Reed sat next to me, slouching against the big, overstuffed armrest. He turned his head to give me a casual look. I didn’t blame him for keeping his distance; after all, a brush of skin contact with me for more than a few seconds was painful. I returned his smile and watched him lean his head against the back of the couch, his focus back on the TV screen where Keanu Reeves was running into a flip off a pillar as bullets tore the lobby of the building apart around him, gray stone turning to dust and flashing through the air as he moved in slow motion.
“I could do that,” I said under my breath. The bullets fly around Keanu and his billowing black trench coat as he kicked a black-clad guard so hard the man flew through the air.
“That looks so fake,” Scott said. “How old is this movie, anyway?”
“1999,” Zack said. “I was in middle school at the time, and it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen when my dad rented it for us to watch.”
“You’re kinda like that creepy thirty-year old guy that waits for his teenage girlfriend outside the local high school,” Scott said, shaking his head.
“Excuse me?” I said with a raised eyebrow. “He’s twenty-five and I’m eighteen. Your girlfriend had a centennial.”
“What?” Kat’s ears perked up. “Yeah, but I don’t remember any of it. I’m just as mature as you guys.”
“Setting the bar kinda low there, Princess,” Reed said under his breath.
I saw Scott laugh, his face split into a wide grin. “She may not remember any of it, but I’m telling you she’s got muscle memory from—”
Kat slapped him on the shoulder, her mouth open in faux outrage. “Shush!”
“I rest my case,” Reed said with an upturned eyebrow.
It got quiet again after that and the noise of the onscreen action took over. I leaned my head against Zack’s arm, and felt his heavy sweater against the back of my neck. I lolled my head to look at him as he watched the movie, focused intently on the screen. He was handsome, still as much so as the first time I had seen him. His spiked sandy blond hair and brown eyes were winning combination to me. My eyes followed his smooth jawline, and I found myself wanting to reach out and run my fingers over his face, no glove, but I resisted. I settled against his arm and watched the movie, feeling warm. The smell of the food and the light dab of my boyfriend’s cologne combined into a single, hearty, familiar aroma that put me at ease.
The last light was dying outside the windows, the sun sinking below the horizon. The flickering of the TV from the movie was reassuring, and kept me looking back even as my eyelids started to get heavy. I took a slow breath, and a moment later I jerked back to wakefulness. The sun was gone, the TV was off, and Zack was looking at me with a faint smile.
“Did I fall asleep?” I asked, blinking at him.
“Yep,” he said, still sweetly endearing. He had a glove on his hand, and it brushed against my cheek, coming to rest next to my eye as he kissed me on the temple.
I looked around; the couches were empty. “Everyone else…did they leave?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “They left a while ago, when the movie was over. We didn’t want to wake you.”
“Did they at least have fun?”
“Yes,” he said and brushed his hand against my hair, stirring my bangs.
“Oh, good.” I ran a gloved hand over my face, as though I could brush the sleepiness out of my eye. I felt wetness at the corner of my mouth and wiped at it. “Was I drooling?”
He laughed under his breath. “Just a little.”
I felt sleep bear down on me again, teasing my eyes to close. “Okay. If they’re all gone, I’m gonna go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” he said in a whisper. “I’ll carry you to your room.” I didn’t protest as I felt him take up my weight and lift me from the couch. I heard him strain as he did it, but every step was smooth, and he was warm; I was pressed against his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt, with his smell filling my nose.
He lay me down on the bed and I felt his lips again, this time on mine. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“Stay,” I said, and my hand went to his face, and I traced the line of his jaw as I watched him through half-closed eyes.
“You want me to?”
“Mmmhmm.”
I rolled to the far side of the bed and felt it shift as he got in, but he kept a foot of space between us. It was the only way to be sure I wouldn’t accidentally roll over in the middle of the night and press my face against his. I could hear his breathing in the darkened room. The lamps outside radiated a faint glow that spread along the ceiling and the corners of the room. After a moment I heard him murmur something. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too, Zack.” My hand made its way across the bed and found his in the usual place, and I felt our fingers interlace through the leather both of us wore. It should have been so cold, so distant, but I felt the warm reassurance of his touch, even through the cowhide. I threaded my fingers through his and gave a gentle squeeze before I drifted off again.
“Hey,” Zack said, his face clear in front of mine. We lay on the bed, and the light was more intense now, sparkling against the walls, almost surreal. Zack’s skin carried a darker tone, as though the shadows around the room infused it, casting him in stark black and white contrast.
“Hey,” I said, and reached out. My gloves were gone, and so were my sleeves, and everything else. Naked, my fingers brushed against his jaw, he drew a sharp breath and his eyes closed. “Hurts?”
“Just the opposite,” he said, suddenly close to me, his skin pressed against mine. “I could stand some more of it.” He smiled without showing his teeth. “So, does this make you the girl of my dreams?”
“You always use that cheesy line, you know.”
His kisses were like fire, like a sweet hot shade of touch. I knew they weren’t real, yet they felt fuller than the real thing. I looked into his eyes and felt the stir of something else there, like I could look deeper into him, and I resisted the call from within to do it. I focused on the sense of his skin against mine in the dream, and held onto that moment, that feeling.
“How do you do this?” he moaned as I ran a hand over his chest, causing him to tingle.
I could feel what he felt as I did it. “Dreamwalking is part of my metahuman abilities,” I said, kissing him on the neck and sending him into ecstasy. “You know that.”
“Yeah, but I get the feeling that the other people you’ve talked to in your dreams didn’t get this…” He shuddered, his mouth opened slightly and he let out short, gasping breaths, “…sensation from being in a dream with you.”
“True,” I said, and kissed him on the bicep, causing him to sigh loudly. “But that’s because with them, I was insubstantial; a ghost without touch.” I felt myself fade into a shadow, as though I had become blurry, and I passed through him, reappearing at his back, where I planted a series of slow kisses and a caress along his shoulder, causing him to shudder. “I’m only real in your dreams.”
“I’m…not complaining. But you seem pretty real when I’m awake, too.”
“Yeah, but you can’t touch me there. Not like this. Not like here. I wish we could…” I ran a hand over his shoulder.
“This is working plenty well enough for me,” he said and moaned again as I traced my fingers along his spine. “This is unlike anything I’ve ever…it’s just…so good.”
I smiled and kissed him again, back in front of him now. I looked into his eyes through the haze of the dreamwalk, and I paused. His eyes were normally perfect, creamy brown, like the color of sugared and creamed coffee. “What?” he moaned as I hesitated, and he pushed himself against me again, brushing against my skin, and he sighed, a little noise of ecstasy. I held fast, though, unmoving, as he moaned in pleasure from the feel of my skin against his in this dream world, and he dissolved into the sounds of a man deeply, totally satisfied.