Our Last Dance

Chapter 15

I felt messed up in the head. I couldn't catch a wink of sleep ever since that dream woke me up. I tossed and turned, but my mind kept going back to him, the guy who was my boyfriend, but I couldn't  even remember his face.

I checked myself out in the mirror, sighing at the dark circles under my eyes. He was giving me those dark circles, and it pissed me off. It was stupid but that annoyed me more.

But as much as I was mad, a smile tugged at my lips when I thought about him. If I really had someone like him in my past, I was damn lucky. I never thought I could feel this mushy and vulnerable with anyone. My heart ached because I missed him so much, which didn't make sense to me at all, because I didn't know I had it in me to love someone to such an extent.

But why were my parents lying to me? Who was that guy? Why the heck wasn't Esha telling me the truth? I didn't have answers, but one thing was clear - there was more to my head injury and memory loss than they were letting on. I was sure the whole head injury story was a load of crap. They were keeping something from me, thinking it was for my own good, but that's bullshit.

I wasn't gonna bother asking them; they were too tight-lipped. But this whole situation was driving me nuts, and I needed answers soon.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, pulling at some knots while looking at my reflection. The bed looked really tempting right now. Maybe if I slept for another hour or two, I'd be able to go back to sleep and get some much-needed rest. But that would mean I'd have to miss my class, and I'm already running low on my attendance.

"Fuck." I muttered and took deep breaths trying to calm down enough to get myself ready for school. As much as the idea of sleeping again appealed to me, I knew I wouldn't be able to relax enough to fall asleep without waking up to those dreams again. So I got dressed, grabbed my bag and headed out of my room.

Mom and Dad weren't home. Good. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Eating the breakfast Mom had prepared, I left for college.

************

Few students glance back at me as I walk through the halls, their noses buried in their phones, headphones in. I know it's because I look half dead and half sick. I don't blame them for judging me.

And there he was, Elijah, materializing in front of me like a ninja.

"What happened to you? " He said, taking a step towards me. He looked genuinely concerned.

"Damn. Do I actually look that bad?"
I asked and ran a hand over my face.

"You look like you've been through a zombie apocalypse or something," he joked before tenderly tucking my hair behind my ears.

Suddenly, a vision flooded my eyes. Again. Fuck.

This time, the vision became clearer. I could see the outline of his face, but I still couldn't make out who he was. He approached me slowly, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you make bedhead look like a fashion statement." He said.

I blinked, snapping back to reality, my heart pounding in my chest.

Elijah's hand remained on my hair, but I quickly pulled away as if his touch had burned me, taking a small step back.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? My entire existence. That's what was wrong. Why were these visions surfacing whenever Elijah did something reminiscent of the guy in my dreams? Why did it seem like there was something about Elijah that's familiar?