He laughs at her as she dances across the small kitchen to the deep farmers sink, setting the stack of dinner dishes in her hands gently inside.
“What are you doing?” he laughs, shaking his head at her. He leans casually up against the counter, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes following her every moment.
“I’m dancing,” she says simply, twirling back out of the kitchen and into the small dining room to gather more dinner dishes.
“But there’s no music.”
She turns her head towards him with a gleam in her eye as she sets the second stack of dishes inside the sink, “I’m pretending there is… don’t you know how to pretend?”
He grins at her, making her blush and look back at the dirty dishes. “You’re just silly.”
She giggles and twirls around to look at him, “And proud to be. Could you get the rest of the dishes off the table?”
He nods and turns, disappearing through the open doorway and then reappearing with the last of the dishes, covered in pasta sauce and little broccoli bits. Coming up behind her, he brushes her arm with his as he sets the dishes down inside the sink.
She stiffens, her cheeks turning rosy red as she falters in rinsing off a plate, nearly dropping it. “Thank you,” she says, surprising herself with the strength behind her voice.
“You’re welcome.” He pauses, then wraps his arms around her waist, his hands meeting in the front. He sets his chin on her shoulder, his warm cheek resting against hers.
Stiff and warm all over, she tries breathing around his intoxicating smell and focuses all her attention on rinsing off dishes. Butterflies fly in her stomach and an overwhelming sense of comfort and delight overcomes her. She turns her head slightly, craning to look back with her peripheral vision at him.
He smiles at her and kisses her cheek, making her eyes flutter shut. Goosebumps run down her arms and neck, while heat surges through her bones.
The running water is neglected as both revel in each other’s warmth.
A grin spreads across her face and she turns smoothly around in his arms to face him. She slides her hands up and around his neck, water dripping off her fingertips.
His arms still wrapped around her, his hands held together, press gently against her lower back, pulling her closer to him. He looks down at her pale, yet rosy face, glowing happily in the kitchen light.
Their lips meet, gently pressing together.
Their lips part as they rest their foreheads against each other, looking into each other’s eyes. He smiles in delight and shakes his head slightly, rubbing the skin on his forehead against hers.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he says in a whisper, laughing breathily.
She giggles back at him, her eyes bright with happiness. “What took you so long?”
He leans his head back to laugh. His eyes brimming with merriment he looks back at her, “I don’t know.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, grinning uncontrollably. “You’re just silly.”
“Whatever,” he chuckles and kisses her again, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I’ve wanted you,” she says after breaking a part, “For so long…” the smile disappears as she stares into his face, content and pleased. “I’ve dreamt about you, thought about you, cried over you, laughed about you, and wrote about you for so long. Every day we were apart was like living without air.”
He frowns slightly, his thick eyebrows furrowing at the words “apart”.
“I thought for the longest time that you didn’t love me, and I’ve never been sure…” she smiles, “Until now, until you kissed me.”
He smiles, “How poetic.”
She giggles and shrugs, realizing how melodramatic she sounds. “I’m sorry,” she shakes her head, “I’ll stop.”
He shakes his head to disagree, “No…” He kisses the top of her cheek bone, her eyelashes tickling the tip of his nose. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.”
She sighs, feeling butterflies at the touch of his lips on her skin. “Okay…” she breathes and stares admiringly at his face. “I love you.”
He smiles, taking one hand from behind her back to stroke the side of her face with his thumb. “I love you too.”
***
Tears escape my closed eyes, the blankets pulled up over my head as to shut out the morning light. The warmth of the blankets seems to fade as I curl up to keep warm. My chest aches intolerably and I throw the covers off my face to breath, feeling suffocated by the lack of fresh air and my emotions. The daydream had been pleasant and enjoyable, until reality punched me in the stomach and woke me up to the dark thoughts of “Never”.
“That will never happen” reality tells me, “Never with him.”
I wish I could ignore those insistent voices, and just enjoy the memories and daydreams of him. Maybe they are my addiction, and maybe I am indulging myself with the thought of him, the pictures, the rereading of texts. But I don’t care anymore. I want to hold on to the thought of him if I can’t hold on physically to him. I want to kiss him in dreams and have him hold me. If none of it is ever going to happen, then I’ll make him who I want him to be and fall in love with a daydream. A daydream I can control, and I can create my own happily ever afters.
I’d rather live in a world of dreams than in a world without him, and only in dreams will I find him and his smile.
Only in Dreams, Roy, Only in Dreams.