Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

We were in the lift, then walking hand in hand down a corridor, and I felt like I was floating through a dream. Cora's thumb pressed the door fob; it slid open. Then I walked into a stream show, not real life.

Large living room, kitchen combo with polished concrete floors led to floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights far below. On the far left wall stood an upright piano.

I stepped into Cora's home, and her arms slid around my waist, breasts pushed against my back. I sank against her, closing my eyes. Wanting it. Wanting this. The feeling of someone warm wrapped around me, filling me with heat.

Her lips trailed from my shoulder up the bare skin of my neck to my earlobe.

"I wanted to do this all night."

My chest heaved, heart racing, body rising, needing more.

Bong!

Cora's pad. Not mine. We ignored it.

Bong!

"Dammit!" Cora pulled the pad outta her jeans pocket, and her voice was flat when she said, "James. It's almost midnight. What did we say about calls after 10 PM?"

She stepped away, and I made my way to the giant windows, admiring the scene below. It was too much to take in. All those lights. People still rushing about even though it was nearly tomorrow. I glanced over my shoulder, spying the piano, and then she was back.

"Sorry. My agent. It's good news, but I told him to tell me tomorrow," Cora started.

My eyes shot open, "What? What kind of good news?"

She wrapped her arms around me in response. "I honestly don't care," she whispered against my neck, lips working her way down. My throat wobbled, and I tensed. Cora stopped.

I stepped back.

"Sam?"

I looked away, eyes roaming the apartment. It wasn't opulent, but it was far more than I would've imagined for an artist.

Success.

It looked like someone who had a real life lived here.

I took a few steps, turning, taking it all in. Cora's eyes followed me. I felt them. I felt everything about Cora; she was impossible to tune out, but what I saw around me took center stage.

"Sam?" she repeated, softer.

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I bit the corner of my lip, shrinking.

"Samantha? Are you going to talk to me?" Cora whispered.

I nodded, looking out the window, right hand waving around me.

"This. All of this."

I looked at her.

"You. This," I waved around me again. "Real."

"One-word sentences. Excellent. And yet, none of them seem like they're good. Keep talking, Sam."

I shrank further. Cora took a step back then walked to the kitchen.

"How about some water?" she suggested.

I shook my head, "It's you. This place. All of it. It's so real," it came out softer than I wanted. Mousy. Pathetic.

"You keep saying 'real.' Is this about Discord? Because all of those guys you thought were your friends turned out to be bots?"

I shook my head, emotion threatening to spill out of my eyes.

"It's you. The piano. You have a piano, Cora!" I said it like it was a dreadful thing. As in, There's a beheaded llama in your kitchen sink, Cora.

"I'm sure you've seen a piano before, Sam. You play beautifully, so don't pretend this is something from a fairytale."

My voice came out bitter, "Ha! I can play decently enough, but a real apartment? With city views and an actual fucking piano in it?"

The softness left Cora's face and wariness crossed it.

No, no, no! That was not what I wanted to happen.

I waved my hands in front of me and re-shaped my face into something less sour.

"I'm sorry. Sorry, Cora. I— I don't know. It's all so—"

"This isn't about me, I don't think," she interrupted. "This is about 'Mistake in a Bottle' girl, isn't it?"

I turned away, staring out the window. I didn't want to talk about Jolene. I never wanted to think about her again.

"She has nothing to do with this," I said flatly.

Cora's tone was soft. "The people who hurt us have everything to do with everything, Sam. There's a lot of toxic women out there, and I've known my share of them. I don't know what happened to you, but I know that you're sweet, and women like you make excellent targets."

I huffed, and didn't even try to hold back the emotion.

"I'm not just pretty rainbows and sunshine!" I spat. "I am not simpering, fluffy-bunny hearts and pink unicorns! I'm a fucking storm full of clouds and thunder. I can make the world shake when I want to!"

It felt like a war dirge, something that needed to be wailed into a dark sky, but it was only a vehement whisper punching the air just beyond my lips.

"And that fire is why you're still standing, Samantha Mooneyhan. All that spirit. You put it in poetry and hide it in lyrical lines in your stories, but it's the life that's bursting inside you, pushing you to keep going no matter who beats you down."

My resolve broke, and I leaned towards her, head against her shoulder. Cora's warmth and strength around me, I let go.

Terrified.

Uncertain, but wanting to feel safe in the arms of a woman who wasn't my Nanna.

"I don't know how to do this, Cora," my shaky voice stuttered through tears. "Everyone I've been with has been a train wreck. I'm so fucked up; I'll never get it right."

"You think I've got it figured out, Sam?" Her hands rubbed my spine confidently. "Here's a bit of news for you: there's no one alive who hasn't been hurt, who doesn't struggle to trust, who feels they'll never figure out how to love or be loved."

She pulled back, hands on my upper arms, looking into my eyes. "What you have to choose is if you want to try it with me. Can we decide to figure it out together?"

I wiped my eyes, sniffing, looking at the floor.

"I've read your web novel, Samantha," Cora said tenderly. "Your poems are so beautiful they read like music, and I didn't even have to try to write one of them into a song. It was already there on the page looking at me, telling me how it wanted to be sung. Your heart and soul are on the screens of Purple Road, so I feel like I already know you. Would you like to know something about me?"

My eyes snapped up to meet hers, "Always, Cora."

"Then let me tell you a story about dreams."