fill her up. Fuck, that slick glide would be so good if he would just—
“Look at me,” he said again.
“No.”
He sighed, pulling back. Away from her. What the fuck? This was her dream, for Christ’s sake!
“Come back here,” she snapped.
“You know what I want.”
“What is this, a subconscious revolt?” she demanded. What the hell was going on? She had no idea—and she couldn’t ask her mother to interpret this particular dream, since it involved fucking a local hot dad on a floating bed. What was she supposed to do, Google it?
“You know me, Hannah. You know me because we’re the same. Admit it.”
“Oh, piss off. Jesus. I can’t even get a decent shag inside my own fucking head. Why haven’t I replaced the batteries in my vibrator yet?”
“Because you don’t masturbate. You just have dreams like this and wake up wondering what happened. But you don’t remember, because you sleep too deeply.”
“Great,” she said dryly. And then, a second later: “Wait, so I won’t remember this? That is pretty great.”
“You want to forget me?” Nate asked, sounding a little offended.
“Of course I do. This is atrocious. I don’t know what my subconscious was playing at, bringing you here. Frankly, I only allowed it because I like your tattoos.”
“But you don’t like me.”
“Not like that. I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice unnervingly dark.
“That I’m not fifteen?”
“Hannah,” he growled.
Oh, fine. She knew what he meant. “Yes! Okay? Yes, I’m sure. I’m very sure.” While sitting on a dreamy, floating bed, butt-naked, with her own arousal sliding down her thighs and a desperate need for Nate’s phantom dick, she said firmly: “Nathaniel Davis, I am not into you.”
“In that case,” he said, “you’d better wake up.”
Nate’s house, Hannah discovered the next day, was east of the train tracks, close to the town centre, and on the smaller side. It was also painfully charming—or at least it looked that way from the pavement. Instead of brick, it was made of those old cobble stones, and the front garden was alive with… flowers. Yellow ones and purple ones. That was the best Hannah could do in terms of identifying plant life. The whole thing was adorable.
She approached it with as much trepidation as she would Dracula’s mansion.
“You’ve got this,” she murmured under her breath. “You are in control. Base emotions do not rule you. Attraction does not necessitate action.”
The positive affirmations didn’t help.
She didn’t know why, exactly, but Hannah had woken up that morning convinced that she was being haunted by the ghost of her old crush. Except it had turned poltergeist, and it would not give her a minute to breathe. This was all Nate’s fault, obviously, for running around looking like a modern-day Danny Zuko, but the consequences of that irresponsible sexiness would inevitably be heaped on Hannah’s shoulders.
A crush, she knew, was a powerful thing. A dangerous thing. Her crush on Nate had been the first she’d ever had, and she’d hated every damned minute of it. The inappropriate thoughts, the inappropriate dreams (which were probably more puberty-related than Nate-related, but whatever), the sweaty palms and pounding heart…
Good Lord, it had all been quite sickening. And the threat of sliding back into that messy existence was making Hannah teeter on the edge of hysteria. She was slightly concerned that, if he opened the door looking a little too handsome, she might do something disturbing. Like slap him. And slapping the poor man wouldn’t help her plot to secure employment, now, would it?
Hannah cleared her throat, adjusted her braids, and smoothed down her floor-length skirt. Although she’d ironed it twice before leaving the house, she checked studiously for any embarrassing creases. Really, you could never be too careful. Once, she’d wandered about for hours in a skirt that had an odd V-shaped furrow right over her vulva. She’d gotten so many strange looks that day.
Satisfied that all was in order, she stepped through the pretty little gate, strode up the pretty garden path, and rapped smartly on Nate’s pretty front door.
Almost immediately, a shadow fell behind its frosted glass. A very large shadow. Hannah swallowed as she heard locks and latches clatter, and then the door swung slowly, ominously open… to reveal Zach’s smiling face.
The anti-climax almost killed her.
“Hey,” he grinned. “You’re here.”
Hannah winced. “Am I early? Am I late?” She couldn’t be late, could she? She’d timed it so perfectly—
“Stop that. You’re completely, precisely on time.” Zach grabbed her arm and dragged her into the house, as if