Spoiler
Prompt-Your story is about a linguist in a bottle kissing in dreams.
It wasn't windy. It was never windy, but at the same time, never exactly still either. It always comforted him, the sky wasn't cloudy, but cloudy at the same time, it was never exactly day or night, but a sweet, dusky twilight.
He had created this world himself, his own little place. He preferred it to real life. Real life had mistakes, had moments that he didn't want to remember, even though he did. Every single bad moment of his twenty-one years, he remembered.
He preferred a world where nothing could go wrong, the world that was filled with sweet lilacs and the smell of light success.
He ran his hands awkwardly through his hair and sat down, his back pressing against the cold glass. The call of a bird sounded overhead and he heard a laugh. A light female giggled.
Paradise had officially been ruined.
He had met her last week. They went to the same university, had the same classes. She was pretty, even more then pretty, but he was almost convinced that she wouldn't find him even merely adorable.
He could see her, approaching him, her shiny brown hair whipping in the non-wind. She was smiling, probably even laughing at something only she would find funny.
"Oh, Jordan." When she spoke, it was a beautiful French accent. It made her more beautiful, as if that were possible.
"Aline." He stuttered out. Why was he so awkward? He wouldn’t be surprised if Aline turned around and skipped away, never to talk to him again. Instead, she sat down across from him, crossing her legs and pushing her hair away from her heart-shaped face. He looked away, not wanting to make anything awkward.
Too late.
Aline toyed with the grass, biting her lower lip. She looked up at him through her large, heavily lashed eyes. They were blue. A dark, navy blue that seemed to be lit with a mischivious fire. He wanted to know what she was thinking. He loved her eyes, loved everything about them. He wanted to know every single thing going on behind those big, navy eyes.
"So," he said quietly, awkwardly. He cursed himself inwardly. What a stupid thing to say. Aline smiled, stretching out to lay on her stomach. She looked like she was enjoying herself, occasionally looking at him and quickly resuming playing with the grass.
They silence they had lulled themselves into wasn't awkward or tense, it was nice. He felt like He could just sit there for hours where her, staring up at the sky. Then she sat up, eyes wide.
"Where are we?" she asked dreamily, her accent seeming like it was added as an afterthought.
"In your dreams," he replied with a wink. She giggled, because she didn't want him to feel like it was a bad joke, though it was, lying back down.
"My dreams? In a glass bottle?" she asked.
"Seven-Up bottle." He automatically corrected. Seven-Up was his favorite thing to drink, so why not set his own little world in something he loved and reject all the bad feelings?
"If you want." he shrugged, putting an end to the conversation. Aline shifted, so she was sitting next to him. Up close, he could see the freckles that marked her porcelain white skin, her eyes looked almost black, and his heart started to race.
"Jordan." she said, "Jordan, Jordan, Jordan." she said his name over and over, like she was tasting his name. She smiled again, stretching her neck to kiss him gently on the lips. Her lips were warm, tasting like her raspberry lip gloss. He loved raspberries.
She pulled away, and he blushed, turning a dark crimson. She laughed for real this time, and kissed him again. She liked him. Liked him enough to kiss him. He smiled against her lips. Perfection. This was perfection.
A few drum-heavy beats pounded from his iPod dock. Jordan groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.
"Dude, get up." His roommate shouted over the noise, "you'll be late again. And you'll miss seeing that French chick." Spitting sounds. Patrick was already brushing his teeth, probably fully dressed.
With a heaving sigh, Jordan pulled himself from bed, stumbling to get ready for his linguistic classes. He spotted the textbook on his desk, Aline's, and hurried to get ready a bit faster. He left the dorm room, with her book in hand, hair a mess, shirt buttoned, pushing himself to catch up to her as she entered the campus cafeteria.
"Aline!" He called, and she stopped, turned, her eyes wide.
"Yes?" she asked, look around. Jordan approached her, hold the book out like a peace offering.
"Thank you." He said, "for letting me borrow your book."
"Any time." Aline smiled, looking at her shoes. This was it. This was his chance.
"Do you want to go out for coffee? After classes?" Jordan asked, running his hand through his hair.
"Sorry," Aline said quickly, "I've already got plans." Jordan sighed.
"Fair enough." He said, turning to walk back through the dewy grass.
That was why he preferred his own little world. Nothing went wrong there.
Reality sucks.
