Cat sat on her bed in her pajamas, braiding her hair to the side; there was a lot to think about from the events of today, but for whatever reason, Peter’s weird answer to her question still echoed in her mind. Everything worked out okay from this, sure. But still, the way he struggled to even continue his story, the way he squeezed her hand….

Cat finished her braid and threw it over her shoulder, sighing heavily. This was strange. This whole week was strange. And her mind kept jumping back to how her hand still tingled from when he squeezed it--and why did she even do that in the first place? She had no idea how he’d react, and the fact that he didn’t just vomit right there from touching her was a small blessing. They’d never intentionally touched before, and there she went, just impulsively grabbing his hand after spewing out his secrets for him to re-live.

But he didn’t mind her knowing everything, it turned out. And he didn’t regret telling her, even if he didn’t have a say in it at first. And he squeezed her hand, as if thankful that she even touched him in the first place. God, what was going on?

“What’s so hard to understand?” asked Peter. She jumped, letting out a small yelp as she looked across the room. Peter stood there, leaning against the frame of Hannah’s bed, still in his jacket although the heater was on. Cat furrowed her brows.

“What are you--how did you get in here?” she stammered, glancing to the door. It remained shut; but even if it was open, she would have heard it. Peter shrugged at her, as if he didn’t actually have an answer for her.

“You wanted me here,” he said simply. That didn’t make any sense. He was supposed to be out with Kelsey and Hannah and Cameron--what was he doing in her room? “I just appeared here,” he continued. He took a few steps closer, breaking away from Hannah’s bed frame to stand in the middle of the room. Cat’s heart jumped to her throat. Could he hear her thoughts? “Of course I can.” Her eyes went wide. “How do you think I know all I do?”

She furrowed her brows and shook her head at him. “You don’t know all that much.” His smile lit up his face, dimples highlighting either side. He seemed to enjoy her slight insult. Well, at least one thing was normal.

“I know enough.” Pleased with himself, Peter stepped up to her, just inches away from her knees, challenging her. On their own accord, her teeth bit her lips together and her knuckles turned white against her comforter. Why was he getting so close? Why could she smell his detergent or body wash or whatever it was again? She drew a shaky breath as she stared at him, and he continued inching closer, his hands eventually resting gently on her knees. His fingertips pimpled her skin, giving her goosebumps.

“L-like what?” she asked finally. Her voice was quiet; she struggled to keep her eyes locked with his, but he gently pried her knees apart so he could stand closer to her, so close she could feel his breath, feel the heat from his legs transferring through hers. She watched his breath escape his lips slowly, confidently. He was so certain, and she could hardly stop herself from shaking.

Peter continued smiling at her, inching closer and closer. She closed her eyes until she felt his breath on her neck, his lips right at her ear. Finally, he answered, “I know that you want me.”

A shiver ran down her spine, manifesting trembles in her hands that overtook her grip on the comforter. His soft lips pecked just below her neck; she tilted her head back to give him full access and accept his affection. His hands slowly trailed up her thighs until they met her hips, and with a gentle nudge from him, she scooted further to the edge of the bed, until she could feel his belt through the thin fabric of her pajamas. Peter’s fingers gripped at her, finding the slit of skin from where her shirt met her pants, and dipped beneath the soft waistband. His skin was so warm against hers, leaving trails of fire every inch they went. When he pulled her again, desperate to eliminate any space between them, a small sigh escaped his lips.

Cat finally released her comforter and gave permission to let herself react to him; she ran her fingers up his arms, to his neck, where the collar of his peacoat remained open enough for her hands to touch his skin. Another kiss from him encouraged her to slide her hands under his coat on his shoulders to push it off; she thought he’d have to let go of her for it to drop away, but for whatever reason, it dematerialized and he still held her, this time pulling her chest to his. His kisses trailed further up her jawline until he hovered just above her lips, waiting, asking. Tingles shot through her arms and her fingertips, where she pulled at his neck to bring him closer.

