"Bethany!"

The voice snapped her out of her daydream, and she blinked, disoriented. There she was, sitting by their table and daydreaming.

"Oh my God," she muttered, scrunching her nose. "I just had the ickiest dream ever."

She looked up to see Dean walking confidently toward their table. 

The moment he arrived, a hush fell over the room. Conversations died, and people shifted nervously in their seats.

"What’s going on?" she whispered, a strange unease bubbling in her chest.

As she turned her head, her gaze landed on Fred and Chantel settling at a table nearby. Her stomach churned. Oh no. My dream... was it true?

Against her better judgment,...