Twisted Dreams

by Marissa Farrar

  Inwardly, I groaned. Sports. I knew nothing about sports, especially not swimming. What the hell was I going to ask him—can you swim underwater? How long can you hold your breath? I knew I should have changed my outfit. The sweats must have made her think I’d be ideal for this assignment.

  On the outside, I flashed a smile and said, “Great! I love swimming.”

  Where the hell had that come from?

  “Cool. He’ll be down at the gym. Do you know where that is?”

  I nodded. I’d been shown around on the tour, though the gym certainly wasn’t a place I’d ever imagined myself attending.

  “You got a pen and paper handy?”

  I nodded to my purse. “I always carry a notepad and pen. You never know when something inspiring might hit.”

  Dana grinned at me, her gray eyes lightening a shade. “You sound like my type of girl. I think we’re going to get on just great, Elizabeth Bandores.”

  Chapter

  4

  The sounds of the gym came muffled through the door. Feet hitting the treadmill, grunts of someone trying to lift weights, MTV on in the background. Someone brushed by me as I lurked outside. A towel was slung over the guy’s shoulder as he barged through the door. The gym’s noise blasted out to me before the door settled shut again.

  I hopped from foot to foot, trying to build up the courage to go in.

  Come on, I told myself. This is nothing. What if I ended up as an actual reporter and had to go to war-torn lands to get the latest story? How could I do things like that if I didn’t even have the guts to walk into the college gym?

  The thing was, all the people working out would be older than me—second and third years. The kids my own age were only just arriving and were far too preoccupied with settling in to bother heading for a workout.

  I took a deep breath and pressed my lips together. I really needed to stop hanging around outside doors.

  Letting my breath out in a whoosh, I pushed my way into the gym. Heat and the faint tang of body odor clung to the air. Everyone seemed busy with their own thing. The occupants barely glanced at me as I stood, still feeling awkward, my eyes scouring the machines. I didn’t even know what the star of the swim team looked like. It wasn’t as though he would be wearing a name tag.

  A skinny guy in a football top about four sizes too big stopped at the water fountain to my right. He bent his head to take a drink, and the shirt ruffled up around his neck like an Elizabethan collar. He was certainly the least intimidating of the bunch.

  “Excuse me?” I said. He jerked upward with a cough and a splutter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  His eyes took me in, the briefest flick up and down my body, resting only briefly on my chest.

  “That’s okay,” he said, his hand over his mouth to stifle another cough. “You lost?”

  “No, I’m looking for Flynn Matthews. I’m a new staff writer with the Sage Gazette.”

  “Oh, right.” His narrow shoulders dropped. “He’s over here. Come with me.”

  My heart sank as we crossed the gym to where a guy sat on a bench, lifting weights. The moment I saw him, I recognized him from earlier in the day when he’d nudged me and asked me if I was dreaming.

  “Flynn,” my escort said, lifting his voice to be heard above the rest of the ruckus. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  The blond lifted his head and caught sight of me, a slow grin spreading across his face. “And there was me thinking you’d finally picked up a girl, Shawn.”

  A flush crept up around Shawn’s throat, and I experienced a pang of sympathy for him. However uncomfortable I felt at times, it couldn’t be easy being his build in a world full of jocks and gym-bunnies.

  Flynn’s eyes were an aqua green and incredibly sharp. I felt myself shrink under his gaze. But he kept it on my face, and I gave him credit for that. I’d been blessed with curves, and most guys checked them out before they’d even bothered looking at my face.

  “You’ve woken up then, huh?”

  I gave him a tight smile. “I was never asleep. I just like to think, that’s all.”

  “Think or dream?”

  “As long as either one uses the brain and imagination, I don’t see what’s the difference.” I glanced down at the weights and added, “But I believe in using brain above brawn.”

  His eyebrows lifted at my comment. “Some people don’t have a choice.”

  “Aren’t you even going to ask me why I’m here?” I said, putting my hands on my hips.

