January Dreams by Carrigan Richards (best fiction books of all time txt) 📕

Grabbing my backpack, keys, purse, coat, I breeze by my goodbyes to my dogs, all five of them, and run out the door. Luckily, my old as dirt car starts without too much issue and I carefully speed through the neighborhood to get to school, hoping I can get there before the bottom falls out. A storm is coming, and it doesn’t look like it’ll be brief.

I scramble out of my car and rush to the front office. When I open the door, I see Mrs. McCarthy dressed in a pumpkin outfit. Crap. It’s Halloween and Cherry is going to kill me. I completely forgot.

Mrs. McCarthy looks up, removes her glasses, revealing her brown eyes, and smiles. Her short brown hair makes her look like most of the female teachers around here, something I have always wondered about. Is it a requirement to have such short hair when you become a school administrator? Her makeup always looks like it’s permanently stained on her face.

“Can I help you?” she asks in her Southern drawl.

“I need to sign in for a late pass,” I say, panting.

A tall boy with cropped dark, brown hair fumbles through the door, almost tripping. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans on his lean, muscular body. He is hot. Is he new? This school is huge, but how could I have missed him? He’s not part of the popular crowd.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he tells Mrs. McCarthy as he makes his way behind the counter.

“It’s okay, Vincent.” She smiles as she stands. “I’ve got some errands to run so you’ll be at the front desk for the remainder of the block. Oh, and this young lady needs to sign in.” She winks.

Vincent turns around and seems to do a double take. His face turns pale as if he’s seen a ghost. Mrs. McCarthy grabs her purse and is out the door. He drops his backpack on the floor and when he looks up, our eyes lock. His eyes are beautiful. They are the color of the deepest part of the ocean. So blue they almost look black. He looks at me like he’s enamored or something and it makes my heart pound. My stomach starts fluttering like there are butterflies or freaking penguins flapping their wings in there.

He breaks our gaze and his eyes dart from mine to the sign-out sheet to the door and so on.

I smile. “Hi, Vincent.”

He blushes and mumbles a hello. I bite my lip and notice his hands are gripping the desk like it’s the only thing holding him up.

“I’m Megan. Can I sign in?”

“S-sure.” He clears his throat.

I hope he isn’t going to choke on his own saliva since it’s obvious how uncomfortable I make him. I don’t ever get this reaction from anyone, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“Just fill this out.” He points to a sheet of paper on a clipboard.

My hands are frozen so I try to fill out the form as best I can.

He urgently scribbles on a pink pad of paper and rips it from its base, handing it to me. “They don’t ever read these things.”

“Thanks,” I tell him.

Blood flushes his cheek and he looks away. “You’re welcome.”

I give a small smile. “You’re a junior, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have we ever had a class together?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, I really have to get to class. Um. It was cool meeting you.”

As his seductive lips stretch into a warm, sexy smile, he meets my eyes and my body warms. “You too.”

I walk to class, smiling to myself, and thinking about what it would be like to kiss Vincent. His lips looked soft and I bet he’s a gentle kisser. Not that anything will come of Vincent and me, because nothing ever does, but it’s still nice to fantasize.

Chapter Two

Once the adrenaline wears off, grogginess sets in. I am not a morning person by any means, so I constantly yawn and grumble until about lunch.

I can’t believe I forgot my costume. I love Halloween. I’m probably one of the five people not dressed up and it bums me out. Cherry and I got costumes. A bee for her and a ladybug for me. The bell rings and I make my way to my locker.

“Where is your costume?” Cherry demands as she props her hands on her hips. She’s adorable in her bee costume.

I give her an innocent smile. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Cherry Stimm is my best friend since the fourth grade. And yes, she catches all kinds of grief over her name. We are by no means popular, but we’re not at the bottom of the pole either. So, I guess we’re doing pretty well in high school, even though we both hate it. We are not what they call ‘emo’ kids and dress in black and talk about how life sucks all the time. We’re pretty happy kids, or average I guess, even though our parents cause enough stress to last a lifetime. Both of us come from divorced families, both sets of parents have remarried, we each have a sibling who used to taunt us constantly, we work at the grocery store together, we don’t have time for extracurricular activities at school, and we both love the arts. She’s the artist. I’m the writer, obviously, since I’m writing this.

“Where were you this morning? I thought you were going to start coming to school earlier so we could chat before class.”

“I overslept.”

Her soft brown hair falls in loose curls past her small shoulders. A soft yellow ring circles the iris of her blue eyes—very rare but I think it’s cool. It makes her unique. I am not so unique with long jet-black hair and Caribbean blue almond-shaped eyes. I have an oval face