Something About Roses (Editing)

Chapter 18

Hours had rolled into days, and days into three weeks, until the die landed on today; a fateful day. I should have known, especially after the dream...

"Rose." A low chuckle startled me.

I spun my head to the sound, Breaking into an easy smile. "Will? What are you doing here? It's not Friday."

I glanced around, noting that Bells cafe was empty. Heavy rain was beating against the foggy window and flashes of lightening illuminated us.

Just like the night we first met.

Will shrugged, sauntering from the door towards where I sat at the counter. He reached out, his hands smoothing down my arms. "We're alone."

"But—"

"Shh..." His hands glided back up, over my shoulders and tilted my head until my eyes locked with his.

All sensibility seemed to seep out from my pores into the atmosphere, my lungs tightened with need of oxygen. But, I couldn't breath, I couldn't move even a fraction, unless I break the spell.

"Rose," Will brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, his expression light and warm.

I blinked.

Gasping, I drew back. Stumbling into a desk. Mellow laughter echoed around the room, but I couldn't tare my gaze from the man in front of me.

It wasn't my Will anymore, but...

"Mr. Taylor." I squeaked, taking in his suit, red tie and smoothed down hair.

More laughter made my head spin, the English classroom closing in on us.

What happened? We were just at Bells? Everyone's watching...

"Rose, why don't you sit down." Mr. Taylor frowned. His back was stiff, his hands clenching and loosening at his sides. He looked at me with expectation. His eyes distant, empty.

Lost.

I forced myself awake, flipping onto my back in bed, the sheets twisted around my legs. I let out a long exhale, shaking my dream away.

That was too real.

So was the smell of burnt toast wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. I groaned, my fingers kneading into a pillow, I smashed it into my face.

What's Mum doing up so early? My alarm hasn't even gone off yet.

Flailing my hand around the bed, I searched for my phone. Yet, the more I came up with nothing, the more my brain kicked me awake. I sat up. Something was strange.

My eyes flickered around the room. What was it? Everything looked in place. Except for the few boxes of books loitering below my bookcase. And the essay papers littering my desk.

Light was dancing off my mirror onto the lilac carp—

Hell! It's bloody light outside. What's the time?!