D R E A M C A T C H E R
Isabelle
It's been days since Thomas flipped out. Days since we've properly spoken to each other.
Obviously we've exchanged the usual good mornings and the polite pleases and thank yous but that's been about it. It seems like he's avoiding me like the plague and I guess I'm avoiding him too.
He shocked me the other day. I didn't think he was that kind of guy. His temper almost reminded me of Nate's and how he used to be. It's made me a bit more wary of Thomas. I can't live with that again. I won't.
**
In class, I wait for Sam to arrive, greeting me with his cheeky grin as per usual.
"Guess what?" I quiz before he even has the chance to sit down.
"What?" He slumps in the chair beside me.
"I got a job!" I grin, excited that I can actually tell someone. "At Shortcuts, the hair salon."
"Oh sweet!" Sam replies with the same level of enthusiasm as mine. "That's so cool!" He unpacks his things to get ready for class. "How have things been?"
"They've been alright." I pause for a beat, deciding if I should be honest. "Actually, it's been a bit weird." The buzzing atmosphere suddenly decreases. He frowns. "Thomas hasn't been in the best mood recently. I don't know why. We haven't really spoken... at all."
"Hmm, yeah he seemed a little distracted when I saw him yesterday, like something is playing on his mind." I nod in agreement.
"Before – he was just being an ass and now he's being silent which somehow is... worse. It's way more awkward between us now." I get my things out and ready as the professor enters the room.
"I'll talk to him and see if I can get anything out of him." The professor begins talking. "I'm happy about your job though, well done." I smile, bumping shoulders with him.
**
My body surges forward, a series of loud, high pitched screams lurching out of my throat. My skin is hot and my body is shaking as I can't help but cough and splutter. My legs are frantically kicking against the sheets. I feel like I can't breathe.
It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. Sitting up in the dark, I pant and swallow hard, letting out a short gasp.
The door handle rattles and Thomas's silhouette busts into my bedroom. The bright light from the hall seeps into my room, shining directly on where I am. I squint, throwing my hand up to shield eyes.
"What?" He turns on the lights of my room, also breathless. "What happened?"
"N-Nightmare." I explain in a shaky breath. I must've woken him up.
He's stood in front of my bed just in his Calvins, his hair a total mess. He appears to be just as startled as I am. I forget that sounds like that are capable of coming out of my body.
"I-I didn't mean to scare-."
"No, it's fine." He shakes his head with his hands out. I try to take a few long, steady breaths in and out again. "Are you okay?" I don't answer, I just rub my face against the palm of my hands. A quietness brews before he speaks again.
"Come on, let's get something to drink." He cocks his head back, gesturing to the kitchen.
When he can't see me, I frown at his instruction. But without question, I swing my legs out the side of the bed and carefully place them on the floor, preparing myself for not being able to stand. I'm still trembling from the mix of adrenaline and fear.
I follow him out, still adjusting to the brightness. When I get to the kitchen, he's spooning hot chocolate mix into two mugs. I settle myself in a stool at the island. Now the embarrassment is kicking in. I look insane. He ran into my room because I was screaming bloody murder.
"Do you like hot chocolate?" I nod with a short, shy smile. He has his sculpted bare back to me, continuing making them. "My Mom used to make them for me when I made a bad dream, when I was a kid of course." He explains. "If I was lucky she would even put a marshmallow on top."
I rack my brain, trying to remember the dream. It vanished from my mind as soon as I woke up and now I'm left with the ghost of it crawling up my back, making me shiver with discomfort. It was about Nate, I know it was. They've all been about him.
Thomas places the hot chocolate in front of me, two marshmallows bobbing on the top. He takes a few steps away, leaning back against the counter.
I can't help but look at his body tense and flex as he moves. A faint crease line from his pillow runs along his cheek. I desperately try to keep my eyes on the top half of him. I don't want to be caught looking somewhere I shouldn't be, which is kind of hard because he's just in his boxers.
I cup the mug with both of my hands that are covered by the ends of my sleeved hoodie. I take a long first sip, the warm liquid slipping sweetly past my lips. Even though I'm trying my hardest not to look at him, I feel his green eyes staring at me. I take another sip and he watches my mouth as I do so.
"My Dad is getting remarried." He announces, his voice completely detached from any emotion. I suppose he's trying to get me to think about something else. "I got the invitation in the mail the other day." It clicks it my brain. That must've been what he was looking at.
"Your parents are separated?" I ask quietly.
"He walked out on us."
"I'm sorry." I offer him my condolences but he shrugs, brushing it off.
"He'd been having an affair for years. My sister and I were too young to fully realize what was happening between our parents. We didn't notice the animosity at home because Mom was so good at pretending everything was okay. It was only until the day he left."