  He glanced down at the smart phone, tucked just beneath the bench, and then bent to retrieve it. “I’m assuming you’re the girl from the Gazette. Dana phoned and told me you were on your way.”

  “Oh, right.” My cheeks heated. He’d flustered me. Of course they knew each other. The way these two looked, they were probably dating.

  “Just let me put the weights away,” he said, “and then we can go talk.”

  I looked at the selection of dumbbells around his feet, the lightest one probably forty pounds. Feeling stupid at my earlier retort, I didn’t want to stand around, watching him.

  “Let me give you a hand.”

  A laugh bubbled up from his throat, right up until the point I bent and picked up one of the weights, one handed. I lifted the dumbbell and stacked it back in the rack and turned to find him staring at me.

  I stared back. “What?”

  “You got some muscles hidden under there?”

  I realized what I’d done.

  “Yoga,” I told him in a rush. “Builds up some amazing strength. Nothing like using your whole body as a weight.”

  Flynn studied me again with that intense stare. His eyes had the sort of clarity I’d expect to find in a glacial pool or in the sea of somewhere tropical and untouched.

  He nodded, but his eyes were narrowed, as though he were agreeing with me but thinking something else. “Maybe I’ll have to give it a go then.”

  I laughed, a high-pitched titter, and cringed at the sound. “You should,” I said, hoping he wasn’t going to ask me for lessons. Other than a brief fad last year doing Bikram yoga—where I’d been stuck in a room with thirty other people to sweat out fat and toxins—I didn’t know anything about it.

  He tilted his chin toward me. “Look, give me five minutes to shower and change, and I’ll meet you outside. Then you can grill me.”

  “Sure.”

  I left the remainder of the weights where they were.

  I sat at a picnic table set in the small courtyard in front of the gym. My hands rested on the table, and I absently picked at the dry skin around my nails. Weirdly, I was looking forward to being in Flynn’s presence again. While the jock persona did nothing for me, something about him had sparked my interest. At least he hadn’t attempted to shake my hand or touch me in any way, and for that I was grateful. Normally, I avoided contact with other people, but today’s multiple introductions had left me open.

  I lifted my head to find Flynn striding across the courtyard toward me. His hair was still damp from the shower, making it a shade darker. With his hair being so short, I was sure it would have the texture of velvet if I ran my hand across his head. I shook the thought away; I’d just been relieved that he’d made no attempt to touch me, I certainly shouldn’t be thinking about touching him.

  “Hey,” he said as he slid onto the bench opposite me. “I just realized you never told me your name.”

  “Elizabeth.” I was certain the extended hand would come and I’d see something I didn’t want to. Miraculously, it didn’t.

  “Elizabeth …” He seemed to mull it over. “Pretty.”

  “Thanks.” I tilted my head. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Only the ones who have pretty names.”

  I cocked my eyebrows. “Puh … lease. Anyway, everyone calls me Beth.”

  He grinned and folded his arms on the table. “Sorry, can’t help myself. So how come you’re here interviewing me, Beth? Shouldn’t you be
hanging out with other freshers and getting settled in?”

  “I’m not really into the socializing thing. I prefer work.”

  “You know what they say about all work …?”

  “Are you able to say anything that isn’t a cliché?”

  He held his hands up in surrender and laughed, a full-belly laugh that made me want to laugh with him. “Okay, okay. I was just messing with you. So if you’re so focused on your studies, don’t you think you should ask me some questions?”

  “Actually, I should probably be honest. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to ask you. I don’t know anything about the swim team.”

  He ran a hand across the top of his drying head. “That’s Dana for you. She likes to throw people in at the deep end, see what sort of stuff they’re made of.”

  “See if they sink or swim?” I said.

  He laughed again. “Now who’s talking in clichés?”

  I grinned and went back to picking the skin on my nails. I looked back up at him. “So you guys know each other well?”

