Michael grinned. “Ah, a little jealous, were you?”
I arched my eyebrows at him. “Do I have cause?”
He laughed. “Of course not. Cathryn’s just—well, she’s Cathryn. I enjoyed some of the work we did last year, and she really helped me with my papers. Nothing more than that.” I knew he was being honest, but there was something else that lingered.
“Maybe not on your part, but she wants more than a study partner.”
Michael didn’t answer right away. “Well. . .” he stalled. “She did kind of make it clear. . .last spring, I mean. . .that I didn’t have to be lonely. Without you.”
I willed myself to ignore the stab of pain. After all, the blame fell squarely on my shoulders. I couldn’t fault Michael for hanging out with a beautiful, intelligent girl when I was spending all my time with Marica and Rafe, doing things that I never should have done.
“Did she know?” I asked in a small voice. “About me. About. . .us.”
Michael shrugged. Neither of us was enjoying this conversation. “I just told her we were taking a break. I didn’t go into any details.”
We didn’t say anything else as Michael drove back onto campus. I stared out the window, not seeing the subtly lit brick buildings and the groups of students walking along paths and sidewalks.
“Hey.” Michael touched my arm, and I realized we had pulled up in front of my dorm. I turned to look into his eyes.
He ran a finger lightly over my cheek and kissed me softly on the lips. “I have an idea.” His words were tentative, and I heard the gist of his thoughts before he spoke the words. “What if you just call Sophie and tell her. . .you’re not going back to your room tonight? You know, so she doesn’t worry. And then you could come back with me.”
I was confused at first, and then my heart pounded so that I could barely hear myself answer. “Do you mean—stay the night with you? At your dorm? In your room?”
Michael flushed, so rare an occurrence that I had to smile. “Well—yes. I mean, you don’t have to stay in my room—or I don’t have to. Charlie is away tonight. They have a game in Tampa tomorrow, and the team drove down there this afternoon. I could sleep out on the sofa. Or . . .not.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “What are you saying?”
Michael rubbed the large plastic steering wheel with the heel of his hand, a sure sign that he was uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m not saying we’re going to do anything. I’m sticking by our decisions. But I don’t want to leave you yet either, and I don’t want to have to walk you back across campus, or sit in your room with Sophie there.” He reached across and swept a lock of hair out of my face. “I would love to just. . sleep near you. I promise, I can behave like a gentleman. And no one has to know. Everyone at my dorm will just think you left late and got over early, if they even notice.”
Sophie would notice, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t want to say anything to discourage Michael from this plan.
I smiled at him and nodded.
It was a dream. I knew that right away, but it didn’t stop my vague uneasiness and the sick feeling that rose in my throat.
I couldn’t tell where we were at first, and then a few things came into sharper focus. The clearing. We were in the wood by Lake Rosu, in the clearing where I had almost lost my life and where I had practiced elemental magic last spring.
Still, the setting wasn’t what made me nervous. It was the fact that I was lying on the forest floor. . .beneath Rafe.
He was over me, kissing me senseless. One of his knees was between mine. My arms were wrapped around his back. One of his hands was up beneath my shirt.
My heart thudded as confusion flooded my mind. Why was I dreaming about Rafe? I hadn’t thought about him, not really, in weeks. This definitely wasn’t a memory. We hadn’t been together at the clearing much, and when we had, I could only remember us fighting.
Pain struck and intensified until I wanted to double over, but it wasn’t the familiar guilt and confusion. Gradually it dawned on me that I was watching myself from a distance; I couldn’t feel Rafe’s lips or his hands. It was as though I were seeing it happen through someone else’s eyes.
And when I felt that pain again, I knew it wasn’t mine. The realization jerked me awake and left me gasping.
The room was dark and unfamiliar. I reached out to touch the slick bumpiness of the often-painted cinderblocks that were next to my bed in the dorm, but they weren’t there. Instead I felt the solid warmth of another body.
