Page 56 of The Home Grown
I don’t know if it’s anticipation or regret.
Maybe both.
Maybe neither.
My eyes flutter closed, and the dream resurfaces.
I’m stuck in a limbo of wanting to experience it again but alsonotwanting to either. And for the third time, I pry my eyes open, but instead of staring up at the ceiling, I sit up and shake my head.
My phone tells me that it’s close to midnight, which means there’s at least seven more hours of turmoil. Seven more hours of—wait.
My mind races, re-tracing the moments before I woke. That feeling. That sensation which had me shivering withsatisfaction. I mean, it’s never happened before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not normal … right?
I unlock my phone and tap the icon for the search engine. Letting my fingers do all the work.
‘Is it normal to have an orgasm in your sleep?’
My heart thumps harder as I wait for the results to load because if it isn’t normal, then I need to stop sleeping; that’s my only solution.
… an orgasm while asleep, also known as a nocturnal orgasm or sleep orgasm … common phenomenon … particularly during periods of sexual arousal or when not sexually active.
Well, I guess that explains it.
A conclusion that it probably wasn’t anything to do with Mike and more to do with the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve had sex or even a self-induced orgasm.
Relieved, I toss my phone down on the bed next to me, and roll over, settling myself back into position to fall asleep.
I lay for a few moments, afraid to close my eyes out of fear that I’ll relive the dream all over again.
But I don’t need to close my eyes to see him, stretched out on the bed while I straddle his thighs—my imagination is consumed. Except, in this vision, I’m not shying away like I typically would, nor am I insisting I keep my bra on. I’m fully naked—exposed. And there’s an encouraging look on his face as he takes in every inch of me.
He’s enjoying himself.
He smiles at me, and my eyes are drawn to a small scar near his lip. Did he always have this scar, is it new?
The mental image of Mike I’ve conjured has me sitting back up in bed and reaching for my phone—tapping his name into the search engine, curiosity getting the better of me; why it matters is a mystery.
My heart flutters when the results load and his entry on the hockey database website returns a mugshot next to a snapshot of him in his hockey gear, mid-skate.
Okay, so I wasn’t imagining the scar on his lip. I got an up-close look at it last night when we were in my kitchen … faces together and vulnerabilities exposed.
It starts on his lower lip and travels down towards his chin, disappearing under the stubble of his beard.
The more I think about it, the more I wish I’d asked him how he got it. How did he get it?
Before I realise what I’m doing, I’ve moved to the social media page of his hockey team, set on finding the ‘before the scar’ moment—curious to know if there’s a point in time I can identify.
As I cycle through the photos, I take in his expression on each one in turn as I study the photo for the scar. I guess I never realised how different he looks when he’s concentrating. I mean, he’s usually good looking, but there’s something about the way his eyes focus, like they’re brighter somehow, that makes him appear more … something.
A video loads next, and I spot the coppery-brown of Mike’s hair.
There’s a section of the video where he takes his helmet off and runs his fingers through his hair and I feel my own fingertips tingling with wonder. Is his hair soft or coarse? And most importantly, why do Icare?
I shake the thought away, but it lingers—especially as the next clip plays and a warmth spreads through my chest.
A clip of him during a practice session—scar present and accounted for. There’s a microphone cabled into his jersey or something because everything he says is audible, and I take several minutes to realise I’m smiling along with the people he’s interacting with. He’s goofy, but everyone seems to love it. Just like the Mike I remember from school—laughing, joking, completely in his element.
But then my eyes drift down to the comments section beneath the video, and the warmth in my chest fades.
