Chapter 4
I dragged myself out of bed to get water.
The house was strangely quiet. Tyler was out. His parents were gone.
And the study across the hall had its door open.
I looked up and saw Ethan inside.
For one disoriented second, my fever-clouded brain made the easiest assumption possible.
I’m dreaming.
Of course I was.
Why else would he be there?
Why else would fate be this cruel and this convenient at the same time?
So I stumbled into the room and went straight to him.
“I feel awful,” I mumbled, and dropped against his chest.
He went still.
After a moment, he asked, “Did you take medicine?”
“I did.”
“Then go rest.”
But I clung to him instead, too miserable and too delirious to care about dignity.
“I saw someone who looks exactly like you,” I whispered.
“Is that so?”
“But I know he’s not you.”
“How do you know?”
I looked up at him and said the dumbest, most honest thing imaginable.
“Because you’re the dream. The second I see the mole near your collarbone, I know I’m asleep.”
My hands moved on instinct.
Far too much instinct.
I reached for the buttons of his shirt with the ease of someone who had done this dozens of times before. Because in my dreams, I had. I knew that collarbone. Knew the small mark there. Knew exactly how it looked when my mouth had been on it.
I was halfway into his lap before he suddenly caught my wrist.
His voice went low.
“I thought you said you liked Tyler.”
My whole brain went white.
“What?”
“You told my mother you really liked him.”
Every trace of heat in the room vanished.
I pinched my thigh hard.
Pain exploded through me.
Not a dream.
Not a dream.
Not a dream.
I was sitting on Ethan Crawford’s lap in wrinkled pajamas with his shirt half-open and his eyes unreadable and real.
He said my name softly, the last syllable dragging like velvet.
“Claire.”
For six months I had never managed to remember his name in my dreams.
Now mine was the one he said like he had known it forever.
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
His gaze held mine.
“For six months, I’ve been asking your name in those dreams. Today is the first time I’ll actually remember it when I wake up.”
I think my soul briefly left my body.
He had them too.
The dreams.
The exact same dreams.
My fever was making my head pound so hard I could barely think. I was still on his lap. His clothes were a mess because of me. His expression was dark and unreadable.
And then—
A knock at the door.
“Ethan? Have you seen Claire?”
Tyler.
My blood turned to ice.
He jiggled the doorknob. “I thought I heard her voice.”
Nobody moved.
The silence was so complete it felt violent.
Then Tyler said, “No answer? I’m coming in.”
The handle turned.
I nearly died on the spot.
In two seconds flat, Ethan got me off him and tucked me beneath the huge wooden desk just out of sight. I crouched there in silence, pressed against the sharp line of his suit pants, one hand over my mouth to stop my own breathing from being heard.
Tyler walked in and stopped.
“Oh. You’re here.”
Ethan’s voice was calm. “Why are you back?”
“I felt kind of bad leaving her sick.” Tyler scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, I checked the bedroom and she wasn’t there. You seen her?”
“No.”
I curled tighter beneath the desk.
Tyler dropped onto the couch and pulled out his phone. “I’ll wait a sec.”
No. No, absolutely not.
Then he frowned and sniffed the air.
“Why does your office smell weird? Is that scented oil? Since when do you use that? You hate that stuff.”
I almost blacked out.
Without missing a beat, Ethan said, “Take Nikki downstairs and bathe her. I’ll send you ten thousand.”
Tyler blinked. “What?”
“The dog smells. Bathe her.”
“That’s literally the maid’s job.”
Ethan looked at him once.
Just once.
Tyler stood up instantly. “Right. Sure. Fine. Ten thousand, though?”
“The rest is yours too. Keep it.”
Tyler brightened. “Say less.”
And just like that, he left to go wash the family dog for money.
The house fell quiet again.
A full minute later, I crawled out from under the desk, dizzy, humiliated, and very aware that my life had become a joke written by a deranged universe.
I stood there clutching the edge of the desk.
Then I looked at Ethan and asked, “You had them too?”
He adjusted his glasses and said, “As far as I can tell, yes.”
My fever suddenly felt like the least important problem in the room.