Whispering With You

1. Tinder Roulette.

Sutton

A SLIGHT BREEZE RUFFLES THE SHEER CURTAINS, the afternoon sun filtering into the room, throwing a spotlight on the scene.

Vivi hums the Wedding March, her small voice echoing in our childhood bedroom, as I grip plastic flowers in my hands and take slow steps down the center of our room. I'm wearing my Easter dress, the white one with flowers stitched over the bodice, and a white dish towel draped over my head like a veil.

The music pauses as my stepsister giggles. I turn to glare at her, and she resumes humming as I walk down the fake aisle to my invisible husband who awaits me with tears in his eyes and a loving smile.

I pause before the open window, the outside noises disrupting my imaginary wedding, and I fall to my knees before it. Peering outside, I see my brother Jensen and his best friend Kelly playing basketball on the cul-de-sac. They're both shirtless; and I let out a sigh, my head falling on my hands on the windowsill.

"Vivi," I announce to my sister, who has joined me at the window, "I'm going to marry that boy someday."

The dream suddenly fast forwards a handful of years, the room transforming from day to night as a slightly older version of Kelly drapes his teenage body over me on my bed. My heart beats rapidly and I blink, the teenage body suddenly wharfing to the Kelly that I've memorized of today. All lean muscle and tattooed chest.

"Hey, baby girl," he drawls, a smile lifting his lips.

I'm trapped somewhere between dreamland and reality as my body reacts to the man in my dreams moving on top of me.

"You're so wet," a voice that doesn't match the one in my dream says, and I roll my head from side to side, trying to make sense of the two things.

I arch my body in the dream, feeling the naked skin of my childhood crush, and this earns me a chuckle from outside my dream. What is going on? I whimper as my subconscious clings to the dream even as the physical world tugs me back to reality.

Suddenly, my eyes fly open. A dark head lies beside me on my bed, but it is most definitely not the same head from my dreams. It's then that I register a hand in my panties, clumsily rubbing everywhere but the right spot.

I shriek when a finger penetrates my hole, thrusting aggressively. "Yeah, you like that, babe?" the voice asks, and I groan, trying to disguise my disgust with pleasure.

Everyone, I'd like to introduce to you the evidence of why you should never Drink and Tinder. You might be woken from a great sex dream to some bumbling idiot trying to finger you.

Realizing this may take a while—and probably require more help from me than I'm willing to give this morning—I decide to do what any nice girl in my predicament would do: I fake it.

"Oooh," I say breathily. "Mmmm hmmm."

I glance at the clock. 9:47 a.m. After giving a few more sounds of faux-pleasure, I still my body with a sigh and pull his hand out of my underwear. With a smile at last night's mistake, I roll out of bed and chuck his pants at him.

"Thanks for the fun night," I say before disappearing into the bathroom.

When I return, he's sitting on the edge of my bed wearing only his pants. Good grief, could he not find his shirt? Spinning around my room, I locate it and toss it to him.

"Not to rush you out, but I have a busy day..."

He follows me out of the room, pulling his shirt over his head, as I open the front door. I gasp, my eyes widening in shock at the man from my dreams standing in my open doorway holding a toolbox. "Kelly!" I squeak.