Eighteen year-old Zach Curtis has lost everything: his girlfriend, his job and his scholarship. Nothing in the world matters anymore, until he receives a rude awakening from a stranger.
Petite and awkward, Terra Quinn is living the life with her bes...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
– Zach –
There's a fine line between dreams and reality. There are mornings when I'd crawl out of bed, knowing full well that nightmares remain only in my head, yet there are nights when I'd stare into the dark, struggling to discern the difference between what's real and the figments of my imagination.
This would be one of those times.
My eyes are heavy as I drag them apart gradually, observing my familiar surroundings. The room is brightly lit now, indicating the sun had risen a long time ago. It's morning, possibly noon, and I'm lying in bed with Terra in my arms, her head resting on my chest.
Is this real, or is this a dream, or am I still dead?
I blink, aware of the extra effort needed in order to move. My body is sore, stiff from the neck down and I continue to rest, reluctant to budge. I rub my eyes with my hand, stifling a yawn.
I can't believe it.
I'm still alive.
Terra's fingers begin to twitch as she shifts her head, a small sigh escaping from her slightly parted lips. I know she's awake, and she knows that I am too, but yet, neither of us says a word.
I catch a glimpse of her emerald eyes, shining brilliantly in the sunlight, the same way it did from the last time I saw her arise from her deep slumber, except this time it looks a little different, rather familiar even, and I can't exactly point it out. Not yet.
"You make a really great pillow." She speaks, her voice muffling. She then conceals her face with her hands in a slap, and she doesn't say anything else. I smile. That's really typical of her.
I stroke her soft hair and she lowers her hands, her eyes peeping animatedly.
"Thank you." I say, glancing at the shadowy patterns on the white ceiling like abstract art on a canvas.
"Heh." She utters. "Um, I won't repeat any of the things I said yesterday if you asked, so I hope you'll remember them."
"Can't forget." I reply, and she pushes herself upright, sitting on the bed now.
"Uh, good." She folds her arms, pretending to look defensive, then she relents. "Please don't scare me like that again."
"I won't." I say, and I mean it.
She easily beams brighter than the glaring sun, and I notice a dry trail of drool sticking on the corner of her mouth, glistening in the sunlight. I chuckle.
"What?" she frowns, still unaware.
"Nothing." I shrug, rising from the comfy sheets.
"What?" she repeats. "Are you making fun of my morning face?"
"Maybe."
"Oh, okay. Well, have you seen yours?" she snaps, and her cheeks start turning bright red. She probably felt it, then she groans, "God, dammit."
