by M. W. Muse
Several minutes later, he still hadn't gotten himself together, hadn't relaxed his posture at all. I could almost hear him chanting, slowly, slowly, slowly! to himself as he
tried to get the thought of my leg out of his head. Even though he was incredibly handsome, I had to admit his response was adorable. The skirt was an excellent idea.
It was an hour-long ride to the botanical garden, and we still had a good forty- five minutes left. Don seemed more uncomfortable than he did last night. I was surprised that I felt at ease so quickly after it happened. And the reason, I guessed, was because I was beginning to find his behavior a little funny.
"Is everything okay?" I asked in a teasing tone. "Er, yeah." He shifted in his seat again.
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling, not that he would notice—he hadn't made eye contact since he moved our hands away from my leg.
"You seem awfully quiet," I said once I knew I'd be able to get it out without giggling.
"Do I?" Still no eye contact.
Oh, it was time to have some fun with him. But I needed an excuse to let go of his hand. After deliberating for a moment, I felt a piece of hair dangling by my eye. Perfect.
I leaned forward, positioned the visor with my right hand, and slipped my left one out of his grasp to fix my hair in the mirror while watching his reaction with my peripheral vision.
I heard him catch his breath and saw him turn his head in my direction. Once he realized what I was doing, he moved his hand from the console back to his own lap, not thinking anything of me taking mine away. Good.
"So have you ever been to this garden before?" I asked casually while I continued playing with my hair.
"No, I, um, I've heard about it, though." He seemed to be struggling, but continued. "I thought it'd be something you'd like."
"If you picked it out, I'm sure I'll love it," I said, glancing at him.
He flashed his eyes at me and smiled quickly, then turned his gaze to the road.
I put the visor back into its regular position and eased into my seat. I leaned my head back and rubbed my neck on a sigh, letting my fingers trail down sensually.
Don slammed on the brakes, and my eyes flew open to see him swerve around another car. "Sorry, sorry!"
Okay, maybe being playful wasn't such a good idea. He just seemed to be getting even more worked up.
I put my hands in my lap and behaved, but after several minutes, he was still tense, and apparently, not going to make a move to retrieve my hand. I glanced at him, and his palm was clamped down on his leg. To keep from holding mine? I didn't know. Maybe If I just took his back, he'd relax.
I sighed, and he blinked his eyes in my direction for a fraction of a second and back to the road. Then I leaned over, watching him while I made my move. I started to slowly slip my hand under his, with my palm skimming his leg. He looked down and, realizing what I was doing, released his grip, letting me wrap my fingers around his. His breathing sped up as he turned his attention to the road..
Touching his leg sent my heart racing like it did last night when I touched his chest. I could feel the corded muscles and the heat radiating off him. I wanted to trace along the length of it and savor every detail, but as I watched him I noticed I wasn't the only one enjoying this. Like last night, he seemed to enjoy me touching him more than he enjoyed it when he touched me. Now that our hands were on his leg instead of mine, he seemed even more tense.
I wasn't sure if I should move them back to the safety of the console. Having them there earlier didn't seem to help. But I knew we couldn't move our hands to my lap. At least his legs were covered. I decided to keep them on his leg. If it became too much for him, then he could be the one to move them.
We sat quietly with our hands on his leg for the rest of the trip. And I didn't miss his eyes glancing quickly at my legs when he helped me out of the car once we arrived.
The garden was beautiful. There were over two hundred acres filled with thousands of rare shrubs, flowers, and trees nestled against a serene lake. Among the varieties were magnolias, camellias, azaleas, Japanese maples, and endless roses.
Don was back to his regular, charming self. As he guided me around the grounds, he pointed out the antique variety of roses, and we continued walking around and easily talking. For lunch, we visited the restaurant adjacent to the grounds and ate at the picnic table nestled at the bend of a stream. After eating, we walked one of the several trails that veered off the main grounds and eased into a manicured forest. We talked, laughed, and held hands throughout the rest of the afternoon.
After we returned to his car and left, I shifted in my seat to face him. "Thank you.
I've never seen anything so beautiful."
He reached up and stroked my cheek with a soft caress, looking at me with gentle eyes. He made me feel special, like there was no other place he'd rather be than here with me. "The pleasure was mine," he said, and then his hand dropped from my face, and he turned to watch the road.
"And all those flowers get to keep living for many people's enjoyment, rather than living and dying for one person's enjoyment," I chided playfully.
"True." The corner of his mouth twitched.
As I continued to watch him, he glanced over at me and then gently took my hand from my lap and put our joined hands on his lap. I briefly feared a repeat of this morning and watched his face for any sign of tension, but found none.
"I'm going to miss you next week."
He sighed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm not looking forward to you leaving. But I want you to have a good time." He glanced over at me and then back at the road.
"Did you do anything fun when you were at the beach this week?" "I parasailed. I'd never done that before, so that was cool."
"Uh-uh! That's not for me. I'm terrified of heights." "Really? I wouldn't have guessed that."
