Dreaming and the Art of It (On Hold)

Dreaming and the Art of It - Before - 1

Hello!

So this is my new story! The little synopsis to the side is sort of long...tell me if it bores you. If I get any complaints, I'll change it up. :)

This first chapter is the prologue and the first chapter (a four year gap in between the two.)

I hope you like it; it’s a bit different from my other stories (I'm writing in two POV's!) Please ask questions if you find it confusing! That being said, I didn’t reveal everything about the four years between the prologue and first chapter. All in good time! (And that being said, if you have questions, then it’ll make it a ton easier on me knowing what to clarify!)

And I realize I’ve got two other stories being written right now…but I just couldn’t help myself! :) I’ll still be trying to post regularly on all three of them! If you haven’t, please check my other stories out!

-jennaxxx

PS. I don’t know if ‘Rose’ is a normal nickname for ‘Roslyn.’ But I think it works, sort of - and it's sort of vital to the story. I pronounce Roslyn Ross-Lin though, not Rose-Lin. Whatever floats your boat!

Dreaming and the Art of It

Prologue

Roslyn:

I had just stepped out of our apartment, ready as I would ever be for the day. It was supposed to be completely normal – completely boring. And back then, I would’ve rather been boring if it meant I was safe.

Don’t scold me! I was perfectly content back then! I had a bearable job, a decent school life, and I had a great friends. And the only man I’d needed was waiting for me the second I fell asleep. If it meant being a total bore for the rest of my life, I would’ve done it just so I could go home, every night, to dream. Because I had really great dreams.

But when you have the dangerous and exciting thrust at you, it’s hard not to want to take a dip in the devil’s waters.

I distinctly remember it – and when a guy as handsome as Dom starts talking to you, you do remember it.

“Hi! My name is Dominic. I’m going to have to ask you to do something for me,” he said.

In any other circumstance, I would’ve kneed him where the sun-don’t-shine. Seriously? I thought he was propositioning me! He couldn’t have picked worse wording! But my curiosity, mixed with his attractiveness and indistinguishable familiarity, got the best of me – as it would, time and time again. “And what is that?” I asked, tetchy.

“Run,” he grinned and grabbed my hand.

Run, he said. Run?!

I was wearing three inch heels, for goodness sakes! And he told me to run! If it wasn’t for his hand firmly gripping my own, pulling me behind him, I would’ve just laughed in his face. Or taken my shoes off.

I wasn’t even paying attention to what directions we were going, having been too preoccupied trying not to break my ankles. “You’re crazy!” I gasped once we’d stopped in an abandoned alleyway. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“Apparently, I’m crazy,” he smiled smugly. I glared at him, wondering how much of an imbecile he really was. “Okay, not the time for jokes, I’m sorry,” his face turned solemn. “Uh, my name is Dominic Hartley.”

“Yeah?” I said dryly. “You mentioned that.”

He frowned at me. “Look, I realize that, under the circumstances, you have every reason to hate me. But honestly? It would be fantastic if you could filter that pretty little mouth of yours. This isn’t a game, and sarcasm isn’t becoming of anyone right now.”