The Dream
He floated into her dreams like a whisper spoken so softly that it was barely audible to the ear. He pulled her against him tightly, curling his arm around her protectively. She felt secure lying there with him. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so safe with anyone, not even her ex-husband, but something in the back of her mind murmured warnings. Whatever her brain was trying to warn her about didn’t seem so important at the moment. She would worry about it later… much later… like tomorrow.
She ran her fingers sleepily along the arm that hugged her waist while his fingers danced along her stomach. The rhythmic caress of his fingers lulled her further into her miasma. “Is this a dream?” she sighed through her drowsy haze, as he wrapped his arm tighter around her. His answer was a low rumble followed by a soft kiss to the back of her neck.
It couldn’t be real. Everything about the moment was completely wrong from the tender way he touched her to the fact that she was even with him. She couldn’t be sharing her bed with Logan, not after he’d told her about Jean and the baby, not after she’d told him there was nothing left between them. She couldn’t be that naïve, that stupid, that easy. Calloused fingers grazed the round of her hip and her heart quickened in response.
No, this is really what happened, she said to herself. They’d had a couple of glasses of wine together and talked a little more, settling into conversation like old friends. She’d been pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t bad on the conversation front. Oh, they’d had their awkward moments while they talked, but they quickly covered those by changing the subject or marching ahead in their conversation. Then, she’d told him goodnight. She’d stood in her doorway and watched him disappear into the night on his bike.
She hadn’t walked him to the door after she put the wine glasses in the kitchen. She hadn’t allowed him to kiss her on the cheek as if they really were old friends. She hadn’t turned her head so that their lips met. She hadn’t kissed him until she thought she would melt on the spot, and she hadn’t invited him back into her house or her bed. No, she hadn’t done any of that; that was all just part of the dream. None it was really happening.
She arched her back slightly, reveling in the warmth his body provided. She shivered as his lips skimmed over her neck, to her jaw, to that spot behind her ear. A small jolt ran through her when he nibbled on her earlobe, trying to force her back to reality. Instead, the jolt melted into a warm feeling that settled in the bottom of her stomach and spread to her thighs.
Too real, this was too real to be a dream, but she shushed the thought before she fully let it form in her mind. Admitting so would mean admitting that she was hurting two people she didn’t want to hurt. How could she do this to Jean, the only true friend she’d known for years? And Joaquín, her beautiful, kindhearted Joaquín, how could she do this to him?
She arched her hips into Logan’s touch, silently pleading for just a little bit more. Why hadn’t she just made Logan go home when he came to her? She knew the answer to that. He needed someone to talk to, and she was always happy to lend a sympathetic ear. She didn’t believe he’d come to her in hope of pity sex. But he was like some kind of drug that held her in a hypnotized state, slowly causing her to lose all self-control. Not real, not real, she reminded herself. It was just a vivid dream. Oh hell, who was she kidding?
He was driving her insane. That’s what was truly happening. Before long, she wouldn’t know up from down because of him. She would be more like those women she watched on those Lifetime movies and less like herself. She would become one of those women who only wanted what he wanted. But what could she do? She couldn’t seem to hide from him. She let her arm snake behind her, up his neck, across the rough whiskers of his face to his hair. Maybe, that was what she wanted.
Part of her really wanted to believe that this was a dream, that in reality she was tangled in her sheets while dreaming of Logan. Another part of her knew this wasn’t a dream and that she would regret this in the morning. She heard him mumble something in her ear, but she focused on the way his breath seemed to kiss her skin instead of his voice, letting instinct take over. She would worry about everything in the morning.
Ororo was sleep long before he was. She breathed softly beside him, curled at his side. He brushed a loose lock from her face. She looked at peace with herself. She smiled in her sleep, and he recalled someone”his mother, maybe”telling him that people smiled in their sleep when an angel visited them. He traced the line of her smile with one finger.
This was the first time he had really spent the night with her. Usually, he was gone long before she woke up. Why? He didn’t know. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time. Perhaps, he believed that if he left he wouldn’t get attached. He believed that if he didn’t stay the night he wouldn’t become too involved.
