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

by Laura Greenwood

  “Good, now focus on how your body responds as you inhale and exhale.” Amalia’s voice dims to a whisper as I follow her commands. I feel each breath fill my lungs, the muscles expanding beneath my rib cage, the blood being pushed around my veins. And I know without doubt that air is life. It fuels and heals and renews. I feel its very essence flowing through me as I begin to drift…

  “Terra? Terra?” My eyes snap open and I’m met with Amalia’s face, concern glistening in her eyes as her fingers grip my shoulders. “What happened?”

  “What do you mean, what happened? Didn’t it work? I thought I was doing a good job.”

  “I…” her gaze darts around me.

  “Amalia?” I urge, panic building in my chest.

  “You were completely zoned out. I’ve been trying to wake you for the last ten minutes.”

  “Wake me?” I say dumbfounded. “I fell asleep?”

  She shakes her head, her eyes still wide. “I don’t know. You were sitting in the same position, breathing normally, but you were gone.”

  “Gone? But how is that possible?”

  “I- I don’t know, but we should stop for tonight.” She’s already gathering up her supplies. “Deep meditation usually takes a lot of practice and you said you’ve never done this before, right?”

  I nod still processing what she’s saying.

  “Maybe you just went deep on your first time. But…” She hesitates, and I can see the fear in her eyes. She doesn’t think I just went deep—whatever that means—she thinks something else happened. “I’ll ask a couple of friends if they have any experience with—”

  “No, no,” I rush out. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Perhaps there’s something in one of your books.” I eye the pile on the desk beside the smudge stick.

  “Okay, but I don’t think we should try that again yet. Did you…” she pauses for a beat. “See anything?”

  “See anything? Like what?”

  “I… forget it. It doesn’t matter.” Her lips pull into a grim line and my stomach knots. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe I should just accept I’m different and stop looking for answers.

  I focus my mind on minutes earlier. “I followed your voice, focused on my breathing. Then I felt it, the air entering my lungs, flowing through me. I was connected to it and then…” My brows furrow.

  “And then what?”

  “Nothing. The next thing I remember is your voice calling me.”

  “Okay. I’ll look into it. It’s not uncommon for people to go into deep meditation but like I said, usually it’s experienced meditators and even then, it shouldn’t be so hard to bring them back.”

  I see Amalia to the door, eager to put this whole night behind us. She slips into the hallway and I lock up, stubbing out the sage and closing the window. When I’m done, I climb into bed and hit the lamp switch, plunging the room into darkness. I hadn’t been entirely honest with Amalia. She looked so worried, and I didn’t want to give her more cause for concern. Besides, I still didn’t understand it myself. But while I hadn’t seen anything for those few minutes she claimed I was gone, I had felt something. Something lingering on the edge of my consciousness. The same thing I experienced around Cael, Ross, and Endo, only… different.

  But what does it all mean?

  Amalia is so certain I'm a witch. And maybe I am. It seems like the most plausible explanation. Maybe I’m a white witch; all in tune with nature and the world around me. But being a witch doesn’t explain the connection I feel to Cael, Ross, and Endo. Even Sol. Or this place. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t just feel connected to the guys, it’s campus. This place. Something about Atchison is familiar. As if I’m right where I was always supposed to be.

  Throwing back the cover, I turn on the lamp and pad over to the desk, picking up the first book Amalia brought for me. Thick and heavy, I run my fingers over the cover. With a deep breath, I open it and a musty smell assaults my senses, a testament to the age of the text inside. Maybe I won’t like the answers I find, but I have to know.

  One way or another, I have to find out who—or what—I am.

  WATER

  He melted into the shadows as Terra peered out of the window before disappearing and pulling it shut. He’d been there, nestled between the bushes lining the side of Earhart dorm. Dressed in his usual black hoodie and jeans, he blended in. Not that anyone would be out here looking for him. But watching her room from below hadn’t been enough. The witch had brought sage, he’d smelled it wafting out of Terra’s room. He couldn’t hear them from his position, but if he focused enough on the connection, he could feel her.

  She’d started tense, resistant to whatever the witch was suggesting, but as time wore on, she relaxed and then… well, he couldn’t quite explain it. One minute, Terra was there, their connection strong, the next she vanished. He’d followed the thread of energy but came up against a wall. He didn’t know if it was mental or some outside force, but he couldn’t find a way through, and for those few minutes, he’d almost lost it. His palm bore the marks to prove it, where his nails had bit into the flesh, drawing blood. He could have called for back-up, but they were trying to do things the right way, to let Terra discover the truth on her own. Although he knew Cael and Endo were already edging toward the line Sol had drawn. And he got it, he did. He felt it. The pull. The connection flowing between them. But it was different for him. He couldn’t be with her the way Cael or Endo were. Not after… It didn’t matter, anyway. She wouldn’t ever want him that way. He saw the way she looked at him, with pity and sympathy. No, Terra didn’t want him like she did the others. She wanted to fix him. Like he was a broken puppy who needed looking after.

  But he’d take it.

  If it meant he got to be around her, bask in her energy, her light, he’d take it.

  10.

  “You’re quiet,” Ross says as we unpack our things ready for Professor Klaxon’s class.

