Dream With Me (With Me Book 4)
Read Dream With Me (With Me Book 4) Online
Authors: Elyssa Patrick
Tags: #contemporary romance, #Romance, #New Adult & College, #romantic comedy
A With Me Novel
Elyssa Patrick
With Me
, Book 4
There are a few things I, Evie Hart, thought I knew for sure:
1. That I hated Griff Sinclair ever since that night. You know, the night where he totally pulled a Mr. Darcy on me at the dance.
2. That Griff Sinclair hated me. I mean, seriously, would it kill him to smile at me. Just once.
3. That my life plan for post-graduation was golden.
4. That I knew exactly what I wanted.
5. And
none
of that included Griff.
But everything I thought I knew is thrown out the window by the biggest surprise of my life. All it takes is one touch, one kiss, one night . . . that leads to so much more.
I need to know what Griff means to me, what I mean to him, and what
really
happened all those years ago. If we even have a future together. And I need to figure it out before we graduate in seven days. Before I move out of Vermont, hundreds of miles away from Griff. I’ve taken risks, but this might be the biggest gamble of my life.
Other info:
Dream With Me
is the final book in the
With Me
series. These are New Adult/Contemporary Romances. These novels are standalones, but the characters do make appearances in the other
With Me
books. There are no cliffhangers in any of the novels, and each one ends in a firm HEA.
Stay With Me
(With Me, Book 1) – Currently free!
Go With Me
(With Me, Book 2)
Try With Me
(With Me, Book 3)
Dream With Me
(With Me, Book 4)
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For Kristen Callihan. If there was only one cupcake left in the whole wide world, I would give it to you.
Through the Years
‡
First Impressions, Freshman Year
Maybe I should have worn
a little black dress like almost every other girl chose to wear for the Freshmen Mixer. I’m from Manhattan. The go-to item for a night out is black. Except I’ve never been the kind of girl to conform.
As it is, I stand out in my bright yellow dress. The straps criss-cross in the back, leaving my skin bare, and the form-fitting bodice shows off my breasts to the best advantage. And the short length displays my toned legs and makes them seem longer than they are. But that could also be because of my shoes.
My shoes. I sigh as I stare at my strappy heels. With the stories I’ve heard about Vermont winters, I won’t be able to wear my high heels much longer. I try not to cry at the thought.
But it does give me a very good excuse to go boot shopping. Cute boots will make everything better. Yesterday, I saw a cute pair when I made my first foray to Church Street with my roommate and other girls from the floor. I look toward the two girls I had an instant connection with—Chloe and Taylor are dancing with two guys—and think how awesome it is that my gut instinct about going to Green College was proving to be the right choice.
The song ends and after they talk to the guys for a little more, Chloe and Taylor head back my way. The place is pretty crowded, and the Freshman Mixer is the last event for us incoming freshmen. I smile at Chloe and Taylor and . . .
That’s when I see him.
Tall, dark, gorgeous. Built in a way that makes my mouth water. He’s got rich brown hair, and his eyes look dark from this side of the room. I realize he’s looking in my direction—and not only just toward my way.
He’s looking right at me.
Something buzzes in me, sharp and sweet, a resounding bell of recognition. Heat swamps me, and I feel hot all over. My mouth goes suddenly dry.
I can’t look away from this hot, sexy guy. Who is he? What’s his name? And how soon can I kiss him? Like, is five minutes too soon to do that? Yeah, I should probably learn his name first.
I bet he has a sexy name.
I don’t look away from his dark gaze and start to imagine what his name is. He’s wearing jeans and a navy shirt. His arms—those strong forearms and fuck-me-now biceps—make me want to touch him. So what name does he have? Anything that comes to me feels blah and not right. For now, I’ll have to call him His Hotness.
“What are you staring at?” Chloe runs her fingers through her light blonde hair as she covertly glances around. “Ah. Not
what
but
who
.”
“Who?” Taylor asks and follows Chloe’s direction. “Wow. He’s definitely hot, Evie.”
I can only nod in response.
“We can make our way closer,” Chloe suggests.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, not looking away from him. “Let’s do that, but we have to make it smooth and not be obvious or anything.”
Because I have to play it cool—and not be a complete dork. I mean, it’s not like this is a new song and dance for me, but for some reason . . . it feels new.
We make our way over—thankfully a table of punch and soft drinks are right behind him. He appears to be with a small group of guys. Two have dark hair and the other is blond. The blond guy keeps looking over our way and talking to His Hotness.
I don’t get a drink but stand a little off to the side with my friends. I’m close but not too close.
We’re still looking at each other. No eye contact has been broken. It’s the sexiest stare-off I’ve ever been in. But then His Hotness looks away when the blond guy keeps talking to him.