"Yeah, I instinctively want to grab hold of something so that I don't fall, but my hands and feet start sweating. Sweaty extremities would make a firm grip impossible,
so it just adds to the fear. My stomach gets all knotted up, too. It's silly; I know," I said, shaking my head.
He rubbed my knuckles. "It's not silly. I have fears, too." "What are you afraid of?"
Wrong question. He tensed up again like this morning. "Um, I told you about my fears last night."
Ah, his fears about our relationship and other things I wasn't sure about. I didn't really know how to respond, so I didn't.
"Do you mind if we stop by my mom's house before I take you home? I brought you something back from the beach."
"All right. I've never been to your house."
"Well, you don't have to be worried about being hounded by my mom. She went out of town again."
When he turned onto a cul-de-sac, I knew we were almost there. I looked down at my lap, thinking about what I'd say if he asked me in. His mom wasn't home. His house would be empty. What if he wanted to give me a tour? That tour would surely include his bedroom. This morning he was tense being alone in the car with me. How would he react being alone with me in his bedroom? How would I react? I tried not to hyperventilate.
"We're here," he said as he turned into a driveway. I was too anxious to look. He got out and came around to my side of the car. Once he opened the door to let me out, he took my hand and guided me toward his house.
When I finally looked up, I yanked my hand away from his to cover my mouth as I gasped. My knees grew weak and tears formed in my eyes.
"What's wrong?" Don asked anxiously, rubbing my arm.
But I couldn't answer him. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. I was staring at a house I knew I'd never been to before, but I had definitely seen. It wasn't a perfect imitation. It was the real thing.
The house that stood before me was the one from in my dream.
Chapter 9
There was no mistaking this house. The traditional feel, the side porch, even the patio table was there. I began to cry, not understanding this. Why would I dre
am about a house that actually existed?
I'd never had dreams that came true before. I knew it was impossible for the rest of that dream to come true. I remembered the lightning wasn't even real lightning.
"Please, Season, tell me what's wrong," Don begged. "Er, I don't know how to say it . . ."
I continued looking at the house. I stepped closer to it, staring intently. I had to be logical about this. Maybe I had seen his house before. I knew I'd never been here, but we were friends for a long time. I could've seen a picture of it. If so, I was so obsessed with Don that it could be possible I remembered it on some subconscious level.
"Season," he said again, his tone reproachful.
"I had a dream the other night, and you were in it." I tore my gaze from the house to look at him. "And so was this house," I whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"The dream was really short, but you were sitting over there." I pointed to the patio table. "Do you know what 1887 means?"
"What are you talking about?"
"In my dream, I walked over to you, and you handed me a brooch, or something, that had the numbers 1887 on it. You said, 'Be careful.' Then I woke up."
"I don't know what 1887 means."
"I've been having weird dreams lately, so I didn't think much about this one. But now that I see this house . . ."
"What kind of dreams have you been having?" "Storms, tornados," I said, shrugging.
"I heard there was a tornado warning last week. Maybe you were just scared about that."
"No, the dreams started before that day." "When did they start?"
"The night you asked me out."
Don's eyes suddenly turned very sad. He let go of my hand and looked down to the ground. "Do you think you're dreaming these dreams because of me?"
"Oh, no," I said, squatting down to force his eyes to meet mine. "No. I don't think that at all."
"Then, why?" I could tell he didn't quite believe me.
"I don't think that dreams are always literal. I think the storms represent me dealing with stress or nerves. If they were related to you, then I had those dreams to help me get over my nerves about our first date."
"But you just said your dreams weren't because of me."
"I meant that they weren't about you, literally. I've been dealing with other stress, too." I was only trying to make Don feel better, but then it clicked. "Oh my . . . I know . .
." I gasped, trying to glance away from him, but his eyes followed me. "What?"
"The dreams didn't start Saturday night. They started Friday night. After my party. I woke up Saturday morning to a storm. I remembered I had a dream, but I woke up too quickly and couldn't remember. Could not remember . . ."
"Season?"
"When I woke up I tried to think back to the dream I'd just had, but I just stared out my window at the storm with a foggy head. Then I looked at my alarm clock and got out of bed. What if . . . What if the reason I couldn't remember the dream was because I was still dreaming? It was storming outside, so if I was dreaming about stormy weather, maybe I didn't realize when my dream ended, and when I really woke up."
"Yeah, but I showed up at your party that night and was out of line. Maybe I am
the reason you're stressed." His comment distracted me from my train of thought. "Why would you think that?"
"Season, I held your hands, touched your lips, and held you tightly without an explanation." Don closed his eyes and shook his head. "I was supposed to be just a friend, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't keep my hands off you." He opened his eyes. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you, either," he murmured. "I'd been struggling with my feelings for you for so long that my behavior that night caught me by surprise. After you opened my gift," he said, looking down at my wrist where my watch was, "I left. I knew I had to get out of there quickly before I did anything else that was inappropriate."
