Stars Dancing [Dreams-To-Lovers Romance]

"You have no idea what it was like for me to open Moons Dancing and find myself in your pages," Cora began, voice just above a whisper.

She'd handed me a box of tissues and pulled me to the sofa. I sat cross-legged, uncaring of my dress, wanting only to hear the words coming out of her mouth.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to dream of someone you've never seen, but to know they are the most precious thing that has ever existed?"

I shook my head, dabbing at my eyes with a tissue.

Cora's head titled back, and the laugh that punched out of her was bitter.

"Figures. The one person who I think has dreams like mine, and you have no idea what I'm talking about—"

"Hey! Don't put words in my mouth! I didn't say that!" I lectured. "I told you that dreams matter, and they do! It's just that for me, it isn't someone I've never met. It's my parents. I lost them as a little girl, and they still visit me in dreams, or well, lately in the shower, but that's just an off-thing, I think," I finished since Cora's eyebrows were climbing her forehead.

"Oh great," I complained, "now I'm the one who sounds mental."

"'Now?' Did you think I sounded mental before you started talking?" Cora laughed.

"Uhh. Sometimes I say shit. Well, not the actual word 'shit,' just shit you know? Like 'I say shit.'"

Cora doubled over, and I joined her, the giggles feeling like a valve releasing the pressure of the past half hour.

When we caught our breaths, I started, "So, dreams. You mean, like in Moons Dancing, when Charlotte is dreaming of a love beyond imagining—"

"Exactly like it, Sam. Exactly. It's been going on since I was seventeen, and I've never told anyone except a counsellor I met years ago because it was too precious of a thing to say out loud, and I couldn't afford to hear someone mock it or disbelieve. Until I read your book."

I sat there in awe, looking at a miracle.

"And now? Cora? What do you think now?"

She shook her head. "It's not what I think, Sam. It's never been about knowlege. It's what I experience, and the moment our eyes met in the balcony of the Ryman Auditorium, I knew. I knew. It was you."

Tears ran down my cheeks. How? How could it be? That for seven years a woman had been dreaming, wishing, hoping, for me?

I pinched my lips together, and Cora's face matched mine. She looked like she was bracing herself for a storm, so I laid a hand over hers.

"I know you're not crazy, Coraline. I believe you, but I'm also a little worried about who you've dreamt up. Yes, yes, I'll try with you. We can give this— whatever this—" I waved between the two of us— "is. We can try it, but I might not live up to 'dream girl' standards, you know?"

She barked out a laugh. "It wasn't like that, Sam! The dreams were mostly just feelings. Awareness of someone I loved. She was with me, and it felt like safety. Acceptance. Warmth. Trust. Connection. Belonging. But I'm not going to pin you with this. This isn't something you have to do."

She stood up, pacing around the room.

"I never wanted it to go this way," Cora grumbled. "It wasn't supposed to be me telling you all this history, laying some burden of destiny on your shoulders like a mantle that weighs you down and ties you to me for all eternity."

"Oh yeah? Well, then Cora, tell me how it was 'supposed' to go. Did the dream gods give you a strategy?" I snarked.

Her laugh was bitter, "Oh, I've had it out with Morpheus years ago, and he's a damned idiot."

My eyebrows rose. Cora had an in with the god of dreams? What was this?

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She scoffed, "No, not really, I just railed at him on the piano which felt really good, actually. And maybe it didn't solve anything—"

"Oh, I'm always a fan of yelling via piano banging!" I agreed.

"See! You get me!" She laughed and sat down at the piano bench, playing a string of chords.

Play "Morpheus (I Dream Of Her)" by Coraline As Is

"Morpheus!

Deity of hell!

I hate thee! I rail!

Thou art most cruel, father of night

hiding all light!

I wanna fight!

Scream at you! Rail!

All I see is pale!

She plagues me,

teases me,

pleases me,

and leaves me.

I know her.