Another song starts to play, and my heart starts beating faster. Is he going to ask me to dance? Please, let him. I angle closer where I can hear His Hotness and the blond guy’s convo. The two don’t notice but keep talking.
“C’mon, just ask her,” the blond guy says. “You’ve been staring at her the whole night, Griff.”
Griff. His name is Griff. That is the HOTTEST name ever.
And wait . . . Griff has been staring at me the
whole
night? My smile softens as I glance over his way.
“Stop, Jamie,” Griff says.
“You haven’t danced with any girl tonight,” Jamie continues. “All you’ve been doing is staring at the pretty brunette in yellow all night. All. Night. Long. So ask her to dance, Griff. She’s hot.”
“She might be hot, but she’s not hot enough to tempt me,” Griff says shortly and with a whole lot of disdain.
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. What a jerk! To my horror, tears flood my eyes. My feelings are completely hurt, and wow, it’s been one of the rare times where my instincts have been wrong. I thought this guy was special. It turns out he was just an asshole in disguise. What a waste of hotness.
It’s not just what he said, but
how
he said it. Like he’s better than me.
Chloe and Taylor wear matching expressions of horror and anger. For a moment, I think Taylor is going to stomp over and toss her drink in Griff’s face. But my friends look at my face—and without saying a word—they take my hands and lead me away. For the rest of the Freshmen Mixer, I laugh, I dance with my friends and
other
guys, and I have fun. And afterward—only once I’m in my dorm—I cry my heart out to Chloe and Taylor.
I hate Griff.
But at least I won’t have to see him ever again.
Second Impressions, The First Day of Class, Freshman Year
Fuck me sideways
.
The first person I see in my very first class—British Literature 101—is
him
.
Griff.
The guy who was a complete dick at the Freshmen Mixer. It’s only been a day since that happened, so the memory is still fresh and biting.
And I still hate him.
Look at him, sitting there, a perpetual scowl on his face. He’s all grouchy-looking and his tee and shorts show off his hard muscles. Ugh. He’s so big. How did I even think he was hot or give him that stupid moniker His Hotness? I was obviously out of it.
His scowl seems to deepen when he sees me, his full lips pressing together.
Oh.
Oh.
I see.
He hates me, too.
I ignore the stab of hurt as I brush past him and grab one of the last few empty desks in the back corner on the opposite side of the room. Too late, I realize my mistake.
I have a perfect view of Griff’s side profile.
This class is going to suck donkey balls.
Third Impressions, Beginning of Second Semester, Sophomore Year
“Evie, you wanted to see
me,” Dr. Robinson says and motions for me to take a seat in her office.
I’m an English and Business major, and Dr. Robinson is my English advisor. Dr. Robinson also happens to be Griff’s advisor, a fact I discovered early in the first semester of my freshman year when our appointments got accidentally booked at the same time.
“Listen,” I say, sitting down, “last semester was horrible for me.”
Dr. Robinson leans toward me. “But as I recall, you did amazing in all your classes last semester.”
Yeah, I did. I’m a good student and I work hard for my grades, and I had extra motivation to work even harder last semester. Griff and I had the exact same schedule. As in, by some unlucky hand of Fate, all our classes were the same. I had to see him in everything I took. I never got a break. And it was HORRIBLE.
Every time he looked my way, he
sneered
at me. He never smiles at me. He totally hates me, which is a good thing since I
absolutely
hate him. And he hardly ever talks to me, so I definitely don’t go out of my way to talk to him.
Since we shared every class together, it made me . . . competitive. As in, if I saw he got an A minus on a paper, I would oh so casually drop my paper, graded A, on the ground before his desk. It wasn’t one-sided. There were many times where he “accidentally” showed me his 100 on various tests and his straight A papers.
Basically I felt like we were acting like children—and it had to stop.
“It was just . . .” I bite my lower lip, trying to word it so I don’t seem like a big baby. “It was just a difficult schedule,” I finally say. “I felt like I had no time off to regroup. I know the second semester is set, but I was hoping to change some times around, if that’s possible.”
“Well,” Dr. Robinson says, “I’m not in charge of that, so you’d have to—”
“Dr. Robinson?” Griff steps in the office and sees me. His dark brown eyes widen. “Oh, it’s you.”
There’s a lot of hate in that
Oh, it’s you
.
“I’m sorry,” Griff says to Dr. Robinson. “I saw your door was open. I didn’t realize you were with anyone. I can come back later.”
Dr. Robinson has an open door policy and my chair is placed out of view, so it’s true that Griff wouldn’t have seen me.
“That’s okay.” I grab my bag and get up. “I was done anyway.”
“Okay, thanks,” Griff says.
I head out but I’m not that far away when I hear the beginning of their conversation.
“I need to talk to you about last semester,” Griff says. “It was hard.”