  “We’re both from Sage Springs, so yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “Really well?” I probed.

  His head jerked back, his eyebrows knitting in the middle. “Oh, man, no. She’s more like the big sister I never wanted.”

  “Oh, she’s older than you then?” I remembered the glimpse I’d gotten from her as she shook my hand, that of the older man with the salt and pepper hair. I didn’t normally see anything too far ahead—months or days as opposed to years, so perhaps I should have been more aware that Flynn wouldn’t be Dana’s type either.

  “Yeah, she’s in her final year.”

  “And you’re …?”

  “In my second,” he said slowly, as if I should have already either known or figured it out. Okay, that made him nineteen. Not quite so intimidating. I felt like I’d asked far too many questions around his personal life. If I didn’t switch the topic, he was going to get the wrong idea.

  I fished in my bag and pulled out my hardback notepad and pen.

  Flynn filled me in on everything happening with the swim team—upcoming races and training schedules. I diligently scribbled down all the information he fed me, while sneaking glances at his face. He seemed to come alive when he spoke of his time in the pool, of lap-times and formations. His hands spoke for him, gesturing to highlight some particular fast time or stroke.

  Just as I was writing down his final thought about which other college teams were the ones to beat, his hands dropped to the table. He folded his arms in front of him and leaned forward, his chest resting against well-muscled forearms.

  “So tell me about you, Beth. What brings you to Sage Springs?”

  His direct question caught me off guard, and I glanced up from my notebook.

  “Errr … college?”

  “Yeah, I think I figured that one out for myself. I meant why Sage Springs? You don’t strike me as a small town girl.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m not. I’m from Los Angeles. West Hollywood, to be exact.”

  “Daughter of a film star?”

  No, a vampire.

  “Not quite.” I looked down at my hands again, self-conscious, the heat rising in my face.

  “Only child, though. I can tell.”

  Something about the comment jarred me, and my head snapped back up again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “You just have that ‘single-child’ vibe.”

  “Why?”

  He must have realized he’d pissed me off, because he sat back and raised both hands in a ‘surrender’ gesture. But I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily.

  “So what about you? I suppose you come from a family of six—after all, I’m guessing there isn’t a whole lot else to do around here.”

  He flashed me a grin, showing off his straight white teeth and the dimple in his left cheek. “Nah, takes one to know one.”

  I felt my defensive posture relax, my shoulders sinking. “Oh … Oh right. You’re an only child as well.”

  “So I was right then?”

  “Yeah. I guess you were.”

  I’ve never been comfortable with people asking about my background. The story I’ve told so many times about my dad’s condition always felt false on my tongue. I’m a terrible liar.

  I scooped up my notepad and pen and smiled brightly at him. “Well, I think I’ve got everything. Thanks so much for making things easy for me.”

  A trace of confusion rippled across his handsome features, but he didn’t argue with me. “Okay, no problem.” We both stood, and he held out his hand to me, the gesture I’d been trying to avoid this whole time. I hesitated, trying to figure out which would be worse, seeing something secret to him or being rude enough to ignore the handshake. A flash of inspiration hit me and I held out my pen.

  “This is Dana’s. If you see her, could you give it back?”

  Again, I’d thrown him, but his fingers closed around the pen. “Uh, sure.”

  “Thanks so much. See you around, I guess.”

  “I guess.”

  I left him standing there, holding my pen. I walked away, trying to keep my pace even and not break into the run my legs seemed determined to do.

  Chapter

  5

  I got back to my room to discover Brooke had made a couple of friends. The three girls sat on Brooke’s bed, their heads together as they giggled and gossiped. They didn’t even notice my entrance, and I sidled over to my side of the room, hoping things would stay that way.

  They didn’t.

  Brooke spotted me. “Oh, hey.” Then she turned back to her new friends, “This is my roommate, Beth.”

  The two girls each lifted a hand in a wave. “Kayla,” introduced the dark-haired girl with the coffee colored skin.

