TBPA summer edition gold medalist 2016.
Alistair Flynn is a walking anxiety attack/accident waiting to happen.
Ridden by nightmares and peer pressure of being the jock of the block, his life takes a confusing turn when a hazel-eyed boy invites him...
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"Alistair," Dominic coos, stroking his hand up and down from my Adam's apple down to my hip.
My body is framed with long grass, brushing against my skin as the air moves around close to the earth. Dominic's body is tightly packed against mine, using my shoulder as his pillow.
The sky always seems to be the thing lodged farthest into my memory. Unlike the normal cobalt dome enveloping us and the normal grapefruit trees, it's the night sky and only grass.
We don't even have grassy fields on this part of the farm and I barely stay out at night.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we have a future together?" He snuggles closer, wrapping his arms around my body. It's comforting to feel his skin to mine, for some reason we're not clothed in shirts. Even though the ground beneath me is crawling and the sky above me is whirling, I feel superior.
It's as if Dominic feels safe around me and I feel good keeping his safe. Innocent. Unharmed.
"I have fantasies," I admit, curling my fingers through his hair. He doesn't have hairspray in his hair and that makes his hair feel like I'm touching individual strands of silk.
"Like?"
"It's ridiculous." I blush.
"Fantasies are never ridiculous, you can't have enough fantasies."
"I–eh, you know, dream of how it'll be after school. You know, what it will be like to live together or marrying you some day. Even have kids and travel the world."
"Awe," he whispers, pushing himself up to look down at me. "You dream of us living together?"
"Well, yeah," I shrug, pushing myself up a little. I feel all the shades of embarrassment possible to a person, ducking my face to keep the flush away from him.
"That's adorable," he tips my head up to him, so I can look him in the eye.
But I see no soft, hazel eyes. Instead, I see stone cold emerald eyes.
I pull away from him, pushing him away from me as a dual effect. He looks at me confused as I scramble to my feet.
"What's wrong?" He asks, completely unaware of the amend. Someone's messing with me.
He's messing with me.
He can't have green eyes, unless he's wearing contact lenses. He won't wear green lenses, he'll probably wear red or white or black, just for show or scare, not beryl. This can't be Dominic.
"W–why are your..." I couldn't end my sentence, because I can barely end my thoughts.
"My eyes green? They've always been green," he shrugs.
