Blink: 1 (Rebel Minds) (3 page)

“
A
ria
?”

Sierra’s voice breaks into my mind like light digging through cracks. My eyelids are so heavy I don’t think I can lift them. My mouth feels like it’s glued together and full of sand. I can
feel
my body, so I must not be dead, but its weight is like lead bricks on a hard bed.

“Aria, sweetie, it’s me—Sierra.” I hear pain and fear in her voice, tinged with urgency. “Honey, wake up. Please. You can’t leave me here, okay? I need you to stick around awhile. I need you to wake up.”

Leave her?
I battle with my memory, demanding to know what happened to me, but not getting any answers.

I try lifting my lids again, and this time I see her, blurry and hovering over me like some ghostly apparition.

“Aria!” Her shout prompts my lids to clamp closed again with an inner wince. I feel her hand on mine, squeezing my fingers in a death vise. “No, no, please wake up, Aria.”

“Stop yelling then.” The words are raspy, squeezing past the sand in my mouth and a tongue that feels too thick to be mine.

“Okay, yes. Okay, okay.” She’s crying, her head against my neck. I feel warm wetness drip down my skin. “How dare you scare me like that. Seriously, you could have been killed.”

Memories flood into my mind with a vengeance. The earthquake.
Wisdom
. I force my lids back open, fighting their weight and trying to blink away the blurriness. My heart speeds up, thumping erratically.

“Where is he? Did they find him?” I gasp the words out, feeling frantic. I have to know where he is.

“Who?” Sierra sits up and leans back, wiping tears from her face. She searches my eyes, a frown pulling at her lips. “What are you talking about, Aria? Don’t you remember what happened?”

I cringe, closing my eyes. I remember now. He was there, then he was gone. In less than a blink. “Wisdom. When—where is he?” Tears well up, burning against my eyelids and leaking down the side of my face like wet fire. Is he alive? Did he survive? Did they find his body?

“Wisdom? What in the world are you talking about?” I open my eyes and meet Sierra’s worried gaze. “Honey, you got hit in the head by a beer bottle in the bar fight last night. Also took a few hits elsewhere. You’re pretty banged up. And really, that is the
last
time you’re ever playing there. Seriously, maybe even never gigging again. You could have been killed!”

Bar fight? What?

“No,” I struggle to swallow, to find my voice, “I—I was with Wisdom. Where is he? What happened to him? They have to find him. He fell—”

I’m crying, the tears leaking from my eyes faster and faster. A sob gets caught in my throat.

Sierra steps back, blinking rapidly. “I’m gonna go get the doctor. You’re obviously confused, hun.”

“Wait—” I reach out my hand weakly, “I don’t remember a fight. I just remember…” I trail off.

I remember Wisdom. His strong arms wrapped around me. His hot breath whispering over my skin. The intensity of his gaze. The mountains.
His proposal.

My eyelids flutter closed in memory. Wait. Confusion envelopes me. It’s impossible to get to the mountains from town. The truth stops my tears and my mind fights for purchase with the facts. How did we get into the mountains? Had he really proposed? Was I only dreaming?

Sierra steps closer. “Aria?” She says my name tentatively, her voice tight and laced with concern. “What’s going on? Are you just remembering a dream?”

I open my eyes again, staring off into space. I swallow the sob still caught in my throat, my body wracked with tiny shudder. “Maybe…maybe it
was
a dream.” I say the words but I don’t believe them. A dream? It was so
real
. It couldn’t have been.

“I’m going to grab the doctor anyway. Just sit tight, sweetie. We’ll figure this out.” She squeezes my hand again and rushes out the door.

My eyes close involuntarily and I see Wisdom’s handsome features again, plain as day. My mind rejects the story Sierra gave me, grasping onto my memories like a lifeline. He’s real. It
wasn’t
a dream.

J
AMESON

T
he smell
of baked goods is overwhelming, making my stomach rumble in protest. When was the last time I ate? I can’t even remember. I check my CP, squinting at the screen in the bright sunlight. Why hasn’t anyone ever come up with a cell phone screen you can actually
see
in the daylight? I squint harder, finally managing to make out the time.
Score.
I have fifteen minutes before I meet Rox for my weekly check-in.

I veer to the left, making a beeline for the storefront the enticing aromas are wafting from. The doorbell jingles when I enter, making a cheerful sound. My knees go a little weak, the smell that greets me causing a new wave of hunger. My belly rumbles again. I think I’ll buy the whole store.