"You were not being inappropriate." I reached up to stroke his face and heard him catch his breath, but I didn't stop. "How you acted the night of my party was the best part of my entire day. When you asked me out the next night, I was beyond thrilled. There aren't words to express how awesome I felt in that moment."
Don smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes. I wanted to do more to help him understand how I felt. I took my hand from his face, put both my arms around his neck, and stretched up on my tiptoes to hug him close to me. He wrapped his arms around my back, and I rested my head against his chest while he squeezed me tightly. He bent his head down and kissed the top of my head, his face buried in my hair.
"When I figured out which stress caused my dreams, it had nothing to do with you, so don't worry about my feelings for you. I understand why you're scared. This is new for both of us." A thought occurred to me to help lighten his mood. "Maybe I shouldn't have made this so easy for you. I should've played hard-to-get."
Don chuckled, and I smiled into his chest at the sound of his laugh. "I have a hard time keeping my manners around you. If you'd played hard-to-get, I would've thought you didn't like me and felt like some overbearing prick!"
I laughed at his teasing tone, and he squeezed me harder. I slid one hand down his chest and rubbed soothing circles as I felt the muscles in my body relax into his embrace.
"Maybe we should finish this conversation inside. There's no telling what the neighbors are thinking right now," he teased.
Inside? My heart started pounding against his chest, and he could feel it. He stepped back and lifted my face up to meet his eyes.
"What's wrong?"
Uh-oh. I was freaking out at the thought of being alone with him in his house.
How could I tell him I was a chicken?
I smiled widely up at him. His eyebrows came together, but he half-smiled back
at me.
"I'm just reacting to the thought of being alone with you in your house," I said,
trying to sound teasing, but my voice broke twice.
"Oh, well, then that's an acceptable response." He laughed, and released my face to lead me into his house.
Once inside, I surprisingly felt more comfortable. I guessed it was because I wasn't staring at the house from my dream anymore.
"It's in my room," he said, and my heart started pounding again. Luckily, my chest wasn't up against his, so he wouldn't notice this time. "Would you like to come up with me?"
My heart took off in a sprint. I inhaled deeply, trying to settle it, but that didn't work. "Sure."
He took my hand and led me up the stairs to his room. He opened the door and released me as we stepped inside. "Er, it's kinda messy," he said apologetically. It really wasn't.
"This is nothing. You should see my room." Oh no! Was that an invitation?
Don laughed a short, nervous laugh and looked down. Then he glanced at his desk by the window. "Umm, it's over there."
He walked to the desk, and I stayed planted by the door. "It's nothing big," he said as he pulled out a conch shell. Actually, it was big.
He brought it over to me. "I just wanted to get you something to show you I was thinking about you while I was away. I would have given it to you last night, but I already had so much planned that I didn't want to overwhelm you."
"It's beautiful," I said as I took it from his hands and studied it.
"I picked this one because it has light peach colors, like your skin, and tones of blue and green, like your eyes."
I looked at him, smiling. "Thank you. It was very thoughtful. Now, I know not to come back from the beach empty-handed." I laughed.
"I expect something just as creative. No key chain." He chuckled. "C'mon, let me show you the rest of the house."
Excellent idea. Maybe if I got out of his bedroom, my heart would return to a healthier pace.
Don showed me around the beautiful house, which boasted all the latest amenities. Then he took me out the back door onto a covered patio. It had several ceiling fans, a fireplace, and an outdoor kitchen. We walked to the end of the patio and starte
d to descend down the patio stairs when I looked up.
"You have a swimming pool?" I didn't know why, but I was shocked, though his house had everything else.
"Yeah, you should come take a swim when you get back from your vacation." We walked down the stairs and around the pool.
"You do realize a swimsuit is more revealing than a skirt, don't you?" Was he for real? He had a tough time touching my leg in a skirt. He'd likely have a stroke touching skin exposed in a bikini.
Don threw back his head and guffawed. After he composed himself, somewhat, he looked at me. "I do realize that, yes, but I'll be expecting it then," he said, still laughing.
We walked up to the patio, and he pulled a chair out for me before taking the one next to me and holding both my hands, resting them on the table.
"You never did tell me why you're having those dreams. Even though they're not because of me, I still don't like the fact that you're having them."
"It's a long story."
"Will you tell me about it?"
"I'd like to, but it really doesn't make any sense." "Maybe I can help you figure it out."
"Okay." I took a deep breath before beginning. "Do you remember last night when we were talking about our families, and I told you about my parents?"
"Yes. You said they died in a car accident."
"Well, what I actually said was that the story was they died in a car accident. And well, the night of my party, um, Melissa told me my mother didn't die back then."
"What happened to her?"
"I'm not entirely sure. She said she was a powerful woman, but there were people after her, so she had to leave."
"Wow."
"Yeah, but she said she told me this because my mom has decided to come back for me on my eighteenth birthday. She said my mom may be contacting me, but she wasn't sure how she'd go about that." Might as well lay it all out. "She also said I'd be going through some changes over the next year."
"Why is she coming for you then? What kind of changes?" Don's face was filled with concern.
