The Key (Heartfire) Read Online Free
Author: Celeste Davis
wrinkled her nose and tossed her something. Kaylia stared at the expensive looking bottle in her hand. Rose scented shower gel.
Well, that was subtle.
"Here. My mother gets me buckets of this stuff. You look like a rose girl."
She held up another bottle.
"I'm more of a lemon verbena girl myself. You can have all the rose stuff."
"Thanks."
Kaylia grabbed her shower caddy, adding the rose scented shower gel, shampoo, conditioner and a dry body oil that Charisse had chucked onto her bed. In her case ' dorm shower caddy' was an old rubber bucket that had been under her grandmother's sink forever. Nan had raised her on a strict, extremely limited income. They used what they had.
Kaylia kind of liked it that way too. Just looking at the waste and excess around the dorm was a little dizzying to tell the truth. But she couldn't judge people for having money, just like she hoped they didn't judge her for... not having it.
She knew they did judge her though. She might not react to the stares and whispers, but she always noticed them. She knew she didn't quite belong.
Never had. Never would.
Even here, where they were all supposedly intelligent over-achievers, she was still just the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. The girl who had to work just to stay in classes. The girl who smelled like French fries.
Kaylia padded down the hall in her shower shoes (also-known-as 99 cent flip flops). She looked around, relived that it was not crowded for once. She was shy about showering around other girls, even if they were all in the same boat.
She pulled off her clothes and stepped into the shower stall. The water was steaming hot and the pressure was good. One of the few perks of communal showering she supposed.
She poured some of the expensive gel into her hand and inhaled deeply. It did smell pretty good actually, especially compared to the drug store soap she'd used to wash her face and body every day since she was five. Kaylia went through the motions of soaping herself off but only one thought was running through her head on repeat.
The one thought she'd been fighting against thinking ever since she'd run out of the dining hall almost an hour ago.
He was real.
Chapter Four
Dylan
☽
Dylan sat in Freshman Lit, staring blankly towards the front of the lecture hall. It was the third day of classes. He'd spent every day since Freshman orientation looking for her. She hadn't appeared in the kitchen again and he hadn't seen her in the quad.
He was beginning to think he'd imagined the whole thing.
Until now.
Two rows ahead of him to the right. A girl sat there that drew his eye repeatedly during the class. He could see her profile and the short dark hair that curled around her ears perfectly, revealing a graceful neck. Her hand fluttered to her throat as if she felt his eyes on her. His breath caught as she glanced over her shoulder as if she knew someone was watching her.
Yes. It was her.
He was not crazy after all.
Well, maybe he was a little bit crazy.
Dylan started to stand in the middle of class the moment he saw her face. He sat down abruptly. He had to get to her, to speak to her, to know her name.
It was her, but she was different.
Her hair was longer in the dreams, her clothes were shabby and casual compared to the plain white nightgown he was used to seeing. It was the sort that you saw in old movies. White cotton and lace. Virginal.
For some reason Dylan had always found it incredibly arousing. In fact, just being with her in dreams was more satisfying than any of the fumbling sexual encounters he'd had in the back seats of cars or in a basement rec room when one of his friends parents were out of town.
He felt it now, a fission of desire that went straight to his gut... and lower. Blood was starting to throb in his groin where he was developing a sudden erection. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Nice. A spontaneous English Lit 101 mega-boner.
That hadn't happened to him since
Well, that was subtle.
"Here. My mother gets me buckets of this stuff. You look like a rose girl."
She held up another bottle.
"I'm more of a lemon verbena girl myself. You can have all the rose stuff."
"Thanks."
Kaylia grabbed her shower caddy, adding the rose scented shower gel, shampoo, conditioner and a dry body oil that Charisse had chucked onto her bed. In her case ' dorm shower caddy' was an old rubber bucket that had been under her grandmother's sink forever. Nan had raised her on a strict, extremely limited income. They used what they had.
Kaylia kind of liked it that way too. Just looking at the waste and excess around the dorm was a little dizzying to tell the truth. But she couldn't judge people for having money, just like she hoped they didn't judge her for... not having it.
She knew they did judge her though. She might not react to the stares and whispers, but she always noticed them. She knew she didn't quite belong.
Never had. Never would.
Even here, where they were all supposedly intelligent over-achievers, she was still just the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. The girl who had to work just to stay in classes. The girl who smelled like French fries.
Kaylia padded down the hall in her shower shoes (also-known-as 99 cent flip flops). She looked around, relived that it was not crowded for once. She was shy about showering around other girls, even if they were all in the same boat.
She pulled off her clothes and stepped into the shower stall. The water was steaming hot and the pressure was good. One of the few perks of communal showering she supposed.
She poured some of the expensive gel into her hand and inhaled deeply. It did smell pretty good actually, especially compared to the drug store soap she'd used to wash her face and body every day since she was five. Kaylia went through the motions of soaping herself off but only one thought was running through her head on repeat.
The one thought she'd been fighting against thinking ever since she'd run out of the dining hall almost an hour ago.
He was real.
Chapter Four
Dylan
☽
Dylan sat in Freshman Lit, staring blankly towards the front of the lecture hall. It was the third day of classes. He'd spent every day since Freshman orientation looking for her. She hadn't appeared in the kitchen again and he hadn't seen her in the quad.
He was beginning to think he'd imagined the whole thing.
Until now.
Two rows ahead of him to the right. A girl sat there that drew his eye repeatedly during the class. He could see her profile and the short dark hair that curled around her ears perfectly, revealing a graceful neck. Her hand fluttered to her throat as if she felt his eyes on her. His breath caught as she glanced over her shoulder as if she knew someone was watching her.
Yes. It was her.
He was not crazy after all.
Well, maybe he was a little bit crazy.
Dylan started to stand in the middle of class the moment he saw her face. He sat down abruptly. He had to get to her, to speak to her, to know her name.
It was her, but she was different.
Her hair was longer in the dreams, her clothes were shabby and casual compared to the plain white nightgown he was used to seeing. It was the sort that you saw in old movies. White cotton and lace. Virginal.
For some reason Dylan had always found it incredibly arousing. In fact, just being with her in dreams was more satisfying than any of the fumbling sexual encounters he'd had in the back seats of cars or in a basement rec room when one of his friends parents were out of town.
He felt it now, a fission of desire that went straight to his gut... and lower. Blood was starting to throb in his groin where he was developing a sudden erection. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Nice. A spontaneous English Lit 101 mega-boner.
That hadn't happened to him since
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