Page 43 of The Art of Catching Feelings

C: Last night, I actually dreamed about you.

Daphne thought back to the game yesterday, that purple bruise on his ribs, that stretch of stomach, the way he’d turned his head to spit. None of those things should take up so much space in her brain, and yet there they were, playing over and over…

Jesus, she’d had dreams about him, too.

D: How would you even know it was me?

C: What can I say, dream logic. But it was definitely you.

Daphne remembered once reading a theory that you could only see people you’d seen in real life in your dreams. That they were recorded memories—deeply subconscious, perhaps, but all based in fact, not fiction. But she also believed in the power of the human imagination, so she never knew if she subscribed to that theory or not.

The idea that Chris might connect this alter ego with the real her even in a dream, as if his subconscious was doing theinvestigative work for him…it had never even occurred to her. The idea terrified her but also filled her with a kind of relief.

D: What happened in the dream?

The dots appeared, then disappeared, before reappearing again. She assumed he was typing a long narrative, and waited patiently for it to come in, but when the text finally came it was a single line.

C: Can I call?

Daphne sat up so fast that Milo jumped off the bed, slinking off toward the bathroom in the most melodramatic put-upon manner. He slipped into the cabinet under the sink, which she couldn’t use for its intended purpose for this very reason—it was his favorite hiding spot for when he was feeling his most emo, so she couldn’t very well put all her cleaning products under there.

Just like she couldn’t very well talk to Chris on thephone, when surely he’d recognize her voice from work.

D: It’s not a good time, sorry.

She hated how dismissive that looked on her screen, so she rushed to think of a credible explanation.

D: My apartment walls are super thin—I try not to make any noise after ten.

It wasn’t alie…but it definitely sounded like one, even to her. If she had to listen to her neighbor blast entrepreneurial podcasts on speakerphone at six a.m., then he could stand to hear a murmured conversation once in a while.

C: No problem. My hand just hurts a little and it was a lot to type.

She hated that his hand was bothering him. That wasn’t even an official injury or anything she’d been made aware of on the prep sheets, just something that obviously plagued him from time to time.

D: Do you want to call and tell me, and I’ll just listen?

It was a risky proposition that she was already second-guessing when her phone lit up in her hand, vibrating with a call. She picked it up, biting back the automatichellothat almost came out of her mouth. She should’ve suggested he send voice notes instead. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Because she wanted the immediacy of having him right there, on the other side of the phone. Even when she knew it was dangerous.

“Hi,” he said, that voice right in her ear. Then he laughed, low and intimate. It made her toes curl. “Can you at least sayhiback? Just so I know someone’s there? This is a little weird.”

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice sounding so rusty that she almost cleared her throat and tried again. But maybe it was better that she sounded as little like herself as possible.

“Hi,” he said again. “So about this dream. First of all, I do want to warn you that it gets a little…I don’t know what the right word is. Not sexual.Sensual, maybe. It gets a little sensual.”

Daphne sank back down into the bed. For being silent, she suddenly felt like this was the loudest call she’d ever been on. She felt like he could probably hear her breathing and her heartbeat through the phone.

“I don’t want to continue if that makes you uncomfortable,” he said. “Can you confirm if you’re okay for me to continue? Just sayyesso I know.”

It took every effort for her to keep her voice modulated. “Yes,” she said, the single husky syllable vibrating in her throat.

“Okay,” he said. “It starts with me walking through this forest, and it’s beautiful—all sunlight coming through the trees, birds calling to each other, just this peaceful nature scene. I get the feeling I’ve been walking for a while, and I’m starting to get tired. I can’t explain it, because I don’t feel lost or afraid oranything like that, but the scenery never changes and after a while it doesn’t seem as beautiful. It’s justthere.”

She made a small sound of affirmation, just to show she was listening.

“And then I come to this clearing, and there you are. You’re eating strawberries directly from your hands, and the juices are running through your fingers, down your chin.”

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