Page 78 of Demon of Dreams

What was I thinking, not remembering Chad? Of course I remembered him. Of course he was Romeo. Of course he was—

Touching me?

I stared as his fingers let go of my sleeve, only to slide down my arm and catch my hand in his. His fingers were softer than I expected, but his grasp was firm as he tugged on my hand, drawing me to him.

I stepped forward, off-balance, and bumped into his chest. Chad, all gallantry in his velvet costume, swung an arm around my lower back to keep me from falling over. I looked up into his eyes, still burning bright, my breath catching. His face, inches from mine, was beautiful in a harsh way. The straight line of his nose was unflinching, the curve of his lips demanding. But then he smiled, and once again his features became softer. More approachable.

“Hey,” he whispered. He bit his lip, likehewas the one who was nervous. Like I was the confident one, not the guy about to vibrate out of his skin from excitement and fear.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“God,” Chad said. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

His arm tightened around my back. It didn’t make any sense. Guys like him—popular, athletic, only doing drama to round out their college applications—didn’t want guys like me. Guys like him didn’t know the Cory’s of the world existed, except to make fun of them. They were supposed to be disgusted by the fact that I was hard right now.

“So quiet,” Chad mused. “Always in the background, always watching. But you give away nothing. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wondered what you were thinking, behind those gorgeous eyes of yours?”

I would never have called my eyes gorgeous, and there was no way I was going to confess to Chad what I’d been daydreaming about all semester. It was like our standard roles had been flipped on their heads, like some kind of fever dream.

Dream? The word caught in my mind, giving me a moment of deja vu. Was there something I should remember about dreams? About one dream in particular?

“I’ve spent all semester wishing you would talk to me,” Chad continued, pulling my attention back to the present. “All semester hoping you would catch me after rehearsal and ask me to stay.” He leaned in so close that I could feel his breath on my face. His voice was barely audible. “All semester wanting you to pull me behind these curtains and—and—”

His lips touched mine, and every last bit of air escaped my lungs as I exhaled into his mouth. He pulled me so tight against him that I couldn’t have inhaled if I wanted to. The kiss was all heat and pressure. His tongue pushed between my lips and curled against my own. He tasted like sweat and purple Gatorade.

I felt myself melting, going deeper, my muscles going weak. When Chad pulled back, I gasped for air, then yelped as he bit my lower lip.

“Baby,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was a term of endearment or him chastising me. But it was enough to pull me out of the moment. When his lips hit mine again, I tried to let go, to sink back into that surrender, but something felt…off, now.

But what was it? Chad was gorgeous, and this was all I’d ever wanted. For him to notice me, to talk to me. To want me. And as his free hand dipped lower to palm my cock through my jeans, it was obvious I was still hard as a rock. God, I wanted this.

So why did it feel strange?

“Boys?”

Mr. Manfredi’s voice cut through the air again, but this time it came from somewhere behind the plywood edifice. It sounded higher up this time. Chad and I jumped apart, and I looked around wildly.

“Eleven minutes!” Mr. Manfredi said, and I looked up to see him sticking his head out from Juliet’s balcony.

“Yeah, great,” Chad said, running his hand through his hair, trying to play it cool. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Mr. Manfredi disappeared, and Chad turned back to me, laughing. “Close one.”

I couldn’t agree more. I still felt strangely floaty and disconnected. I was at my school. We were doing Romeo and Juliet. Chad was the lead, and I’d been crushing on him all semester. Iknewthat.

But why couldn’t I remember what I’d had for breakfast this morning? And why was Chad into me, after a semester of barely noticing my presence? And come to think of it, if I’d been dying for something like this to happen all semester, why was I suddenly questioning it?

“Maybe we should…” I started to speak, not sure how to finish the sentence, or if I even wanted to. Why was I trying to stop this?

“Go?” Chad said, stepping in front of me again.

I nodded silently, my heart beating fast as he traced a finger down my neck and onto my chest, rippling the folds of the black T-shirt I was wearing.

Black T-shirt.Who else wore a black T-shirt? Why did I feel like I’d seen one on someone recently?

His finger traveled down to my stomach, then reached the button on my black jeans.

“We could go,” Chad said playfully. “But I think it would be much more fun tocome.”

---