Panic fractures across my mind, infusing itself into all of my racing thoughts. As much as I want to be myself until my last moments, I still don’t want to stop existing. I want to be here with my friends. With Callie. Sometimes, I catch myself praying that everything will simply fall in place to bring me back to life, but I doubt God is big on answering the prayers of those trying to cheat death.
The television is on, the volume low, and currently playing an infomercial. On the couch are abandoned pillows and blankets. Mildred must have woken up during the time I was gone and moved to the last remaining bed with a mattress. On the floor, the guys are piled around Callie like a litter of puppies. Connor is on his back with Callie asleep on her stomach on top of him. Donovan is sleeping on his side on their left, holding her hand, while Nolan is half wedged between them, his head and upper body draped across Callie’s lower back. Kaleb sleeps on his back on the right, holding Callie’s other hand to his chest.
In the midst of my panic and fear is a growing ache of loneliness. Each time I go through something or something goes through me, the chasm inside me expands. When Callie was able to hold my wrist for a second before going through me, I felt real hope. But that moment of hope doesn’t seem to break the loneliness. My feelings have no body—nothing to let them all out. Right now, I really need to feel something. Anything.
Callie sighs in her sleep and rubs her face against Connor’s chest. She didn’t invite me into her mind tonight, but I can only imagine what her dreams must be after this awful day. Normally, she thrashes about in her sleep when it’s a nightmare, but that spell in her tea to “relax her” was more like a heavy sedative that had her out within thirty minutes.
What if she’s trapped and can’t show it? I have to help her.
Convincing myself that this is to save Callie from her nightmares and has nothing to do with the blatant need I have for physical contact, I carefully crouch down and place my hand to the back of her head. Closing my eyes, I take a deep, unnecessary breath and will myself into her mind.
Upon reopening my eyes, the first thing I notice is that all I’m wearing is a pair of leather pants. No shoes. No shirt. And more shockingly, no underwear.
Not exactly something I’d choose for myself.Damn this shit is uncomfortable, I think as I do my best to readjust, shifting my hips awkwardly and pulling at the fabric, but it’s useless. It’s like a second skin, which in some ways is probably good because I’m not wearing a belt and the last time I saw this much of my pelvis, I was in the shower naked. In my hand is a tinted bottle with some type of oily liquid. It looks like some type of massage oil and has a kind of floral fruity smell that reminds me of Callie.
I’m standing in a room facing a balcony to a familiar beach. Vibrantly clear ocean waves crash against the white sandy shores, and the air is perfumed with tropical flowers. The day is clear, and the sun’s heat feels warm against my bare skin. This is the island Callie and I go to when she needs to escape, but this building is new. Well, this room. It kind of floats on its own in the way rooms in dreams can. Existing without requiring any form of reason.
Gauzy white curtains blow gently with the soft breeze, enhancing the very dream-like quality of…well, this dream. Which is surprising. After the day she had, I was prepared to drag Callie out of one of her haunting memories. To have to talk her down and slowly bring her back to herself. I didn’t expect to pop into a vacation hideaway, dream edition.
Behind me are the sounds of moaning coming from a lot of voices I recognize. Oh shit. Slowly, I turn around and find that I’m not the only one in leather pants and nothing else. All of the guys are here and dressed the same way. They don’t seem to mind, but then again, they appear too busy to care on the giant bed—that looks a lot like the one Nolan has—with Callie who’s only wearing lacy underwear and a smile.
It appears I’ve popped in on Callie having a sex dream.I repeat. Oh shit!
And this is why Kaleb warned me about entering someone’s dreams unannounced.
All of my imaginary blood drains from my head as I watch her writhe and sigh with pleasure. She’s leaning against Kaleb, her back to his chest, kissing him like air is optional. Meanwhile, Connor and Donovan are on either side of her, exploring Callie’s chest and stomach their lips and hands—D’s hand getting particularly close to where important lace covers past her hip. Finally, there’s Nolan, with his face between her legs, feeding on the inside of her thigh.
As someone that’s grown used to not having any physical sensations, the sheer amount of conflicting things I feel now are overwhelming. I’m turned on because the girl I’m in love with is in her underwear making sexy, moaning noises—totally not making these leather pants any more comfortable—and then there’s the shock of hurt seeing the girl I’m in love with fantasizing about all of my best friends. I know there’s that rumor going around about all of them dating, but I wasn’t aware she had internalized it quite so vividly.
