THE SANDMAN ☞ TRAVIS STOLL

FIFTEEN

FOR THE FIRST TIME in her life, Valerie Greenwood doesn't dream. She doesn't dream of her father, her sisters, her past. From the moment she closes her eyes to the moment she opens them the next morning, there is nothing but darkness and warmth and safety.

She wakes up before Travis, and she smiles as she rises from the bed, stretching with each step she takes towards the window.

The sun is shining brightly over the city, making Central Park practically glow in the mid-morning light.

She reaches for the sleek silver phone on the bedside table, hitting a few buttons as she dials down to the front desk.

"Greenwood Hotel front desk, how can I help you?"

Valerie clears her throat. "Hi, this is Valerie Greenwood in Room 5633. I'd like to order some room service."

The voice on the other end of the call perks up. "Oh, Miss Greenwood! Of course. I'm so glad you're staying with us. What can I get for you?"

"Just two of the Presidential Breakfasts, please." She says, and she glances over to where Travis sleeps soundly on his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow. His bare back is freckled, spots in the shape of constellations dotted across the muscular plane of skin.

The front desk clerk taps a few keys on her keyboard, humming as she types. "Alright, Miss Greenwood. We have two Presidential Breakfasts coming in about twenty minutes. Is there anything else I can get for you this morning?"

Valerie smiles as she watches him sleep. "Could you add on an oat milk vanilla latte, please? Actually, make that two."

"Of course, Miss Greenwood. We'll have that up for you shortly."

Valerie hangs up the phone and tiptoes back to the bed, crawling back under the covers and pulling at his arm until it's free from under the pillow. She folds herself under it, burying her face in the crease between his shoulder and his neck.

"The Sandman likes to snuggle, huh?" Travis mumbles sleepily, his voice raspy. His arm tightens around her.

She laughs against his skin. "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

He lifts his head from the pillow and smiles, tousled dark hair falling over his forehead. "How'd you sleep?" He asks, keeping one arm around her waist and using the other to prop himself up.

"Are you asking because you didn't see me in your dream?"

Travis rolls his eyes. "No, Valerie. I'm asking because I want to know how you slept." He tells her earnestly, absentmindedly stroking his fingertips along the tattoo on her hip. "But yeah, it was weird not to see you in my dream. Where'd you go?"

Where'd you go? A simple question for anyone other than Valerie Greenwood and the multitudes of realities inside of her head. "I didn't dream. I don't know why. It was...it was creepy."

She finds it strange to be open and honest, even with him. Honesty has never come easy for her, a trait she inhereted from her father. Lying was always easier, always less painful than telling the truth. Lying to Travis, however, feels like a sharp knife carving through her skin.

There's a knock at the door that has Travis lunging for a weapon, but she stills him with a hand around his wrist. "It's room service. It's fine." She whispers, a sweet, placating smile on her face.

"Oh," he says, settling back into the pillows. "It's weird. I've had this feeling all week that something was going to happen." He pauses, and he gives her a grin that makes her shiver. "Maybe it's just the fact that you've been in a good mood this week. Where's my Sandman when I need her? Got me all paranoid."