I’d catch him watching me from behind his glasses, lust and longing glittering in his eyes. But I didn’t feel the same. He was nice… and kind… and polite… and my gran adored him, as did most of the women in our small town. But I felt nothing. I wanted to. I wanted to go on the date and feel the toe-curling, breathtaking, stomach-clenching sensations girls talked about on the tv, but when he tried to hold my hand at the small movie theater I felt… nothing. His touch seemed all wrong. But it was my first date—the first time a guy had shown interest in me, maybe I needed more time, maybe I needed to give it chance to grow. At least, that’s what I told myself for the rest of the date.

  When he walked me up to the door of my gran’s farmhouse, and tried to kiss me goodnight, I let him. Because maybe it was all in the kiss. Maybe that’s when the explosions happened. Maybe that’s when I’d finally feel normal—just a girl on a date with a nice boy.

  Except I didn’t, a
nd the fireworks never came.

  As his lips touched mine, my heart didn’t soar, it sank. Fell away until I felt hollow. And when I recoiled away from him, I ruined the only friendship I had. Because although my experience with guys amounted to that one date, I knew enough to know that a man’s ego was a precious thing. Joseph never came by again and life went back to normal: me, my grandmother, and my connection to Earth.

  But now gran was gone, and I had no one, and I truly understood the meaning of the word alone.

  “Watch out for the ba—”

  The warning comes too late and I look up just in time to see the football hurtling toward me. I brace myself for the impact, but it never comes, a flash of red sweeping me out of harm’s way.

  “That was a close call,” my savior smiles, and I want to thank him, but my heart lodges in my throat and I can’t find any words. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, my startled gaze sliding from his, to the ball on the ground by my feet and back up to his. He lowers his face, sparkling emerald eyes searching mine. “Do I need to give you mouth to mouth?”

  “I—” My lips part but then a wide grin splits his face, and he says, “There, that’s better. I’m Endo. It’s nice to meet you, although I would have preferred it under different circumstances.”

  “Terra.” I swallow down my heart and force a smile. “I’m Terra.”

  “Well, Terra, if you’re okay, I’m late for class. See you around.” He picks up the ball, hikes his arm back and pitches it to the awaiting group of guys. They shout an apology and Endo jogs away, his red hair moving like a fiery mane around him.

  And I stand there motionless thinking can this day get any weirder.

  5.

  “Terra, you made it.” Amalia stands in the door to the common room with a wide smile. “I’m so glad you came.”