I tried to sleep.
Tried to silence the memories of his voice, his eyes, the spark.
But no matter how hard I tossed and turned, he stayed there — right beneath the surface.
And when I finally drifted off…
He found me.
---
In the dream, I was back in the garden house.
Only this time, it wasn't for school.
There were candles lit along the glass walls, soft golden flickers dancing across the floor. The sun had long set, but the room glowed warm — like it was alive, waiting for something.
Waiting for him.
I stood barefoot on the soft rug, wearing something I didn't recognize — not sweats, not school clothes, but something flowy, soft. Like I belonged in a love song.
He walked in slowly, wearing that same look he'd given me yesterday — like he saw everything, and didn't want to look away.
He said nothing.
Just walked to me. Closed the space between us.
Then he reached for my hand.
No hesitation. No teasing or sarcasm.
And I took it.
I didn't think twice.
He pulled me gently to the center of the room, where music had started playing. No lyrics. Just a quiet piano melody — the kind that wraps itself around your chest and squeezes.
We danced. Slowly. Silently.
No words were needed.
I looked up at him. He looked down at me.
And then he leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. His breath was warm. His hand moved to the side of my face, brushing my cheek.
"You always hide," he whispered.
And in the dream, I whispered back, "I don't want to hide anymore."
He smiled.
And then he kissed me.
Soft. Long. Like the world had stopped and all that remained was his mouth and my skin and the way I was melting.
---
I woke up breathless.
Heart pounding. Cheeks flushed.
And with only one thought echoing in my head like a truth I could no longer deny:
I didn't just like him.
I wanted him.
---
Monday morning felt too loud. Too bright. Too real.
I kept zoning out at school. Barely heard a word during homeroom. During math, I forgot how to solve an equation I knew like the back of my hand.
Because in my head wondering how I dreamt the same dream twice in two nights. I was still dancing with him.
Still feeling the warmth of his hand in mine.
Still wondering if he ever thought about me the same way.
When lunch came, Zoey and Lily pounced.
"Okay, spill. How was it?" Lily asked, dropping her tray beside mine.
Zoey leaned in, all dramatic. "Was there kissing? Did he confess he's secretly in love with you and wants to name your future kids after Greek gods?"
I laughed — too quickly. "It was just a project."
They both stared.
I shifted in my seat. "We worked. We talked. That's it."
But my voice was too soft. Too dreamy.
Lily raised an eyebrow. "Girl... something changed."
I stayed quiet.
Because she was right.
Something had.
---
Later that evening, I sat at my desk, trying to finish my portion of the poem.
But the words refused to come.
All I could write were fragments.
His voice, like velvet.
The garden, breathing.
The kiss that never was...
I closed my notebook and pressed my fingers to my lips.
How could a dream feel more real than anything I'd ever lived?
And yet, even awake, I still felt it:
That slow-blooming ache in my chest.
I didn't just admire him.
I was falling.
No.
I already had.
---
Had I truly fallen in love?
But in my daze I didn't notice when he came into the class, but by the time I returned to reality
I saw him in front of me, but then our eyes met.