Wonderland | ✎

01 - prince charming

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    "Wait, so you made out with which ex-boyfriend of mine?"

     I cringed.

     Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to call my best friend after all. God knows what lurked inside the soul of a late sleeper forced to wake up so early in the morning.

     But I couldn't not call her. Not after what I dreamt last night.

    "Well, technically, I didn't make out with anyone," I defended, adjusting the phone to my ear. "Except for that first guy in the party. Him I definitely remember kissing. As for the second one, we're just assuming something happened. The details are blurry, okay?" I shrugged. "Who knows, maybe Dream Sydney decided to just hold hands with one of your exes."

    "You're shitting me, right?"

    "It's possible!"

     Okay, it was hard to believe that Dream Sydney didn't do the dirty with at least one of the Dream Guys. Because the Sydney there knew she'd made out with that stranger at the party; the Sydney there felt guilty when holding best-friend's-boyfriend's hand. As for the last scenario...

    "You're doubting, aren't you?"

     That all-too-knowing fucker. "I am not."

    "So are. Just admit it—you're a hoe."

    "Wow, way to be pro-female."

    "I didn't mean it as an insult, Syd," a lingering halt, but I swore I could sense her grin creep in, "just that you were super horny."

     I groaned.

     It still didn't excuse the things Dream Sydney did, though. For starters, I just wasn't that type of person. There wasn't much in my tool belt except for a few innocent kisses and fondling here and there, and the only serious relationship I've ever had didn't let us get that far. Well, I hadn't let us get that far. Which is irrelevant. For now.

     Second, Dream Sydney felt like me but also didn't. Like she was an alternative version of me or some kind of alter-ego fuelled by sex and booze. Like she was a character I had stepped into for only a moment.

     It didn't pair up with any logic in my mind.

    "So who was it?" I could hear Jess popping her bubble gum. "Did you hook up with Ricky? Ethan?" She gasped. "Fucking hell, not Greg."

     I glared at the wall. "I took an unsanitary cut on my thumb for your blood oath to never mention his name again," I refuted, a distinct reminder of Jess's bad history of ex-boyfriends. "So no, not the G-word. And your blood oath privileges are repealed."

    "Bitch."

    "Rules are rules."

    "From you, don't I know it," Jess rolled her eyes, but it held no bad blood. "So, no face or anything? Specific features? A giant mole?" Another dramatic pause. "A concerning rash?"

    "Nada." I sighed. "The dream happened so quick, I forgot the faces as soon as I woke up. But I just know that the second guy was your ex for some reason."

     See, the thing was, I knew that dreams weren't supposed to make sense. Dreams itself dictated what you felt, what happened and what mood it was. So you literally had no say in anything except for what it gave you, no matter how bizarre they were, and you had to bear with it until your eyes opened. Until you woke up and came to reality.