In One Night (Saul Silva x OC)

Chapter 5: Debrief

The memory didn't seem real—the feel of it, how intangible it was, the absence of texture, even sight, as though he had his eyes closed the whole time and only saw through his mind. It felt like a dream. Saul knew it happened in his room; he was in bed, Dawn's face hovering above him. There were gaps, as ever in a dream, there might have been conversation or just small words, then he was sitting up, and she was up close, too close. There might have been a reason for this, but at the time, his addled brain decided that it was to kiss her. He remembered first touching her cheek, their eyes meeting, then his lips were on hers. What thoughts ran through his mind, he couldn't recall, but he knew there was a thrill that coursed through his body, a hum in his bones that made him lean further and pull her even closer.

And yet, it still felt like a dream. It couldn't have been the kiss that Dawn said happened. The only reason why he thought it might be real was because he knew he had that "dream" that particular night—he kept dissecting it the next day while nursing the mother of all hangovers. Besides, what were the odds that he kissed her, dreamed about it later, and then remembered the dream instead of the actual thing? It had to have been that. It was real.

"So, how did Becca get home, do you think?" Ben asked. "Took a train?"

Saul looked up. They were in the greenhouse and he was sitting on a bench in view a tall table where Ben held something that glowed gold, seemingly not paying attention to him. Come to think of it, he shouldn't be, given that Saul's mind was elsewhere. His breakup with Becca was trivial compared to the revelations from Cecil, and Dawn.

He said, "No idea. But she hadn't been in the house. All her stuff's still in there."

"Have you spoken with her since?"

"No," and frankly, he didn't want to. Even if he was inclined to ask about her well-being, he was sure that Becca would only rebuff him and then demand an apology. "I did wake up to a missed call at five AM today, so I assume she's fine."

"Have you called her back?"

"Why?"

"Clear the air."

He sighed. He supposed clearing the air with Becca was an easier task than figuring out what he was going to do with Dawn. But, having broken up with Becca, he found that he was angrier at her, not less. He had no more reason to be understanding or tolerant, and he didn't need to forcibly see it from her side. To him, clearing the air meant elucidating how much shit he put up with. Which he did for what? He didn't even love her, and whatever it was he felt for her before was long gone.

But she got one thing right. Of the hundred things she accused him of, she was on the money when it came to Dawn, even when he didn't understand it yet.

"She's bound to show up at your door some time... to get her things."

"Maybe I could just pack it up and ship it to her. But that would mean getting an address first."

Ben quietly chuckled as he wrote something in a notepad. Saul found himself laughing too. It was funny, not shipping Becca's things specifically, but all of it—Cecil, the party, him dancing with Dawn, the thought that twenty years ago she was in love with him. He couldn't get that picture out of his mind, of his seventeen-year-old self, eating lunch with his friends at the mess hall, and a sixteen-year-old Dawn somewhere, watching him and trying to figure out how to talk to him. Now, it was him who was trying to get close and all he could get was her pissed off at him every time. If there ever was a cosmic joke, this would be it.

Just then, someone appeared by the open door of the greenhouse. His grin instantly disappeared and he automatically stood up.

"Dawn!"