Page 7 of The Teddy Bear's Prize

I shift the bear in my arms and enter ‘male names that begin with T’ into the search. My fingers still as I scroll past the name Tobias. It’s cute and has a certain old-fashioned charm, soft without being overly pretentious.

“Okay, Tobias, you’re going to be sleeping with me tonight,” I prop him against a pillow on the other side of my bed. “This whole talking to an inanimate object needs to stay just between us, though. Not that it’s weird for me, my Computer Science course had me talking through my code with a rubber duck.”

I cross the room and open my closet, grabbing a band shirt and the same black shorts that I used to wear while playing softball in high school. I’ve filled out a bit since then, so they fit me more like booty shorts, so now I sleep in them or wear them under skirts.

As I lift my shirt over my head, I feel the same odd sensation from the car ride home. The feeling that I am being watched. I pause and check the window, making sure that my blackout curtains are closed.

We have a love-hate relationship. They keep the sun from streaming into my room at the absolute butt-crack of dawn, but I have this irrational fear that someone could be standing on the other side without me realizing.

This is different, though. It’s not a massive invasion of my privacy, just the feeling of being watched. The chill that runs down my spine settles as a warm tingle between my legs, my nipples hardening under my bra. I look to where Tobias is sitting on my bed.

No, that’s silly. The teddy bear isn’t watching you, I think.

Still, I lower my shirt and dress in the bathroom, tossing my dirty clothes into the hamper by the door.

Tobias hasn’t moved, but why would he? Why does some part of my brain keep expecting him to? Yet another thing to bring up with my therapist, I guess.

I climb into bed, lying on my side to face him. His fur is soft, and not what I’d expect from a toy that’s been sitting on a shelf for who knows how long. He still smells like cinnamon.

With a tug, I pull him across the bed and fold myself around him. This is normal, nothing strange about cuddling with a teddy bear. Some people cuddle their pillows.

I sling his weighted paw over my shoulder and nuzzle against his furry neck, sinking into the comforting sensation of being held. Soon, I’m struggling to stay awake, dangling on the edge of consciousness, I can almost hear a deep voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

“How are you so sweet?”

In my mind, I’m no longer cuddling the teddy bear, but a truly gorgeous man covered in black tattoos. I lose myself to the fantasy, imagining his strong arms around me as I drift off to sleep.

FIVE

Tobias

I stay awakemost nights trying to slip into Mia’s dreams, but either my powers are still waking up or hers are too strong for me to break through with this primitive form.

When I sleep, I dream of her. It’s different from when I would dreamwalk in the demon realm. I forgot how chaotic dreams could be. It takes me a moment to control my thoughts without using another’s subconscious as an anchor.

At first, my thoughts dwell on the memory of Mia in front of her closet. I replay the moment she exposed the smallest strip of her soft stomach and glanced over her shoulder to see if I was watching.

Of course, I was. This vessel lacks the ability to blink or turn its head.

Though if I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a dare. Especially the way she grows bolder with each day. It starts when she strips off her shirt on the way to the bathroom to change, until she is comfortable enoughto undress in front of me, employing an elaborate trick to rid herself of her bra through the sleeve of her t-shirt and tossing it in my direction.

I can’t pinpoint when I stop caring about returning to the demon realm and instead focusing on how long I can hold her attention, as fleeting as those moments continue to be. A lingering glance here and a question that hangs in the air between us until she knows better. She can sense me, I know this to be true.

I tell myself it’s a game, but in reality, I want her to see me. To know me as I am beginning to know her.

The room is dark aside from the glow of the early morning sun spilling over those dark curtains until Mia flicks on the light overhead.

Good morning, little doe.

“Good morning, Tobias,” she says as she walks across the room, grabbing my foot and tugging me towards the end of the bed so she can fix the covers.

I’ve lived for hundreds of years, played within the dreams of millions of mortals, if not more. Their fantasies no longer phase me, but now, I find myself nearly driven to distraction by the way her shorts ride up her thighs as she bends over the bed.Wait, did she hear me?

She picks me up, staring into my eyes. There, I see it again, the tiny spark of recognition in her subconscious, but then it slips away.

“How did you sleep?” Mia asks, propping me against the pillow.

Well enough, I suppose.

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