BEAUTIFUL MESS [Book 2] | MIKHAIAH

1

I was in a dream. A perfect, glorious dream. In my arms under a clear blue sky, was the woman of my life. Amaia Alonzo. She was the perfect mix of soft, tetchy, alluring, obnoxious and confident. In most ways, she was my exact opposite. The neat to my aesthetically relaxed. The organized to my haphazard juggle of life. The tall to my short.

Her black hair shined in the sun. Each strand glistening as it waved in the breeze. The gentle gusts were cool against our nude bodies, while skin between us was sweaty and hot. Her eyes were half-lidded and staring at me as I tried to give her pleasure. I moved my fingers again and those eyelids fell shut.

"Mika..." she whispered on the wind.

I moaned and joined our lips together.

Every dream since we first consummated our relationship had been like this. Hot, steamy, and had always awoken me with a distinct sticky feeling between my legs. I smiled into the kiss knowing full well how this dream ended.

A loud buzzing caught my attention.

I pulled back as buzzing began to ring in my ears, and my face fell into a frown.

A second later, I woke up.

My phone alarm was blaring into the darkness. I rolled away from Amaia muttering curse words under my breath. What idiot made my phone blare offensive music into the dark? Scattered with sleep, and aroused from my dream, I knocked the phone to the floor and fell out of bed trying to reach it. I was awake enough for details to come back to me as I rubbed my head.

Medical rotations.

I silenced the alarm at four-thirty-two. I needed coffee.

Grabbing the pile of pre-prepared clothes Amaia had made me get ready because 'I'm not putting up with you charging around the closet like a lost albatross in the middle of the night.' I scowled at the insult. I was nothing like an albatross.

I closed the bedroom door and switched on a light, promptly blinding myself to everything for a good twenty seconds. A lot of damage can be done in twenty seconds, and I proved it by stubbing my toe, hopping backward into the coat rack, collecting my head on an empty hook, then tripping over hard onto my knees on the kitchen tiles. Keeping my wits about me, I didn't swear at the top of my lungs like I wanted to, and groaned for a long time instead.

"Why are you acting like a wounded cow in front of the fridge?"

"Shit!" I jumped, injuring my tailbone on the tiles as I spun around to find Amaia beautifully mussed from sleep with a thunderous look on her face.

"Well?"

"I stubbed my toe." I pushed out my bottom lip to try and gain sympathy. Instead, she took a deep breath, sighed and shook her head.

"Of course, you did." She stepped around me and did magic with the coffee machine.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to wake up.

We'd been back at Enderun Medical School for six weeks. Six weeks of intensive orientation and refreshers courses in clinical skills, anatomy revision, professionalism and a host of others designed to transition us into a year of Principal Clinical Experience. It was six weeks of being assigned to a transitional group with a woman that hated me, a man that liked to wear no deodorant, and a man named Sam that was tall enough to put a permanent crick in my neck.

"Sam," said the man approaching six-foot tall on day one. He grinned down at me with sparkly white teeth and genuine pleasure in his eyes.

"Mikaila."