Middle of Your Dreams

9

Stevie is up when I get back to the room, so I go about my nightly routine. I shower and put on my pajamas, a pair of short silk shorts and an oversized t-shirt I stole from my dad before I moved out.

Crawling into the king bed, I lay on my side, getting comfortable. Stevie hardly acknowledges me, scribbling furiously in her journal. Sulamith circles by her feet and plops down obediently. I pat the space beside me, and she comes over. I coo softly to her as I pet her, scrunching my nose when she licks my chin.

"Is everyone back?" Stevie asks, still not looking up.

"No. They started playing really niche 60's stuff so I left."

She chuckles softly, yawning as she closes her journal and setting her glasses aside. She settles on her side, facing me. I'm already dozing when I hear her flick the lamp off.

"That wore you out, huh?"

I don't have to open my eyes to see her smile.

"Don't make fun of me. I haven't been doing this my whole life. I'm not built for it the way you are."

She laughs, and I feel her hand settle in my hair. Sulamith wiggles out from between us and I feel her settle at the foot of the bed.

"Your voice is amazing, Ali. Seriously. I might ask you to lay down vocals on something one day."

I snort and open my eyes, looking at her.

"I would tell you no."

"You wouldn't," She gasps, feigning hurt.

"Yes I would. You're intimidating to sing with! Why do you think I told them I wouldn't sing any of your stuff."

"I'm not that bad."

"Stevie, I cried to Landslide in high school. In public. We would probably have a repeat of that if I had to record vocals with you."

"Why do you doubt yourself so much?" She asks softly. I shrug.

"I don't know. I just... I'm not as good as other people."

"Well, neither am I."

"Shut up," I say, rolling my eyes.

"You're incredibly talented at, not only producing, but singing and playing. And you lied about only doing what sounds good. You have a vision for where you want the song to go. That's real talent," She says softly, her warm brown eyes staring into mine. I blush and don't say anything, closing my eyes again.

I scoot a little closer to her, her arm draped over my waist as I turn to face away from her.

"I'm never big spoon," She whispers, making me laugh.

"Do you want to switch?" I ask between giggles.

"Nope," She says, stroking my hair back with her other hand.

I manage to get my laughing under control and close my eyes, letting that familiar sense of calm ease me into sleep.

I'm up late the next afternoon. I guess our impromptu concert took more out of me then I thought. Stevie, no surprise, is still sleeping.

My stomach growls, and I head to the living room to order room service for myself, turning on the TV and settling on the couch. A soft knock on the door alerts me to the arrival of my grilled cheese, and I put the parfait I ordered for Stevie in the fridge.

After I eat, I sneak back into the room to gather my clothes, laying them out on the bed and heading into the bathroom to take care of my morning routine and makeup. I settle back on the couch and flip through channels mindlessly until some documentary on the history channel catches my eye.

The story of medieval England really has my attention for some reason, so much so that I don't even feel Stevie sit next to me.

"What the hell are you watching?"

"The plague," I say, not looking away from the TV. She laughs. "I ordered you something from room service. It's in the fridge."

"Thank you," She says. I tear my eyes away and see the soft smile on her face. She heads to the fridge and pulls the parfait out, smiling at me again.

She sits beside me again, watching in rapt fascination as the narrator talks about medieval torture methods. I'm similarly enthralled. I've always liked history, especially morbid history. It's no secret that that subject is interesting to Stevie as well.

Once Stevie is done eating, she picks up her phone as she heads to the bedroom.

"I'll be ready in about an hour if you want to tell everyone."

I can only assume she's talking to Karen.

"Okay. Oh, can you get an extra car? Alina had to sit on the floor yesterday. Perfect. Thanks, Karen."

I hear her flip phone snap shut and I look over to see her picking through her clothes. She picks black leggings, no surprise, and a black chiffon blouse that exposes her shoulders. God, this woman loves black.

I turn my attention back to the TV as the commercials end, once again mystified by the torture methods of the 16th century.

"Get dressed," She calls from the bathroom.

"But the draw and quarter-"

"Alina!"

I huff and turn the TV off, grabbing the clothes I set out, a pair of black high waisted jeans and a grey cropped sweater, changing quickly. I get myself ready and pull my hair up into a ponytail, shoving my feet into my shoes.

"Let's go, miss impatient," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. Stevie is still leaning over the counter doing her makeup. She shoots me a look and zips up her makeup bag as aggressively as possible.

"You rushed me, I'm blaming this on you," She says, gesturing to her face.

"Shut up, you're beautiful," I say, waving her off. She stops in front of me, hands on her hips.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

I look up at her, nodding. She smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Let's go, angel girl," She says, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.

I feel like I'm floating as she drags me down the hall to Karen's room. My head is spinning and my heart is absolutely racing. I just might swoon.

"What's up with you?" Dave asks, immediately snapping me out of it.

"Nothing," I blush, nudging his shoulder with mine. He pushes me back, and I practically tackle him to the floor.

Laughing, we stand straight. Stevie is watching us with an amused smirk on her face, sipping her Starbucks.

"God, it's like having two children running around," Karen grumbles, pushing past us.

"Buzzkill," Dave mutters, and I have to disguise my laugh as a cough.

"Come on, we'll have enough space for you today," Stevie says, looping her arm through mine as we walk down the hall towards the elevators.

Again, I'm floating.