In My Dreams (First Tracks Book 2) (5 page)

Marcus

The dim, bland room felt small and empty without Avery. I
ran my hands over my face, wanting to hold it together, and ended up leaving
them there. Hiding.

Dude, this is seriously messed up. I never let anything
shake me or get me down. I’ve lost competitions. I’ve totally yardsaled so many
times. I’ve fallen and broken stuff before. I’ve always gotten right back
up…but not this time.

I heard my family walk in but didn’t have the energy to
compose myself.

I felt my mom’s hand on my shoulder. “Marcus?”

I pulled my hands away. She was right there, with my dad and
Jen lurking behind her. Man, was I getting tired of looking up at everyone from
this freaking bed. Mom sat down, her hand still on me.

“You know, this is pretty normal,” she started.

“How could any of this be normal?”

“I’ve been reading up on this. When people come out of a
coma, they can have short term memory problems, and be agitated and emotional.”
She pulled up a brochure and began reading. “Your family member by be
disorientated and confused about the time, where they are, and even who they
are. They might not understand what is happening.”

“Mom, what the fuck? I know exactly who I am and where I
am.”

She jumped at my words. I was shocked myself. I still felt
that boiling hot pressure in my head but I knew I’d crossed a line.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve been letting myself get way too
frustrated. But what are you worried about?” I glanced at my dad, still
standing behind her. He turned and busied himself with putting things on a
counter. Seriously? He wasn’t going to say anything?

“This is about Avery, not me. Isn’t it?” I pointed the
question at my parents, but mostly at my dad. “You can all see my mental state
is fine. I’m doing pretty damn well according to that cheesy grin doctor.” I
struggled to lift my head so I could see Jen. My mom adjusted my pillow and
then the bed so I was sitting up.

Jen glanced at me several times but kept dropping her gaze,
her arms folded and her body turned away. She didn’t want to argue with our
parents, but she believed Avery and me.

“Marcus,” mom said, glancing at dad for support. “We need to
talk about a physical therapy center.”

What? Where’d that come from? I sighed, realizing she was
changing the subject. I wanted to deal with this shit and make them see that Avery
would be a part of my life. It’s my life—they’ll have to see that at some
point. Maybe when I’m on feet again.
Fuck!
  God damn, this is
frustrating.

“Why do I need another center?” I asked.

“After this one, not right now,” Mom clarified.

Oh, hell, no. I can’t handle another center after this one.
Mom and Jen took turns explaining it to me and reading out of different
pamphlets until my doctor came in. Great. More questions and poking. My family
had a list of questions for him too—literally. They’d written a list.

I let them talk while I read over one of the pamphlets on
recovery. A lot of it I knew from talking to the doctors and nurses, but it had
some good news. Damaged brain cells can repair themselves. The brain can even rewire
itself and grow new pathways so you can get motor control back.

The pamphlet shook while I tried to read it, thanks to my
damn hand or nerves or whatever wasn’t working anymore. While she was here, I
did my best to hide all this from Avery. She’d feel guilty if she knew how hard
this was, and I didn’t want that. Or worse, she might quit college to help me.

“Hey, listen,” I said, interrupting two different
conversations. The doctor, nurses, my parents and Jen all looked at me,
startled. “I need some rest. Some quiet.”

I closed my eyes before I could see them all pass around a
hurt look. After some murmurs, the light went out and the room went quiet.

I didn’t really want quiet or to be alone. I wanted to be
out there somewhere, on a slope training or even on a run. Hell, I’d take being
in Avery’s head while she went for a run. Anything but this, away from her,
hardly able to control my body.

I knew I was slipping down in a hole of self-pity, but it
felt kinda good at the moment. I tried rolling onto my side, giving it to it
just this once.

Jasmine

“See you tomorrow, Jasmine!” Matt called as we left advanced
drawing. I gave a little wave, wishing once again that I could like him. He’s super
friendly and good looking with dark brown eyes and this rich, golden brown skin
that I want to paint in a portrait sometime, and he’s been talking to me since
we had a class together last term. But I just haven’t felt it.

Truth be told, I haven’t really felt it with anyone for a
while, not since Corbin. I’ve had a few dates and some hanging out with
different guys, and then I tried a relationship with Drake. He was great for a
couple of weeks, but then he kept cancelling on me and always had something else
to do. I dumped him in a text. Maybe he knew I wasn’t that into him anyway. It
doesn’t work that well to try something new when you’re stuck on someone else.

I’ve spent a year and a half trying to get over Corbin, and
it’s been like pulling myself out of molasses…while not wanting to give up the
molasses. Even while I tried dating other people, I ended up seeing him again
and ruining everything.

My phone buzzed. Avery was supposed to be heading back down
here soon so I pulled it out right away, but then I got a funny feeling before
looking at it. I checked it while walking down the hallway. It was from
him.
 

What you up to?

Corbin’s face came up beside the text, stopping me like it
does every time. I stepped to the side of the hallway.

