Trust me, that was not always a good thing.
I was sort of in the middle from what I picked up. I figured that was due to good genes. My mother had been beautiful, in a fragile, ethereal way. I knew I looked a lot like her. But I wasn’t too high on the ladder because of my worn-out clothes and lack of makeup.
I hadn’t even gone to my prom.
No, I was much more comfortable like this.
As usual I wore an oversized t-shirt and tight jeans. A stained apron was tied loosely over my clothes. My hair was tucked into an old baseball cap they'd given me and I decided I would get my own hat from the student center bookshop for next time. It was worth the splurge.
But for today it was the old hat, or the dreaded hair net. The hat was a minor upgrade. But there was no way I looked appealing.
And yet I got a steady stream of 'hey baby's' and even one 'aren't you a cutie.'
I was not impressed. I knew they were probably just bored. They were after one thing and one thing only. And they weren't getting it from me.
Nan always said that testosterone could do crazy things to a man, no matter how old he was.
I didn't really care to find out.
I sighed and doled out another scoop of mashed potatoes. It was monotonous to say the least. I risked a glance at the clock to see how much time had passed until I could eat.
Not enough.
I noticed the quiet and looked up. The line had stopped. But that wasn’t what made my breath catch in my throat.
There was a boy standing in front of me. He was extremely handsome, with wavy brown hair and blue green eyes. He wasn’t a hulk like the rest of the jocks. He was tall and well built. Strong looking, but not bulky.
He was staring at me with a look of shock on his chiseled face. His familiar face. His familiar stormy blue eyes.
Not just any eyes.
His eyes.
It was him. The boy from my dreams. The boy I’d been dreaming about for literally years was standing in front of me, looking as shocked as I felt.
"You're real."
His voice was husky and full of wonder. His lips curled into a smile and I gasped, the full ramifications of what this meant slamming home.
This wasn’t real. He was not real. It could not be happening.
THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING.
But it was happening. Right now. And I had no idea what to do about it.
My famous coping mechanisms flew out the window. I froze, unable to move or even speak. I could barely think.
My chest felt dry and tight, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath in what felt like minutes. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter as I struggled to get a deep breath.
I blinked at him as he shook his head and smiled. His lips opened and I realized he was trying to talk to me.
But I didn't want to hear it.
I dropped my serving spoon into the mashed potatoes and ran into the kitchen. I didn’t stop. I ran straight out the service entrance and into the cool evening air.
Chapter 7
Dean
She was real.
I stood there, holding onto my tray for dear life as time seemed to stop. It was like I was on Mars all of the sudden. Everything around me felt that strange. That foreign.
In the blink of an eye, everything I’d ever known, everything I had assumed was reality had been proved wrong.
She was real.
My heart was pounding as I stood there in a stupor. Someone said something and I snapped out of it, pushing my tray down the line. I felt like I was in a dream.
A dream, but not the dream.
And yet… she was here.
My whole world had just been turned upside down. And I’d never been happier in my entire life. A feeling of pure euphoria washed through me, making me light up like a Christmas tree.
I was ecstatic at having my illusions shattered. Most people might not be. They held onto ‘facts’ with everything they had. But I was ready to shout it out, make sure everyone knew.
Dear god, the beautiful girl from my dreams was real.
My world had tilted as I stared into the huge gray eyes I’d seen so often in my sleep. I hadn't just been dreaming her up after all. I’d been seeing a real girl somehow, not a beautiful figment of my imagination.
She was real and she was here, working in the cafeteria. What were the chances of that? There probably wasn’t even a number for calculating those odds.
But that wasn't even the crazy part.
The crazy part was the look in her eyes. She had looked as shocked as I was. I knew without a doubt that she'd recognized me too.
She knew me just as surely as I knew her.
I just didn’t know her name.
I had tried to open my mouth to get the words out — what words, I wasn't sure of just yet — but the overwhelming feeling in my gut had been of completion. Shock and awe yes, but also a wonderful, miraculous feeling of having found something I’d lost.
I felt whole for the first time in my life.
Then reality started to set in. My mystery girl looked less than thrilled to see me. Her pretty face was in shock, leaving two bright pink spots on her cheeks. For all my surprise, she looked even more rattled than I felt.
I had a sudden need to reassure her — I needed to—
But she ran.
I stared as the girl turned and scurried into the back of the kitchens. But I knew I had seen the look of recognition in her face.
The shock and the… something else. Joy almost. But she'd looked horrified as well.
Okay, so that wasn’t the joyous reunion I might have hoped for. But for the first time in forever, I didn't feel alone.
Even though she'd just run out of there like her shoes were on fire.
"She's hot, right? I'd like to unload on her ass."
I cringed. My suitemate Chuck was not subtle about women. All he talked about were stats and how to get girls. As many as possible. And now he was talking about her in the same way.