However, the shock is tempered by this weird, confusing happiness, because I definitely didn’t dress myself in this getup. There’s no way in a million years, even in a dream, I would go around shirtless in leather pants. I have friends that are ripped as fuck and I’m…not. T-shirts have and always will be a very important part of my wardrobe choices. Which means dream me was here before actual me showed up.I’mpart of Callie’s sex dream.
I love my friends, but hanging out with them hasn’t really done any favors for my love life. The idea that in Callie’s mind I’m at least on the same playing field as the rest of them is a huge boost to my confidence. Although it doesn’t really help with what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Do I tell her it’s really me? Should I just leave? Will dream me go too?
While I’m frozen with indecision, Callie decides taking an actual breath of air might be a good idea. Kaleb quickly busies himself with her neck, and her clear, grey eyes meet mine. Her lids are drooped low, her lips are swollen, and she smiles at me in a way the causes all the blood that’s drained from my head to route toward warmer, harder climates.
“Felix,” she purrs, the huskiness of her voice creating heat that burns through my veins, and holds out her hand to beckon me closer.
Except the furthest I’ve been with a girl is awkwardly dancing and a kiss on the cheek, so the whole potential orgy thing is way out of my wheelhouse. I’ve gone full-on deer in headlights, standing in place on this very soft white carpet, and my heart is pounding so fast, I’m pretty sure hummingbirds everywhere now consider me kin. I’m also shaking so badly I almost spill the massage oil.
I’m very grateful for this bottle, since it appears to be the reason I’m over here next to a table filled with a variety of, uh, other important items, instead of over there in the orgy pile. At a glance, the table looks like the toppings section of an ice cream bar with items like strawberries, chocolate sauce, honey, and other edibles. Except instead of ice cream, there’s a bowl of condoms.Hey, at least even in her dreams she wants to practice safe sex.
When I neither move nor say anything, Callie pouts and sits up to the unhappiness of Kaleb, Connor, and Donovan. They all wear expressions that are very much them, even if the situation isn’t. Kaleb looks at me with disapproval—probably for the interruption of his attempts to familiarize himself with Callie’s dental work via his tongue. Connor has wolf eyes, and after a dismissive snort at me, he starts breathing in her scent, murmuring phrases that sound Spanish but aren’t. Probably because Callie doesn’t speak Spanish. Donovan flashes a wicked smirk, then starts kissing her neck while his hand slips over her knee and up her thigh, clearly trying to distract her back to bed.
Callie smiles and giggles, but her focus doesn’t leave me. Not losing eye contact, she runs her hand through Nolan’s hair, drawing his attention. He hums with contentment as he pulls back from her inner thigh with blood dripping down his chin. After licking his lips clean, he leans up and kisses her, slow and deep in a way that has her making soft mewling noises. When he pulls away, she sighs with pleasure, and then he helps her to her feet.
She walks toward me with a heavy sway to her hips. Her blonde hair hangs in silky waves around her, with some of it over her shoulders, covering a lot of the little fabric that is her lacy bra. If it weren’t for the crowd and uncomfortable pants, I’d question whose fantasy was being played out here.
I swallow heavily when she leans in close to me, her smile both pleased and inviting, as she looks at me in the way I’ve wanted her to since we met. Not only does she really see me, but she also likes what she sees. As she runs her hands up my chest and around my neck, every one of my imaginary nerve endings fires off rippling waves of tingles along my skin.
Lifting up on the tips of her toes, her smile grows, and she hums my name again while her nose brushes against my jaw. Meanwhile, I’m standing like a frozen idiot unsure where to put my hands…and what to do with the damn bottle.Do I drop it? Attempt to put it back on the table? Shit, I think my palms are sweaty.
“Kiss me,” she pleads, her lips softly brushing the corner of my mouth while her entire body is flush against mine. Turns out the lace is quite soft.
Crap. Be cool. Don’t spaz out. Dream you was probably suave. Awkward and panicking doesn’t really fit orgy fantasy motif.
Despite my mental pep talk, in an octave I haven’t hit since I was ten, I confess, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Shit! She’s going to figure out it’s real me and not dream me, and I have no idea how to handle that.
