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Four dreams about himand me.
About us doingnot-just-friends things.
The dreams started that very night, when Rae and I were leaving his apartment so I could get her in bed. He hugged me hard before we went, and even though he hadn’t tried to discuss his dad with me, I knew he was thinking about all of it right then. Thanking me for speaking for him when he was too overwhelmed to do it.
That night’s dream wasn’t the first I’ve had about him; I had one a long time ago, too. I’d shaken it off back then and I shook it off the other night. I was determined not to replay the dream-hug he gave me as keenly as in real life and the veryunreal, very slow dream-kiss he wrapped my mouth in instead of letting me go.
Still, my lips tingled for a good two days after that.
My next dream involved him getting another wet leaf off me—off my shoulder—and then getting the straps of my dress and bra off it, too—the dress his eyes lit up for a couple days prior. He murmured my name, and I moaned not because he kissed my bare shoulder but because he simply rested his forehead against it. Iwoke upmoaning about it, my head turned on my pillow toward where he’d been.
I kept my shoulders covered up the next three times I saw him.
Friday was the day of Rae’s Halloween party at school. She kept her costume on even after we got home, so Landon called her Fairy Rae all evening. Later, I dreamt he and I were sitting on the edge of my bed—thisbed—and as he leaned into me with a hand on my thigh and his nose brushing mine, I said suggestively, “Our Fairy Rae is asleep.” And I was in the middle of wanting him, but I remember I also felt deeply relaxed, like we were each other’s as effortlessly as I’d just called Raeours.He and I were far from being only friends and she wasn’t only my niece and his niece in spirit—she really was all ours, his and mine, and he was mine and I was his. The three of us were…family.
And that didn’t make me feel flustered, actually. Quite the opposite. Not one single thing bothered me the entire rest of that day.
Here I am currently, though,beyondflustered from waking up on a breathless gasp because dream-Landon and dream-me were…were….
And it was good. So good.
He. Felt. So. Good.
But I’m steadily growing less heated and more nervous, because this can’t happen. I can’t think of him like this. He’s myfriend.We agreed to only be friends.
I lift my head from my hands, take a breath, and then tell myself out loud, “Heisonly my friend.”
A part of me promptly disagrees,No, he’s not.
My nervousness spikes—and then I roll my eyes and give my arm a quick pinch. The twinge of pain clears my head and allows me to say firmly, “I don’t seriously like him. It’s not news that he’s gorgeous and fantastic. I’m just…” making a blubbery noise with my lips, I raise my eyebrows at the darkness of my room, “…I’m just working through being close to an attractive guy for the first time in years.”
And, really, working through feeling like a normal girl for the first time ever.
Telling Landon about Bud and Thad freed up something in me.
For the first time since I was eight, I feel like I’m a part of the world. The things that happened to me hindered my ability to grow, to see colors properly, to be comfortable in my own skin, and now I feel like I’m learning and making up for lost connections with things and people andme.
I mean, when I was a teenager, I tried to deal with my abuse by having consensual sex with a few guys, like probably a lot of victims do. I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed those encounters, but that’s because I was running on detachment, not because I was being forced; that sex was all about control for me, nothing else. I didn’t want anything more from the guys, didn’t give them anything more from me.
Enter Landon, whose personality is every bit as attractive as his appearance. He’s amazing with me, he’s amazing with Rae—of courseit’s confusing to my body. I’ve never known anyone like him.
But I have to remember he’s just an awesomefriend.
No, there’s something else there,that other part of me comes back.There’s something else to how I feel when he’s in pain or gentle with Rae or earnest about things with me.
I shake my head.
Slowly, though, after a second.
Because I remember…things.
Things like how I felt waking up with him the other morning and writing invisible Breaking Benjamin lyrics on his chest and thinking about him calling me‘baby.’
Good. And quiet. And sweet. That’s how I felt.
I remember the intense emotion that knotted in my chest during our visit to Quiet Springs. I’ve only felt that fierce urge to make everything right for one other person: Rae. She is woven into me like veins and so is…
…no.No, he’s not.
