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“It is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”
? C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain.”
Desert Dreams and the Broken Lover
MIA
It’s a dream.
You know how I know that?
Because nothing real can be this flawless.
The need to stay in this dream, I feel it every single time he touches me and makes everything in the background seem like faded white-noise. Every single time he puts his arms around me, I feel the nagging fear, of losing the sense that the world doesn’t exist anymore outside of our bodies, our souls.
In the dream, I’m far away, in some desert, thirsty, nothing but the sound of the air rushing past me in strong gusts, and from somewhere I hear Teague approaching. His bare feet make soft noises in the sand, and he’s wearing his ripped jeans and a shirt and as he comes towards me he looks like a mirage—like everything else in this place. His shirt is open, showing off his flawless body and in the glare of the sun I can see every inch of his six-pack abs and his workout-toned body. His chest glistens with moisture, tightened pecs and muscular arms show from underneath the almost see-through fabric of the shirt and I know that I never want to wake up.
“Hey!” Teague snaps his fingers in front of my face and I look at the mirror in front of me. His sea-green eyes stare at my reflection, and his hair is short cropped and dark, freshly cut. “Why do you look so lost?”
Because I am lost, I’m tempted to say.
“What do you think of the dress?” I try to change the subject.
“It’s nice.”
“It better be. I paid a lot for this thing.”
“You want my honest opinion?”
I turn towards him. “Yes.”
“I think it’s a total waste of money.”
I stare blankly at him. “You don’t like it?”
“You didn’t have to spend so much,” Teague says. He walks up to me and leans in so he can whisper in my ear. “When you know it’s just going to come off in an hour.”
I grin. “An hour?” I say. “It’s our graduation celebration! Holden’s not going to let us leave! He’s been waiting to celebrate for so long, we can’t just ditch them! This is supposed to be in our honor!”
“You know what,” Teague says. “You’re right, Mia.”
He places his hands on my hips and hauls me up, and I grab onto him for support. “Teague!”
“If we can’t ditch them after,” Teague says. “Then we’ll just have to make time for it now.”
“Teague!!!” I protest.
But instead of putting me down, he places me on top of the dresser, my back against the mirror and he pushes his body into mine. His mouth descends on my neck, placing tiny kisses that feel like miniature bolts of electricity. “Teague…”
He lifts my dress and starts to lower my lace panties but I stop him. “Teague…no.”
“That’s not very convincing, Mia.” Teague says and he’s right. I can feel my own resolve breaking as his hands deftly remove what’s in their way and my panties are lying on the floor next to Teague’s feet. He uses his hands to spread my legs, and his head goes between my thighs, his tongue explores and invades, reaches places that I didn’t even know existed. I can’t believe how hot I am for him, how much I want this—it makes me feel dirty inside but I don’t care. Just knowing that there are people right outside this room, that they’re partying and already dressed and expecting us to be there, while we’re in here and no one has any clue what we’re up to, it’s exciting.
My hands grab the back of his head and start guiding. “Fuck!”
This is wrong.
This is so, so wrong.
