Page 24

Lily

L ily! No! No-no-no! Not like this. Not now. Not ever! I open my mouth, and a guttural scream leaves it. Internally, I’m thrashing around, but I can’t seem to move my body in response. I feel pinned down, weighted with a heaviness on my chest that I can’t alleviate.

My right index finger twitches. I feel the slight movement and concentrate with all my might to make the rest of my hand move. I want to be free from this oppressive feeling. If I could just move, maybe I could get loose. I can spread my fingers wide, but that’s all I can do.

I want to scream in frustration. I will my body to cooperate, but it won’t listen. I can barely breathe. I can barely think.

Please , not again. Not tonight . Not after the best night of my life.

As soon as I think of him, his eyes —the color of smoke—find me. With amber surrounding the pupils and flecks of white running through them, they ensnare me instantly. They beckon me as I once again command my body to listen. I want to go to him more than anything.

I hear his horror-stricken voice calling me to him. I try to respond but nothing aside from my terrified scream greets him. Over and over, I try to call out to him but fail. If I could say his name, he could find me. He could save me.

Lily! Lily, baby! Wake up! Please, baby, just open your eyes. It’s a bad dream. I’m right here. Open your eyes, Lily !

Suddenly, my eyes fly open. I blink slowly, coming back into consciousness. Where am I? It takes me a full thirty seconds to realize I’m in the bedroom my grandmother decorated just for me all those years ago. I see the moon peeking through the open curtains, the wind softly blowing the soft white material through the open window.

At some point in my blissful state, after the best orgasm of my life, I crawled back through my window and onto my bed. I still hear Luka calling for me, but that isn’t right. He isn’t here with me. We were on the phone. My voice is horse and cracks when I speak.

“Hello?”

“Lily! Are you there?” That isn’t his normal deep, gentle voice. There’s panic and fear present.

“I’m here,” I croak, but I don’t know where he is. I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense since he should be back at Hart University.

“Pick up the phone, baby.”

Phone? Where is my phone, and why does he want me to pick it up?

My brain feels foggy, my thoughts chaotic and hazy. I reach out tentatively, my fingers dragging across the cool but crumpled sheets. I left the window open, and the nightly breeze has chilled my room even though I feel hot and sweaty. My fingers touch the cold metal, and I groan as I turn over to see it.

Everything hurts, even my freaking fingers.

I must have fallen asleep when we were talking because the phone says we’ve been on the phone for over two and a half hours. I pick it up and bring it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“ Lily. ” My name is a tortured whisper on his lips.

“Luka.” I sigh with relief that I’m finally able to say his name out loud without screaming.

"Are you okay?"

I slam my eyes shut when the realization of what just happened—of what he just heard—registers .

Oh no .

“I’m okay. It was just a bad dream. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Sorry? For what? I… It sounded like you were fighting for your life. It scared the absolute shit out of me.”

The panic in his voice is still there, and it breaks my heart. I know how scary the dream is because I live it. I can’t escape it. I can’t imagine what it would be like for someone to hear me screaming and saying who knows what while I’m in the middle of a nightmare that feels very, very real to me.

It haunts me.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to.”

He sighs heavily. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I promise I am.” I try to hide the shakiness in my voice and work to calm my nerves. It was the same dream as the last one, with the same details but one major difference: It was more intense. Even though I couldn’t move, everything I felt was heightened.

Does that count as a progression?

Man, I hope not. Yet another thing to talk about with my grandmother. I hope I didn’t wake her, but considering she hasn’t busted down my door, I think I’m safe. She’s hard of hearing and sleeps like the dead, so it’s highly unlikely that my screams woke her.

“I need to go. I’m sorry I scared you, truly. I promise I’m okay.” My words leave little room for argument, even though he seems like he wants to try.

“We can stay on the phone until you fall back asleep.”

I just want to get off the phone with him and process what just happened. He isn’t asking any specific questions, so I hope that means I didn’t say anything while I was asleep to clue him into the contents of my dream.

“I really need to go.”

