2am Thoughts Summary Novels & Stories

POV: Amelia --- The rain still hadn’t come back, but the clouds were thick and heavy, as if they were still thinking things over. Amelia stood at the sink, mindlessly scrubbing a plate that was already clean. Her thoughts had been all over the place since the night before—ever since Adrian’s expression changed when he took that late-night call. He didn’t share what it was about, but she knew that look he had afterwards. It wasn’t about being distant; it was about guarding something.

At intervals, she would jot down something on the piece of paper that was clutched in her left hand. Her face was calm but searching, her fingers sometimes reaching up to tuck stubborn hair strands behind her ears. In this state, I realized that she looked. . . pretty. What? I caught myself, realizing what I'd just been thinking. What the fuck is up with me? Was I actually sitting right here and thinking about how pretty Amelia fucking Forbes was? I shook my head. I'm frustrated and tired. A lot has been going on. That's why I'm having crazy thoughts, I said to myself.

“A colleague. I already planned it.” “I could still take you—” “I’m okay,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I want to walk a little. Clear my head.” He didn’t push it, but I could feel his eyes following me as I left the house. At work, it was hard to focus. I sat through meetings and typed reports, but I wasn’t really present. My thoughts kept drifting back to what Amara said. Her words had gotten into my mind like water seeping into cracks. And no matter how I tried to block them, they kept pushing their way back.

"That's what I thought." She thinks: deny me if you can. She thinks: try to deny this. She thinks: two wolves in a summit hall twenty-nine years ago, thinking the same thought from different directions at the same moment, neither of them knowing the other was thinking it. She thinks: twenty-nine years of neither of them able to. She puts her hand in his. Palm to palm. The bond hums. The dawn comes up. The camp wakes. She thinks: yes. She thinks: still.

“Yeah. Thinkers are divided into three margins—green, orange, and red.” “Like a traffic light? Green means good, red means bad?” Chevonne shrugged. “Maybe. But to clarify, green margin thoughts are the rarest and most powerful. Thinkers in this category can’t even be classified or measured by a teacher. There are only two known thought abilities in the green margin, and they’re considered the greatest of all thinkers.” I felt a chill run down my spine. “And the red margin?” “That one’s more straightforward. Red margin thoughts are dangerous. They can directly harm—or even kill—someone.”

******************************************************" I was worried about Amelia's outburst. Ever since I came into the office this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said to me. Never had I seen her as angry as she had been this morning. I thought back to all I said yesterday and even today, wondering if I said anything wrong. After a minute or two, I concluded that there was nothing I could possibly have said to upset her. So, what suddenly went wrong? My thoughts drifted and dwelt on the possibility of Amelia getting pregnant with my child. Just the thought of it made me break out in a cold sweat.

I hated to admit it, but somehow Amelia had wormed her way into my brain. I had been laser-focused on vengeance against MID for so long, and I was stunned to find myself thinking about her when I was busy doing other things. During work, I'd wonder if she was having a good day. At night when I tried to sleep, thoughts of her would creep into my psyche. It was fucking infuriating.

Then I thought to myself, "Harper, you are in deep trouble." "Did you see yourself at all?" she asked me, concerned. "It looks like you are having bad thoughts in your mind, with the way you were moving your lips and using your tongue to wet your lips, with your hand at the side of your neck, staring into space. Can I get water, please?" I asked Amelia so I could give myself time to recover while she was away to get water for me. "Josh would be the death of me, see what he is making me do, thinking about our time together this last week coupled with the wet dream I had."

Morana Ambrose. As I woke up next morning, preparing to leave for work, my mind was consumed by the unwanted thoughts about what happened last night. No matter how hard I try to push them all back, they bounce back with full force. I forced myself to stop thinking about last night’s events and got ready for work.