  “I’m Erin,” added the other girl, a brunette, like me.

  “We’re going out tonight, if you wanna come.” said Kayla. “Every year, a carnival comes to town right at the same time the new intake starts. It’s kinda traditional for everyone to go down on the first night. You up for it?”

  I wondered why Flynn hadn’t mentioned something, but shrugged it off. He obviously had better things to do than hang around with a fresher. “Sure, sounds fun.”

  Brooke smiled, but it was what I’d started to think was her usual ‘fake’ smile. I had the feeling I didn’t exactly fit in with what she was looking for, friend-wise. Both girls currently sitting on her bed wore immaculate makeup, complete with skinny jeans and strappy cami-tops. I’d change into jeans before that evening, but I’d have to make a judgment call on the length of my sleeves, something that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

  “Well, we’ll be leaving in less than an hour,” said Brooke. “So if you want to come, you should probably get ready.”

  My stomach twisted with a sickening sensation. I knew she was making a point about my scruffy appearance, that she didn’t want to be seen with me looking like a street urchin. Part of me wanted to tell her to screw it, and that I’d go on my own, looking however I wanted. But the other part of me desperately wanted to fit in. I’d spent so much of my time in Los Angeles without a real social group to speak of. I didn’t want to be an outsider here, too.

  “No worries.” I gave her a tight smile. “I was just going to take a shower now. I had a long drive, you know?”

  One side of her mouth turned up in a smile, but it didn’t reach her light blue eyes. “Okay. Later then.” And she ducked her head back down to continue to gossip with her friends.

  I gave a sigh and opened my bag to fish out my wash bag, towel, and a change of clothes. I headed down to the showers, hoping I’d find the place empty. I didn’t want to risk bumping into anyone else when I was anything less than fully dressed.

  My luck was in on this occasion. The bathroom was empty.

  Quickly, I stripped off my sweats and stepped into one of the stalls. A fiddle with the faucet sent a gurgle up the p
ipes, and a moment later cold water drenched down on top of my head. I bit down on a shriek at the chill of the water and forced myself to stand beneath it until the temperature warmed up.

  I soaped my hair and body, letting the water wash away the grime of my journey.

  My fingers ran down the skin of my forearms. A couple of weeks had passed since the last time I’d lost control, and the scars that often littered my arms had practically disappeared. I figured I might get away with short sleeves after all. In the moonlight and dancing colored lights of the carnival, the remaining scars would be invisible.

  I was relieved. I didn’t want to feel like an outcast or a freak. More than anything, I wanted to fit in. While I knew I’d never slot into one of the popular girl crowds, I didn’t want to attract glances for the wrong reasons.

  Feeling clean and refreshed, I climbed out of the shower and dried myself off.

  I tugged on my light blue jeans, the denim as soft as worn cotton. Over my head, I pulled a black, sleeveless tee, the sparkling mouth and tongue emblem of the old band The Rolling Stones blazed across the front. I caught my hair up into a high ponytail and secured it with a band. It only took me a moment to debate my choice of footwear. I didn’t do heels, so it was either my biker-boots or sneakers. To go with the top, I went with the boots.

  I still had half an hour to kill before the girls were heading to the carnival. Perhaps I was being a coward, but I didn’t want to go and sit back in my room, trying to make small talk about clothes, makeup, and boys—things I wasn’t interested in. Instead, I left my floor and headed down to ground level, pushing out of the doors and into fresh air. The sky had grown a dusky pink and purple as the sun slipped, unseen by me, beneath the horizon.

  Pulling my cell phone from my bag, I checked it for messages from my mom. I wanted to wait until dusk before calling home, but because the time zone here was three hours ahead of L.A., I would need to wait until later that night. That way both parents would be available for me to speak to. It would hurt my dad’s feelings if I called beforehand and only spoke to Mom, but right at that moment I would have given anything to hear a friendly voice.