Dreaming in Color

by Cameron Dane

  “Let's hope.” Jordan reached across his body and pointed out the window. “Because I think we're almost there.”

  Colin followed the line of Jordan's finger, and his heart started hammering as two islands, peppered on various sides by smaller islets, came into view. The pure turquoise mass of water slowly became darker blue the closer the water got to the iris of white sand beaches surrounding the islands. Lush green exploded within the inner portion of land, and nestled within the sea of trees, Colin could see the rooftops of some of the larger structures covered in terra-cotta tiles. Somewhere on the coast of the island Vanua Levu was a large bungalow where Colin and a handful of friends, three of whom also happened to be his partners in a private investigation firm back home in Austin, would live for the next ten days.

  Jordan whistled, and Colin could hear the murmurs of appreciation from other passengers on the plane as they looked out their windows too.

  “Man,” she said, “I think your suggestion of Fiji is going to end up being a great one. Would you look at how fucking beautiful that water is? I don't care that it's costing me and Tag a fortune. It will be worth it to have this celebration with no stress, only friends and Tag's immediate family.”

  Turning from the window, Colin grinned at Jordan. “You're going to be a beautiful bride.” He took her hand and squeezed. “I can already see you crying like a baby when you exchange your vows under the setting sun.”

  “Shut up.” Jordan punched him again. “I will not.” As an investigator and part owner of their business, Jordan took great offense at anyone accusing her of anything too girly.

  “Should we make a bet?”

  Jordan scrunched her brow at him, but shifted her focus through the window and back to the beauty below them. “What made you think of Fiji?” she asked.

  The pull of the islands drew Colin's stare again too. “Don't know.” He found his attention shifting from the main islands to the scattering of smaller ones, and couldn't shake the strange sensation of familiarity. “I must have read something or saw something on the Travel Channel.” Saying that aloud made Colin wonder if that was where the house on the beach in his dreams originated. Maybe it was as simple as seeing something beautiful on TV, and it implanting a bug in his subconscious. Tropical islands were certainly a far cry from Austin, Texas, or, more, Henderson, the smaller town in East Texas where he'd grown up, so he knew the setting hadn't come from his everyday life.

  “I didn't know when I threw the suggestion of Fiji out there that you'd actually jump at it.” Brushing the window with his fingertips, Colin imagined he reached through and touched the sand on the beach, already knowing it would be warm and ultrafine…because his feet had already stood in it, and he had already sank his toes into the smooth dampness of it as the water from the ocean lapped at its edges.

  “I don't know why,” Jordan murmured, “but when you said Fiji, something inside me knew it was right. After that, I couldn't imagine getting married anywhere else.”

  “Speaking of your wedding, where's Tag?” Colin mentioned Jordan's fiancé. He had been sitting next to the guy before having the dream. “Shouldn't you be sitting with him sharing this first view?”

  “All that man is thinking about is 'Where are the topless beaches?' and 'Will I have to eat fish and fruit the entire time we're here?'“ Jordan chuckled and pushed a few strands of short auburn hair behind her ear. “He's a few rows up. You nodded off on him so he came and got me, then went to talk with his dad. I think he might have gotten a glimpse at your hard-on.”

  Colin shifted and removed the magazine from over his crotch. “Problem resolved.”

  Jordan glanced down at Colin's lap. “So I see.” The mischievous twinkle in her soft brown eyes quickly turned subdued. “Are you really all right? Maybe you need to talk to someone about the power of these dreams. You shouldn't be hiding in them and living a life with someone who isn't real. Maybe they're just a manifestation of something buried deep inside you, and until you take care of whatever that is, they won't go away.”

  The dreams probably were about himself; Colin reluctantly accepted the truth in that, even though when he was asleep, everything about them felt so damn real and right, like he was supposed to be in that house with that man. If the dreams really were just a manifestation of himself, Colin didn't want to resolve whatever damage in his life or thoughts were responsible for creating them. If he did, the house and its owner would disappear.