He groans. “I don’t want to let you go. That scared the fuck out of me. Why were you so panicked? I get that nightmares happen, but that shit was insane. It sounded personal and traumatic as hell, not like a normal nightmare.”

I slam my eyes shut, trying to come up with the right thing to say to soothe him. “I know it’s crazy, but I’m used to them. It happens every once in a while, and I’m sorry you had to hear it. ”

“Don’t apologize for something like that. You have nightmares like that on the regular?” he asks in disbelief.

“Not on the regular.”

Don’t lie to him, Lily. My nostrils flare at the mental intrusion.

If this freaking voice doesn’t leave me alone! I internally command it to shut up.

“Look, I really need to go. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?” I hope my promise is enough to get him to hang up the phone because my nerves are so frayed that my hand is shaking while I try to hold the phone to my ear.

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I mentally berate myself for my choice of words. Hope to die, Lily. Really?

He hesitantly says, “Okay. Try to get some sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I whisper before ending the call.

I throw my forearm over my eyes and take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I don’t fall back to sleep until the sun breaks the horizon, and only then does my body finally relax.

“Hey there, sleepy head. I thought you were never going to get up,” my grandmother says cheerfully.

I shuffle into the kitchen and sit at the round, worn oak table. Grandma May’s kitchen hasn’t been remodeled since the house was first built in the sixties. It still has most of the original appliances.

I think I was around nine or ten when I asked my grandpa why he hadn’t gotten Grandma all new appliances and fixed up her kitchen in all those years. He looked at me with a warm smile and simply said , “If your grandmother had wanted a new kitchen, I would have already given it to her. She likes it just the way it is. ”

I thought his answer was silly at the time. Why wouldn’t Grandma like the new, fancy digital appliances? Why would she want to keep all these outdated, ugly green things?

But sitting here right now, I can see the appeal. They’ve never failed her. The oven has always baked her homemade bread to the perfect golden brown. The stove has always fried the bacon to just the right level of crispiness, and that small, green refrigerator has always kept everything perfectly cooled.

On the table is a stack of buttery pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and juice. It all smells heavenly and is exactly how I remembered it. My eyes water as memories of my childhood bombard me.

“Do you want some coffee, sweet girl?”

I nod as I fork two pancakes, some eggs, and bacon onto my empty plate. Then I grab the syrup and drizzle it all over my pancakes. A girl can never have enough sugary goodness for the best freaking pancakes on this side of the Mississippi.

She places a cup of hot coffee in front of me, along with a cute little ceramic cow-shaped creamer container and a sugar bowl. I doctor my coffee up just how I like it, and that first sip is like a shot of euphoria straight into my veins. It feels so good.

My mind immediately goes to last night on the roof and just how freaking good it felt. My core clenches, and my cheeks redden. I haven’t had time to process everything that transpired last night fully. I still can’t believe I did that , that we did that .

And with how the night ended, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look Luka in the eyes again, let alone speak to the guy. I’m mortified. How embarrassing! He got me off during phone sex, and then I woke him up by screaming bloody murder while I was having a dream about how I die . A dream he has no idea he’s in!

It’s going to take a crap ton of therapy to unpack all that mess.

My eyes land on an old, frayed book of some kind sitting on the table just to the left of my grandmother. She sees me eyeing it and picks it up to sit it in front of her .

I’m curious to know what it is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. I think I’d remember it just from how old it looks. It looks like something that should be in a museum.

I finish chewing my bite of pancake, swallow, and then ask, “What is that?”

She eyes me for a moment. “First, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

She knows . She always knows when something is wrong. I can’t hide anything from her. I’ve never wanted to before, but I don’t know how to tell her either.

“The dream is progressing. Or at least I think it is,” I amend.

She looks shocked. It’s the same way I’ve felt ever since I found out about the premonition being real.

Once she collects herself, she reaches over and grabs my hand. “We’re going to figure this out, Lily. I promise.”

I start by telling her about Luka, last night, and everything in between. If there is one person in this world I can trust, it’s my grandma May.