"I love you."
His touch felt warm against my back. I swear, he was like a heating pad. He would be perfect to have during the cold winter months; just lying beside him made my skin feel toasty. We were on his bed, as usual. He wore another flannel shirt with a white tee underneath, dark denim jeans and black sneakers. It gave him a bad boy appearance, the kind that made girls drool.
"I love you," he said again.
I rolled over, not hesitating as I looked at the face I could now name. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. Ask me anything."
He pulled me up so that I was sitting beside him. His arm draped over my shoulders and he combed his other hand through my hair. I breathed in and got a whiff of his cologne. I wasn't sure of the brand, but it smelled divine. I breathed it in again.
"What's your question, Avril?"
I gasped and shuddered. I wondered if I would ever be able to look at him without being mesmerized by his appearance. It wasn't just his outfit, but his build, as well. I was losing myself in the depths of my unconscious imagination instead of focusing on my intent.
Tonight was supposed to be about getting answers, but they might not be true because none of this was real. It couldn't be. My mind kept conjuring up this spectacular new world because I longed to be with somebody. The chance I met a person so similar to the guy in my dream was just a coincidence that fed more fuel to my brain. Every time my dream ended, there was a huge possibility that my dream wouldn't return. The fact that it had happened this many times was remarkable. Then I could get on with my life and have a real relationship with a real guy that wasn't a part of my fantasy.
"This is a dream. It isn't real," I said, but nothing happened. I had thought that my admittance would be enough to snap me out of my slumber, but it didn't work. Mason didn't disappear, and the room didn't fade away.
Mason chuckled. "That's not a question."
My eyes widened, and I lowered my arms down to my sides. There was a method I'd heard of to see if someone was really awake but maybe it would counter react. I pinched myself over and over, to no avail.
He sighed. "That won't work. I'm having this dream, too. I don't understand it, either."
My jaw dropped. "This is your dream too?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't know you were real until I met you earlier."
"That's how I felt about you, too."
He took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have to get ready for work. I'll see you later."
"Wait. Where do you—"
I was too late. My dream had ended, and my room reappeared. It was well past sunrise. Birds chirped outside the window, and the leaves rustled in the wind as they broke free from their branches and played in the morning air.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes, clearing out the gunk they'd collected overnight. Eye boogers were gross, disgusting collections of mucus, skin cells, oils and dust that formed when your eyes were closed for long periods of time. I'd always wondered what they were made of so I googled it. The resulting combination was nasty. Still, I enjoyed touching them every morning. The weird feel of their texture always amused my inner child.
I finished and wiped my fingers on my pajama pants then grabbed my phone from my nightstand. It was barely past eight. I 'd always been an early bird. Saturdays, summers, holidays, you name it. I've hardly ever slept past the crack of dawn except for the time I was sick with the stomach bug—I slept till noon every day that week. I remembered it like it was yesterday. Every move was painful, and I almost gained a new home at the hospital because both foods and liquids made me nauseous.