  Colin didn't know if he would be able to handle the loss.

  “Colin?”

  “I'm fine,” Colin insisted. A dinging sound captured Colin and Jordan's attention, and the FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT sign soon followed. Colin closed his eyes and prepared for descent.

  * * * * *

  Colin braced his hands on the railing of the schooner, closing his eyes as the wind created by the speeding boat rushed over his face and rippled the fabric of his khaki shorts and T-shirt. Sun and heat beat down on his skin, and the occasional spray of water kicking up from the ocean tickled his arms and legs.

  Chatter from his friends carried over the wind flapping in the boat's sails; they all “oohed” and “ahhed” at the view. They also relentlessly teased Jordan for forcing them out on this boat tour when they'd barely set down their luggage in the rented bungalow. She told them they could rest in ten days when they got home, but while in Fiji, they were going to cram every damn bit of touristy fun in, even if it killed them.

  They would all bow to the woman's schedule for the next few days. Once the wedding took place and Jordan and Tag moved to the privacy of a honeymoon suite at one of Fiji's resort hotels, the rest of the small group would count on Tag to keep his bride very occupied. Especially since the woman had enforced a “no sex” rule since announcing their engagement four months ago. Tag had made no secret of complaining about his blue balls.

  Colin was happy for Jordan and Tag and even for his other travelmates, Alison and Tom, and Sylvia and Gayle. But damn, he did not kid himself that traveling with three happy couples wouldn't sting. Jordan had encouraged Colin to invite someone, but ever since he broke up with his previous partner and then started having the dreams, he didn't feel a connection to any man he would have wanted to bring to such a special occasion. At least none that exist outside of my head. To bring a virtual stranger on a trip halfway around the world, to have him sit there and watch a very dear friend get married… Something felt very dishonest about that.

  The deck shifted under Colin's feet as the boat slowed down, and he opened his eyes to the bright afternoon sun. He slid his sunglasses off the neck of his shirt, slipped them on, and noticed the boat decelerated as it approached the first in a series of small islands.

  As the boat slowly coasted past the first, Sylvia, the third partner in their PI firm, said to her girlfriend, “Honey, when we retire, we are going to live here. In that house.” She pointed at a bungalow-style home on stilts; the front portion of the house had a balcony that jutted out over the water.

  Her partner Gayle laughed and drew Sylvia into her arms. Sylvia leaned in for a kiss, and the woman's mahogany skin gleamed with pearly-dark shine against Gayle's pale coloring. Gayle's hand slid down Sylvia's back, and she tugged the woman in close with a hand cupped on her ass.

  “Break it up, ladies,” Tag said, drawing everyone's attention. He pointed at everyone in the group and added, “Nobody gets any nookie on this vacation until I do.”

  Everyone booed and hissed, and Jordan stood up on her tiptoes to cover her fiancé's mouth with her hand. Laughing and mock accusations of retribution ensued. Alison, the final member of PI ownership, finally busted everyone up in her very organized way, pointing the group back in the direction of the spectacular sights all around them.

  It was all very heartwarming; these people were Colin's extended family.

  And he had never felt more alone in his life.

  The boat continued on its journey, floating by more bungalow-style homes with each beachfront property th
ey passed, and soon Colin dropped his attention to the water, letting the brilliant color, the reflection of the sun, and the steady rise and fall of the waves lull him into a half-trancelike state.

  The familiar scent of strawberries and vanilla tickled his nose, and a second later, Jordan bumped her shoulder into his biceps. “Doing okay?” she asked.

  Hell. Half a day in, and I'm already turning into a pity case. “Yep. I'm fine.” He even plastered on a big, cheesy smile for his friend.

  Jordan didn't look like she believed him. “Okay.” She took a sip from one of her ever-present bottles of water. “The skipper says we'll circle around the last island and coast up the other side. Then we'll head back for some rest. All right?”

