convincing that I wonder if I’ve overlooked my true calling. Forget being a professor of economics. Maybe my actual future lies in politics.
Finally, I get off the phone.
Only then do I let the tears drop from my eyes.
Chapter Ten
That night, I dream.
It begins as many dreams do, with the events of my day jumbled together as though they were in a blender. One moment, I’m attaching penis gummies all over Mat’s Jeep. He takes one off the windshield, his eyebrow artfully raised, and pops it into his mouth. The next moment, Taran picks up the ruler that Papa so thoughtfully provided. Instead of measuring the distance between us, however, he breaks the ruler in half and pulls me against his chest.
Here, the dream melts into one of those weird states where I know I’m dreaming but the scene is so vivid, so delicious, that I don’t want to be. And I’m just confused enough to convince myself that it’s sufficiently real, if only for the moment.
I’m walking through a lush forest, hand in hand with Taran. Dazzling flowers bloom in the bushes, and the scents of pine and moist earth engulf me. The sun slants though gaps in the living canopy, warming my skin. The leaves dance with the barest of breezes. Everything feels perfect.
He holds my hand just right. Not too hard and not too soft. Our fingers intertwine like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
Presently, we stop by a set of large boulders and descend into a shallow pond. The water laps at my bare waist. I’m wearing a tiny red bikini—one that I’ve never seen, much less owned. A waterfall thunders next to us, and stray drops flick onto my skin. The water is cool and refreshing. I’m so heated that I’m surprised the drops don’t evaporate upon contact.
Taran’s hand is on the move. His fingers leave mine, and he skims them over the back of my hand, onto my wrist. My skin sizzles where he touches, but I can’t tell if it’s from excitement or anxiety. The waterfall continues to pound next to us, but I don’t notice. I don’t care. The whole of my being is focused on his hand, on those long and elegant fingers—and how I’m supposed to react to them.
He walks his fingers up my arm, all the way to my shoulder, where he pauses.
“I’ve wanted this for so long. You have no idea.” His voice sounds different. Lower, raspier somehow.
He moves his hand again, gliding it across my collarbone, tilting up my chin. Anticipation swirls in my stomach. This is it. My first kiss. The one I’ve been waiting for since I saw Adam Scheffer plant one on Ari in a darkened alcove next to the art room. But am I ready for it? And do I want my first time to be with Taran? As cute as he is, I barely know the guy.
Still, I lift my own chin, telling myself to go for it. I need to have my first kiss sometime.
But I’m confused. What does he mean, he’s been waiting so long? We only met two days ago. He couldn’t have wanted me for longer than forty-eight hours.
A pair of lips comes into view. Soft-looking, pillow lips. And I’m even more puzzled. Because Taran isn’t that tall. And dream or no dream, shouldn’t I be locking eyes with him right about now?
The answer dawns on me the moment my gaze clashes with a pair of eyes so dark that they’re almost black. Lashes so long, they evoke cries of inequity. An expression so arrogant that it can belong to only one person.
Mat Songsomboon.
My mouth drops in horror. Oh, holy hell. I’m having a kiss dream about Mat?
No. Freaking. Way.
He continues to lean closer. And closer still.
Gasping, I jerk awake just as those famed pillow lips touch mine.
Chapter Eleven
Several days later, I stir a perfectly soft-boiled egg into my bowl of hot congee, the steam buffeting my face. I haven’t quite recovered from my dream-turned-nightmare of kissing Mat. How could my subconscious betray me like that?
It’s Bunny’s fault. It has to be. She was talking about his pillowy lips, and my mind twisted that into something that I would find attractive.
Damn Bunny. Damn subconscious. Damn Mat for being way better-looking than his personality deserves.
Okay, I’ll own up to it. Much to my chagrin, even after I woke, I imagined—for a few fleeting seconds—how it might feel to kiss those lips. So sue me. He’s…passable, okay? That’s not a