her pillow so tight that if it had a life, she’d killed it. Socks let out a pathetic meow and scurried back to the foot of the bed. Kylie moaned into the foam stuffing beneath the pillow case. She was already going to have a hard enough time sleeping and now she had the whole Derek versus Lucas thing to mull over.
Chapter Six
An hour later and she hadn’t hit a lick of sleep yet. Well, not more than a few seconds. Every time she’d almost be there, she’d get this strange kind of sensation as if she was floating, or maybe flying, and the odd feeling would yank her from the light slumber. Once, right before she’d awoken, she’d spotted Lucas, as if she was about to dream of him.
He’d been surrounded with what looked like clouds, and a cool breeze stirred the foggy atmosphere. Just when she’d get a good look at him another cloud would float by, hiding him from her. He’d been wearing a button-down shirt, left unbuttoned, and that breeze would pick up the ends of the shirt, showing off his chest and flat stomach. That’s when the cloudy atmosphere started moving faster and the sensation of flying grew stronger and yanked her awake.
Catching her breath, she sat up and pushed her hair from her face.
Disappointment started to build, but she chased it away. She couldn’t even think about the other “Lucas” dream—them in the water, only partially clothed—without blushing. She certainly didn’t need to add a second dream to her couldn’t-think-about list.
Rolling over, she punched her pillow as if the bag of foam could be the blame. Then sitting all the way up, she turned on her light and without even knowing what she planned to do, she pulled out the letter. The letter from Lucas. The one Holiday had given her weeks ago but she hadn’t read.
Hi Kylie,
59/375
I’ve started writing this letter a dozen times and crumpled it up and tossed it away. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to say, when there is so little I can say at this point and time. Maybe it’s because I just shouldn’t write you, because … it’s wrong. There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t think about you all the time, reasons that have nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I know I’m not making sense and if I could, I would explain it to you. Hell, maybe if things turn out the way I hope, I can explain it to you. Not sure that would change anything, but damn if I don’t hope.
Do you see why I keep tearing this letter up? It doesn’t make sense, does it?
What should make sense is this. You are so special, Kylie. And I’m sorry I didn’t say this to your face. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away that I remembered you. But I was so shocked to see you that first day at camp. Shocked and thrilled. You knew things about me that I’d tried to keep hidden—hidden from everyone including myself. My parents did some very bad things, and while I was young and didn’t know better, I participated in much of it. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to forget about that time of my life.
Actually, you were the only thing I didn’t want to forget about. The little blond neighbor girl who looked like an angel, and who was a mystery. What were you? Who were you? You both scared and intrigued me even back then. I didn’t understand how you made me feel inside. I wanted to kill the boys who threw those rocks at you, I wanted to touch your hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. On full moons, I would watch you, hoping that you would turn. That you would end up being a were.
I think I just figured out why I have to write this letter. To tell you what you meant to me, just in case I never get to tell you that in person.
Now if I can just put this in an envelope before I decide this is stupid and toss it in the trash.
60/375
Thinking of you.
Lucas
P.S. Dream of me.
His last line seemed to echo in her head. Dream of me . If only he knew …
Then all her other emotions were chased away by the
Chapter Six
An hour later and she hadn’t hit a lick of sleep yet. Well, not more than a few seconds. Every time she’d almost be there, she’d get this strange kind of sensation as if she was floating, or maybe flying, and the odd feeling would yank her from the light slumber. Once, right before she’d awoken, she’d spotted Lucas, as if she was about to dream of him.
He’d been surrounded with what looked like clouds, and a cool breeze stirred the foggy atmosphere. Just when she’d get a good look at him another cloud would float by, hiding him from her. He’d been wearing a button-down shirt, left unbuttoned, and that breeze would pick up the ends of the shirt, showing off his chest and flat stomach. That’s when the cloudy atmosphere started moving faster and the sensation of flying grew stronger and yanked her awake.
Catching her breath, she sat up and pushed her hair from her face.
Disappointment started to build, but she chased it away. She couldn’t even think about the other “Lucas” dream—them in the water, only partially clothed—without blushing. She certainly didn’t need to add a second dream to her couldn’t-think-about list.
Rolling over, she punched her pillow as if the bag of foam could be the blame. Then sitting all the way up, she turned on her light and without even knowing what she planned to do, she pulled out the letter. The letter from Lucas. The one Holiday had given her weeks ago but she hadn’t read.
Hi Kylie,
59/375
I’ve started writing this letter a dozen times and crumpled it up and tossed it away. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to say, when there is so little I can say at this point and time. Maybe it’s because I just shouldn’t write you, because … it’s wrong. There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t think about you all the time, reasons that have nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I know I’m not making sense and if I could, I would explain it to you. Hell, maybe if things turn out the way I hope, I can explain it to you. Not sure that would change anything, but damn if I don’t hope.
Do you see why I keep tearing this letter up? It doesn’t make sense, does it?
What should make sense is this. You are so special, Kylie. And I’m sorry I didn’t say this to your face. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away that I remembered you. But I was so shocked to see you that first day at camp. Shocked and thrilled. You knew things about me that I’d tried to keep hidden—hidden from everyone including myself. My parents did some very bad things, and while I was young and didn’t know better, I participated in much of it. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to forget about that time of my life.
Actually, you were the only thing I didn’t want to forget about. The little blond neighbor girl who looked like an angel, and who was a mystery. What were you? Who were you? You both scared and intrigued me even back then. I didn’t understand how you made me feel inside. I wanted to kill the boys who threw those rocks at you, I wanted to touch your hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. On full moons, I would watch you, hoping that you would turn. That you would end up being a were.
I think I just figured out why I have to write this letter. To tell you what you meant to me, just in case I never get to tell you that in person.
Now if I can just put this in an envelope before I decide this is stupid and toss it in the trash.
60/375
Thinking of you.
Lucas
P.S. Dream of me.
His last line seemed to echo in her head. Dream of me . If only he knew …
Then all her other emotions were chased away by the
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