  Colin stooped down and pecked a kiss on Jordan's cheek. “I promise I'm having fu—” The boat swung around the final island in the chain right then, and Colin's heart dropped right into his stomach.

  The picture before his eyes provoked a stir from his cock too.

  Holy shit. I do not believe it.

  Colin's heart stopped, and he had to blink and look again more than twice. But his eyes did not deceive him.

  On the back end of the island stood the house in Colin's dreams.

  Chapter Two

  Colin stared at the house from his dreams, dumbfounded, angered, and confused.

  What the hell happened to my house?

  A rush of possession and fury rocked through Colin, and he barely suppressed the urge to jump out of the boat and swim to shore so he could confront his phantom lover about the ramshackle condition of their home. Colin didn't have to research ownership of the residence; a certainty in his gut, a rush of anticipation simmering right under his skin, told him that a single man lived in this house. The same man who had been making love to him for two years in his dreams.

  Son of a mother.

  The house was in complete disrepair, and Colin wasn't sure he would have recognized it without the stained glass window or the unusual tiles on the roof, even though there were now a few patches of rusty-red colored ones mixed in among the Wedgwood blue. The siding didn't look like anyone had pressure washed it in years, and even if they had, the pristine white beneath was probably permanently faded to a dull gray with age.

  And where the fuck was the red door?

  The boat continued to move, and soon the house slid out of sight. Colin rushed down the length of the deck to the back end of the boat and leaned over the railing, searching for just one more little peek of the house, anything to convince himself he hadn't hallucinated the entire thing.

  Jordan, fast on Colin's heels, clapped her hands in front of his face. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “That place we just passed,” Colin said, his focus still in the direction of the house, even though they had circled the line of islands to the opposite side and he could no longer see it. “The one that looked like it was falling apart.”

  “With the blue tiles on the roof?”

  So I really did see it.

  “That would be the one. Excuse me for one second.” Colin grabbed Jordan's arms and moved her aside. “I'll be right back.” He needed to talk to the skipper about renting a speedboat tomorrow.

  In less than twenty-four hours, Colin would have a name and face to go with the body in his dreams.

  He wanted some answers too.

  * * * * *

  “Where are you sneaking off to so early in the morning?”

  Colin jumped, then spun to find Tag entering the kitchen through a sliding glass door.

  “God, man.” Colin slumped against the counter. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry.” Tag grabbed a T-shirt off the back of a chair and used it to wipe his face, neck, and chest. His dark hair glistened with moisture, and he rubbed the material through it too. “Just coming in from a run on the beach.”

  After opening the fridge, Colin grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it in Tag's direction. “Looks like you tested the water as well.”

  “Thanks.” Tag cracked the seal on the bottle and took a long drag, wiping his mouth when he finished. “Didn't plan for a swim, but I couldn't resist.” He stepped back through the open doorway and shook himself off outside. “After running three miles, the ocean wasn't as cool and refreshing as I'd hoped.”

  “A nice cold shower ought to do the trick.” Colin slid a glance Tag's way, noticing what appeared to be his perpetual case of half wood. “For a number of reasons.”

  Tag openly shifted his dick around in his loose-fitting trunks. “Yeah, but that's all gonna change as soon as I say 'I do.' Meanwhile, you're still gonna be yanking the snake on your own.”

  Colin immediately pictured long lines of a thickly muscled, tan body in his mind, and he swore the callused tips of his dream lover's work-roughened fingers lingered on his cock with a gossamer-light touch.

  “Well, well, well,” Tag said, pulling Colin back into the kitchen. “What is this little smile for?” He poked Colin in the cheek with his finger. “Did you pick up an island guy already?”

  More like picked up a guy with an island. Maybe.

  Colin crumpled the note he'd been writing and tossed it in the trash. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Lay it on me.” Tag leaned against the counter and crossed his arms against his chest. “I'll do what I can.”

