Page 173 of Dream On, Liar

“Fine. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, Maeve.” He whispered softly.

I waited until his breathing evened out before opening my eyes back. There was no chance I could sleep, but at least I could make sure he had the rest he deserved.

Five minutes turned ten, and then fifteen. Tossing onto my side, I tried to get comfortable.

And maybe, watch him.

I was aware I was being a creep, but it was then I realise how sometimes you’re willing to take something little when you realise it’s all you’ll ever have.

But when I finally flicked my gaze to him, I noticed he was already looking at me.

Completely still.

Like he’d been waiting.

My breath caught slightly as he reached out to move a hair strand. “Can’t sleep?”

I sighed, a moment of rare honesty seeping through at his touch. “I’m scared.”

I felt him getting closer. “Of what?”

“Slipping back into my nightmare.”

He caressed my arm, sending goosebumps all over my skin. “How often is often?”

I looked away then. “They’ve been more recent.”

I didn’t have to look his way to know a frown had settled on his face. I spoke before he could question it. “It helps when I’m extremely worn out in the day…it knocks me out enough that I don’t slip into dreams, or nightmares.”

“Is it the same one every time?”

A breath left my lips, his touch calming me enough to give me the courage to look at him again. “Not exactly same. But it’s usually the same premise.”

He waited patiently, not forcing me to spell it out for him. I never had the urge to do that for anyone else before, so I wasn’t quite sure what had pushed me to tell him, but I didn’t pause to question it. “It starts out normal…it always does. Only, I’m a kid and I’m with my parents, and then something happens. It would be us sitting at a restaurant, and a fucking natural disaster breaks through, or we’re being held at gun point. I don’t know, that’s the one part that constantly changes, but then I’d blink and suddenly, my parents are going in different directions looking for safety and cover, and I’m just there. Alone. You know?” My breath hitched at the soft look in his eyes. I cleared my throat. “My mum used to say that I’ve read one too many books where the world ends, that it’s left a scar on me for life.”

I forced a laugh, but Rihaan never joined me. Instead, he moved closer, his hand lifting to meet my face, and he caresses my face softly. Everything in me pauses. “I’m sorry.”

The words were unexpected. I don’t dare question him. Afraid, I’d say the wrong words and cause…trouble. I liked him near me too much to do anything that would make him leave him.

When I remained silent, he cupped my face. Soft, but firm enough to tell me that he wanted me to listen.

“You’re worth risking life for, Maeve. You’re worth the choice.”

It was like his words stole the breath out of me, forcing my mouth ajar as I tried to swallow the meaning behind his words. But I couldn’t help pick up on the fact how easy it was for him to say the right words. He didn’t make fun of me. He didn’t tell me my fictitious dream was just that: a figment of my imagination. He didn’t laugh at the absurd fear of the possibility of my parents leaving me behind in a serious situation. He just…said the one thing that my brain needed in this moment. Like he understood. Like he knew the scars of not being chosen by your parent. Like his wounds matched mine.

And this time when I close the gap between us and place my lips, he didn’t stop me. His hands moved, cupping the back of my neck and deepened our kiss. Fireworks lit inside me, bursting in flames that sent a rush of sparks through me. All my life I’d thought that my whole world had been still, paused in a series of moments that defined me. But it wasn’t until now that I’d realised that I’d been spinning, and this…this was how it felt like when the world stilled. Because it was the first moment of my life where I’d been alive. Like I was finally learning what it was to feel like the world clicked in it’s place, aligned what what truly mattered.

29

Rihaan

I WOKE TO THE smell of butter and coffee.

For a moment, I didn’t move at all.

Not because I was tired. Because there was something fragile about the way the morning sat in the room—like if I shifted too quickly, I might break it.