A sigh of relief washed over her when she finally kissed him, his lips so gentle and full against her own. Perfect, molding in perfect time with her movements and desires. His hands traveled up her back, underneath her shirt as a gentle way of asking to remove it; before she could adjust to help him, it was gone, and so was his. Pressing against his bare chest sent shocks of electricity through her veins, pulling her into a hypnotic bliss. She could feel his heartbeat as she explored the soft skin on his neck, down to the small, inch-long scar she hardly got a glimpse at before. Through her moan, she urged him to explore her skin just a bit more. Every part of her he didn’t touch ached, pulsated, just waiting for him to hold her or kiss her there. Her legs wrapped around his waist; he shifted, pushing her back against her bed until he could climb up with her. Just as she wanted the rest of the barriers between them gone, they, too, disappeared, and finally his bare hips hovered just above hers. Her breathing was so fast; the only relief was seeing how fast his was, how he stared at her with his brilliant, green eyes and couldn’t seem to bring himself to look anywhere else. Pressure in her throat came to a peak. Cat arched against him, the anticipation finally reaching every sensitive part of her. If he didn’t keep touching her, she would undoubtedly explode.

“Do you want this?” Peter asked as he buried his face in her neck. He gently nibbled at her earlobe, as if to distract her from one of his hands that rubbed her hip and traveled to her inner thigh. “Do you want me?” Cat dug her fingernails into his back and let out a small moan, her whole body trembling from his contact.

“Yes,” she sounded, almost desperate, throwing her head back. “Please....” But as soon as she asked, everything vanished.

The air was cold; his warmth was replaced by her comforter, and when she drew a breath, every building feeling she had began to subside in the most disappointing way. Where did he go? “Peter?” she asked to the air.

“Sorry--I thought I was being quiet.” Reality crashed down on her when her eyes flew open. Cat stared at the dark ceiling of her dorm room, and when she looked over to his voice, she found the darkened shadow of Peter with Hannah as she struggled to climb on the bed, illuminated just by the bit of campus light that snuck through the closed blinds.

“Sorry, Cat!” Hannah murmured. “I hurt my ankle.” And before Cat could even wrap her head around what was happening, another shadow appeared in the doorway.

“I found ice,” Cam whispered. “Oh, Cat’s awake.” He approached their nightstand to flip the switch. Cat shielded her eyes from the light and squinted to the other side of the room.

Hannah, thankfully not drunk off her ass, sat on her bed, accepting a bag of ice and some paper towels from Cam. Peter took a step back to give Cam more space, and turned to Cat.

“Where’s your--are you okay?” he asked. No, she wanted to shout. But she lay there, struggling to slow her breathing as she stared up at him wide-eyed. God, her heart. Her heart, her thoughts--that dream. And his eyes--it was so realistic….

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, but she covered her face with her hand. “Just a dream.” She tried to let out a slow breath, but her lungs almost burned, as if she couldn’t get enough air.

“Oh--sorry. Um, where’s the Tylenol?” As Peter looked around, Cat squeezed her eyes shut.

“Um, my desk drawer, the first one, I think,” she muttered. At the sound of him shuffling, she struggled to get her heart rate down. It felt so real...which was why this was such a problem!

“Thanks, guys,” Hannah murmured, accepting her water bottle and Tylenol from them. “See you tomorrow.”

“G’night,” Cam called, waving. Peter mumbled something similar before they shut the door.

“Sorry for waking you up,” Hannah said. Cat still shut her eyes, covering them with both of her hands now. “Are you okay?”

“Dream,” Cat repeated breathlessly. She couldn’t get the images, the ghosts of his touch out of her head. She’d think of a moment from her dream, feel flush, and then a cold breeze from the window just whooshed it away. Good lord!

“Nightmare?”

“Uh...no.”

“Want to talk about it?” Hell no! Or maybe….

“I, uh….” She could say what it was without including who it was. “It was one of those kinds of dreams.” Hannah adjusted the ice on her ankle, but Cat could also hear her shift around so she could get ready to go to sleep.

“What kind?” she asked.

Cat hesitated. “Um...almost a dirty dream.”

All noise from Hannah’s side of the room stopped, and Cat finally lifted her hands off of her face to look at her. Hannah had a huge smile.

“Ooooo!” she sounded, giggling. “Almost, though? Did we interrupt it?” Cat nodded, and Hannah’s smile faded. “Oh, no! I’m sorry! We were really trying to be quiet!”

“No, it’s--it’s better--it’s fine. It’s fine.” Though her hands still trembled.

“Who was it with? Was it with Cam? That’d be pretty freaky, fucking Cam in a dream and then seeing him in real life, all of a sudden--”

“No,” Cat answered quickly. Though it was close enough, and she was absolutely right about how freaky it was to see someone in a dream, only to wake up and see them again. “Not Cam, it was...um….” Who could she lie about without having Hannah read too much into it? “Just some stranger,” she settled with. Hannah’s smile returned.