After a disorienting moment of panic, I knew where I was—in Michael’s suite, in his bedroom, in his bed. I drew in several steadying breaths, remembering the night before and how I wound up sleeping next to Michael.
He mumbled in his sleep, and I sat up, trying to see his face in the dark. My eyes adjusted, and I could make out his frown. His lips moved again. I heard my name, and I felt the raw pain behind it.
I reached out tentatively, skimming his shoulder with the tips of my fingers. He stilled, and I touched his face, smoothing the wrinkled forehead. Michael relaxed, and I heard the dream float away from his mind, saw the images shift to a classroom here at Perriman.
Once I was sure he was okay, I eased away and out of the bed. The crocheted afghan that Michael’s grandmother had made for him was tossed over a chair, and I grabbed it before slipping out, closing the door behind me.
The living room was quiet and dark, but I managed to find my way to the worn and comfortable sofa that used to belong to Michael’s parents. Marly and Luke had sent it up with us as part of Michael’s contribution to the furnishings in the suite, and I loved having this little piece of home here.
Michael never mentioned Rafe, but if this dream was any indication, he was still dealing with some doubt about me and what had been between the two of us last spring. I flushed, remembering the intensity of Rafe’s touch and his own misconceptions about Michael and me. Boys and their insecurities. . .
I pushed away those memories and instead focused on Michael again. His dreams remained tranquil, and I smiled in relief. Clearly, though, spending the night with him was a lot more complicated than I had anticipated.
The drive back to Michael’s dorm after I had agreed to his plan had been a quiet one. Michael was second-guessing himself, worrying about what I was thinking, and I had no idea what to say or do. This was new territory.
When we got to his suite, Michael pulled out sweats and a t-shirt for himself and then turned to me. “I didn’t even think. . .you don’t have any clothes here. I’m sorry. This was kind of. . .” He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I guess, kind of spur of the moment.” He glanced at me uncertainly. “Do you want me to drive you back to your room?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Nope. You may not have thought of clothes, but I did. Remember, I keep some extra in my backpack, in the car. Ever since the day of the big rain, when I got soaked getting here from class.”
Michael laughed, relaxing. “Oh, yeah. Well. . .good. Want me to run down and get it?”
“Nope. You can just bring it up tomorrow. Can I borrow one of your t-shirts to sleep in?”
Eyebrows raised, Michael shot me a leering grin. “Why, of course you can. Let’s see. . . I know I have a nice short one in here somewhere. “
“Michael!” I swatted at his arm. “Behave!”
After that, we both fell into our regular easy rhythm. I ducked into the bathroom and changed into an oversized tee and a pair of sweats that I had to roll up a few times. We sat on the sofa and watched some old Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes with a bowl of popcorn between us. It felt good, normal and just right.
When I began to nod off, Michael switched off the television and leaned over to kiss me lightly. “Hey, sleepyhead. You ready for bed?”
At those words, of course, I was wide awake. “I guess so,” I stammered. “I mean, sure.”
Michael skimmed his fingers over my cheek. “Tas. Come on. This is me. If you’re
uncomfortable, just tell me. I’ll sleep out here, and you can have the whole bed to yourself. I didn’t suggest this because I’m trying to force you into anything. You know that, right?”
Of course I did. I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I know. I’ve just never slept with anyone in the same room. Even with my parents, when we were traveling, they got a separate room. I’m not sure what it’s like.” I shrugged. “Maybe I snore. Or talk in my sleep.”
He laughed and stood, stretching. “If you do, I promise not to say anything. It’s not going to be any different than when we stretch out at the lake after a picnic. Or nap on the beach.”
But of course it was different. We weren’t outside, where no matter how isolated our little spot was, there was always a chance of someone walking by. We weren’t on a crowded beach. We were alone, in a bed.
