If I Know You

Chapter 7

I cleared my throat, trying to pretend that the thought of eventually losing her wasn't turning me into a limp bag of skin, bones, and self-doubt. "So. What is this place anyway?"

"Oh. I can't believe I forgot to tell you." She laughed at herself and shoved her hands into the pockets of the hooded jacket. "I suppose I was just... distracted."

She bit her lips, blushing pink as she looked at me and suddenly, I felt very, very self-conscious. There was something in my teeth, I was sure of it. I might as well die now.

Her face was only growing pinker by the second as she stared longer than was necessary.

"What's wrong with your face?" I asked, immediately wanting to be eaten by beavers when I heard the way I phrased it.

"Just distracted." Her hair fell into a cute brown mess as she shook her head. "I get distracted sometimes."

"No, I remember. I, uh, distracted too," I said, staring at the way she was nervously running her fingers over the purple markings on her arms.

She started going around the house, tidying up the dolls and bones and sticks as best she could while she explained it to me. "This is a world of dreams. They call it Somnia. Everyone who's ever been taken and put under the sleeping curse comes here, and lives in a never-ending sleep. Since none of us die, they've built a whole society."

Her way of speaking was different than I remembered. She would pause for a few too many seconds between some sentences, and stutter over a word every now and again. I didn't mind. I liked her voice. High and sweet. Musical. Like a... bird squawk. But a good one.

Gods, I needed to get better at romantic metaphors.

She kept talking. "We have food and water and buildings and books, and we eat and sleep just like everyone else, but we don't die. We age until we're about twenty-five, and then we're just stuck here. Forever. I'm not sure what happens to our bodies in the real world, though."

"Oh, it's alive. It's in a tower. I was touching it," I said absentmindedly, before immediately dying inside. I squished my hands between my knees and stared at the floor. Dear gods, please, just zap me now. "I didn't mean-- no, not that, not touching, I didn't touch anything, I was just smooshing your face with my thumb. I promise I would never touch things, especially not without permission."

"Is it all right if I touch you?" Pippa asked, stopping in front of me and interrupting the stream of hole-digging words tumbling out of me. "Just on your face?"

She was probably going to clamp her hand over my mouth and throw me to the beavers, and at this point, I didn't even care. I needed to be saved from myself, so I nodded.

Pippa slowly reached out and put her hand on my cheek.

With her so close, and feeling the roughness of her fingers, I could finally guess why her skin looked so golden and her arms were so surprisingly muscular. Her gentle fingers were no stranger to work. And I didn't know how, but the contact seemed to suck all the lumpiness and fear right out of me. I didn't usually like warm, soft things, but I liked this.

"You don't need to worry." Her smile showed off that chipped tooth. "I know what you meant."

"Uh," I said, mouth open like a fish. I cleared all the embarrassment and garbage out of my throat. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to worry," she told me earnestly. "You're handling it much better than I did. You've only been here a few hours. I've been here fifteen years, and I still have bad days. Being taken isn't easy at all. It was deeply traumatic for most of us."