The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3 by Tiffany King Page A

room. Both of us could read for hours, so we wanted to be comfortable. The last touch was a sturdy table to sit between the two chairs. We liked to snack while we read, so having a durable table to hold our drinks was a must.
    “I’ll put some music on,” I said. “Do you have any preference?”
    “No. Anything is fine.”
    We listened to the music and talked until we heard the doorbell ring. After paying the delivery guy, I grabbed a couple sodas, and some paper plates and napkins.
    We ate in silence, enjoying the cheesy pizza with its hearty sauce. Finally after dinner, Sam looked at me with a serious look on her face. “I’ve been putting off mentioning this, but I think we should make a list of things we have in common,” she told me. “That way, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
    I had to agree with her. I had been trying to ignore it all day, but it had become glaringly obvious that Sam and I shared some kind of link. I grabbed a notebook and started taking notes on our commonalities. Sam filled in the ones I had forgotten, making a point to mention our common defective “emotions,” as she liked to put it, of course I still didn’t believe that her emotional “madness” was the same as mine. Finally, I set the pencil down. “I think that’s it.”
    “You forgot the biggest one,” Sam said quietly.
    “What’s that?” I asked, looking up in surprise, I thought we had them all.
    “You forgot to write down the dreams,” Sam said in the same quiet voice.
    “What dreams?” I asked, suddenly starting to feel panicked.
    “The dreams we have about the guys?”
    “How do you know about that?” I asked, standing up abruptly, suddenly very angry. The notebook slid off my lap and landed on the floor at my feet. I gave it no notice, as I felt the emotional wave approaching.
    “I think you should leave,” I told Sam, trying to fight down the nausea. I didn’t know what kind of game Sam was playing, but I wanted no part of it. The anger began to engulf me; I knew I was on the verge of getting sick.
    I rushed into my bathroom and threw-up immediately. It had been a long time since my emotions had made me sick enough to throw up. The retching finally ended as the waves receded. I rested my forehead weakly against the cool porcelain on the side of the tub.
    I felt a cool cloth being placed on the nap of my sweaty neck. I wasn’t surprised that Sam had stuck around. Though I tried to convince myself that she was playing some kind of game, I knew we had far too much in common to be just a coincidence. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know, it wasn’t Sam’s fault.
    Sam handed me a glass of water. I looked up to see her studying me.
    “I’ll teach you how to fight the sickness back,” she promised.
    I just nodded my head weakly, not surprised that Sam somehow knew how to fight it off; she seemed so much stronger than me. She helped pull me into a standing position. My legs felt like cooked spaghetti, but I thought I could make it to one of the chairs. Sam took my arm and helped me settle into the chair.
    “I know about your dreams because I have the same ones,” Sam said, with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you sick.”
    “How did you know that I had the dreams?”
    “I didn’t know when I first met you. I suspected it after I saw your reaction in class today, but I knew for sure after I read the note.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked, more confused than ever. “What happened in class for you to suspect it, and why did the note convince you?”
    “Because, I’ve been in your shoes before, I have the same dreams as you, and I felt the same way when I met the boy that had shared my dreams my entire life. Through all my crummy foster homes, he was always there for me, and when I met him it was like I had been hit by lighting.”
    “You’ve met your dream guy?” I asked surprised, not because she had dreams like mine (which was crazy), but