Young Writers Society

Before I knew it, we were kissing. She had her hands tangled in my hair and her lips pressed hard to mine. My hands were on her waist pulling her body closer to mine. We crashed onto the bed and clothes started coming off. Her hands reached for the zipper on my pants and she-

I felt a pillow hit the side of my head and I was jarred awake, leaving my dream as nothing but a memory. I opened my eyes to find my very obnoxious room-mate, Rhys, standing over me. Before I had time to process what had happened, he was yelling at me.

"Dude, wake up! It's almost 3 in the afternoon. You're going to miss your classes, idiot."

I looked at the clock and saw the bright green numbers glaring at me. 2:53. For once in his life, Rhys had done something nice for me. I knew not to get too used to it though,and I made a mental note to remember to set my alarm when I got home from the coffee shop.

After shouting an obscenity or two, I jumped out of bed and threw on my favourite "Got Books?" tee shirt and pair of holey Rock Revivals. After brushing my teeth and running a hand through my messy blonde hair, I slipped on my worn out Vans and ran out the door. Looking down at my watch I noticed the time. 2:57. I was so going to be late, and my professor was undoubtedly going to make a scene upon my late arrival. I began to jog across campus while mentally praising myself for deciding to live in a dorm and not get an apartment off campus.

Finally arriving at the door of my British Literature class at 2:59, I got in and sat down right as Professor Langston began to start on his speech that would eventually cause half the class to fall asleep before the 50 minutes was up.

As his voice became background noise to my own thoughts, I began to think about the dream I had last night. I hadn't even heard a word out of Xylia's mouth, yet I was having very vivid dreams about her. I can't say that I'm complaining, but it did strike me as odd. I didn't even know what her voice sounded like, much less how it felt to kiss her or hold her in my arms. Now I was even more determined to find out more about her.

When the dreadful class finally ended, I headed to my favourite place on campus: a quiet, little hill on the far west side of campus. There was almost never anyone there during the afternoon, and it was usually where I went between classes to write or just listen to music and relax.

Arriving at the hill, I dug my headphones out of my bag, plugged them into my phone, and played one of my mixes. I then found my notebook and began to brainstorm idea for what I would write next.

After about 30 minutes of brainstorming, I checked the time and saw that it was 4:37. I had 23 minutes to grab something to eat and head to my last class of the day: Psychology. Getting there on time wouldn't be too hard given that the class, as well as a little coffee cart that sold bagels, was on this side of the campus.

After buying a bagel, I ate it on the short walk to my class. Arriving 5 minutes early but knowing Professor Ida would be running late, I grabbed one of the few seats available and put my headphones back on.

Finally after about 15 minutes, the professor walked in and got straight to the lesson about the Four Humours. And given that she was ten minutes late, the class went by fast, Before I knew it I was walking out the door and getting in my car and driving to the coffee shop.

On my way there,I began to ponder the chances of Xylia being there again. Maybe I'll talk to her if she is. I could sit with her and we could talk Shakespeare until we finally had to go our separate ways when the shop closed. Or maybe I could convince her to accompany me to the IHOP that was up the road for late night pancakes. We could discuss music or whatever she would like to talk about.

Opening the door, I scanned he room as I walked in. Without seeing her, I waked up to counter and ordered my usual: a grande caramel mocha frappechino, and talked to the barista for a couple minutes. He was telling me about his plans to try and get a local and to play on the weekends for a couple hours at night and attract more customers. I wasn't surprised that he needed to gain more customers. Besides yesterday, I hadn't seen anyone come in this shop once in he five months I've been coming. I'm sure he had a little business earlier in the day, but the shop was a little out of the way to attract the college crowd. The only reason I knew about it was because my ex girlfriend and I had stopped here once about eight months ago on the way to Napa Valley for the weekend. When she and I broke up and I was looking for somewhere quiet to spend tie and not have to worry about running into her, and I remembered this quaint little shop and I've been coming here ever since.

The whole time I sat at my table, I was distracted from writing with the task of watching the door to see if Xylia would ever walk in. Bit after three hours and two cups of coffees later, I accepted that she wasn't going to and got up to leave. I put ten dollars in the tip jar and walked out and headed towards my car.

I sat in my car with the piece of paper Xylia gave me and debated if it was too late to call her. Normally I would say it was too late, but the fact that she had come to the coffee shop yesterday and stayed later than this had me thinking that it wouldn't hurt to try and give her a call.

Finally, I decided that it was worth a shot and dialled the number. As I did that, I noticed that the area code was different from the one used by the locals. I didn't recognise it all, and just assumed that she had moved to the area for college.

I pressed the call button and listed to the generic ringing a couple times. On the fourth ring, the phone was answered. I sat there for a couple seconds expecting a voice like I had heard in my dream: a little high, but not shrill and annoying. Finally, I got a response from the other end "Xylia's phone." a voice told me. The voice was not what I was expecting at all. It was not the soothing voice I had dreamed, but a deep voice I knew to belong to none other than my brother.