I didn’t have a toothbrush, so I used my finger and toothpaste and lots of mouthwash. I took off my makeup as well as I could and used Michael’s comb on my hair. It wasn’t like he had never seen me without makeup or with my hair a windblown mess, but somehow this, too, was different tonight.
Michael was already in bed when I emerged. He was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, messing with his iPod.
“What are you doing?” I asked, perching on the edge of the mattress.
He shot me a quick grin. “Setting up some music for us. I thought it might be easier for you.” At my questioning look, he added, “Don’t you always sleep with music playing? You told me you do. To help keep out. . .thoughts.”
“You remember that?” I had told Michael how I managed sleeping right after we met, the day we sat on the beach at Lancer Park and I shared with him every secret about my unusual gift.
He leaned over to plug the iPod into the blaster on the nightstand. “Of course. I remember everything about you.”
Tears threatened again, and I couldn’t speak as a wave of pure love overwhelmed me. I climbed up into the bed, kneeling next to Michael. Touching his face, I whispered, “You are so amazing. I don’t deserve you.”
Something flittered across his eyes, and even before I heard his thoughts, I knew what it was. Believing that Michael was too good for me had played a part in our breakup.
Leaning down to kiss him, I added, “But I’m keeping you just the same.”
He pulled me down on top of him into a deeper kiss, holding my head captive. I felt his heart pounding beneath my own, and I relaxed until I couldn’t tell his thoughts from my own.
I startled out of my reverie when I felt Michael’s fingers skim lightly under my borrowed t-shirt over the bare skin of my back. For a moment, I didn’t breathe. I had to concentrate on keeping everything inside me, everything I was feeling, from exploding into a burst of power I wasn’t sure I could control. And then, slowly and reluctantly, he pulled his hand back and smoothed the shirt down. He shifted a little, laying me down gently on the pillow next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against my ear. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just. . .” He smiled into my eyes, hovering over me again. “I love you. I can’t wait until we can be together. Really together. I know it’s the right thing to wait.” He fell back with a cross between a groan and a sigh. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.”
I found his hand and squeezed it. “It’s fine. I’m not upset. I wasn’t sure I could keep control though. It’s still so hard sometimes. Like tonight at the party. Before I know it, glass is flying. I was worried just now about fire.”
Michael cocked an eyebrow at me. “Fire?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, trying to think of a good way to explain this. “Umm. . .fire casting is sort of emotionally connected. It’s easier to do when I’m feeling very intense. I was afraid if we’d gone too much farther, I might have accidentally ignited. And not in a good way.”
“You cast fire last spring? Using. . .feelings?” I heard everything Michael didn’t say out loud.
“Fear or anger work well.” I chose what I said with care, not answering questions he didn’t ask. “It’s a good protective skill to have.” An image of Marica standing just beyond the flames she’d cast around my car flashed into my mind, and I shuddered.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Michael scooped me into his arms, holding me closer. “Don’t worry. We don’t have to talk about it.” He reached over me to switch off the bedside light, and in the darkness, I felt his lips on my forehead as he settled me against the comfort of his chest.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be right here. I love you, Tasmyn.”
I knew he did. But if his troubled dreams were any clue, we did have to talk about it. And I wasn’t looking forward to doing that.
“Hey.”
I shrugged away from the hand on my shoulder, not willing to open my eyes yet. Sleep was blissful, warm and comfortable.
“Tas. . .come on. Wake up.”
I blinked up into Michael’s face and struggled to remember again where I was and why. The sun was streaming in a nearby window, and I saw that Michael was dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Hi.” I snuggled back into the afghan.
“What are you doing out here?” There was no condemnation in his voice, only curiosity and concern.
I stretched, buying some time before I replied. I knew I had to be honest, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to have this conversation right now.
“You were dreaming really loudly,” I said at last. “It woke me up, and I came out here so I didn’t bother you.”