I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.
I set my tray down on a table and walked purposefully toward the kitchen. A heavyset middle-aged woman with red hair stood in my way. She might be an adult, but I was taller.
I looked down at her, impatient to get past her. I was ready to fight dragons to get to that girl, let alone stop and talk. But my good manners won out.
"Excuse me, please."
"You can't be back here, son. Can I get you something?"
"The girl who was here — did she leave? I need to talk to her."
"Krista? I think she just went out back for air."
"Okay, thanks."
I walked swiftly out of the front of the building and jogged to the back where the employee entrance was. I walked around the loading dock and dumpsters. But there was no one there.
She was gone.
It didn't matter though. I knew her name now. I knew where she worked, and I knew she was a student here. I would find her, soon.
My whole body was thrumming with the possibility of seeing her again soon. Talking to her. Kissing her. And I wouldn't have to fall asleep to do it.
She was here.
She was real.
Chapter 8
Krista
"Cute outfit."
I stopped in the doorway, staring at my roommate. Charisse was looking at me like I was the Loch Ness monster. I had just walked in the door and already I wanted to hide.
Everyone was staring at me today. The players, my roommate, him. I didn't like it.
I stared down at myself, wondering what was wrong with me now.
Oh, right. Brilliant, Krista.
Whoops. I’d forgotten to take the apron off. It was a nicer one, a dark green made for serving in the front of the kitchen. But it was still less than glamorous.
Not to mention splattered with small bits of mashed potatoes and regret.
Fantastic. I was wearing part of the dinner I hadn't gotten a chance to even taste. Becaus
e I hadn't finished my shift. Because I was ridiculous. And now I would go to bed hungry because of it.
Brilliant Krista.
I pulled off the apron, tempted to throw it away. I wanted to bury it. Just hide the evidence of my foolishness. I only hoped I wouldn't get fired for running out of there like that. Not to mention looking like a freak as I ran through campus.
Yeah, this whole ‘new life’ thing was off to a fantastic start.
I couldn't lose my job. Not now. Not ever. For four years, my work study was a privilege as well as a burden. It was part of my arrangement with the scholarship office. I would have to tell them I’d gotten sick or something. Otherwise I was screwed.
No work study, no partial scholarship, no college. The rules were very clear on that.
Way to go, Krista.
I sighed and pulled the apron off, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door.
"You smell like French fries."
"Mashed potatoes, actually. One of the many hazards of work study. I'll get cleaned up."
Charisse wrinkled her nose and tossed me something. I stared at the expensive looking bottle in my hand. Rose scented shower gel.
Well, that was subtle.
"Here. My mother gets me buckets of this stuff. You look like a rose girl."
She held up another bottle.
"I'm more of a lemon verbena girl myself. You can have all the rose stuff."
“Um… Thanks."
I took a sniff and shrugged. It did smell better than my plain soap and drug store moisturizer. And the scent was familiar, in a bittersweet way.
My mother had always smelled like roses.
Charisse chucked matching shampoo, conditioner and a dry body oil onto my bed. She murmured something about wanting to stuff her face now and I almost laughed. She wasn’t mean exactly, but she wasn’t sweet either.
I grabbed my shower caddy, adding all the rose scented stuff and shuffled to the dorm bathroom.
In my case 'dorm shower caddy' was an old rubber bucket that had been under my Grandmother's sink forever. Nan had raised me on a strict, extremely limited income. We used what we had.
I kind of liked it that way too. Just looking at the waste and excess around the dorm was a little dizzying, to tell the truth. But I couldn't judge people for having money, just like I hoped they didn't judge me for… not.
I knew they did judge me though. I might not react to the stares and whispers, but I always noticed them. I knew I didn't quite belong.
Never had. Never would.
Even here at this top school, where we were all supposedly intelligent over-achievers, I was still just the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. The girl who had to work just to stay in classes. The girl who smelled like French fries.
I’d even heard a couple of them call me hillbilly Barbie. Gee, thanks. I put those people on my ignore list. Permanently.
I padded down the hall in my shower shoes — also-known-as 99 cent flip flops. I looked around the communal bathroom, relieved that it was not crowded for once. I was shy about showering around other girls, even if we were all in the same boat.
I pulled off my clothes and stepped into the shower stall. The water was steaming hot and the pressure was good. One of the few perks of communal showering I supposed: the boiler was industrial sized.
I poured some of the expensive gel into my hand and inhaled deeply. It did smell pretty good actually, especially compared to the plain bar soap I’d used to wash my face and body every day since I was five.
I went through the motions of washing myself off on autopilot. But the truth was the silence was deafening. Now I had nothing to distract me from the truth. The one thought was running through my head on repeat.
The one thought I’d been fighting ever since I’d run out of the dining hall almost an hour ago.
He was real.
