The only thing better than dreaming about her was knowing that she would see her soon. She didn’t know when, exactly, and she wasn’t sure of the how or the why either, but seeing her face and feeling her insides electrify like some big, neon Las Vegas sign as soon as she was around made the long, rainy evenings optimistic and pink. The steam from the rain and humidity from the concrete jungle that surrounded her created an ethereal fog around her windows and straight into her soul. The barrier helped her relax, sink into herself, as the bouncing lights and background cacophony from the outside dissipated into swirls of air.
She could recall every detail of her face when she closed her eyes and smiled as her mind’s eye took its time sliding over every detail, every imperfection that made her that much more beautiful and unique. She couldn’t look at her like that when they were together; her glances had to be deliberately short and devoid of intensity and she relished the quiet time at night when she could recall her face, her body, her laugh and her hands at her leisure, silently appreciating everything that she was without concern for rejection, reprisal or that invisible awkward ice block that could so quickly rear its ugly freeze between them. She was heat, sensuality and friction, and made her knees weak and her breath catch as that giant Las Vegas sign fizzled and cracked to its full ON position inside of her at every glimpse. She was heat and she knew deep inside of herself that no amount of icy freeze could ever keep up with the blaze that consistently flickered between them.
Maybe she would never know that she loved her. That was okay, as long as she could hold onto her dreams. They were always more vivid late at night and upon waking every morning, still in that surreal, in-between spot where the lines of reality blurred and she was never sure which end was tangible. It was bittersweet finding herself in a lonesome bed, one side as chilly as it had been the evening before, but she secretly knew deep down that no matter what nameless, faceless warm body filled the cold spot in her bed, they couldn’t lay a claim on her heart. It was already hers, and hers only.
Opening the dusty window and using more force than she was accustomed to so early in the morning hours, she wrenched it from its frame and closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of spring through her nostrils. The scent crept across the room as slowly and silently as the washes of pastel yellows, pinks and blues that pushed their way through the thin screen. A warm breeze ruffled the curtain back and as the colors grew higher in the sky before her, she wondered if this would be the day. It was an irresistible morning, one that teased new beginnings, freshness and positivity.
She glanced back longingly at her bed, the comforter still pushed halfway back from when she’d pulled herself from her blankets and the dreams that she waited all day to have. Her mind already began to wander and she crawled back into bed, pulling the blankets back around her. They were still warm with body heat, her dreams weren’t that far away yet…
Letting her eyes flutter shut, she decided that ten more minutes of dreaming would be okay. Her face was still just beneath her eyelids and somewhere deep inside of her chest too, the same spot where a single smile could make it pang and race for long, beautiful moments; moments that she remembered later and allowed herself to live through again and again once all masks were removed, guards were lowered and she was relaxed and alone with her thoughts and candy-coated dreams.
Maybe today would be the day, She thought, a shot of slow, calm anticipation filling her veins as she breathed in the light scent of the brand new morning. Maybe today my dreams will collide with reality in the most gorgeous, sensual crash of my life.
The ten minutes passed excruciatingly quickly and the day’s activities and obligations began to take precedence. As her dreams faded from her mind, she wondered if she would see her today and hoped that she would. Leaning over the clean, hard porcelain of the bathroom sink, she spat the toothpaste out and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her smile was real.
Maybe today will be the day, She thought again, grinning as she twisted on the radio. Or maybe not. Either way, that’s okay.
Maybe she would never know that she loved her. But in the here, in the now, surrounded by love that she couldn’t necessarily see but felt touch the very corners of her being, she knew that it didn’t matter. The only thing better than dreaming about her was knowing that she would see her soon.