  “Didn’t sleep well.” Ever since Amalia came to my room armed with sage and those useless books, I’ve been struggling to sleep.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  I meet his eyes, surprised to see genuine concern there. For the guy who guards his emotions almost as closely as his words, his reaction to my current mood throws me. After reading the books cover to cover, finding no mention of being completely ‘lost’ during meditation, I decide to throw caution to the wind.

  “What do you know about meditation?” I whisper, aware that the class is preparing for the professor to start. Noticing my reluctance, Ross turns to a clean sheet in his notebook and starts writing.

  I know a little. What’s up?

  Is it possible for someone to get ‘lost’ during their meditation practice?

  Lost?

  Like is it possible for them to zone out? Leave their body? I don’t know…

  Deep meditation takes a lot of time and practice, but if done properly, people can experience a truly silent mind. It’s often referred to as getting ‘lost’ as you put it.

  But where do they go? Like what happens during that time?

  Terra, did something happen?

  I stare at his words, unsure of how much to tell him. But Professor Klaxon makes the decision for me, requesting we divide into small groups for discussion. For the next twenty minutes, I feel Ross’ heavy stare, but I don’t meet his eyes. I can’t. Because how do I explain something I don’t yet understand myself?

  When class is dismissed, Ross lingers, waiting for me to pack away my things. “Want to talk about it?” he asks as we file out of the room.

  “Just curious. A friend was showing me some stuff, and it got me wondering, is all.”

  His dark eyes probe mine and I know he doesn’t believe me. But it’s all I have right now.

  “Come on.” It isn’t a request and I rear back, his demand sending shock waves through me.

  “I- I have class. I should—”

  Ross lets out a heavy sigh, slowly me
eting my eyes. He’s conflicted, I see it in the way the flashes of blue light up his irises. Like the sea in a violent storm. “Do you trust me?”

  “I…”

  I hardly know him. But I’ve felt the connection between us, and before I can consider the consequences, “Yes,” falls from my lips.

  “Come on then, I want to show you something.”

  Holding my gaze for another second, Ross shakes the hair out of his eyes, spins around and melts into the crowd. I follow. Because although I’m restless and don’t have time to play games, maybe he can help. We take the main path through campus, the one lined with the biggest oak trees. Something’s different. I don’t feel them like I usually do, and I realize they’re no longer pushing their stories onto me, but instead I’m willing them to let me into their secrets. Weird. I don’t normally have to work so hard to hear them.

  It has always felt like such a burden to feel their pain, their plight, but as the saying goes: you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. And I’m beginning to realize maybe my gran was right. Maybe my abilities are a gift, not a curse.

  And gifts have to be earned.

  When Ross stops outside of a building marked Monȃe, I recognize it as another dorm building. They’re all similar in shape and appearance, but this is bigger than Earhart. Twice the size if I had to guess.

  “You’re taking me to your dorm room? But isn’t that—”

  “It’s fine, Monȃe is a mixed dorm.”

  “Oh,” it comes out small as he opens the door, waiting for me to slip inside. It’s quiet, most of the students in class, and a frisson of energy rushes through me at the idea of being all alone with Ross, in his room.

  I’m nineteen and I’ve never been in a guy’s room before. I don’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed. But from the way the skin along my neck warms into my cheeks, I know my embarrassment is winning out.

  “This is me.” We stop at a door toward the back of the ground floor. Past the kitchen and what looks to be a rather impressive communal room, it’s tucked away down a separate hallway. And I smile to myself, realizing that, like me, Ross is lucky enough to have his own space.

  His hand lingers on the door handle as if he’s unsure this a good idea, but feeling a heady mix of impatient and eagerness, I brush him aside, pushing open the door, and enter the room. My breath leaves my lungs as I take in his private space. The far wall is painted a dark gray, but it’s the artwork that draws my eye. Sketch after sketch hang in haphazard clusters. I move closer, running my gaze over each of them. Some are so intricate, so detailed, they could be real. A couple sitting on a bench, their heads close, almost touching. Their attraction to one another lifting off the page. The Malcolm Building during the morning rush, in all its chaotic glory. But the one that stands out the most to me, is an oak tree. My oak tree.

  My fingers reach out, ghosting over the dark lines. Ross has captured its age and beauty to perfection and I can feel its story swirling on the paper.

  “This is…” my voice catches in my throat as I become aware of Ross behind me. He’s close, standing to my left, the front of his shoulder almost touching the back of mine. Energy crackles in the sliver of space between us.

  “You like it?”

  “I love it. This tree… there’s something about this tree.”

  Silence hangs between us as we stand there taking in the sketch. There’s so much I want to ask Ross, to tell him, but I’m struggling to form words. Aware of his breath along my neck. The heat from his body rubbing against mine. It’s never been physical with Ross before, not like it is with Endo and Cael. They tease me, call me beautiful and look at me with longing and lust in their eyes. They make my heart soar and my stomach flip, but Ross is different. The connection we share is different. Deeper. We connect on a spiritual and emotional level I can’t explain.

  And although it’s a crazy notion, the more time I spend with each of them, the surer I am about the bond we share.