God, I hated this. I hated how one tiny little text from him
sent my heart pounding and my entire body lighting up. And I especially hated
how I would spend at least five minutes thinking about what to text back.

Not seeing you today asshole—
That’s what I wanted to
send and s
hould
send, but I knew I wouldn’t. I could just say I was
busy. I was. And I didn’t have to drop my plans every time he got horny or
bored. He’d spend a few hours with me and then disappear again. Why couldn’t I
write him off? I didn’t need this anymore.

Corbin was my artist when I got my first tattoo. I
researched online to find the perfect style, and he worked at a shop in
Medford. The tattoo took three hours and we talked the entire time. We clicked,
like really really clicked. He thought like me on so many things. He said the
same lines as me. He had some of the same mannerisms as me. He even loved art
like me. He ended up asking me out for a date that night to celebrate my first
ink.

Corbin was tall, but not too tall at five foot eight. His
eyes were light brown with tiny flecks of gold and green in them, and his skin
was light cocoa. He had two full sleeve tattoos and others all over his body,
some he did himself. The guy was amazing with a tattoo machine. I couldn’t
argue that even if I wished I could forget him.  

Corbin came on strong and romantic in the beginning, and I
fell like I’ve never fallen.

He was charming too, almost in an old fashioned way where he
made a show of getting the door or putting an arm around me. Somehow he knew
all the things I liked, and he’d play with my hair and touch my side when he
walked by me.

I still don’t understand it. He wasn’t
that
good
looking. And now I know he wasn’t even that great of a kisser. Thinking back,
though, I loved everything about him at the time. Just being around him made
everything feel okay. The world slowed down and I could breathe. He was like my
center.  

But about six weeks into it he said he didn’t want to commit
to one person. It didn’t change things, though, not at first. We still hung out
and had fun, but then he dropped off the radar for two weeks. The next time, it
was a month. Every time I thought I could move on and get over him, he came
around.

I loved and fucking hated him all at the same time. Maybe
that’s what kept me so addicted, how he popped in and out of my life, making me
chase him.

So now I’d spent more than five minutes starting a text and
deleting it again.  How did he do this to me? My anger sparked and grew, and
suddenly my head felt so hot that I couldn’t breathe. The floor felt like it
was tilting.

What the hell?

This couldn’t be just from the text. The feeling lifted and I
stumbled toward the exit, but then it got worse as I left the building. People
pushed by me while I tried to orientate myself.

“Jazz?” A male voice said my name right next to me. Only a
few people use that version of my name, but I didn’t recognize the voice. I
reached a hand out and got shocked. Literally. I got zapped when my hand
touched a wool sweater. “Are you all right?”

I shook my head and peeked over, too woozy to really look at
him. The wool sweater was a dark green. His faint cologne drifted to me,
smelling slightly familiar, a very subtle mix of something exciting and spicy,
but light at the same time.

Before I could place the cologne, I felt his arm come around
my back and I let him lead me off to the side of the building where I could
lean against the wall. That helped. I hadn’t realized how badly everything was
spinning.

I stood sideways, the wall holding me up and whoever helped
me standing in front of me waiting for some kind of answer.

“Thanks. Yes, I’m fine. I just felt odd for a moment.” I
still did, actually, so I kept my eyes closed and rubbed my forehead with the
palm on my hand.

“Odd?” he asked, and when he kept talking it sounded like he
was talking to himself. “I felt some kind of odd sensation a second ago too, like
I wasn’t here. I mean… never mind. You texted about Avery’s homework. That’s
why I came up to you, but are you okay?”

Memory clicked then. The dizziness lifted like a fog when
the morning sun hits it.

“Nash. Hi…” I looked up at Nash Phillips—way up since he’s
around six foot and I’m a short Japanese girl. He leaned toward me,
protectively I thought, but I pushed that idea away. He hardly knew me. Still,
he watched me with troubled eyes like he was worried about me.

Tall, handsome, quiet Nash. The man with the beautiful olive
skin and dark brown eyes that hint at green. I thought Avery was so lucky when
they got together, but then that whole thing fell apart in a bloody mess.

He’s book smart and nerdy from what I’ve heard about him,
but still really hot.

“Do you need to sit down?” he asked, searching my face, and
probably wondering why I was gawking up at him.

“Uh, no. I’m fine.” I looked down, trying to remember the
line of conversation. “Avery’s coming back to class and I wanted to help her
catch up.”

His eyes narrowed just enough for me to notice, and his
mouth turned down at the corners. I hadn’t noticed before, but he had very nice
lips.

“You didn’t answer,” I said, “so I can assume you’re not
interested in helping?”

He held my gaze.  

“Why didn’t you go on that trip to the coast?” he asked, and
it was so random and sudden that I just opened my mouth in confusion, unable to
find any words. He meant the one where Kyle kissed Avery and our circle of
friends got obliterated? “Sorry. Never mind that too. I have some notes and
papers for…her.” He opened his backpack and took out a folder.

I planned to put it in my bag but for some reason I opened
the folder instead and glanced at the two sets of neatly labeled papers. It
looked like I had put it together. Guess I’m not the only organization freak
around here.

