I shake my head and lean into him, my lips grazing his. “I don’t want this to end.”
I kiss him, yearning to keep this facade. My body moves, and I sit on him, my hands on either side of his face and my mouth moving with his. I need this. I need to keep this, even if it is a maladaptive daydream. This is the only thing keeping me sane, and if he fades away… if I wake… I don’t know how long I can keep going like this before I, too, fade away.
His body shifts, sitting up. His fingers slip through my hair, and his other hand grabs my waist. My legs wrap around him, and my hands clutch at his shirt, removing it. I touch his chest, tense muscles, and broad shoulders. The hunger is undeniably uncontrollable.
My fingers move down to his pants when a harsh, ragged breath seethes out of him, “Noya.” He breaks away from the kiss. His hands grab both my wrists, his breathing harsh and exhausting. “We aren’t doing this now at your nan’s place.”
“We have to,” I say, my lips finding him again. The tension around my wrists relaxes, and I move them down again, needing this—him before he leaves. “Before I wake from this dream.”
“What?” he questions, pausing mid-kiss.
“As soon as I open my eyes, you will be gone, and I’ll be at home, staring at the broken fan on my ceiling. Mum will cry, and Dad…” My lip trembles. “I don’t want this fairy tale to end, Conner.”
“Open your eyes, Noya.”
I shake my head.
His hand glides across my cheek, and his thumb strokes my cheekbone. “Please.”
The blurriness of my vision catches me off guard. Wiping the tears away, I gaze at Conner. A soft expression on his face as he watches me. I bite my lip to keep the crying to a minimum.
“I didn’t spend over two weeks making you mine for you to think that this is one of your dreams, Noya,” he says.
“We like the same type of music. You’re patient. You’re kind. Your family life is perfect,”—his eyes narrow—“and you like me. Tell me this isn’t the making of one of my maladaptive dreams, Conner?” I pout. “You even sing to me and declare that we are going to be together for a lifetime. I’m seventeen, and you’re eighteen. How are we supposed to know what we’re doing within a year, let alone a lifetime? You’re too perfect to be true.”
Conner grabs his shirt and shrugs it on before his arms wrap around me. My stomach lurches when we fall back. His arms settle around me, caging me protectively. “You’re wrong,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m not patient. I hate check-out lines, and I get mad when self-service isn’t open, and I have to wait. I don’t like waiting, so when we get food, and there’s a pile-up of cars, I park. When you went into the bank, I went elsewhere because lines irritate me.”
“Conner…”
“I’m not kind either. I mirror people… a lot.” His thumb strokes against my hip. “Not to you. You’re different. You bring out the best in me…, but with other people. If they treat me like shit, I treat them like shit back. Andy, for instance. He’s a parasite, always talking back, wanting to say the last word, so I do it back to him to piss him off. If I were kind, I’d shrug off that behaviour and move on. Instead, I’ve become as petty as they are.
“And I briefly talked about my family life with you. My mum still doesn’t like the idea of me not wanting to go to university.It’s awkward at home. It’s like we’re both walking on eggshells. It’s the reason I hang out at your work or stay in the car with you for so long. You, Noya, are my anchor, too. You keep me sane because I feel like screaming at them when I get home. After all, they don’t understand me as you do.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, rest my head on his chest, and listen. He needs this. He needs me to listen to him and his struggles.
Right now, I need to be here for Conner.
“I gave you ten genuine reasons I like you. I sing to you because I love singing and seeing you smile.” He breathes a laugh when he adds, “And blush.”
“Stop,” I say as I smile.
“And I don’t think we’re moving too fast. Hundreds of years ago—and even sometimes now—after a singular meeting, the man would go down on one knee and ask for the lady’s hand in marriage. Yeah, our infatuation is intense, but I’d like to think we’re intense people, so it can feel fast.” He shakes me slightly when he says, “And if you keep insinuating that we should have sex every time we kiss, I guess that could also play a part in why you think our relationship is going too fast.”
I groan, feeling the heat flush my cheeks.
“And before you think, ‘I don’t want to’, trust me, I do. But I’m also a little old-fashioned. The thought of doing anything remotely sexual at your home, my home,andyour nan’s makes me feel dirty and disturbed. So, we can go somewhere private when you’re ready–not horny. So, Noya, this isn’t a dream, and I’m not perfect. I’m simply perfect for you, like you’re perfect for me.”
I jolt when he sits up, his arms resting on my thighs while I straddle him, my arms around his shoulders.
“I hide dark things about my life because I don’t want to scare you. And I know you do the same with me.” I flinch, andmy eyes widen when he says, “Your dad is cruel. I figured that much out earlier while you were sleeping. You told me this was your home the first time I dropped you off at home because you were afraid that if I parked outside your house, I’d know. And I know now. Your dad’s an angry person.” His fingers twitch. “Does he… is he the one you’re afraid of most?”
“No,” I lie.
His hazel eyes narrow as if he doesn’t believe me. I need to give him something. Something solid for him to grasp before he finds out I’m the girl in the picture going around school. He’s nearly there. I can see it. Soon enough, the knot I tied will pull, coming undone, revealing a straight line that will direct itself at me.
“Mum and Dad argue all the time. Sometimes, when the argument escalates, Dad puts his hands on Mum and…” I bite my lip, imagining all the times he raised his hand, hovering it over my head, ready to create another mark on me to hide. “I either hide in my room or leave and roam the streets until it calms down.”
“And come here. To your nan’s place.”