“Morning, what can I do ya for?” The storeowners voice is chipper, tinkling much like the doorbell. I hide a grimace. The sound is overly happy at such an early hour, in my humble opinion.

“Coffee. And…” I squint at the cases in front of me, the lights highlighting calories, prices, and the regions each of the pastries come from. My belly rumbles louder, and I peruse the spread of goodies, my nose twitching. “Three Hungarian Crepes, one Belgium chocolate muffin, and a Persian Peach tart.”

“Hungry, eh?” The man behind the counter grins and starts to pull out my order, boxing it up. I grin. “Guilty as charged. I have a weakness for baked goods.”

I step back, reaching for my wallet in my back pocket. My elbow connects with something directly behind me and I hear a soft grunt.

“Oh, so sorry.” A woman speaks, the tone soft and smooth as velvet.

I freeze, not turning around. I close my eyes briefly, squeezing them tight before opening them again. I know that voice.

She steps to the side, coming up next to me to look at the case. I can feel the warmth of her body radiating into mine, and my breath catches. I can’t move. What is
she
doing here? She shouldn’t be here. On the heels of that thought is another, questioning whether or I can make it out of the store without her seeing my face or not.

Not.
In the next second she turns toward me. “What’s good he—”

Her words fade and her eyes widen in shock. She sways slightly, and I resist the instinct to reach out and steady her. I can’t help but search her beautiful face. I see the healing scabs on her forehead where the bottle hit her and my gaze traces the soft curves of her lips. She’s here. In front of me.
Real.

“Wisdom.”

My name escapes her mouth as a whisper. I clear my throat, shifting uncomfortably on my feet, thinking fast.

“Jameson. My name’s Jameson. I think you have the wrong person.” I force a wicked grin onto my face. “Though I
wish
I knew you.” My eyes rove her delicate figure in a rude way, making a deliberate effort to offend her.

She takes a step back, frowning. She shakes her head, her long dark hair clouding around her shoulders. “No. You’re name’s Wisdom.” Her expression registers confusion.

“Trust me, babe, my name’s Jameson. I think I’d know my own name.” I curse inwardly. I hate myself for being a jerk.

“But—”

The owner shoves my order over the counter, and I hand him my paycard to scan. I snag my receipt and shove it into my pocket, trying not to look as though I’m rushing. “Thanks, man.”

I flash another grin in her direction. “And believe me, I wouldn’t forget a hottie like you.” I wink and turn my back on her before she has a chance to respond. I stride for the door, my features set in stone at the realization that Aria remembers me.
How is that possible?

A
RIA

“
M
iss
? Miss, are you going to order?”

The store owners words echo somewhere in the distance but all of my focus is on the back of the man walking out the door. The strong, muscled back of the man I could never forget. The man who claims his name is Jameson. The man who I
know
is named Wisdom.

“Miss?”

I turn back to him, frustrated and confused. “Yeah. Give me a minute, will ya?” At the last second I remember my manners and follow up with a “Please.”

He scowls, but turns to the back counter, giving me the space I need. My mind is swirling with questions. My head still throbs with a dull ache, and I touch the ugly scabs absentmindedly.

Was I wrong? Did I just see something I only wanted to see?

The thought crosses my mind that maybe I should ask the store owner if he saw the man too. I cringe. Am I going insane? What would I say?
Hey Mr. Shopkeeper… did you just see that ridiculously attractive man walk out of here, or am I crazy?

I want to laugh, but it’s not funny.

I turn back to the shopkeeper and order my pastries to go. After paying, I step out into the sunlight, a light breeze wafting across my face, lifting the hair from my neck and making me shiver. I clutch my jean jacket closer to me and head to my car, my mind churning. It’s so strange. I’ve never even been here before and I’m not really sure why I’m here in the first place. I already have a favorite bakery, right next to the park where I like to sit and write songs. But today, for some unexplainable reason, I came here. To a bakery I’ve never even heard of.

Once in my car I rest my head back against the seat, closing my eyes tiredly.
Maybe you are crazy, Aria.
Or maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see.

I want Wisdom to be real more than anything. My mind can’t help but continue to reject the idea that he was only a dream, like Sierra keeps insisting. Figment of my imagination or not, he’s the man I fell deeply in love with. And the man I lost in one, terrifying instant.

T
he leaves rustling
in the trees are my only applause, but I don’t care. I set my guitar on the grass next to me and lie down. My gaze restlessly searches the sky for answers to questions my heart won’t stop asking.

