Only a dream

Spoiler! :

I find him crouched down in our usual hang out spot. His long legs are splayed across the pavement leaving little room for people to pass-by, but he’s not being inconsiderate. It’s Sunday morning; most people are still in bed. I should be too, but I can’t stop thinking about my dream. My heart lurches in my chest at the thought of telling Tom.

I didn’t give him a place to meet me, yet we both end up in the same spot. The non-descript slab of concrete is surrounded on three sides by unkempt bushes and has been our hang-out spot for as long as I can remember.

My hands are shaking slightly and I’m not sure whether it’s from the cold air or the sudden onslaught of nerves that had invaded my mid-section when I’d turned the corner to see him waiting for me. The hood of his jacket is pulled up against the winter chill but a few locks of ebony hair escape. He pushes them back absentmindedly as he reads the paper he’s holding in front of him. His brows are narrowed closer to his midnight blue eyes in thought and I can’t help but wonder at how grown-up he looks. I’ve known Tom since pre-school and the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw makes me realise how long ago that was.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
He’s smiling and the sight makes my legs wobble.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” I nod towards the paper he’s now folding in half. “You looked like you were enjoying the read.”
“You asked me to meet you half an hour ago,” he says pointedly. “I had to do something to stop myself from dying of boredom."
I can’t help raising my eyebrows at his tone. “I had to sneak out. I’m grounded, remember?”
Tom smiles again, rubbing a hand along his jaw line and I find myself imagining the scratchy feel of stubble against skin.
“I wasn’t the one who told you not to do your maths homework.”
“No,” I say, giving him my best stern look. “You were the one who stole my organiser. I haven’t done half the work I’m supposed to have done this week.” I take a step closer and rest my hands on my hips. “You never gave it back actually.”
“Who says I’m going to, Lissy?” He cocks an eyebrow and I can’t help the urge to fight back like always.
“Uh, I do.” I kick softly at one of his feet. “Or I won’t be your friend anymore.”
Tom sticks his tongue out. “Fine.”
For a moment I actually believe him and I wince at the cold feeling that fills my stomach, but then I see the tale-tell dimple appear on his cheek.
“You’re mean.”
He says nothing. Instead he lifts his bag from his side and scoots up so there’s room for me to sit down beside him. I bend down and brush the stones and dirt away before taking the seat next to him. When we were six, we could sit facing each other, but ten years on it’s a tight squeeze. There’s barely an inch between us and I can feel twigs poking my right arm.

“So what’s so important that you forced me to give up my lie-in?” His face is blank but I can tell by the way he’s watching me that he’s interested.
It’s then that my courage starts to fade and I feel a sudden doubt crawling its way up my spine. What if he thinks I’m being stupid? Or worse. What if he never wants to talk to me again? I gulp before chancing a glance at him. He’s still watching with a patient expression. I want to hit him for being so reliable and I want to hit myself for being the one that could change that.
“Well?”
The doubt trickles into my veins. “It’s nothing.”
“Come on. Just say it.”
“You’ll think it’s stupid.”
Tom does one of his half sighs before leaning forwards to pick up his paper again.
I can’t help frowning. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to sit here until you tell me.” He flicks through the paper. “So I’m going to carry on reading. Just nudge me when you stop acting like a child.”
My mouth falls open and my frown deepens. How am I being a child? He doesn’t understand. This isn’t some silly matter than can go without being mentioned. I’m just scared of what will happen when I tell him.

I stretch my legs out and stare at both of our feet in annoyance. His shoes seem to dwarf mine and a small smile pushes its way onto my face, decreasing my irritation a little. Why am I making such a big deal out of this? It was a dream. A recurring dream that’s been haunting me for the past few weeks, ever since he made me that carving in wood shop. I instinctively reach for my jeans pocket where I’ve concealed the little owl. I can feel its beak sticking into my leg, reminding me of its presence.

