slumber talk

13: Beggars Can't Have Boundaries

some stuff in this chapter will be difficult to read, depending on the lives you have or haven't led. you'll know when you see it. this is a warning in advance, as well as an apology

it's important to write about real things, but that doesn't necessarily make them easier to swallow

this note is intended in place of a hand to hold yours and a long, tight hug

daphz x

Hands gripped the back of my head. Long, supple fingers grasped at my face, my chin, the roots of my baby curls, that same woodsy cologne invaded my nostrils, and firm lips locked themselves onto mine. Kissing me hard, like we'd never been apart.

"Jeremy," I breathed. I brought a hand up to the side of his neck. The one reward I had for being tall, I found, was that Jeremy and I never had to strain when we were making out.

He laughed into my lips, his exhales tickling my skin. I felt his nose rub up along the softness of my cheek. "Trish."

I stilled, completely. "What?"

His hands ran over my shoulders. His fingers lodged themselves in my hair.

"Trish," he whispered, longingly. Like the word was a secret, like the taste of it on his tongue was his dying wish. "Trish. You – you finally came."

Then his eyes snapped open. And those pools of heavenly, heartbreaking blue weren't fuzzy or glassed over this time – they just didn't see.

I fought against him. Frantically. But the hard planes of his body pressed up into mine, caging me in, and with an iron will I couldn't break free of his hands danced their way from my neck to my arms to my hips. His mouth moved against mine in love and reverence and my screams were swallowed by his mouth.

Bringing my knee up into his groin, I watched him go tumbling into the darkness.

I woke up with my heart in my mouth.

~

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm FINE."

Hassan raised an eyebrow at me, but wisely, didn't push the issue. The words he grumbled to himself carried right into the throe of the rain.

I had no idea at what time the nightmare had roused me last night – only that it had been dark, and silent, and neither Hassan nor any of the cows in the barn had been too affected by the screaming. I could only assume that was because (luckily) the screaming had only been in my head.

Still, it had taken Hassan slapping me with the arm of his stolen jacket to rouse me again once I'd finally drifted back to sleep.

We trudged forcefully towards the bus shelter on the other side of the road, the torrents dashing the pavement and tarmac around us adding an unnecessary level of peril to the already impossible task. Between HGVs roaring past at 100mph and knee-high puddles that blended into the mirage of potholes, the day that had gone from bad to worse served as the perfect cover to rationalise my inexplicably foul mood, and I was deeply grateful the distraction.

Hassan had woken up in fairly decent spirits. It was a strange sight to behold. He'd only defected back to a steady stream of swear words and gnashing teeth when his elbow bad been clipped by the wing mirror of a passing coupé, and for that small comfort, I knew I should count myself lucky. For a man of many provocations – sour, dripping scorn in place of a personality and incorrigible facetiousness being 2 of the main front runners – he was also shrewd, and painfully perceptive, which made up for his otherwise complete lack of intellect. Even as we gave up on tactical calculations and settled for panic-running across the remaining stretch of road I could still feel the cold queasiness the dream had left in my system, and there was no way I'd find the faculties to deal with it effectively under the pull of his inscrutable gaze.