Well, he proved that theory wrong. Twice, in fact. First, it was Jean. Now, it was Ororo. And he still didn’t know what he was going to do about Jean. He hadn’t lied to Ororo when he said he thought he had strong feelings for Jean, but the way he felt about Jean was different than the feelings he had for Ororo. And he hoped that she didn’t think he was using her as a replacement for Jean.
He didn’t want to hear about Joaquín or how she felt about him. On one hand, he cared because that was the competition, but on the other hand, he didn’t really want to know. If she told him, it would always be on the back of his mind. He was already bothered by the two of them enough. He didn’t need to add her feelings for Joaquín to the mix. All that mattered was that he tried to make her understand his feelings.
He was getting better at telling Ororo how he really felt about her, but it was difficult because he’d never been so candid about his feelings. It just seemed like the more he told her, the more she wanted to hear. And honestly, he wasn’t that confident in talking about his feelings. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. He just felt a little stupid telling her all that stuff. It never came out the way he wanted it to, and it always sounded like some grade school shit.
Honestly, none of this had been what he expected when he came to her. He had wanted to see her, and he found her to be more sympathetic and forgiving than he deserved. She hadn’t accused or condemned. She hadn’t done any of the things he’d expected her to do. She listened to him with an open heart and an open mind, but she’d proven herself to be selfless time and time again.
He shouldn’t be surprised that she wanted to do something for herself. Maybe, this trip was what she needed. She deserved that for herself, but he couldn’t fight the feeling that if he let her leave she wouldn’t come back. She said she would, but he was afraid that she wouldn’t. Ororo shifted in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.
She was right, though. This couldn’t continue. They were sneaking around like they had something to hide, and he didn’t know who they were hiding from aside from Jean if they were really trying to keep it secret from her. In the beginning, they didn’t talk about it. He guessed it was just silently agreed that what they did stayed behind closed doors. Things were a little different now.
He wasn’t really sure where he was going with his life, and he wasn’t sure where he’d be when he took his last breath. But he did know that he wanted to spend this moment and every moment after with her. And he promised, if she would just let down some of her defenses, he would do right by her.
Ororo nestled her head deeper into Logan’s chest, trying in vain to hold on to sleep. All she wanted to do was sleep with Logan at her side. Ororo’s eyes snapped open as all thoughts of sleep fled from her mind. She pulled away from him, quickly, sitting up, cursing her ill judgment. Instinctively, she pulled the sheet closer to her body, dropping her head to hands. How could she have been so stupid? What had she been thinking allowing herself to believe what happened was a dream rather than bad judgment? Okay, so maybe she hadn’t really believed it was a dream, but she needed an excuse.
She cast a sidelong glance at Logan, blinking rapidly, as if maybe that would make him go away. She sighed deeply, turning her back to him. She would have to wake him up and make him leave, but not before explaining that everything that happened the night before was wrong, a mistake. It had to be their last mistake. They wouldn’t discuss it, and it would never happen again. This was not how she’d planned her great escape.
“How stupid can I be?” Ororo asked herself aloud.
“What were you stupid about, darlin’?” His voice was gravelly, deep, and stained with lust. His rough fingers caressed the bare skin of her back. She shivered in response before pulling herself away from him. She couldn’t give in to him, now. How was he supposed to ever take her seriously if she was always giving in to him?
She stood from the bed, wrapping the sheet around herself tightly. She turned to face him, trying to appear stern. He didn’t bother to cover his nudeness with the blanket, allowing her an eyeful of everything he had to offer. Her eyes trailed over sinewy muscles, admiring the strong beauty in them. How many nights has she spent memorizing the feel of those muscles?
At that moment, she wished she truly was an artist. She would’ve capture Logan just as he was in a drawing or a painting. Then again, neither a drawing nor a painting would have done him justice. Neither would’ve have captured the true essence of him. Focus, she said to herself. She centered her eyes on his face, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her distraction. No such luck. The look in his eyes said it all.
“About us, about this,” she finally answered.
“Do you really believe that?” he asked, his dark eyes searching hers. He sat up in the bed, leaning against the headboard. The look he gave her was almost pained. She wanted to crawl back into the bed beside him and tell him that she didn’t believe it. She turned her eyes away from him. She wouldn’t allow him to manipulate her like this.
