Gemma awoke with a darkened haze at the forefront of her memory. The dream veiled in black, and her heart beating far too quickly held her in an exhaustion she had never felt.
She lay atop her mattress, recollecting the flashes of her dream as they began to crumble in her hands, slipping through her fingers like granules of sand.
The silhouette she saw in the dream seemed all too familiar. All too real. Who or what it was, she did not know. All she knew was a cool wisp of air curled around her wrists and held her in place as she watched this silhouette speak of a girl and her father.
Her head pounded lightly at the forefront of her skull as she stared up at the ceiling.
The silhouette's voice sounded familiar. It sounded like a rowdy, disruptive, troublesome janitor she had only spoken to twice before. And if she was being honest with herself, it was a sound she could not get out of her mind.
She exhaled, in exasperation.
It was only a dream — a trick of the mind.
Her brain had implanted the voice of a boy who had been kind to her once. Who had smiled at her kindly once. Who had shared the loss of his mother with her in such vulnerability, she had nearly cracked; falling into the despair of her late mother's memory. The exchange had been shocking, yet gentle. It was a memory she'd cherish forever. She had seen a side of him she assumed many people didn't, given the rumors that flayed about campus.
She halted her thoughts, as a harsh knocking pulled her from her reverie.
Pushing the comforter back, her feet hit the cold, wood flooring, sending a shiver up her spine at the shock of temperature. She pulled her robe from the makeshift coat hanger, her father would call a chair, pulling it over her shoulders and tying it as she headed for the front door.
Without thought, she unbolted the door, pulling it open to find the very janitor she had heard in her dreams.
She eyed him curiously, a confusion washing over her features.
"Mornin'," he smiled with such mischief, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Morning," she replied, warily.
He glanced both ways down the hall of her dorm building.
"Mind if I come in?"
"I– yes I mind. I'm not decent."
His eyes roved over her form, taking her in for the first time since she opened the door. She had a green-velvet robe slung over what looked to be a cream-colored sleeping dress. Even his sister had never taken to wearing such things. Her feet were bare, a slightly colored pink, he assumed from the cold.
He smirked at her attire. Her hair was a mess of waves sticking out in every which way. She was undoubtedly prepared for visitors and had looked to have just woken up.
"Late night?"
She raised her right hand to caress down the side of her wild mane, her eyes wide and innocent to the realization that she looked roughly woken from sleep.
He knew the feeling of such things. Despised it.
He let out a soft breath. "You're plenty decent. It'll only be a moment."
Her brows furrowed. "For what?"
"For what?" He sputtered, confused as to why she asked such things. Most women fell to his charms far too easily. He had never had to do much explaining.
"Yes. Why do you need to enter my flat?"
He watched her and considered his options carefully. She clearly wasn;t like most women he had dealt with before.
YOU ARE READING
DON'T FORGET ⸺ TOM BENNET
Fanfiction❛ Your first love isn't the first person you give your heart to―it's the first one who breaks it❜ -Lang Leav, "Sad Girls" Falling into his charm, Gemma Syles is unaware of the trouble Tom Bennett holds with every lie he speaks. Many owe a debt, and...
