Stealing the Groom

Four

IV: The Dream

I could feel his gaze on me. Those eyes--the deepest, richest shade of brown--starred deep into mine as I raised my head from where it lay on his chest.

A slow smile formed on my lips when he didn't look away. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked as I self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. My hair was now a mess, thanks to the chilly breeze that whipped at my dark locks as we walked towards 'our spot'.

'Our spot' was nothing more than a small patch of grass underneath a tall, majestic tree but the day Max had carved out the message "M + E" on the wood, it became ours.

"Can't I just look at you?" he asked underneath me with his eyebrows raised.

This was perfect. The weather was a little less than ideal, but paired with our winter jackets, the wool blanket Max brought along was enough to keep us warm. Not to mention the fact that I was cuddled up next to him on the grass, his body heat seeping into me.

I playfully shook my head and in response, he tightened his hold on me, bringing my head closer to his warm chest. "You must have a reason. People don't just look at other people for no reason."

"Hmm," he murmured as he stroked my long hair all the way down my spine where the tips ended. "I have a few reasons."

"Yeah?" I said, playing along. Max was always like this: playful and charming. There was never a time when he was serious. Even when we fought, he'd always find a way to make me laugh against my will. And before I knew it, his lips would be on mine and I'd forget why we even fought in the first place.

"For starters, you're beautiful," he said in a teasing tone. I laughed, but when I saw his expression, my humor caught in my throat.

"You are, you know that, right?" I said nothing as his gloved hand came up to gently stroke my cheek. "I can't stop looking at you," he whispered against my forehead before he planted a sweet kiss on my skin.

"I'll never get tired of seeing your big, crazy-blue eyes. Or the way your cheeks flush whenever you're embarrassed, or the way you look when I kiss you." I smiled at Max before rising up on my forearm and leaning forward to brush my lips against his.

It was a whisper-kiss, but the sensations that rushed through our bodies were as strong as lightning.

Max's hand wrapped around my head and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. With a sigh, I pulled back to gaze into his chocolate irises. "I love you, Max."

A look of awe appeared in those eyes of his as he took in my words. After he didn't say anything, I began to worry and pulled back. He doesn't feel the same, I thought. "I'm sorry, I--"

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Elle, but I'm thankful everyday for whatever it is that brought you to me," Max said just before leaning his forehead against mine. "I love you too."

I SAT up with a fright. Looking around the dark room, I realized that it was all a dream. Groaning, I laid back onto the bed and stretched out, feeling the empty cold sheets. 

Only it wasn't a dream, my subconscious reminded me. It did happen, once. 

A long time ago. 

My eyes flew to the alarm clock on the bedside table. The time read 12:15. I couldn't sleep all night, and I'd finally dozed off at four in the morning.

I might as well get up now, I thought as I threw the covers off me. In about six hours, I had my appointment with Colette Devereaux, a representative of a gallery dedicated to display modern art.