January Dreams

by Carrigan Richards

  “He’s playing with her. He tells me every night all the stupid things she says to him.”

  Trinity laughs. “She is gullible.”

  “She’ll get what’s coming to her. By the way, don’t be late to dance practice today. Coach was fuming yesterday.”

  The bell rings and they leave the bathroom. I shakily open the stall door and exhale.

  “Since when are Trinity and Amber friends?” Cherry asks.

  “I don’t care, but this is getting old.”

  “What did you expect would happen when you did that?” I know she’s only helping, but it angers me more. “You know Casper. He’s never going to change. He’s still that stupid ten-year-old jerk.”

  “But why would he pay for my car?” And we’re sharing dreams. He can’t be lying about that.

  “He’s manipulating you to get into your pants. Why else would he suddenly start paying attention to you? Come on. Let’s go to class.”

  It can’t be true. Why would Casper manipulate me when we’re having the same dream? Maybe Cherry is right. Maybe he is only wanting to get me in bed. Is he using the shared dreams to his advantage?

  I shouldn’t be bothered by it, but the whole thing makes my heart ache. I don’t know why I’m hurt and I why I care, but I do. How could he hurt me like this?

  Chapter Nineteen

  All I can think of are ways to show Casper how much he hurt me. I could involve Vincent, but that won’t be wise. I felt the tension between them, and I know one of them would get seriously hurt. It’s ridiculous to think it would be because of me. Why did I feel such tension with them if Casper is playing with me?

  Casper enters English, joking with his friends and I want to lunge at him. I don’t make eye contact, though I can feel his eyes on me. He strolls over to the desk next to mine and slides in it.

  “Hey.” He smiles.

  I don’t acknowledge him. I hold my pen, tightly between my fingers and chew on the inside of my mouth. My hair is like a curtain, hiding him from view.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I ignore him while the teacher explains our assignment. Analyzing poetry from the Victorian era. It’s going to be a lengthy assignment since we have six poems from a poet. He walks around and passes out ours and I look over it. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And of course, one of the poems we have to analyze is her Sonnet 43. How do I love thee? Great.

  We work on the assignment in silence, but there is tension, only from me though. Casper is nothing to me, so why do I care what he says about me? I should have known he can’t be trusted. Like Trinity said, I am gullible. I fell for every word he said.

  When class ends, I gather my stuff and walk out to my locker.

  “Megan, what’s wrong?” I hear him behind me.

  I turn the dial on my locker and once it opens, I grab my history book and backpack.

  “Are you ignoring me now?”

  I shove the book in my backpack, close the locker, and sidestep him.

  “Megan, talk to me.” He catches me by the elbow, but I push him back.

  “Don’t touch me.” I warn and he holds up his hands. “You’re such a joke. You know that? I can’t believe you told people what I did. I’m sorry, okay? I can’t believe you would go through so much just to get into my pants.”

  “Whoa, what are you talking about? I haven’t—”

  “Stop lying. You know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. We were never friends and we never will be. You’ve won, okay? You fooled me. Leave me alone.” I storm out the door, hoping he finally takes the hint. But I know we have to see each other again for this stupid assignment.

  “Megan, please. What happened?” Casper asks before I unlock my door.

  I spin around, and the wind lifts my hair from my face, exposing my bruise. “You told them about me running to your house that day. Now they all think I have this crazy obsession with you. How could you? What did I ever do to you?”

  His eyes are remorseful and a soft crease forms in between them. He pauses and sighs. “The day it happened, I told Brad. But at the time I was so freaked out that the only way I coped with it was laughing about it.”

  Tears blur my vision.

  “It was wrong and stupid. I’m so sorry I upset you. But tell me honestly, if I had come to your house like that you would’ve laughed to Cherry about it.” His voice is stern.

  I hope I’m a better person than that, but I probably would have done the same. Except Cherry wouldn’t have told everyone. “Even if we had, no one would’ve believed us. Because you’re you and I’m me. Didn’t you think Brad would tell everyone?” My voice wavers.

  “He’s been my best friend my whole life. So no, I didn’t think he’d tell anyone. Maybe his girlfriend. I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “Your friends think I’m a psycho obsessed with you.”

  “I don’t care what they think.”

  “I do. I mean, have you ever set them straight? Have you ever stood up for me when they’re talking about me?”

  His silence is my answer.

  I let out a frustrated groan. “I gotta go.” I slide behind the wheel.

  I try to remain upbeat with the customers at work, but I’m moody. As the night continues, my bad mood improves. I tell Cherry what Casper said this afternoon, but she tells me to forget about him because he’s trouble. I think about Vincent and wonder if he’ll visit me. I know he spends a lot of time with his mom and I don’t blame him. I feel bad that I miss him so much.

  Ten o’clock finally comes and Cherry and I walk out together. “You’ll be okay, Megan. I’m sorry all this crap is going on, but you have me and Vincent. Don’t forget that.”

  “Thanks, Cher. I appreciate that a lot. It sucks because I thought for a second Casper and I could be friends.”

  She stops me. “I’m only telling you this because I’m your friend, but you have to forget Casper. He’s bad news. Finish the project with him and move on.”