"That's awful." I shake my head.
"I haven't really stayed in contact with him at all. My sister has." He pauses for a moment. "I don't think I could go to the wedding. It feels like celebrating the fact that he abandoned us for another women which completely ruined my Mom."
He trails off sadly and I chew the corner of my mouth, watching him look into his mug. Something twinges inside me, I feel bad for him. I take another sip, unsure what to say next.
"What was the dream about?"
I stiffen up. I can't tell him about Nate. I know he's just opened up to me but it feels impossible for me to even talk about it out loud. I can't even bring myself to talk. I don't want to because if I do I'll sound how I feel. Scared.
"It was just a nightmare." I whisper, dismissing it. By the way he looks at me, I can tell neither of us believe me.
"Do you have them often?" He tilts his head down to look at me, almost to encourage me to tell the truth.
"Sometimes." I shrug lightly before clearing my throat. "I got a job." I change the subject. "I went into Shortcuts, the hair salon and they pretty much hired me on the spot." His lips curl up at the ends. "See, I was a hairdresser before I-." I stop myself, faltering.
Before I what? Left? I can't tell him that either.
For an instant, I struggle to find something to say. All the while, he's searching my eyes. He has the kind of stare that either makes you want to squirm uncomfortably or take all your clothes off and right now, I want to shrivel up and disappear.
"But yeah. I got a job." I finish the rest of my hot chocolate and put it down on the white marble surface of the island. "I should go back to bed." I hop off of the stool. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, it was really nice."
He collects my mug and places it with his in the sink. I'll probably have to wash them up tomorrow. He follows me out the kitchen, turning each light out as we go. I run my tongue along my teeth, they've become slightly fury from the sugar.
"I should brush my teeth." I step inside the bathroom, standing in front of the large mirror that covers the whole wall above the sink. I'm a mess. My hair is wild and my eyes are dark and tired.
Thomas leans his back against the doorframe, crossing a leg over to support himself. As I begin to brush my teeth, he just stands there, his arms now folded across his muscled chest. He watches me in the mirror and I hang my head down. I feel intimidated under his constant stare. I wonder what he's thinking about.
I don't know why he does- but he stays with me until I'm finished. I rinse my brush off and put it back before glancing over at him. His eyes are resting shut. His tanned chest rises and falls steadily.
"I'm sorry I woke you up." I apologize, still embarrassed. He peels his eyes open at me, stretching into a stand.
"Don't worry about it." He smiles politely.
He's smiling. Not smirking or grinning. He's smiling.
It makes my stomach flip. He has a nice smile, it's gentle, comforting, placid and because of his messy hair and creased eyes it looks quite dopey.
I'm starting to understand how so many girls get so easily swept by him. He has some sort of charm about him obviously. But now he's being different. I can't help but get the feeling that not many people see this side of him.
We both stop outside the doors to our separate bedrooms. Turning around, I look up at him.
"Goodnight Thomas."
"Night."
****
Thomas
Ten.
I let out a puff of air through gritted teeth.
Eleven. Twelve.
I let my whole body relax after putting the weight down. Sam finishes off his last few reps while I reach for my water, taking a long swig. Even when I've finished the exercises, I tend not to chat while working out. I like to be solely focused on it so I don't speak much.
After taking another sip, a bright pink blur catches my eye. A girl across the gym, in matching sports bra and leggings enters. Her hair is tied up, swinging side to side as she walks. It takes her almost no time to make eye contact with me to which I nod up at her.
She's hot but wearing too much makeup to actually be planning on doing a proper workout.
"So." Sam says in a long breath. "How's Isabelle?" My attention is almost instantly diverted off of the girl.
The sounds of Isabelle's screams last night rattle through my ears. They were the kind of sound that makes your heart drop and your stomach somersault.
Should I tell him about it? I pause a moment before saying anything, weighing the decision over in my head.
"Sam. You can't repeat this, okay?" He frowns concerned. "The other day, I saw these bruises Isabelle's her arm. They were... big and dark." The mental image makes me uncomfortable.
"Oh shit. Really?"
"Yeah and last night, she had a nightmare. She was screaming and it woke me up. I don't even know what time it was."
"Seriously?" I sit down on a bench, looking up at him, still holding my water in my hands.
"I'll be honest, it scared the shit out of me. I got up and went straight into her room. I didn't know what to think, if there was an attacker or if someone had broken in. She was really shaken up. We talked for bit and then went back to bed." I don't bother telling him about me making hot chocolates for both of us. There's just some things he doesn't need to know. "Putting the pieces together..." I sigh. "It doesn't look good. I don't know, it's worrying."