  Taking a minute, Colin silently thanked a higher power for Tag. The man was a typical native Texas son in a thousand ways, all save the one that mattered most to Jordan. He accepted her friends. All of them. Early on, shortly after Tag found out Colin was gay, he had crudely, but also strangely acceptingly, said to Colin one afternoon, “As long as it ain't my ass you're trying to fuck, I don't really give a shit what you are. Now, can you tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do to get Jordan to take me seriously? I really, really like your ball-busting friend.” In the beginning, it might not have hurt that Colin's six feet of height towered over Tag's muscular but compact five-feet-nine-inch frame. Quickly, though, none of that superficial stuff seemed to matter. Colin appreciated Tag's straightforward nature; he'd learned the guy was a closet romantic, and he now considered Tag nearly as good a friend as he did Jordan. They each understood the woman in a way nobody else in this world did.

  Colin met Tag's gaze, speaking only after carefully considering his words. “I have to do something on my own today, and I need you to talk Jordan down from inciting a full-on investigation to track my steps and figure out what it is.” Colin knew Tag's ultimate loyalty lay with Jordan—as it should—but the man also understood the inquisitive pushiness of his woman. “It's something I need to do on my own. Right now I can't say anything more, for the simple fact that I don't have all the answers myself.”

  “Should I worry about you?” Tag asked. “I won't do anything to help you if you're doing something stupid.”

  “You know me better than that.” Colin was a numbers guy, and he liked things orderly and to make sense. He did not work as an investigator in their PI firm; he made sure it ran without a hitch. At the end of the day, it was his job to see that the books always added up, employees and owners alike did the job the client hired them to do, and that they did it as effectively and efficiently as possible. Colin's life had only gotten out of his control once, and he never wanted to experience that kind of pain again. It was also why, now that he knew the house from his dreams actually existed, he felt certain the man did too, and he craved knowledge about them both.

  I might finally be able to get some answers to why they're both living in my head every night.

  Colin made eye contact with Tag and tried to drill understanding into the man with his stare. “What I have to do could be really important, and I can't have Jordan breathing down my neck today.”

  After a long, tense moment, Tag nodded. “Okay, but you need to promise you'll call me at noon to let me know you're all right. I'll flip my phone to vibrate, and you can leave a message or a text so it doesn't rouse Jordan's curiosity
. I'll check it discreetly, but I want to see something there from you.” Tag pointed at Colin as he crossed the kitchen. “And be back in time for dinner.”

  Colin's ease with this man somehow settled inside him even deeper. “You're going to be a really good dad one day,” he said softly.

  Tag dipped his head. “Don't worry about Jordan. You do what you need to do.”

  “Thanks.” Colin waved, but Tag had already disappeared into the living room.

  Time to go meet my dream.

  * * * * *

  Colin jumped off the dock and landed on the beach, stumbling as jitters turned his legs weak. He remained kneeling in the warmth of the soft sand for a prolonged moment, letting the memory of being here absorb into his pores. The water cresting and retreating at his back invaded his ears, mixing with the screeches and squawks of birds he could not see. The heady fragrance of brightly colored flowers littering the outer edge of jungle greenery mingled in his nasal passages with the pungent strands of giant, leafy trees. Colin looked up, and although the house did not reflect much of the picture in his hundreds of dreams, the draw to touch its walls, to step over its threshold, still guided him to his feet.

  I am home.

  Crazy. Colin knew this was goddamned fucking crazy, yet he moved across the beach to the sandy walkway, living a world of déjà vu. He made it up the stairs, and sure enough, the porch floor creaked with the weight of his shoe settling down on it. Wishing he could wander around barefoot and truly feel the house under his feet, Colin's first view of the unfinished planks made him glad he'd worn sneakers with his jeans and T-shirt, no matter that he knew the temperature would rise quickly and make him regret not wearing shorts.

  Colin reached the unpainted—naked—door and put his hands to it, searching for the warmth. A wave of forlorn despair washed over him at first touch, repelling him physically backward, as if the house threw him off it.