  I nod, but she doesn’t get it. I’m sharing dreams with him. I want to move on, but it doesn’t seem like the dreams will let me.

  Cherry gasps. “Is that Vincent at your car?”

  I turn and see him leaning against my car. Every time I see him, a rush of excitement burns throughout me. His sweet smile draws me closer and he uncrosses his arms.

  “Hey you. Hey, Cherry.”

  “Y’all have a good night,” Cherry says. “Call me.”

  “Good night,” I tell her, and she leaves.

  It’s freezing outside and I fold into Vincent’s arms. He smells like cigarette smoke, which almost makes me gag. He kisses me but doesn’t taste like cigarettes, thankfully.

  “How was your night?”

  “It was busy, but okay.” I shiver.

  “Do you wanna sit in the car?”

  I nod. He tows me toward his car, and we settle in the seats. He turns the ignition and blasts the heat. “What did you get into tonight?”

  “Just hung around.”

  Way to be specific as always. I glance at the clock, silently moaning that I can’t stay too long.

  “I missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I confess. “It’s been a bad week.”

  I feel his hand on my back. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m tired of people treating me like crap. Casper and his little friend Amber are spreading rumors about me.” I lean back against the seat and he takes my hand.

  “What kind of rumors?” I don’t miss the anger in his voice.

  “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Megan.”

  “It’s nothing. How are you?”

  He shrugs. “Fine.” Vincent pulls me into a tight hug and kisses the top of my head. “Are you off tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “You should skip one day.”

  “I value my life,” I joke.

  “One night won’t hurt though, will it?”

&n
bsp; “My parents will know my check is short.”

  “I’ll give you the money you lose.”

  “Paying me for my time?” I tease.

  “You know it’s not like that. I feel like you need a break. That’s all. I know I could use one. We could work on our story.”

  I like that he’s taken such an interest in my story, but it’s odd how much he’s really into it.

  “I’m off Friday.”

  “Let’s do something.”

  “Got anything in mind?”

  “I’m sure we can come up with something.” He gives a mischievous grin. With his hands around my neck, his thumb strokes my neck, and he kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in months. Vincent’s arms wind around me, pulling me over the console, crushing me against his body. Suddenly I see us again in a vision. Dancing. He happily lifts me above him and I laugh.

  I try to pull away, but he only tightens his arms around me, still kissing me. I see another vision. I’m sitting on a bed and he stands before me, shirtless. I smile up at him and he leans over me, rolling me on my back as we kiss.

  Heat rushes throughout my body at the vision. Vincent positions me to straddle his lap. He kisses me all over and I’m not exactly keen on making out in his car in my employer’s parking lot, but I can’t stop.

  Another vision hits me. We are lying in the bed, both covered only by sheets and panting. I shiver as his fingers trace my leg. Everything about the vision seems as though it was something from our past. I can’t make sense of it. But we are so much in love.

  His hands slide up my shirt, but I stop him. “Vincent,” I pant. “We can’t do this.”

  He lets out a sigh. “I know,” he says, but pulls my mouth into another hot kiss and his fingers lightly touch my bare stomach then slides behind the waistband of my pants, which drives me crazy. He slips further and I grip his shoulder, then grab his hand stopping him.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten me so hot.” He moves his hands on the outside of my shirt as we both pant.

  “You’re not the only one at fault.” I clear my throat and straighten my hair as I return to my seat. “Did you have a vision?”

  He smiles. “Did you?”

  “Yeah. Of us…you know.”

  “I think that’s what made me get carried away. That and the simple fact of when I touch your lips, I’m on fire.”

  I feel my lips stretch into a big smile. “What do you think these visions mean?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Have you ever-I mean are you a…”

  “A virgin?”

  I nod.

  “No.”

  “How can we share a vision of us you know but I’m still a virgin? I don’t understand what it all means.” And how can I dream of being with one guy intimately and share a vision of another guy being intimate? Am I secretly a whore?

  “I don’t know.”

  “How are you not freaked out by this?”

  “It helps knowing I’m not the only one sharing these things. It’s okay, Megan.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “I will protect you.”

  I let out a small laugh. “From what?”

  “Uh you know. Just being sweet.”

  “You don’t have to try too hard. You drip sweetness.”

  “Only when I’m around you.” His lips graze my neck. “I should go so you can get home. I don’t want to get you grounded.”

  He kisses me once more, deeply, and rests his forehead on mine. “Please say you’re mine.”

  I pull back unsure of what he said. “What?”

  His gaze is deep, but I see a hint of fear in his eyes. “Please say you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours,” I say feeling a little awkward like he owns me. But there is no one for me except for him. He is mine. And I am his.

  Vincent kisses me and I feel his hand tangle through my hair. He pulls away with a seductive look and I exit the car.

  I need a cold shower now. Or drive home with the windows down.

  When I get home, I check my phone. There’s a message from Casper and Cherry.

  Casper apologizes and asks for forgiveness while Cherry demands to know exactly every detail that happened with Vincent and me.

