Summer Sights

07 | platonic

I stir from my sleep and softly groan at the stiffness in my muscles from lying on such an uncomfortable surface during my slumber. I open my sleep-encrusted eyes and am greeted with the sun staring straight at me.

This is what I'd dreamed of too. A boy with dandelion eyes and two dimpled cheeks. Maybe I'm still dreaming. Maybe it was never a dream. But the beauty of them seems too surreal to be anything outside of fiction. They're a bonfire that I wouldn't mind being burned by.

I close my eyes back in an attempt to distract myself of all the possibilities. The possibility of this not being a dream after all. The possibility of me wishing it would continue anyway.

The feel of a hand's touch warmths my cheek as thumb begins to caress it back and forth, making a small smile tease the corners of my lips.

This is the first good dream I've had in a really long time. This boy could never be a nightmare. He's every prince charming in a fairytale. By some bippity boppity boo, he's here with me right now. In my dream of course. With his hand on my cheek sending shivers and goosebumps coursing through my body.

And this time, I'm too dim witted to recoil from them. Because I tell myself that this is a dream. I lie to myself and let him caress my cheek for a brief moment. And I enjoy it.

But soon enough, the part of my brain that believed my fable starts to get suspicious. So, it sends those damning signals to that pesky voice deep within the depths of my head. The voice that screams "danger" from the pit of its throat. This, sure enough, wakes me right up.

My body tenses at the boy's touch and my eyes shoot open, getting a split second view of the enchanter whose spell I was under. If I had kept my eyes open I have no doubt that all parts of my brain would've believed me when I said it was a dream.

He, is incredibly stunning. Too stunning for his own good. So stunning it's troubling. He's troublesome. Terribly troublesome.

And I have to keep my distance.

I jerk up from my position on the ground, away from the hand that felt so right just seconds before. But of course, because my lack of control over my body is always oh so prevalent, I find myself tumbling over and into the pond.

The cold water hits me like a brick and if there was any doubt of me being awake before, it's gone now.

"You've got to be kidding me," I groan rising out of the water, wiping my eyes so they can adjust. To which, they fall on a smirking Andre Martin with one of his large hands extended.

"You alright curly?" He asks amusedly as I place my wet hand in his grasp. I grip my soft fragile hand in his calloused one and it feels unsurprisingly pleasant.

Like a workers hand. Like he puts his hands to work everyday. Its rough. And it's unsurprisingly pleasant.

"I'm just peachy Andre," I roll my eyes as he pulls me out.

Andre grins, still amused by my displeasure, "I see that you're a morning person."

His eyes travel from my gaze to a few inches lower before he quickly looks back up to me. I don't miss the red that forms at his ears as he chews on the inside of his cheek before he's pulling his tee shirt over his head.

"Woah Andre, it is way too early for a swim if that's what you have in mind," I exclaim turning away from him and beginning to blush at the thought of it.

Him. Swimming. In water. Without a shirt on.

If I could bleach my thoughts, that's what I would be doing right now.