“Nash, thank you.” I did put them away then, and suddenly I
wondered why he was on this part of campus. “You don’t take any art classes, do
you?”

“No, why?” He kept his gaze on me all this time. I had to
look away from the intensity. “Oh, I just knew you did, and I wanted to give
those to you.”

He tracked me down for this? I glanced back up at those
searching eyes and that feeling hit again. It wasn’t the dizziness, but
something that had been coming and going for about a week now, just some kind
of strange sensation of
knowing.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jazz?”

I liked how my name sounded on his lips when he used the
shortened form. I stared for a minute before realizing I hadn’t made any
attempt to answer.

“I have to go. I’m late for class.”

He tilted his head, squinting a little like he was curious,
but he didn’t say anything or try to stop me as I hurried off.

What was
that
?

Had I made myself sick thinking about Corbin? Or did I just
need to eat?

I hurried to my next class—in the English department—even though
I was really late. Everyone was seated and our professor Tony was walking to
the board when I slipped in and sat in my normal seat. I dug a energy bar out
of my backpack pocket and nibbled it, trying to pull together some scattered
thought. That feeling, it’d started in a dream the first time. I wasn’t sure
what that meant.

I found myself wishing this was drawing or painting, instead
of an English lecture, because I’d rather be doing something than sitting with
my thoughts running crazy circles in my head.

Nash was hot, smart, and a little mysterious to me, but he
wasn’t my type at all. I mean, yeah, he was hot and looked somewhat like
Corbin. But he’d dated a friend. So why had that thought even crossed my mind?

I began discreetly sketching a blurry, dreamlike picture of
a boat on water in my notebook so I could keep my mind off of Nash. It quickly
became apparent I’d have to paint this. It’d work much better in oils than
pencil. So I switched to practicing henna designs, making circles, swirls and
flowers. I have a box of new henna mud waiting for me at home, and I’m dying to
try some designs on skin again.

Will Avery miss drawing, if she can’t anymore? That whole
situation blew my mind. I can’t believe it, and yet I saw the artwork she did
while Marcus was supposedly in her head. I’m just glad it’s over…and secretly
glad it wasn’t me dealing with all of that.

For some reason, that thought led me back to Nash. Whatever
weird thing happened back there, I’m staying the hell away from it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me jump. I slipped it
out as carefully as I could so the professor wouldn’t see. It was a text—from Nash.
Odd, since I was just thinking about him. And also odd because we’d just
talked.

When is Avery coming back?

Damn. He
was
still in love with her. I sighed and
texted,
Tonight.

He texted right back:
So you don’t need tomorrow’s notes?

Is that why he was asking? I puzzled over it, realized I was
overthinking it like I usually do, and then answered:
I don’t think so. I’ll
let you know. Thanks so much.

When his next text came, it wasn’t what I expected.

I’m happy to help you.

Help me, not Avery?

Could he actually be over her? I know how mad he was after
the coast trip when Kyle kissed Avery…or Avery kissed Kyle, according to
Kristina’s point of view. Whatever happened, somehow it brought out the whole
thing about Marcus in Avery’s head—at least Nash heard about it. Kristina never
did. Shit, it was a lot of drama.

Part of me hoped Avery wouldn’t make it back today, or at
all, so Nash would keep talking to me instead of directly to Avery. The rest of
me felt horrible for feeling that way of course. I wanted Avery to come back
and catch up in school and fix things with Kristina. We were all so tight, and
now Kristina was avoiding all of us. I haven’t talked to Dawn because she was
more Kristina’s friend, but she was still a part of our group.

Avery’s been gone. The guys are gone for good, but I’m not
sure if I regret that. Kyle was a prick and Steve was a dumb jock that didn’t
have any of his own ideas. I haven’t asked Dawn if she’s still seeing him.

I do regret making that phone call to the Portland hospital
about Avery. I totally betrayed her. Yeah, I was worried she’d lost it. I was
worried she’d make a fool of herself or even worse, put herself or Marcus in
danger somehow. I was freaked out about the whole thing, worse than I’ve ever
been in my life.

I caught myself sighing and sunk down into my seat. Tony
even paused his lecture to stare at me. It probably sounded like I was bored
out of my mind. The truth is I’m getting a little panicky from running all of
this through my head.  

I shouldn’t have come to class; I haven’t heard a word of
the lecture. I glanced around. Everyone was staring ahead blankly, writing
notes, or covertly tapping on their phones.

I spaced the entire rest of class and bolted when it ended.
Outside, overcast clouds made it feel too bright. Maybe I just needed to go
home and take a nap. Maybe restart my day. I turned to head back the other way
and bumped into someone.

“Sorry—Nash?”

“Hi… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

We both stared. What could I say after our earlier
conversation?

“I’m fine.” People streamed by as we stood still. I couldn’t
take any more of this, whatever it was, and started walking away.

 A minute later I glanced back. He’d walked down the path
but looked back just as I did.

What the hell was going on between us?