“Yes, I do. I don’t know why I continue to play these games with you,” she said crossly.
She knew he wasn’t all to blame for what happened the night before. Maybe, he wasn’t to blame for any of what happened. Her actions, her decisions, were what caused that whole relationship to happen, but she needed to bait him into this argument. She needed the anger to fuel her, to lend her courage for that moment. She tried to latch on to all the anger she’d felt for him, but she was finding it harder and harder to do so.
“Everythin’ I told you, everythin’ I said to you was no game.” His voice remained steady and calm. It infuriated her how calm he managed to stay when she wanted him to argue and fight with her.
“Oh, right. I’m supposed to believe that after all this time you feel something for me,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I never said I didn’t feel nothin’ for you.”
“You didn’t have to tell me you didn’t feel anything for me. Your actions said everything I needed to know. If you truly cared for me, why did you treat me like I was nothing more than a quick fuck?”
“Why do you think I keep comin’ back if all I wanted was a quick fuck? I could get a quick fuck from anywhere.”
“I don’t know why you keep coming back. Maybe, it’s because you think I’m easy. Why go somewhere else when you can easily get it from me?”
“You think that’s why I came to you last night?” He sounded a little hurt. He had poured his heart out to her, shared his dreams, his fears, his expectations with her, and this was the kind of treatment he got from her in return.
She sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a second. “No, I don’t believe that’s why you came to me last night,” she admitted. She knew he came to her because he needed someone to talk to. He’d needed a friend. She didn’t know why he’d chosen her to be that friend. They’d never shared a decent conversation together, and she had never thought about considering him a friend.
“Then, why are you tryin’ so hard to make me the villain?” he asked.
She didn’t know. Making him the villain was her justification for everything that happened. She could easily place the blame on him, using a million different reasons why he treated her the way he did. He preyed on her vulnerability. He saw some weakness in her armor, and he used it against her. She was well-aware that she couldn’t place all the blame on him. She had her part in the whole mess, but she believed that she wouldn’t have to face herself everyday if she placed all the blame on Logan “ however wrong that thinking was. She couldn’t escape from herself, so why did she continue to lie to herself everyday?
“You have to understand,” she started in a gentler tone. “From the beginning, I convinced myself that you didn’t care about me. What other explanation was there? You never acknowledged me outside the bedroom, never talked to me, never told me you cared. What was I supposed to think?”
“You coulda talked to me.”
“And what was I supposed to say to you? Was I supposed to demand that you tell me how you feel about me? I would have been lucky if you even looked at me, much less tell me how you felt about me,” she said. Then, she added, “Besides, you’re not the most approachable person in the world.”
She almost slapped him when he had to the gall to laugh at her last statement. It wasn’t really a laugh, but more like an entertained chuckle, the kind of chuckle grownups gave children when they said something amusing. He wasn’t laughing at her, he said. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to get along with most of the time, and she wasn’t really telling him anything that he hadn’t already heard a thousand times before.
She wasn’t amused and she told him as much, but she allowed him to pull him into his arms, guiding her back to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap, looking into her eyes. She didn’t say a word as he articulated every feeling he had for her while his face turned an obscene shade of red. She’d never seen him blush, never, not even when two drunken female clubbers stripped naked, jumped on the bar, and started grinding right in his face. She figured saying such things to anyone was hard.
But the more he said, the more she found herself wanting to give in. Once he finished speaking, she didn’t know what to say to him. What was she getting herself into with this man? Why did he have the ability to make her want to break all her promises to herself?
She looked away from Logan, focusing her attention on anything but him. Someone standing in the bedroom door caught her attention. She gripped Logan’s shoulder tightly, but she didn’t speak. For a moment, her eyes latched firmly to those in the bedroom door. Then, Ororo pushed herself away from Logan, quickly, nearly losing her balance, as the person in the door turned to leave.
She heard the front door slam loudly, literally seeming to shake the house at its foundation. Ororo rushed to her window, watching the figure rush down the walkway. She wanted to open the window and call to the person, but she couldn’t move.
“Who was it?” Logan asked.
Ororo remained silent, even after the flash of red hair disappeared.
