by A.L. Bridges
****
[May 16th]
I wake up in my bed with nobody snuggling into my right side.
However, there is somebody straddling my lap.
Aaaaaand that somebody seems to have handcuffed me to my bed with fuzzy handcuffs. I open my eyes and see that ‘that somebody’ is Cheza, wearing the same thing that Natasha had been a moment ago. Natasha’s bust may have been bigger, but the ensemble looks better on Cheza.
“Why do my dreams keep doing this to me?” I sigh.
“This isn’t a dream Cole,” Cheza says before leaning over me and moving towards my face. Note to self: buy a door lock.
“Uh, dearest sister? What are you doing?” I whisper when her face is six inches from mine.
I realize that with both of my hands cuffed to my bed and with no way to ‘Zombie-block’ her, I am completely helpless. I can’t even cut my wrists on the handcuffs to try and break free with my blood… damn, this is well thought out.
“This,” Cheza whispers just before she sticks her tongue in my mouth. How can something that feels so good ever be bad? When it’s someone you consider a little sister so you’re fighting yourself while it’s happening, that’s how! She breaks away after a minute or so.
“Cheza—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“Cole, I’m not your sister. Right now, I’m just a girl that wants you—an eighteen year old girl. Isn’t that enough?” Cheza asks. I stay silent and think for a moment.
“Cheza… are you sure?” I ask. Cheza smiles warmly at me.
“You’re it, Cole. You’re the one. You have been ever since I was that nine year old girl that came into your room crying after having nightmares about watching her parents being torn to shreds by wolves,” Cheza says and then kisses me again.
I’m about to reaffirm her feelings when
PULL. YOUR. HEAD. OUT. OF. YOUR. ASS!
flashes in my mind. Airi again, but I’m not mad at her this time because she’s right. This can’t happen. Not right now at least, but what am I supposed to say?
DREAM. TIA. WAIT.
I’ve got it!
“Okay, but not tonight. I just had this pretty fucked up dream that I need to tell Tia about so all this is going to have to wait,” I say to Cheza. She looks a little disappointed, but she also looks concerned.
“Alright… but you’re going on a date to make it up to me,” Cheza replies.
“Great! Who with?” I inquire. Cheza punches me softly in the chest while smiling, before getting off of me and heading towards the door.
“Um, Cheza? Can you un-cuff me please?” I ask.
“But your note told me not to,” Cheza says.
“What note?” I question.
“The note that was in the gift box? It said ‘Come to my room at midnight and quietly handcuff me to the bed. If I struggle and ask what you’re doing at first, don’t worry it is just part of the act. If I accept the situation, then feel free to un-cuff me.’ I assumed that you wanted me to wear this too, seeing as it was with the note and two pairs of handcuffs,” Cheza replies.
“Right, that note. Well the situation has changed since I wrote it so un-cuff me, please,” I tell her, not wanting to embarrass her by saying I didn’t write it. Cheza grabs the key from my nightstand and unlocks the cuffs.
“Thanks. That merrywidow looks great on you by the way,” I say.
How do I even know what that is? I vaguely recall seeing a Victoria’s Secret poster for one… suddenly all the pieces click in to place: The Victoria’s Secret run. The wrapping job. The well thought out restraining device. (Why is this starting to sound like some sort of heist?) The reason for there being only two presents. Cheza’s gasp and possible red face. The quizzical look Sara gave me. The words Cheza spoke before I closed her door. They all point to one thing: Tia.
Tia and I have some things we need to discuss… tomorrow.
…