Tom shifts in his seat, leaning ever so slightly into my other leg. My heart pounds harder at the contact.
“Have you ever had a dream that felt so real, you could almost imagine it happening in the real world?”
My words hang in silence for a moment before either of us react. I bite my lip in fear just as Tom leans a little closer to me, an unfamiliar look on his face. He drops the paper again and raises his eyebrows.
“Tell me about it.”
His request is so simple but I have to try with all my might to force the words out of my mouth. It was a bad idea coming here.
“You promise not to laugh?”
Tom raises a hand to his chest and draws a cross over his heart. “Promise.”
I feel myself relaxing a little. “Well, the thing is it’s a bit strange.”
“More strange than Mr. Larson?”
I cough to stop myself from giggling at the image of Tom’s eccentric next door neighbour. “Yes.” No-one should ever wear ski-pants with Doc Martens.
“Really?” Tom looks surprised. “Do I want to hear this dream?”
“You have no choice,” I say. “You asked me to tell you.”
“Okay, fine.” He sighs dramatically. “It’s obviously bothering you.”
He’s right. I feel my face start to flush with colour. “How is it obvious?”
He holds up a hand and starts counting on his fingers. “You’re fidgety. Angsty. You keep going all weirdly quiet.”
I can’t help interrupting. “Weirdly quiet?”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Stop trying to distract me.” He folds his arms over his stomach. “We’re not leaving until you tell me about this dream you had.”
I pout and take a deep breath. “We were at my house.”
“Hang on.” Tom sits up straight. “I’m in it?”
I nod and pray he doesn’t make some joke about me dreaming about him. I’m giving myself a hard enough time as it is.
“Cool.”
Not knowing what to make of his response, I press on.
“Well we were both sitting on the couch, eating Chinese food.”
“What was I eating?”
I manage to shoot him a death glare even though I’m shaking with nerves.
“Sorry.”
“I can’t remember anyway,” I say. “But we were eating when all of a sudden this giant duck walks into the lounge and starts talking.”
I pause, waiting for Tom to make a comment, but he doesn’t. He’s biting down so hard on his lip that he can’t talk.
“So it starts talking about how we have to go for a run to burn off all the carbs in the food. But I tell it I don’t want to and the next thing I know, it starts chasing me everywhere. Then out of nowhere, three more ducks appear and they start heading for you.” I can’t help smirking at the thought of the next part. “Then you start screaming like a girl.”
The feeling of Tom’s hand on my arm almost has me jumping out of my skin. “I screamed like a girl? It must have been a dream.”
“Oh yeah? What about the time we went to that petting zoo and the goat tried to eat your hat?”
Tom frowns at my patronising tone. “We were eight.”
“You still screamed like a girl.”
“Get on with it.”
I shove my hands into my pockets. “So they started chasing you and shouting about keeping fit. There were feathers all over the floor and they were really going for us like they were possessed, fitness-fanatic ducks. But then the radio turned on and ‘Our song’ by ‘Taylor Swift’ came on and the ducks just stopped.”
“Taylor Swift?”
“Some of her songs aren’t half bad.”
Tom shrugs. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
We sit in silence for a moment and the song lyrics start racing through my head. My heart beats against my ribs and I bring my legs up close so that I can hug my knees.
“And then?”
I almost don’t hear Tom at first. The blood’s rushing too loudly in my ears and my hands are shaking so hard I’m glad they’re hidden in my pockets.
“Lissy?”
The sound of him saying my name makes me shiver and I slam my eyes shut. I can’t do this.
“Are you alright? You’ve gone weirdly quiet again.”
I don’t dare correct him. I don’t trust my voice.
“Is this about the talking ducks, 'cause I don’t think it’s that bad. I’m sure people have had crazier dreams.” I can hear him dragging a stone across the concrete, but all I can see is the back of my eyelids. “I once had a dream that I was chased by a lawn mower, though that was more of a nightmare.”
I can’t even laugh at his attempt to make me talk. My mind is spinning and my stomach knots itself. How am I supposed to tell him?
“I don’t think you’re insane, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s only a dream, Lissy. None of it’s real.”
My heart feels like it’s been pierced by a knife. But what if I want it to be real? Not the talking ducks, but the ending that’s constantly in my thoughts. The part that I can’t bring myself to say out loud.
“I just want to know how it ends.”
He’s pleading with me, but I can’t tell him. I can’t bring myself to ruin what we have between us. I mean, seriously.
How are you supposed to tell your best friend you kissed them in a dream and now it’s all you can think about?

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