  But I’m still no closer to understanding what it means.

  The moment between us passes when Ross moves away and rummages in one of his drawers. I watch with intrigue as he lights a smudge stick and places it in a dish on his desk.

  “We’re meditating?” I ask.

  “I want you to show me what happened.”

  “What do you mean, what happened?” I play dumb, unsure that I want to do this again. What if I get lost for longer? What if I don’t come back at all?

  “Terra,” his voice is firm. “I will not let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

  I nod because I do know. Somehow I feel it all the way down to my soul.

  He motions to the rug in the middle of the room and we sit down, crossed-legged facing one another. “Buddhist meditation aims to develop sati, or mindfulness; samadhi, concentration; abhijñȃ, which is higher knowledge; samatha, or tranquility; and vipassanȃ, insight. When practiced regularly, meditation can develop concentration, clarity, emotional positivity, and calm sense of seeing the true nature of things.”

  “And this is you only knowing a little?” I throw his words back at him, and a hint of a smile tugs at Ross’s lip. He talks with such eloquence, such knowledge, that I know I’ve barely scratched the surface of who he really is.

  “Let’s start,” he doesn’t respond to my question, placing his hands on his knees, waiting for me to do the same. When we are a perfect reflection of the other, he closes his eyes and I follow. Unlike Amalia who guided me through the process, Ross doesn’t utter another word and I call on the memory of the other night. First, I focus on my breathing. Listening to my body’s reaction, the way it moves, contracts and expands with my every breath. My mind empties as my body sinks into a slow dance of inhalation and exhalation.

  But something’s wrong. With every new breath, I feel a pulling sensation. A heavy weight settling around my being.

  “Ross,” I call. “I think something’s wrong, I think…” When he doesn’t answer I try to open my eyes, but I’m met with nothing but darkness. “Ross?” It’s a shriek this time as my heart lurches into my throat. This is definitely not right. I’m weightless. Without physicality or form.

  “ROSS!” I yell louder, this time just as something moves in my periphery. A shadow. “ROSS, WHERE ARE Y—”

  “Terra?” His face is pale, a stark contrast with his black hair and clothes. “Are you okay?” He’s touching me and I’m aware of every place our skin meets. His fingers grazing my wrist. His breath fanning my face. His other arm curled around my waist, anchoring us together.

  He’s hugging me. Ross is hugging me. It’s so unexpected yet so familiar, tears prick the backs of my eyes as I whisper, “What’s happening to me? What’s—”

  My eyes flicker open and I groan, the thud of my pulse against my skull destabilizing and I sink back into the pillows.

  “There you are,” Amalia is staring down at me with concern glittering in her eyes. “You gave us quite the scare.”

  “I- I did?” I try to fight my way through the murky fog in my mind. “What happened?” It comes out barely a croak.

  “You fainted.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah, right after Professor Klaxon’s class. You were on your way to get coffee with your friend Ross when it happened. He carried you back to your room.”

  I sit up but my world tilts, my body flopping back down.

  “Whoa, take it easy. The nurse said…”

  “Nurse?”

  “We called medical. You were out for the count.”

  “I was?”

  Everything is cloudy, and an annoying hum fills my ears. I can remember Professor Klaxon’s class, the notes with Ross. We left the room together, stood outside talking… did I ask him for coffee? Or did he ask me? It’s sketchy, like watching a movie underwater, and no matter how much I cling to the memory, it slips between my fingers, evaporating into nothing. What were we talking about? Meditation, yes, that’s right. I’d been asking him question
s about meditation and he…

  Dammit.

  I come up against a wall again.

  “Terra, how are you feeling now?”

  “Fuzzy. Like my brain got mushed in a food processor.”

  “The nurse said your blood pressure dropped. It’s to be expected.”

  “It is?” Everything is so fuzzy still. “Ross,” I groan. “Where’s Ross?”

  Amalia feels my forehead the way a parent might attend to their sick child. “He couldn’t stay; it’s a girls’ only dorm, and he had classes.”

  Classes, right.

  But I fainted, he brought me here… and I can’t remember any of it.

  11.

  “You don’t have to be here.” Amalia gives me a tight smile, but I wave her off.

  “I told you, I’m fine.” Once I’d gotten my bearings and downed two glasses of water, the fuzziness in my head began to lift. There were still holes in my memory, but Ross had texted me to see how I was, confirming Amalia’s version of events. We'd left Professor Klaxon’s class and were on our way for coffee when I went down like a ton of bricks. Apparently after bringing me back to my dorm, he’d persuaded Amalia into giving him my number, so he could check up on me.

  “Okay, everyone, let’s bring it in.”

  The room falls silent, the anticipation of tonight’s meeting ripples in the air. Amalia is prepared with a clipboard and the final list of the prank suggestions. Tonight’s the night. Since no other dorm has made a move yet, Earhart will launch its offensive hoping to gain the upper ground.

  “I’m handing round the list of possibilities. I removed duplicates or any directly breaking the rules. Leaving eight. We’ll take a vote and then decide who is going to Allender.”

  “I’ll do it,” I don’t realize I’ve even said the words until Jesse speaks up.