Page 10 of Dream Girl

“I have been up for four hours,” he states plainly, unaffected by the gasp.

He wakes up at the same time every day, but it still shocks me that this human being is able to wake up at five in the morning. That unholy hour is perfect for a deep sleep because everyone is still in their bed, dead to the outside world, and the snow blankets the city.

I blink, my ears picking up the edginess in his tone when I turn to him. He stares back, dark eyes drilling deep into mine as my heart thumps down to my stomach.

I scoot over, using the hand trapped in his grip to tug at him. He understands what I want him to do and slowly comes under the welcoming warmth where I flip the blanket over his wide body.

I cup his cheek; the roughness of his facial hair engulfs my palm as he sighs deeply.

“Nightmare again?” I timidly trace the bone under his eye.

He doesn’t answer, and I thought he wasn’t going to when he nods. “Partial.”

I don’t know how someone can have an incomplete nightmare, but then I remember that there is such a thing where people abruptly wake up in the middle of a disturbing nightmare before it finishes.

“Couldn’t sleep after that,” he admits.

Milo has struggled with sleep for a long time. Insomnia was the first thing I had noticed about him when I met him through the company.

I worked as a cuddling professional. Well, the term is Sleeping Assistant. It’s just as it sounds. I get assigned to those who pay for the service after vigorous screening for criminal backgrounds and run-ins with the law.

We make exceptions, but those are rare cases, and it’s decided by the screening process and the final approval stamp of the higher-ups.

I didn’t know why Milo had signed up or where he got the idea, but knowing him now, I still don’t know why someone like him who can’t stand physical contact and hates being near people would be willing to let a stranger cuddle him.

Then I realize that he had dark circles under his eyes worse than a black handbag. He was assigned to me by chance, but I found out that he had chosen categories that not many people would choose.

He wanted someone to talk to him. I qualified, and our first sleeping session was not that bad. He was almost shy, reluctant at first to come near the massive bed provided for this service and the session which lasted an hour.

He chooses the shortest time span while some choose the longest. I have had clients who slept through the whole night, and it’s a dream come true for college students. I can sleep for money and work out the sleep-deprived schedule that I have because of homework and projects that kept on piling up.

It took thirty minutes to get him on the bed and lay down, and not even a chainsaw can pierce his tense muscles. I was used to it because some other clients have a problem with being touched too, so I laid beside them until they initiate the first touch.

Milo didn’t touch me in the first session, and he was gone like the wind until a month later where he requested a two-hour session with me. Nothing was different from the first time, but he had made it clear that he didn’t want to be touched.

The rest of the sessions over a six-month-long period turned out to be a success when he actually turned to me and closed his eyes. Since then, he had been a frequent customer, and he was the most polite too.

The first time he had initiated the touch was a bit rough, shy in a way that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. I had slept with his hand around my wrist, a gesture of barrier if I were to move and he would notice right away since he had gotten somewhat comfortable with me at that point.

It took a full year for him to be restful to sleep a full two hours with me next to him. He was my most difficult client, but my hard work and patience paid off when he finally received a well-rested night.

It was also the first time he initiated full-body contact, and he had me plastered to his muscled body.

“Milo?” I call out, watching his eyes stay open and focused on everything and nothing.

The dullness in his eyes hurts me. I don’t want him to ever look like what he did during the time we met. He was lifeless, angry, and insensible to those who were around him.

I adjust on the bed, wrapping my arm around his neck and pulling him to the collar of my neck. His hot breath fans over the sensitive skin and the familiar position ease his tense body into a relaxed posture as he hugs me tightly.

The heaviness on my waist from his arm is nothing compared to the failure in my heart, knowing that I didn’t help him last night when I slept so well. It was painful for him to have another of those rare nights during which he couldn’t sleep and faced his nightmares alone.

I stick my nose into the top of his head, breathing in the morning mist from the outside and a scent of comfort radiating from him. A wash of haziness rushes to me as tranquility blends into the morning environment. The lights are blocked out by the curtain as it creates another layer of confinement from the outside dangers that Milo tries so hard to protect me from.

I let him sleep first, feeling his breath even out and the tension leaving his muscles to allow me to feel the weight of his limp arms around me.

I’m not aware of how long time passes, but there are muffled noises from outside when the sun had risen. A stronger beam of light hits the curtains, brightening the room and waking me up from the sleep that lures me into another dream world.

I’m not tired anymore, not after knowing that Milo needs me to be awake for him while he stays in a dreamless sleep.

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