I see her.

Love her.

Want her.

And you watch.

Gleeful.

Seeing, never helping.

Thou art most cruel,

Deity of hell!

I hate thee! I rail!

Morpheus!"

It wasn't Mendelssohn's "Rondo Capriccioso," but it was similar in sentiment. Loud, banging, angry, raging in helplessness at a god who did nothing to aid those who called to him.

Rage at one who would never hear and could not be moved: the god of dreams, a vapor, a mist who cared not.

My hands found Cora's tense shoulders, and I felt the years of rage, and underneath it, the woman, the heart.

"Love her. Know her. Want her," she had sung

All that time I'd been wandering hallways of consciousness, in between worlds, slipping through emotion and writing it into characters, Cora had been alone too. Wishing, wanting, never finding.

Until she opened my book.

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, nose in her hair, chest against her back.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, Cora. I'm so, so, sorry you were deserted all those years. I don't know how to do this, but I won't leave you alone in it anymore."

She turned in my arms, straddling me, pulling me close, looking up into my face.

"Neither of us can promise that it'll be easy, Sam. We've both traveled difficult roads to get here, and that doesn't come without a shit-ton of baggage, but if you'll try, I'm all in."

I nodded and bent my lips to hers, pausing.

Whispered, "I'll try, Cora. I won't run. I won't hide. If you can handle my crazy, I'll be all in too."

Her lips parted, and my tongue found hers. Gods she tasted like everything I'd ever wanted. Rich, deep, magic!

Cora groaned against my mouth, arms pulling me tighter, and I felt something unwind within her. Whole being relaxing, she turned to liquid against me. I couldn't help it, I smiled against her lips, melding my body to hers.

I didn't care if we fucked right there on the piano bench, but there were all those windows to think about, so I pulled back. She laughed against my mouth.

"They're reflective. No one can see in."

I glanced around, warily, "You sure about that?"

Her arms tugged me, so I shrugged, lips finding hers again, and her mouth trailed down, past my collarbone, finding a breast. Good god, I needed my clothes off, NOW.

I didn't even have to think it twice, and Cora pulled the dress over my head, tossing it to the floor. Her shirt was next, my hands roaming her bare skin. All that brown skin, mine to taste, mine to hold.

My bra was off, and I couldn't think with her tongue on my nipples, body bared there in that living room, city night stretching around us. Next thing I knew, my back was on the piano bench, Cora's lips covering me, teasing me.

Oh dear god, don't stop. Was that moaning? You betcha.

My hands twisted her hair, and it took nothing for me to break, screaming, as she laughed against me.

"Christ, Sam, you taste so fucking good," she rasped.

Sanity returned, but what was this? Cora, on her knees? Still wearing jeans? That wouldn't do.

I shoved her back, pulling at her waistband, and she obliged me, wriggling out of her pants, splayed out on the floor as I leered at her.

"Whaddaya want, Cora? Me to touch you? Fuck you with my mouth? Or something else? What kind of toys you got hiding away in this fancy-dancy apartment, girl?"

"Shut the fuck up, Sam. Quit whining about the stupid condo."

I laughed against her mouth, fingers finding a nipple as her legs wrapped around me. My hand traced down, over her hip, moans escaping her mouth, thumb finding her middle. Cora gasped against my lips, panting.

That's right, honey, pant for me. She was wet with need, and I gave her everything she wanted, watching her shudder beneath my touch. I smiled against her cheek as she got lost and came back down.

My lips traced her jaw. "So beautiful, Cor, so beautiful. You're mine now, and I'm not letting you go."

"Don't, Sam. Never let go."

"Not unless you want me to," I whispered against her ear, settling against her, Cora's arms around my waist, holding me tight.

And I knew then. Whatever this was; it wasn't just two women fucking on the polished concrete floor. It was years of something else. Longing. Need.

Knowing that something more was out there.

And finally finding it.

In each other.