Big Shot | ✓

34 | feels like

I dreamt about him last night.

Which was made even more ironic seeing as how he was literally sleeping next to me, sharing a mattress and blanket and breathing air. In all the months I'd been caught up in Hurricane Reid, he'd never invaded my dreams like that. But it wasn't steamy or even sensual. We were slow dancing to Boats and Birds by Gregory & The Hawk underneath a big oak tree as Spanish moss and little string lights swayed in a gentle breeze, his hands on my hips and my arms draped around his neck. It almost felt real.

Until I woke up and realized he wasn't there at all. The spot on the bed where he'd slept was still warm, but just barely. I glanced at the digital clock on his bedside table, groaning at the sight of 7:42 AM blinking back at me.

"Oh good, you're up."

My gaze snapped to him as he was shutting his bedroom door behind him. He had a towel draped around his shoulders, freshly showered and clean smelling as droplets of water fell from damp locks of his hair and onto his bare chest. Of course.

"What's going on?" I asked, thankfully sounding more groggy than I actually felt. Unfortunately, I was wide awake after that dream. 

"Taking the boat out," he responded as he dug through one of his dresser drawers. "Just a little cousin tradition we do every Thanksgiving day morning. My cousin Nicky and his girlfriend will be here soon, you'll like them. Aside from the fact that she's also named Nikki, just spelled differently."

"God, really?" I asked with a chuckle. "How do you differentiate them in conversation then?"

"Uh, point at the one you're talking to."

I laughed again, and he flopped down onto the bed beside me.

"I'm glad you're here, Jo."

The soft sincerity in his voice still took me by surprise, even though at this point maybe it shouldn't have. He'd made it clear how comfortable he was around me - and even though in theory I reciprocated that, it didn't change the fact that the way his forearm brushed against mine made my heart want to explode. Despite whatever civil war was being raged inside me, I reached over and put my hand on his forearm. "Me too. Aside from the whole waking up before 8 AM thing. Isn't it supposed to be a holiday?"

He chuckled as he sat back up and got off the bed. "This is worth it, I promise."

Was it worth it to be forced into even closer proximity to him than usual, on a boat with no way of escaping? To be determined.

"I didn't bring a bathing suit," I groaned again, putting a hand to my forehead.

"We're not going in," he replied. "The water's freezing. In fact..." He pulled a gray pullover sweatshirt out of the drawer he had been digging through. "You'll need that."

Great, now I was going to smell like him too.

Anna and Frank were already up and ready, since they had apparently actually slept inside the blanket fort last night while Aunt Eva took the Donahue's only guest room. Reid had gone outside with Frank to hook his truck up to the boat trailer.

"Mimosa or bloody?" Anna asked me as we walked into the kitchen. There was an array of tumblers on the kitchen counter, where Anna was pouring a mimosa mixture from a pitcher into one.

"Mimosa, please," I replied. "I appreciate the commitment to the roadies. Usually at school we just slum it in an empty Dasani water bottle."

"We're classy here." She handed me a Clemson orange plastic tumbler with a grin.

"Bloody me," another voice called from the foyer, as if there weren't like five other people in the house asleep. A dark-haired girl came storming into the kitchen like a hurricane, fanning her face. "Make it a double, actually. Nicky's already on my nerves."