Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

I settled under the umbrella at the Seaside Resort pool, desperate to be shielded from the sun's hot glare. Fruit tea in hand, I paused, looking at the screen of my pad hovering before me.

The Discord app was a lure.

Or was it a habit?

I wanted to hate it. To spurn it. To curse every moment I'd spent on it, but I could not. Because when I'd been on the servers of the Special Streaks and Flopper, I'd felt like I was finally a part of something. People who were bound together by their love of words, and the need to write them.

Or, a need to avoid writing them by spending a few minutes laughing with someone in another part of the world.

I mean, we opened our day with that app, telling each other "I'm awake," as though somebody cared, then wishing each other "Sweet dreams," before we called it a night. And godsdammit if I didn't miss each and every one of those fuckers, NPC or no.

They felt so damned real. Balmichi who loved his wife so much he couldn't stop talking about her; lucky woman, she was. The book-loving Cady with her impeccable logic. CarlaCee always quick with a pun.

GingerBollox who brought the house down with laugh after laugh; good god would I go to a pub with that man for a pint! And oh my lord, let's not forget the Balkans, how could I turn down a round of rakija with SpiritdeCacao and Bartt?

If ArlenKnight ever invited me for lasagna, I'd be there in a heartbeat, and I'd tell SassySword to come so we could shovel that phonk in our faces.

How could I forget LordTyrant— was there actually someone out there who wanted to bring back the Earth of centuries ago where war raged and death was a constant? And all those characters jumping in to flirt or tear their clothes off and photograph themselves— what about them?

Dear gods, what about DickDaddy and HiHo, were they actually made for each other? Well, there was that bit about the animal torture, and Cherubella's taxidermy. Did IAmSoImportant and RabbitGuano actually have a chance at a love affair, and could Lorca, MerFolk, and I hang out drinking umbrella drinks on a beach some day?

Ah, some of the stuff about friendship was a bit concerning. Exclamation's basement cages and handcuffs could prove to be an issue, but odd proclivities not withstanding, they all seemed like such kindred spirits that I wanted to wrap them up in my heart and never let go.

Could I really feel that way about a bunch of NPCs? HC Maron'd turned out to be real, and I hadn't even questioned his existence until I'd seen our convos repeated on GrimWail's server. So, what if?

Stolen novel; please report.

Could I even think it?

Was there anyway they could all be real?

What if CoolBeans, Buttle, and all the rest were people, and Discord was just parroting all of us all the time? Taking snatches of covos, reproducing them, giving them new usernames, piecing things together to mimic humans so well that we never knew if we were talking to the real B, LordTyrant, SoXOXO, IAmSoImportant, BearyBeast or a mockery of them?

Could someone out there be smack_pans who really liked my poems and had the misfortune to fall afoul of a Discord copycat who then creeped me the hell out?

What if the people I'd come to feel such genuine attachment to were actually real, but also victims of the biggest catfish scheme in history just like me?

The words of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" came back to me. "Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. . . There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby. . . ."

Wishes on stars were fanciful things, but I didn't care.

Discord had taken my words and parroted them on other servers under a different username. That meant SassySword, Lorca, Buttle, Lily, CoolBeans, and RabbitGuano were probably real people, and I wanted the chance to laugh with them again.

So I stood, right there by the pool. No, it wasn't dark; it was broad daylight. But we didn't need the night sky to see stars, did we? The sun of Earth was the most powerful star I knew, and I meant to wish upon it like my life depended on it.

"Sol, I might be a fool, and I know I'm a dreamer, but I'll make this wish anyway. If it's possible, some how, some way, bring us all together in a reality where Discord is a safe place to be, to write, to laugh, and to love."

Raising my fingertips to my lips, I blew a kiss to the sun of earth, sending my wish to the stars and into the hearts of the people I wanted to be real.

Then I threw off my sunglasses and cannonballed into the pool, shrieking with glee like a child without a care in the world.

Damn, the pool was refreshing. I climbed out and dripped back to the umbrella, picking up my pad again, decision made. I'd skip Discord, but there was something else I needed to do. Needed to face. Needed to let out into the light of day.

Putting in my earbuds, I opened the video of me at the Methodist church picking out the tune of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" on the piano. I'd nearly forgotten the music minister Dan'd been there, tickling the keys with his metal fingers, proving to the world that it could knock him down, but it would never take the songs from his soul.

I watched rumpled, hung-over me playing that lovely song, and I saw something I hadn't expected. Beneath the bad memories. The drunken mistakes. Jolene, and line dancing, and everything from my life that I wished I could purge, was a profound truth:

I was not beaten.

There was a spark in me that wanted to blaze, and no one, no thing could take it away from me.

Jolene had tried, and I'd thought she'd succeeded, but I wasn't under her sway anymore, was I? No, I'd gone and vomited up my true feelings all over her, telling her exactly what I thought of her mind-twisting games. Something inside me had raged at the touch of her braiding my hair, and that meant she'd never won.

I was still Sam, and I would fight for myself to the last breath.

Even if those breaths were panicked, stuttering, weak things; they were mine, and I'd hold onto them. And that's the woman I saw playing the piano.

Not a beaten girl with no hope and no prospects.

A warrior in a ratty t-shirt and rain boots fighting for her soul with an old movie song about daring to conceive dreams that came true.

Good. I was ready.

I clicked on the contact details HC had sent me:

Coraline MayCroft. Nashville, TN.