Chapter 9
Dean
My eyes slipped to the side, resting on the dark, wavy hair again. The hair that was shorter than I remembered. Everything else was the same.
I sat in Freshman Lit, forcing myself to stare blankly towards the front of the lecture hall. It was the third day of classes. I’d spent every day since Freshman orientation looking for her. She hadn't appeared in the kitchen again and I hadn't seen her in the quad.
I was beginning to think I’d imagined the whole thing.
Until now.
Two rows ahead of me and a few seats to the right. A girl sat there that drew my eye repeatedly during the class. He could see her profile and the shoulder length dark hair that curled around her ear perfectly, revealing a graceful jaw and neck.
Her hand fluttered to her throat as if she felt eyes on her. My breath caught as she glanced over her shoulder as if she knew someone was watching her. I glanced away, unconcerned.
I wasn’t the only one checking her out. Krista drew male eyes like moths to a flame. It wasn’t just her beauty either. She looked fragile too, in a way that brought out his protective instincts.
The girl from my dreams was pretty much a man-magnet.
And it was her.
I was not crazy after all.
I leaned back and smiled grimly, letting my eyes rest on her again. I had to talk to her- to make her stay this time. Not run away. She had to know we were meant to be together.
Well, maybe I was a little bit crazy.
I had started to stand in the middle of class the moment I saw her face. I sat down abruptly, realizing looking like a crazy person was not going to help my cause . I had to get to her, to speak to her, not make her run away again.
It was her, but she was different.
Her hair was longer in the dreams, and her clothes were different. She was dressed kind of shabbily compared to the plain white nightgown I was used to seeing her in.
It was the sort of nightie that you saw in old movies. White cotton and lace. Virginal.
For some reason I had always found it incredibly arousing. In fact, just holding her hand in the dreams was more satisfying than any of the fumbling sexual encounters I’d had in high school.
I felt it now, a fission of desire that went straight to my gut. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, eager to get on with it.
I’m going to make her talk to me, one way or the other.
The bell rang and she was up like a shot. I cursed when I saw her making a beeline for the door. I couldn't let her get away again.
I stood up and chased after her, pushing people out of the way.
I shoved way through the crowd, finally catching up to her. I lifted my arm and touched her shoulder just as she stepped out of the building.
She turned and her stunning gray eyes widened. She stepped away from me, almost stumbling down the stairs. I reached out for her and steadied her.
Nice Dean, knock your dream girl down the freaking stairs why don’t you? Classy.
The next thing I knew she had darted out into the crowd of milling students on the quad. She was pretty fast for such a little thing. I followed her, unwilling to give up so easily.
"Wait- Krista- I just need to talk to you-"
Jesus Christ, the girl was motoring!
She ignored me, weaving through the crowd of students until she stopped short, blocked by a game of catch football. I grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face me. Not the smoothest move in the book, but I was desperate.
"I know you."
Her big eyes blinked up at me from her heart shaped face. I knew instantly that she was about to lie to me. Even before she opened that beautiful mouth of hers.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've never seen you before in my life."
"Yes, you have."
I stared at her, my hands firm on her shoulders.
"It's okay. I'm freaked too. This whole thing- it's crazy."
She got perfectly still, staring at the ground as if willing me to go away. Then she shook her head, as if she was trying to clear it.
"Yeah, okay. I guess you're
right."
My heart was clanging in my chest as she took a deep breath and looked up at me. Her beautiful gray eyes were lost and I had to fight the desire to pull her into my arms.
"It is crazy. I think I'm going crazy."
I smiled at her.
"Maybe we both are."
Chapter 10
Krista
He was beautiful. Not just his looks. Everything about him was just… perfect.
My heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was a horse that might gallop away from me. He wasn’t just here. He was demanding that I talk to him, that I admit what was happening.
God help me, I wanted to talk to him too.
I wanted everything in the dreams to be real. The long walks. The handholding. The kiss.
Especially the kiss.
But something inside me warned that there would be consequences if I gave into that desire. That this chance — this boy — he was not a free gift. I didn't know if it was just nerves, or a lifetime of being the odd girl out, but my internal warning bell was clanging and it was loud.
I let myself look at him, momentarily silencing the voice inside me that told me to run. I just… looked. My eyes drank him in like the tall, cool drink of water that he was.
Oh my goodness, the boy was fine.
His eyes were exactly the same as I remembered, his shoulders just as broad. His hair was shorter, cut for the upcoming football season most likely. I missed the tousled curls he'd had the last time I saw him. It softened him somehow.
Now he looked… hard.
Determined.
He was staring at me, begging me with those deep blue eyes to say the words that would make this all real.
Too real.
Once I said it out loud though, I wouldn't be able to take them back. It was a line in the sand. I realized with a sense of inevitability that nothing would stop me from crossing it.
Original Witch (Dreamshifters Book 1) Page 3
