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you
mean—stay the night with you? At your dorm? In your room?”
    Michael flushed, so rare an occurrence that I
had to smile. “Well—yes. I mean, you don’t have to stay in my
room—or I don’t have to. Charlie is away tonight. They have a game
in Tampa tomorrow, and the team drove down there this afternoon. I
could sleep out on the sofa. Or . . .not.”
    I looked at him in disbelief. “What are you
saying?”
    Michael rubbed the large plastic steering
wheel with the heel of his hand, a sure sign that he was
uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m not saying we’re going to do
anything. I’m sticking by our decisions. But I don’t want to leave
you yet either, and I don’t want to have to walk you back across
campus, or sit in your room with Sophie there.” He reached across
and swept a lock of hair out of my face. “I would love to just. .
sleep near you. I promise, I can behave like a gentleman. And no
one has to know. Everyone at my dorm will just think you left late
and got over early, if they even notice.”
    Sophie would notice, I thought, but I didn’t
say it out loud. I didn’t want to say anything to discourage
Michael from this plan.
    I smiled at him and nodded.

 

     
    It was a dream. I knew that right away, but
it didn’t stop my vague uneasiness and the sick feeling that rose
in my throat.
    I couldn’t tell where we were at first, and
then a few things came into sharper focus. The clearing. We were in
the wood by Lake Rosu, in the clearing where I had almost lost my
life and where I had practiced elemental magic last spring.
    Still, the setting wasn’t what made me
nervous. It was the fact that I was lying on the forest floor. .
.beneath Rafe.
    He was over me, kissing me senseless. One of
his knees was between mine. My arms were wrapped around his back.
One of his hands was up beneath my shirt.
    My heart thudded as confusion flooded my
mind. Why was I dreaming about Rafe? I hadn’t thought about him,
not really, in weeks. This definitely wasn’t a memory. We hadn’t
been together at the clearing much, and when we had, I could only
remember us fighting.
    Pain struck and intensified until I wanted to
double over, but it wasn’t the familiar guilt and confusion.
Gradually it dawned on me that I was watching myself from a
distance; I couldn’t feel Rafe’s lips or his hands. It was as
though I were seeing it happen through someone else’s eyes.
    And when I felt that pain again, I knew it
wasn’t mine. The realization jerked me awake and left me
gasping.
    The room was dark and unfamiliar. I reached
out to touch the slick bumpiness of the often-painted cinderblocks
that were next to my bed in the dorm, but they weren’t there.
Instead I felt the solid warmth of another body.
    After a disorienting moment of panic, I knew
where I was—in Michael’s suite, in his bedroom, in his bed. I drew
in several steadying breaths, remembering the night before and how
I wound up sleeping next to Michael.
    He mumbled in his sleep, and I sat up, trying
to see his face in the dark. My eyes adjusted, and I could make out
his frown. His lips moved again. I heard my name, and I felt the
raw pain behind it.
    I reached out tentatively, skimming his
shoulder with the tips of my fingers. He stilled, and I touched his
face, smoothing the wrinkled forehead. Michael relaxed, and I heard
the dream float away from his mind, saw the images shift to a
classroom here at Perriman.
    Once I was sure he was okay, I eased away and
out of the bed. The crocheted afghan that Michael’s grandmother had
made for him was tossed over a chair, and I grabbed it before
slipping out, closing the door behind me.
    The living room was quiet and dark, but I
managed to find my way to the worn and comfortable sofa that used
to belong to Michael’s parents. Marly and Luke had sent it up with
us as part of Michael’s contribution to the furnishings in the
suite, and I loved having this little piece of home here.
    Michael never mentioned