Chapter 17
seventeen
Dylan
Tiredness weighs down my eyes as I trudge into my first period History class, slumping into my seat right as the bell rings.
Mr. Redburn wastes no time launching into a lecture on the American Revolution.
I try half-heartedly to pay attention, but any thoughts of tea and the British are quickly drowned out by memories of this past weekend.
I can still barely believe how swiftly everything had changed between Ash and me.
We’d gone from not speaking to making out in the middle of his bedroom, all thanks to a single phone call.
I’ll have to thank Greta the next time I see her.
Of course, kissing Ash hadn’t been the weekend’s only grand revelation.
“I can visit people in their dreams.”
Sitting here in class listening to Mr. Redburn drone on about dates and names, it seems impossible—the kind of thing meant for a Marvel movie, not real life.
Yet I’d experienced it for myself, seen Ash invade my dream with my own eyes. Even if I wanted to pretend it had been an incredibly lucid dream, his reaction afterward had all but confirmed the truth. As impossible as it seems, the explanation fits too well to ignore.
My hand strays to my open backpack, rustling the top of the folder stashed there. I’d spent every free moment I had on Sunday researching Ash’s ability. That folder contains the sum of what I learned.
The urge to pull it out now and read it for the umpteenth time is near overpowering, but I resist. There’ll be time enough for that once I meet up with Ash.
Somehow, I make it through History and American Lit without the anticipation killing me, evading Cat and Alexis’ questions about what has me so distracted. As I rush out of PE and down the hall to AP Econ, faint nerves squeeze my gut.
What if Ash doesn’t want to see me after what happened? What if he’s gone back to pretending I don’t exist? He’d done it before under the guise of protecting me. Now that I know his secret, will he feel the need to do it again, no matter what he promised?
My heart clogs my throat when I step into class and spy a familiar head of styled black hair. Ash reclines in his usual seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed. He glances up, his bright green eyes fixing on me and freezing me in place.
I hold my breath. This is it—moment of truth. Relief floods me when his stern lips quirk into a smile. He cocks an eyebrow, giving me a questioning look, and I realize I’m still blocking the doorway. Blushing, I hurry to my seat.
Econ passes in a blur. Thank God Ms. Pederson hadn’t given us a pop quiz today because I’m pretty sure I’d get a zero in my current head space.
I’m on my feet the instant the bell rings, hurrying over to Ash. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if I’d see you today.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t you?”
He shrugs, chewing on his bottom lip. It’s only then I realize that I’m not the only one who’s been nervous about this reunion.
Ash isn’t the type to open up easily. I’d be willing to bet I’m the first person he’s confided in since he got to Banton—maybe longer.
He must have spent yesterday worrying about how I’d react… not to mention everything else.
“Up for some lunch?” I say, offering him my hand.
He eyes it for several heartbeats, then takes it and hauls himself up. “Sure.”
I expect him to drop my hand as soon as he’s standing, but to my surprise, he keeps his grip.
“Well?” he asks, tugging me toward the door when I don’t immediately move. “What’re you waiting for? Time is wasting, and I’m starving.”
Suppressing a grin, I let him guide me out the door into the hall.
Our linked hands draw quite a few stares from the other students, along with a few knowing nods.
Hushed whispers trail in our wake. If the attention bothers Ash, he gives no sign.
I hunch my shoulders, trying my best to follow his lead.
Let our classmates gossip. I’ve got nothing to hide.
“You need to hit up the cafeteria?” Ash asks.
I shove down a sneering mental image of Tommy and shake my head.
Ash studies me, his brow furrowing in concern. “If being public about this makes you uncomfortable,” he says, gesturing between us with his free hand, “we don’t have to—”
“It’s fine,” I say a little too quickly. He gives me a skeptical look, and I exhale, squeezing his hand. “Seriously. I meant what I said before about not trying to hide who I am. I’m just not used to being the focus of everyone’s attention, that’s all.”
He nods, facing back forward as he charts a path for us through the crowded hall. “They’re just jealous they don’t get to be with the hottest guy in school.”
