Her

07

PHOENIX

Thursday. Psychology class. The topic: dreams. We're meant to discuss our recent dreams with the person sitting next to us. Aza, for some reason, has decided to turn to me. So I did the same, telling myself I'm doing it for my grade, but knowing I'm doing it for other reasons.

"So," Aza says. "Tell me what you dreamt of."

You, I think. "I don't remember," I say.

"You don't remember?"

"I don't remember."

"It's scientifically proven," she says, "that people who don't remember their dreams have low intelligence."

"It's scientifically proven," I say, "that shortly after waking up you forget more than 90% of your dreams. Which you might know, would you have read the text, dumbass."

"Well," Aza says, "sorry, nerd."

I roll my eyes. "What did you dream of? Not that I care."

I don't expect her to give me an honest answer. She says, "Things I shouldn't dream about, I guess."

She looks at me, her brown eyes finding mine. My heart skips a beat. Though I try to avoid her eyes, I can't; they're like magnets. They're like magnets, staring into my soul. It's like they know exactly what I did last night. I try to swallow down my nervousness, and, as bitchy as possible, say, "And what's that? It'd be helpful, perhaps, if you were just a bit more specific."

"You mean more specific than 'I don't remember'?"

"Shut up," I hiss. "What did you dream about?"

"Oh," Aza says, "you know..."

She looks at me. Then she looks at my lips, her eyes resting on them for half a second. In that half second, my heart stops, then starts beating way too fast and way too loud.

"I actually don't know," I snap at her. "I'm not a fucking mindreader, you dumbass."

"Calm down, princess."

I wonder if she can hear my heart beating, my mind going crazy. I swallow. "So?" I snap. "You're not answering my question."

She looks at my lips. It feels like my heart is screaming. Then she looks at my eyes. "Shoplifting," she says.

I raise an eyebrow. "You dream of shoplifting?"

She shrugs. "I dream of shoplifting," she says.

"Are you sure it was a dream?"

"Very funny."

"I know."

"Like I said, I shouldn't, but..." A shrug. "I can't help it." She looks at me. "The mind does what it does. The heart wants what it wants."

Again, her eyes flick to my lips. By now, I'm sure it's not a coincidence. She's either flirting with me or my makeup is smudged or something. I don't know what I want the answer to be.

"Don't you ever?" Aza says.

"What? Shoplift?"

"Shoplift," she says. "Or dream about it, at least. Have you ever?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying, asking what I think she's asking? I hesitate. "No," I say.

"But... Haven't you ever thought about it? Doing something you're not supposed to do, want something you're not supposed to want. Something, which you know you can't have." She looks at me, eyes like magnets.