So this dream is about being lost and abandoned?
Yeah. I’ll never forget that fear that I was never going to be found again.
I found you.
Thanks Ryder.
He looks down at my hand, the one still holding the flower, with an expression of confusion. Where did you get that?
This? I look down at the beautiful, iridescent bloom. It still has a glowing sheen to it. It was there next to me. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve seen it. It’s never been part of the dream in the past.
Strange. It’s almost like he says this to himself.
What is?
Nothing. If you don’t wake up now, you’ll be late for work.
Chapter Four
I sat up on the sofa with a gasp, looking around my apartment with frantic head swivels. After a few moments, I came back to my senses enough to recognize that I was home, safe and sound, and I was alone.
How fucking weird was that?
I took a deep, shaky breath and fell back on the overstuffed pillow on the sofa. The dream had felt so real, just like the sexual ones. My twisted psyche had dragged Ryder into this dream and made him a savior of some kind—therapeutically, that is. At least I hadn’t woken up from this particular dream crying, as I usually did.
A glance at the clock on the wall in the kitchen had me scrambling. I’d been sleeping for hours! Shit, shit, shit. And I still hadn’t cleaned up the glass in my car!
With barely any time to lose, I dragged on the black skirt from the previous night and grabbed a cap-sleeved white button-up that looked cute and complemented my figure. I had no time to blow-dry my hair, so it did this wavy, curly thing around my face. Quick eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss did the trick before I was out the door barefoot, carrying my heels by their straps.
I also brought along a dustpan and a plastic bag, but as it turned out, I didn’t need either. The glass was already swept out and a plastic sheet had been taped over the area where the broken window had been.
Awwww. How sweet. The door in my heart creaked open wider.
Thanks, Ryder, I thought to myself.
You’re welcome.
I was getting in the car when I heard that, or thought I heard that, and stopped midmotion. Standing back up, I took a look around, frowning as I tried to imagine if I’d actually heard something or if my brain was acting up again. Because really, if I’d actually heard something when someone wasn’t even there, that would mean I was hearing voices, right? Not good. Or that would imply that someone had access to my mind somehow, which is totally sci-fi and impossible, right? Probably, I was just imagining things, wanting Ryder to be there because he was a gorgeous, rugged mountain of tall, muscular and handsome, and I really liked kissing him. A lot.
Geesh. Imagine if he actually had access to my mind, with all the squirrelly stuff I had going on in there. I could barely stand to be in my own head without going tear-your-hair-out bonkers myself. Silently amused with the idea, I slid back into my car and motivated.
I got to work on time, thanks to Ryder saving me a step with my car. I was going to have to thank him for that. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to actually find out what his last name was, since he was living in the neighborhood, so to speak, and we’d already locked lips. Awkward. Hate that feeling! Experienced it in spades with my last, and only real, serious boyfriend back during my freshman year of college. I never got to have an orgasm with him the few times we tried, which just made it uncomfortable on so many levels. Only after we broke up did I do some physical self-exploration and realize that I could have an orgasm on my own.