"It looks like you're both worrying about each other now." Sam picks up the weight and begins his next set on his other arm.
"What?" I question, puzzled. "What does that mean?"
"We were in class... and she was asking about you. She said... you weren't yourself and... to be honest... I noticed it too." He says between each rep.
"I got invited to my Dad's wedding." I rub my face and stand.
"Right, well that would be it in. How do you feel?" I shrug, picking up the same weight again.
"I don't know. I don't know what to feel."
One. Two.
**
After another hour at the gym, I get back to my apartment. I'm greeted by a delicious smell so I can only assume that Isabelle is cooking. I quickly put my things in my room and undress out of my sweaty shirt before putting on some deodorant and heading into the kitchen.
Silently, I lean against the arch frame, my arms folded across my bare chest. She's got her back turned from me, wearing a light blue hoodie and black pants.
"What are you making?" I ask. My voice startles her and she jumps.
The empty glass bowl, she was about to transfer across to the island, slips out of her hands and crashes to the floor.
"Shit." She ducks down as I stand up straight and begin to walk around the island to help her. "I'm sorry."
The smashed glass has sprayed all over the floor.
"Ow." She winces, attempting to frantically pick up the shards of glass.
Drops of blood spill onto the floor beneath her. She's cut her hand.
"Hey. Stop." I bend down to her level where she's flustered and now bleeding. She opens her palm to reveal a laceration across the middle that's leaking dark red blood. "Sit on the counter." I instruct her and she does as she's told.
I grab a wad of paper towels that I keep on the side and hand it to her.
"Apply pressure on it. I've got a first aid kit somewhere." Stepping carefully over the glass, I hunt around for it, finding a dustpan along the way. "Hold your arm up above your head."
Speedily, I sweep up as much of the glass I can into a pile out of the way before standing in front of where Isabelle is sat.
"I'm sorry. I-I didn't see you there and I didn't mean to break your bowl." She frets. Her panicked breath meets the bare skin of my chest.
"It's fine." I open up the kit. "Let's have a look." She shyly offers her hand out to me, lifting the paper towels off of it. They've soaked up the majority of the blood. "It got you good huh?"
I pick out a wipe before delicately holding her hand in mine. My thumb grazes her cold palm and I notice her shiver underneath my touch. I push the sleeve of her hoodie over her wrist, out of the way. When I move the wipe to the cut she winces, gripping onto my hand to stop me.
"Sorry." She whispers, embarrassed.
I flick a small smile up at her. As the light catches her, it brings out golden flecks in her brown eyes. A series of faint freckles speckle across the bridge of her nose. I'd never noticed either of those things until now.
She desperately avoids looking directly at me and I snap out of it.
"Does it hurt?" I speak with the same quiet and calmness.
"It just stings a little." Her soft hand falls off of mine, allowing me to clean the cut once again. I slowly and gently do so. I find a bandage to place over the top of it, securing it with tape.
"There you go." Reluctantly, I step away from her.
In those few moments, we were so close. The closest we've ever been and even more so because she felt so vulnerable.
"I'm sorry I broke your bowl." She reiterates.
"It's nothing. It's fine, I promise." I straighten up. "Pinky promise." She lets out a small smile as I get rid of all the glass and drops blood on the floor. After a minute, she clears her throat as if she's collected herself.
"To answer your question, I am making cookies." She proudly gestures to a tray of them in the oven already.
She hops off the counter and resumes whatever she was doing before like nothing ever happened. I stand against one of the counters, watching her. My arms are folded once again.
I like that I've just helped her out in some sort of way. It feels good, rewarding. She measures out the next ingredient and then looks over her shoulder, checking that I'm still here.
"So, I heard you were worried about me." I tease. She rolls her eyes.
"Well that's the last time I tell Sam anything." We both chuckle. "And I wouldn't say I was worried. I was more concerned."
"That's synonymous with worried." I return and she scrunches her face up, trying not to let out a smile.
"Yeah okay. Whatever." She shies and turns to busy herself with baking again.
"Why were you concerned then?" I pose the question to her, intrigued to hear her reply.
"You seemed... different. We'd hardly spoken at all but it makes sense now because you told me about the invite to the wedding." I pause, her comment reminding me of my conversation with Sam.
"Are you going to tell me what last night was really about?" Despite having her back to me, I watch her seize up. It seems I've touched a nerve by saying that.
"So what kind of frosting do you think we should have?" She avoids my question as if I'd never said anything in the first place. I should've just kept my big mouth shut. "I've got vanilla, dark chocolate or white."
"Vanilla." I answer.
I'm pretty sure it's her favorite.
****
- Frankie Kate