“Oh.” Michael sat down next to me. “Sorry about that. I don’t remember what I dreamed last night. And I didn’t even think about you being able to hear that kind of thing.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t either. It’s never really happened before.” I pushed up to sit in the corner of the couch and fiddled with the holes in the afghan. “Michael, you were dreaming about me. With. . .Rafe.”
I felt his pain again before he answered me. “Sorry.” The word was terse and clipped.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m just trying to be honest. You were upset, and that’s what woke me up.”
Michael shook his head. “It must have been us talking about fire and spells last night before we went to sleep. It’s not like I think about that—about him, I mean. And you.”
“Michael, I want you to know. It wasn’t like that, like you dreamed. We didn’t--” How did I say this? And if he didn’t remember the dream, should I even bother?
I took a deep breath and tried again. “What you were dreaming about—it never happened. I just want you to know, in case you were wondering.”
Michael took my hand, tracing circles around the knuckles. “I’m trying not to think about it. I know it wasn’t you. You were being manipulated, used—I understand that.”
I squirmed a little. “But it was me. No matter what circumstances. . .I let it happen. Aline and I talked about this yesterday. Maybe you’re not being hard enough on me about this. And maybe I’m letting you.”
Michael was shaking his head before I finished talking. “Tas, we don’t need to talk about this. It’s over. What happened is in the past. We’re moving on.” He swept the hair away from my face. “Maybe I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t have anyone messing with my mind, and I spent a lot of time with Cathryn.”
“Did you kiss Cathryn?’ I asked, my voice so low I wasn’t sure he heard me.
Michael flinched only slightly. “No. I never. . .we only talked.”
“Then you have nothing to be sorry about. Michael, I love that you’ve been so understanding and quick to forgive me. But I want to make sure you realize I do need to be forgiven. I did bad things.”
He was silent, but I heard what he was thinking, and I smothered a sigh. “Not as bad as that. Not what you’re imagining. Or dreaming.” I struggled to figure out the best way to explain it all to him. “When Rafe took me out that first time, I was miserable. I didn’t want to be there. But then it was a huge relief to be able to
be open with someone, with anyone.”
Michael scowled. “When did I ever make you feel like you couldn’t tell me everything?”
“Never.” I reached up and tried to smooth the frown from his forehead. “You never did. But I knew you wouldn’t like what I was doing, just like my parents would have flipped out. It was easier to believe that you were close-minded than that I was doing something wrong.”
He heaved a sigh. I knew he still didn’t get it, but he wasn’t going to push me. “Okay. So you could tell Rafe stuff you couldn’t tell me.”
“It was just that I knew he wouldn’t tell me I was wrong. At least, I thought he wouldn’t. By the end. . .he was mad at me almost all the time, because of what I was doing with Marica. At one point, he said he knew how you felt, always worrying about me.”
Michael was struggling. He was trying to understand, but he didn’t really want to know any of this. He passed a hand over his face.
“I know I should be grateful to him. I mean, he kept you alive and relatively safe when I wasn’t there. He stood by you when Amber got hurt. But I gotta say, it’s not easy. I just want to. . .I don’t know, pound his face in.”
I bit my lip. “It’s me you should be mad at, Michael. That’s what I’m trying to say. It would be easy just to let Rafe and Marica take the blame for what happened. But those were my choices, my bad decisions. I want you to know that I’m sorry, and that I don’t take your forgiveness for granted. I want us to go on from here on solid ground. Not with you wondering how far things went between Rafe and me, not with me afraid you’re all of a sudden going to decide that what I did was too much for you to handle.”
Michael pulled me closer. “Never. I promise you, Tas, there is nothing we can’t get past. You’re right. We have to be open about all of this. But don’t ever think I’m going to change my mind. Anything, anything at all, we’ll get through together.”
Mondays were my favorite days for classes. I had European history, Intro to English Lit and Humanities, all before lunch, and then the entire afternoon off. I stepped out of the shade of the brick buildings and blinked in the relentless sunshine.
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