I penned the words weighing on my soul, just to get them out, but they don’t make me feel any better. Just a little more lost. A little more lonely.

My lips quirk in a half smile. At least I’m writing. That’s something. The song is coming together, but it still feels incomplete. Like a fairy tale without an ending. I want to find my prince charming. I want to kiss that frog. I wrinkle my nose. No, scratch that, no frogs. But a kiss from a beast could be cool. I roll my eyes at the randomness of my thoughts.

My stomach grumbles and I shift against the prickly grass, realizing I haven’t eaten in…a long time. Climbing to my feet, I pack up my guitar and start toward my car. I’m just coming around the crumbling walls of the rec house when I slam into someone. More like
something
—he’s so solid I think I’ve hit a wall for a second. “Oomph!” I almost lose my balance and he puts a hand out to steady me.

His grip is firm and his hand warm on my bare skin. The jolt of electricity shooting through me at his touch yanks my gaze to his.

Wisdom
.

“You again.”

The man named Jameson—
my Wisdom
—looks less than thrilled to see me. Annoyed, I frown in protest, “Hey, you ran into me, buddy.”

“Next time watch where you’re going.” His tone is gruff, his silvery-blue eyes swirling like storm clouds on the horizon. What is
wrong
with this guy? I frown. He may look like Wisdom, but he’s got the personality of a skunk. It stinks.

“I’d say the same to you.” I sniff, lifting my chin.

We stare off, both defiant, both unmoving.

Finally he shifts, his arms folding across his muscled chest, stepping back and putting a bit of distance between us. My body silently protests. “What are you doing here?” He lifts a brow, gazing into my eyes.

“What are you? The park police or something?” I sound like a petulant teenager.

“No.” He fights a grin. “Just… curious.”

I want to ask him why he would even care, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I know he doesn’t want to be talking to me. Everything about his demeanor and attitude says that. But I can’t help but think his statement is an invitation.

One that I refuse to accept. I straighten my shoulders and brush past him heading to my car, keeping my head down. His good looks aren’t going to hold me here like some kind of infatuated statue.

“Hey, wait up. I asked you a question.” I hear shoes thumping behind me, and he outpaces me, stepping in front of me to halt my progress.

I stop, glaring up at him. “And I declined to answer, seeing as you’re not my mother
or
the Gov.”

I want to slap the smirk of his face. Either that or kiss it off. The wayward thought makes me blink, remembering in vivid detail the feeling of his lips on mine. I give my head a tiny shake.

No,
Wisdom’s
lips on mine. Not this acerbic jerk who wants to play God or something. The man calling himself Jameson lifts his hands soothingly.

“Hey, calm down will ya? This isn’t the safest neighborhood and I was…uh…” he searches for the right word, “Concerned.”

“Sure you were.” A peal of laughter escapes, I’m unable to keep it in. “If it’s such a bad neighborhood, what are
you
doing here?”

He opens his mouth but closes it again before any sound can come out. It’s like he doesn’t have an answer.

“I was just… in the neighborhood,” he finishes lamely. He looks around and I feel like he’s waking up from a dream or something, and just realizing where he is. My brow furrows and I scowl.

“Dude. What’s going on? Are you high or something?”

He looks startled. “What? No. I’m not that
stupid
.”

Could have fooled me.
It almost comes out, but I bite my tongue. “Right.”

“I heard you. Singing out there.” He gestures toward the park. “Did you write that?”

His abrupt change in conversation direction jerks me around like whiplash. “What?”

“Did you write that song?” he asks again, his tone infuriatingly patient.

“Yeah, so what?” I hate how rude I’m being but something in him just makes me crazy.

“I liked it. Where do you get inspiration for your songs?”

His words almost stop my heart. I can’t breathe. My eyes close and for a moment I’m transported back to that smoky dive bar, with Wisdom. He’s standing in front of me, those beautiful eyes piercing me down to my soul, asking me about inspiration.

I open my eyes again and Jameson is staring at me. In my head, they are one and the same, but Sierra assured me I was dreaming that day. That I’ve never met anyone name Wisdom. Yet his name escapes my lips.

“Wisdom.”

Jameson looks like he’s been punched in the gut. He takes a step back, clearing his throat. “Listen lady, stop calling me that. My name’s Jameson.” He glances down at the CP in his hand. “I gotta go, see ya.”

With that, he’s walking past me, his steps swift and sure. I turn and track his progress, staring at his back. I want to call out to him to stop, but I can’t. I’m frozen there. Stuck somewhere between a dream and reality.