Chapter 27
THE DREAM AT DAWN
ELENA
Hours ago, the sun shattered the night into a thousand pieces, welcoming a Sunday tinged with a hangover and an upset stomach.
Alcohol has never agreed with me, but in my defense, I’ll say that either I drank or it would have been impossible for me to be the same Elena as always.
When Victoria showed up at the restaurant, I knew that everything Ana had advised me over the past few days wouldn’t do me any good, and sure enough, that’s exactly how it turned out.
Hours have passed since we kissed, and I can still feel the touch of her lips on mine.
I had trouble falling asleep, and when I finally did, I plunged into a dream so vivid it felt real.
In the bedroom of our house in Valencia, we gazed at each other through the darkness of the early morning, surrounded by the streetlights that danced across the walls, casting shadows that seemed to whisper of our shared past. She stood before me with that sparkle in her eyes that had always captivated me.
Her hair cascaded down her bare neck, and her smile took me on a journey through all the nights we’d shared together.
I hated seeing myself so weak in the face of her charms, but I can’t lie to myself and ignore that her closeness is what I’ve missed most over the years, and that those kisses shattered my resolve to keep my emotions from surfacing because of her.
In an instant, I moved toward her, unable to resist the magnetic pull that had always existed between us.
Our bodies met in the center of the room, separated only by the electricity buzzing in the air thick with desire.
Victoria stepped toward me and cupped my face tenderly in her hands, letting her thumbs trace invisible lines across my skin.
The heat of her touch was intoxicating, a drug that consumed me without mercy.
Without knowing what drove me to do it, I leaned toward her and felt her breath brush my lips before we kissed.
And in my dream, it felt exactly the same as it had in the nightclub; it was something that awakened all the memories I had buried deep within my being.
Our tongues met in a frenzied dance that left us breathless and our skin on edge.
It was so intense that I felt the desire to relive every touch and every sigh we’d shared before.
There was no regret or restraint, only the fire that consumed us from within as my hands roamed her body desperately, memorizing every inch of skin.
It’s strange how a dream can feel so real, but I have her moans etched in my mind, fueling the flames that threatened to consume us as we kissed under the neon lights, hiding from the group and anyone who might recognize us.
I remember that we stripped off our clothes just as quickly as we devoured each other, that we caressed, bit, and kissed, proving that our love hadn’t died but had become something darker and wilder with the passage of time.
I don’t know if my hands moved, but I did feel her fingers inside me, between thrusts that set a frantic pace and made it clear that, no matter how much I tried to hold back my impulses, she was going to do everything in her power to overcome any obstacle and come back to me.
Now I realize that perhaps my own desires led me to dream of her, to masturbate while thinking of her.
However, I don’t mind having done so because of the pleasure I felt imagining myself joining her and brushing against her sex.
The world around us faded into darkness, and I melted into her.
It’s been over an hour since I woke up, and I still feel as though I’m stuck there.
It’s already noon, and I’ve had a hard time getting out of bed.
The smile I woke up with makes my cheeks ache, and in my stomach, despite the discomfort, I feel the fluttering of little butterflies—a sensation I’d missed.
I know it was just a dream, that that sex scene was nothing more than a vague representation of what I wished had happened.
I haven’t stopped wondering what’s going through her mind right now—whether she had a dream as passionate as mine, or if she spent a quiet night enjoying that double bed I made up for her and her girlfriend.
The more I think about how things are, the more I fear this is just an insignificant coincidence.
I’m afraid I’m fantasizing, getting carried away, and falling back into the trap of hoping and waiting for the impossible.
I’d love to be able to follow Ana’s example and be strong, but I can’t bring myself to resist those eyes that, when they look at me, erase these past five years and all the bad things that happened between us.
I’ve always hoped for her return, but now it remains to be seen whether Victoria wants the same thing or if her job—and everything she has in Madrid—is still the most important thing.