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I'd never before considered how I wanted to live my next life — not even during my psychology studies. But even if I'd tried, I certainly wouldn't have come up with something like this.
Paralyzed, I stared into the blue eyes of a smiling woman leaning over my body, caressing my cheek and admiring my appearance. At the opposite end of the small room stood a man with curly brown hair and hazel eyes that held awe and love, even from a distance.
If I hadn't struggled to move and speak, I would have screamed. Imagine sitting bored in a lecture, listening to an incredibly compelling interpretation of Freud's works, delivered by a passionate lecturer who would never, ever forget what he'd said ten minutes ago, when suddenly an armed student bursts into the room, and your next memory is waking up in a room with a woman with a maniacal smile, leaning over your body, while you couldn't even turn around or say a word.
I know, it's a nightmare.
But even worse was the realization that this odd couple was Renée Swan-Dwyer and Charlie Swan, and I woke up in the world of The Twilight Saga as a baby Isabella Marie Swan.
It couldn't have been worse.
Of all the great books, it had to be this one, about a hundred-year-old man who sits in a teenage girl's room at night, watching her sleep. Reading this book, did his behavior seem legitimate to me? — not really. Romantic? Apparently, yes.
Does my every life have to be strange? From choosing psychology to a marathon of awkward glances, and the most romantic place for a date is the top of a pine tree?
After all… no matter how you look at it, in every life I have to deal with people with problems.
I definitely have a problem.