I chuckle. “Well, can you blame them? You’re the most exciting thing to happen to Banton all year, and that unapproachable air you cultivate doesn’t help.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
He glances over, the intensity of his emerald gaze searing my skin and almost making me stumble. No one has ever looked at me like that before—like I’m the only thing in the entire universe that matters. Like I’m something precious instead of a disappointment.
“Guys, wait up!”
Greta’s familiar voice rings out behind us. I catch Ash’s muffled sigh as he reluctantly slows, halting near the door leading outside and waiting for her to approach.
“How are you feeling, Ash?” she asks once she reaches us. She smiles at him despite his growing scowl. “You had quite the exciting night on Saturday.”
Her eyes flick to our still-joined hands, her smile widening as my cheeks turn crimson.
“I’m fine,” Ash grunts.
“Glad to hear it.” She turns her attention to me. “Sorry again, Dylan, for calling you like that. It looks like everything worked out for the best, though. I guess the universe is funny like that.”
My blush deepens. “Yeah, I guess so. We were just about to head outside for lunch. You’re welcome to join us if—”
“I’m sure she’s got way too much shit to do,” Ash interjects. “Like more meddling,” he mutters under his breath. He tugs me toward the door by my hand. “Come on.”
I frown, annoyed by his rudeness, but Greta seems unperturbed. “Thanks for the offer, Dylan,” she says with a smile. “But Ash is right. There’s no rest for the overachieving. I’ll catch you both later. Have a great rest of your Monday!”
I wait until she’s skipped off before whirling on Ash. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little nicer to her.”
His brows shoot up. “And it wouldn’t hurt her to mind her own business.”
“If she had, I wouldn’t have shown up at that party to grab you, and none of this—” I hold up our linked hands “—would’ve happened.”
Something unreadable flashes across his face, and my stomach plummets. “Is that what you want?” I ask softly.
His uncertain expression clears, firming as he shakes his head. “Of course not.” He hesitates a moment before admitting, “Even if that probably would’ve been best for you.”
I stride purposefully through the door, yanking him after me. “Yeah, well, too bad. We’re in this together now whether you like it or not. Got it?”
An incredulous laugh ripples out of him as we approach our favorite picnic table, passing under the shade of the oak’s wide branches. The changing leaves gleam with brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red. “Got it.”
We sit down closer than we used to, and I lean against his firm side. He wraps his arm around me, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you’re not freaking out more about all this. I was worried it’d seem a lot crazier once you’d had some time to think about it.”
I fiddle with the straps on my backpack.
After a moment’s consideration, I shrug.
“Maybe I should be. It is pretty wild. But, well…I guess I trust you. If you say this is what’s happening, then I believe you.
” I unzip my bag and take out the thick folder I’d prepared, plopping it onto Ash’s lap. “Plus, I did some research of my own.”
Frowning, Ash flips open the folder. “What is all this?”
“Everything worthwhile I could dig up about dreamwalking on short notice.”
Ash sucks in a breath, his green eyes widening.
“There are lots of examples in popular media,” I say while he leafs through the assortment of printed pages and jotted notes.
“Everything from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman to Tel’aran’rhiod in Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time.
Of course, those are hardly reliable sources.
Real-world examples are more valuable. For example, did you know that many Native American cultures believed in the ability to explore dreams as part of rituals or vision quests? ”
“Jesus, Dylan. There’s got to be over a hundred pages here.” He pauses on an overview of lucid dreaming and looks up, scrutinizing my face. “I can see the bags under your eyes. How much did you sleep last night?”
I shrug, feeling self-conscious. “I wanted to be thorough. You never know what hidden bit of info might be the key.”
“The key to what?”
“To figuring out how to control your power.”
Ash stills, the rustling pages falling silent. “I already told you, I don’t want to control it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“But just think of all the good you could do!” I gesture at the packet in his lap. “You have an incredible gift, Ash. Those pages are full of examples, both fictitious and not. Here, let me show you.”
I reach for the folder, but before I can grab it, Ash shifts away from me on the bench. He slams the folder shut and tosses it on the ground in front of us, sending papers flying.
“What the hell, Ash?” I demand, scrambling to retrieve the scattered pages.