“Like...an attractive hobo?” God, she had no idea. She had no clue that this “attractive hobo” Cat freaked out about nearly a month ago and this “some stranger” were the very same person.

“Yeah,” was all Cat decided to say.

“I love those dreams. Anyway, sorry for waking you up--let me turn off the light.”

“How’d you hurt your ankle?” she asked when the room returned to darkness. Hannah huffed.

“Cat, sometimes I wonder if you ever notice my shoes. They were so cute today...but also inappropriate for government-funded parking lot asphalt. Cam and Peter had to help me walk all the way back here.”

“Yikes,” Cat sounded with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. “Kelsey go back to her place?”

“Yeah, she couldn’t help me. But she’ll be by tomorrow to check on me while you’re at work. We’re all set.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Though Cat pretended to listen to what Hannah said, her mind still churned, still took her back to the dream. How the hell was she supposed to look at Peter now?

Her short term plan was essentially not to look at Peter in any way, shape or form. Think of him? Nope, too close to remembering her dream. She’d gotten pretty good at repressing thoughts and memories, right? What was one more, especially if it wasn’t real? Maybe if she just treated it like a regular nightmare, that would help.

But the problem was that it wasn’t a nightmare, and that it was actually--nope! Focus. Work. School.

Midterms, for crying out loud! She had a paper for English, a paper for communications, some practice tests for stats.... Thankfully, she’d logged enough miles to get her a guaranteed A in her running class. She’d continue running for good measure, and because of how incredibly sore she was after her last serious bout of running, but she didn’t need to wear the heart monitor, or worry so desperately on her time or heart rate.

Everything was fine. Monday morning, instead of looking at Peter, Cat was lucky enough to have such a huge morning rush at Jittery Joe’s (probably due to midterms), that she hardly had time to wave at Peter as he continued their usual arrangement: walk to the front of the line, drop off exact change, and his drink was ready for him ahead of time. He didn’t seem to notice that she barely glanced at him; or at least, he didn’t think anything of it, because she was too busy preparing an order and taking another at the same time that he approached.

The distance helped. The less she saw him, the less she thought of him.

And, as usual, Talkative saved the day. Apparently, having dirty dreams featuring less-than-ideal people was common. A sign of stress. Thank God. An even better distraction was PumpkinKing, who seemed to be getting bolder and bolder.

Cat asked him Monday night after communications, You always seem to know when I post. How?

And somehow, his reply wasn’t creepy, and only made her feel stupid: Because I subscribed to you, duh. And after he explained what “subscribing” was to her, Cat found the little notification symbol on a person’s profile, right beside the message button. Now Cat got notifications on her phone whenever PumpkinKing posted, too.

So you always want to know what I’m talking about, huh? she typed to him that night as she got into her pajamas.

You have good takes, what can I say? Besides, it’s like a reminder to smile every so often. You’re funny. Cat snorted. Thankfully, Hannah was at the library, cramming for a test tomorrow morning, or she’d have to explain herself.

Are you hitting on me? she dared to ask.

Only if you like it...? His response made her cheeks burn.

I’d probably like it more if you were any good at it.

Pumpkin awarded her with a laughing emoji reaction and a gif of a famous superhero actor clutching his chest in pain. To ease his suffering just a little bit, she added a winkie smilie face.

Should’ve known not to play with fire!

Be sure to apply a cool compress and protective ointment onto that burn. Now she was the one being cheesy. But he still gave her a laughing reaction.

The majority of her social interaction was reduced to Talkative during the week, due to the ups and downs of midterm pressure and the struggle of finding any time to hang out with her friends. Apparently most of Hannah’s were on Wednesday and Thursday, and everyone else’s spread about that. Kelsey revived the group chat that included Cat and Peter with questions about a “Friendsgiving.” Cat wasn’t sure how well that was going to go, considering she didn’t get to go home, and Peter--well, he didn’t have a family to celebrate real Thanksgiving with. Kelsey’s well-intentioned plan didn’t really sit well for the people she thought to honor. They eventually settled for Mexican food on Saturday.

But, even though she was still a little bitter about the whole Thanksgiving thing in the first place, Cat wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to eat Mexican food from an authentic restaurant. Besides, she did miss having dinner with everyone all together. Because of the mixed up schedules from tests and study groups, Cat was only able to have dinner once with Kelsey and once with Cam. She never thought to see if Peter was available either of those times...and no one made her ask, so she didn’t.