Page 5 of The Fate Factor

But I also know I’m not wrong. Like I’ve never known anything else.

“I thought this was a joke,” he whispers.

“It was.”

He glances at Becca, then back to me, eyes desperate. “Are you sure?”

I’ve already said enough. It’s time for me to go, but he’s blocking my exit. I put my hand on his elbow to slide past him and nearly whimper when I realize my mistake. I’ve touchedhim again and the stars are back behind my eyelids. Then a new picture.

It’s Jamie this time, shirtless against a bright white sheet like you find in a hotel. He’s lying on his stomach, eyes fluttering open, looking thoroughly bedded.

Why the hell are all of these visions X-rated?

I freeze, pressing my eyes with my palms, but it’s no use. The picture before was like a flash, a still snapshot, but this one lingers, and I can’t make it stop. I feel myself sway as it pans around the room like a movie camera. I’m there and here at the same time.

My brain snags on the cut of his hair. It’s longer than it is now—short on the sides, wild on top. A wavy piece has flopped onto his forehead.

When he tipped his cap up a few minutes ago, I saw that his hair was practically buzzed. A wiffle cut, as Nana would call it.

There’s a tattoo on his back, scrolling words mostly covered by the sheet. It’s a block of black text over his left shoulder blade, the letters too small, and in a handwritten style script too hard to read from this ethereal vantage. I’m desperately trying to make it out when Jamie rolls over—dream Jamie, not this one—and I see a woman there, on the other side of the bed. He pushes his face into her neck. He’s smiling, happy.

Finally, some good news. Apparently, there’s a happy ending to top this whole thing off. If there’s a point to all of this, it has to be that. Nana never ended a reading with bad news.

The woman’s face is obscured by amess of dark hair, but I catch the bright pink splotches on her chest. Sex spots. It’s a joke between Kate and me. We both get them, to our utter mortification. I could have done without that detail, but it just affirms that this must be a good thing. Clearly, he gets over Becca.

His hand moves beneath the sheet, and it feels intrusive to keep watching, voyeuristic, but I’m curious now and besides, I don’t know if I have a choice.

The room is cozy—a blue quilt at the foot of the bed, a fireplace, a snowy mountain in the window. I find myself wanting to stay. Like a good dream you cling to when your alarm goes off. It doesn’t feel urgent anymore, blinking it away.

Dream Jamie brushes the woman’s hair from her face. She scrunches her nose, small and freckled and…

Pierced.

My breath catches.

My fingers fly to the tiny diamond stud in my nostril. The one I got when I was nineteen and toying with a rebellion that never took off.

It can’t be. It’s definitely not.

“Noel?” Kate’s voice is beside me. My skin heats with awareness that I don’t want to acknowledge just yet.

They’re so similar…

The woman rolls over and smiles back at him and—

—the cup of water slips from my hand, splashing onto the floor, soaking my jeans. I suck in a hard gasp, choking on nothing. “That’s my face!”

Kate squeezes my shoulder. “What are you talking about, babe?”

What the hell is going on? Am I having a sex dream about a stranger while awake? Am I awake? I smack at my cheeks like an absolute lunatic.

Jamie’s face has lost all color, but instead of running in the opposite direction the way he probably should, his fingers tighten around my elbow. “What did you see? Was it bad?”

No, dude. It looks like it was really good. That’s the problem.

This isn’t real. None of this is real. I have no rational explanation for this.

Unless…

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