In Every Universe | Quinn Hughes

8 | Quinn

IT HAPPENED AGAIN.

This time, it's worse, because it's not real. Immediately after class that night, I find myself dreaming of Lily Evans in all her beauty, her hair splayed out on the mattress of my bed, her cheeks tinged a rosy pink and her eyes fluttering as she blesses me with the sweetest smile I'd ever seen.

I don't know what's wrong with my mind for cooking up this dream, because after Friday I was kind of pissed at her for not hanging around for me to come home to. Of course, I knew I didn't have any reason to be pissed, why the hell would she wait? I'd made her come and then left without much explanation, she had every right to go home.

Still, a part of me was angry, angry that she'd left, angry that I hadn't stayed, angry that she hadn't tried to reach out since.

So that's why this is confusing. My conscious mind was angry, but my subconscious was—what? In love? Sure seemed like it with the shit it's conjured in my sleep.

I'm looking down at Lily and she's fucking perfect. Her eyes are bright and full of happiness and she's giggling up at me shyly. I twirl a strand of her pretty hair between my fingers, looking down at her like my life depends on it, trying to commit every inch of her to memory.

Usually, when I have a dream about a girl, she's not wearing any clothes, but that isn't the case here. Lily's in one of my shirts, just a basic black t-shirt, but she looks incredible, and I realise with a strange sinking feeling in my chest that I'm dreaming up what I wished had happened on Friday night.

"Hey, handsome," she grins, her voice sweet and soft and perfect as she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck, her fingers tangling on my hair. "I missed you."

Usually in dreams, I can't speak, but I'm glad to find out that my voice works in this dream. What comes out of my mouth, however, seemingly without my control, is not what I expect.

"I missed you too, darling," then I'm flipping us over, pulling her to my lap so she can curl up against my chest, my back against the headboard of my bed. "I love you."

She looks up at me, eyes wide and innocent while a smile spreads across her lips. She scrunches her nose, and it's single handedly the prettiest thing I've ever seen.

"I love you too, Quinn," she breathes, but then she's frowning, and suddenly we're not in my bedroom and she's not wearing my clothes. We're in the halls of our school, she's wearing a dress, the same dress she was wearing the night I met her. Her hairs a mess and her cheeks are flushed like she's been drinking. "Why won't you kiss me?"

Sucking in a breath of air, I snap to an upright position in my bed, breathing heavily as I realise I'm waking up from a very realistic dream.

I reach for my phone, checking the time. It's half past five in the morning. With a sigh, I realise I might as well get up, having to go to training at six thirty anyway.

Thoughts of Lily invade my mind the whole time I'm getting ready, even as I'm getting my hockey gear on in the locker rooms later that day, even while I'm on the fucking ice. I can't seem to escape her, not even for a moment, and I'm positive if I see her again I'm not going to be able to control myself.

I knew I had to talk to her, to make things right, again. I just didn't know how. Not until the end of that day, when I was lying on my bed, staring at the place Lily was standing just a week ago, her body pressed to the wall and her leg around my hips and he come on my hands.

Momentarily, I get sidetracked thinking about how she tastes, and I want to taste her again, but I feel myself back in. I have to get my shit together or we'd never get this assignment done.