  After my shower, I lie in bed. I think about texting Casper back, but what can I say? Did I overreact? Maybe I can play with him like Cherry suggested. Why do I even care?

  Hi, I text him.

  Hey. How are you?

  Better.

  Can I call?

  Do I really want to talk to him? It’s getting late and I need to get to sleep. Except when I sleep, Casper is in my dreams. I can’t get away from him. But I want to hear what he has to say. I think. So, I tell him he can. A few seconds later, he calls me, and I answer.

  “I’m really sorry about telling Brad.”

  “It’s fine. I probably would have done the same. And yes, Cherry and I have joked about you, but come on. Everyone listens to what you all have to say or gossip about. I don’t need rumors of me being a witch going around.”

  “I know. I never called you that, but I never stopped Brad from saying it.”

  “You say you don’t care what they think, but you’re afraid of what they’ll say if they knew the truth. About us talking. Please tell me this isn’t some game.”

  “I promise you; it isn’t a game. We’re sharing the same dreams, Megan. Whatever I feel in my dreams may or may not be the same as what I feel in real life. It’s confusing, but I’m trying not to let it cloud my judgments. I like you and I want to be friends.”

  “If we never had these dreams, you wouldn’t even think twice about me.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve thought about you a lot. When I started dreaming about you, I thought that my—” He pauses. “Crush on you lead to my dreams so I decided to finally talk to you. I never knew you hated me so much. I now know I’ve hurt you several times and I wish there was something I could do to make it better.”

  “I don’t know what you can do. Just know it’s going to take a long time for me to trust you.” That’s not true. I’m giving him a hard time because I don’t want to let my defenses down.

  “I understand.”

  Wanting to change the subject, I ask if he did any of the assignment for English. We launch into a conversation that keeps us on the phone until three in the morning. He tells me about his desire to become a lawyer, and how he has it all mapped out. He sounds more OCD than me about school.

  I love Vincent with all my heart, and I love getting to know Casper. I’m just not sure how much longer I can keep both of them in my life.

  Chapter Twenty

  Friday after school, Casper and I go to the library to do research for our poetry analysis. I’m reminded how easy it is with him. Like in our dreams. I have a date with Vincent later on and told him to meet me in the library. Despite enjoying myself with Casper, I’m looking forward to spending time with Vincent.

  “I hate poetry,” Casper says and tosses a book aside.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s pointless.”

  “You like music, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s a form of poetry. Someone expressing their feelings and frustrations and worries. I mean, take Browning’s Sonnet 22. She’s talking about being intimately close to her lover with a burning passionate love and how their love was scorned but they stayed together no matter what. I mean, what’s not to like about knowing such love exists?” I look up and see him gazing at me. I feel my cheeks turn red.

  “I really like learning about poetry with you.” He smiles.

  I roll my eyes. “Let’s get this done.”

  “Seriously. I’ve never known someone as passionate about this as you. I feel as if we’re really at that cabin in our dreams, while I listen to you read poems.”

  “Do you think the library has anything on Sprites or Elves?” I ask, trying to veer away from the heated discussion. Or maybe it feels hot because I’m burning
up. I can’t get over how close that sonnet is to mine and Casper’s dream story.

  “I’m sure. It is a library after all.”

  I playfully hit his arm as we get up and search the shelves. But all we can find are a couple of cartoonish kid’s books.

  “They also have this thing called Internet,” he says.

  “Don’t like the old-fashioned way of researching?”

  “Maybe if we were in a decent library.”

  “I started writing about the dreams.”

  He studies me. “Really?”

  “Yeah, like a story. I thought maybe it would help and I’d stop having the dreams. No such luck.”

  “I didn’t know you wrote. That’s amazing.”

  We find a few more books that are for adults and take them back to our table. Both of us thumb through trying to find anything about Sprites or Fairies or whatever. It’s kind of ridiculous if you think about it. I mean, they are after all, just dreams. But maybe it’ll help with my story research.

  “Hey, look at this,” Casper says holding a book between us. I lean over, my shoulder touching his, and follow his finger over the text. “’Faeries possess great beauty and in the form of Sprites can be immortal. They have the ability to change forms and some have wings. Their biggest enemy is the Elves…” While he reads, I watch him. I watch his mouth move as he talks. He removes his finger from the book and plays with his hair. Being this close to him, reminds me of the day we hugged. How incredibly safe and comfortable I felt. My heart pounds as I wonder if his lips are as soft as they are in my dreams. I want to kiss him.

  Someone clears their throat and I jump. I look behind me and smile, but my heart knocks into my chest. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. “Vincent. Hi. Is it seven-thirty already?”

  “It’s after,” he says with his arms folded in front of his chest. The severe look in his eyes is a little daunting.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I get to my feet. “Let me change,” I tell him.

  I grab my change of clothes and head to the bathroom. I lock the door and take a deep breath. I’m so flustered and I need to calm down. I change into a white sweater, a maroon wool skirt, and black knee boots. I touch up my makeup and glare at my discolored cheek. When I come out, I find Casper still seated at the table and Vincent a few feet away. Both of them smile, approvingly, which is a nice way to boost my ego.