I started to pull my hand back, but he spread his fingers then squeezed them together again, capturing mine in between.
I couldn't help it; I sighed.
He smiled but didn't look up from our intertwined fingers.
"Why does that feel so right?" I murmured past the tightness in my throat.
His smile faded as he looked up at me with green eyes that were darkening like emeralds turned away from the light. "Why do you keep fighting this feeling?"
"Because I'm not supposed to want this."
His smile returned, slowly curving his lips up. "But you do anyway."
I nodded, staring right into his eyes instead of at his nose. Only in my sleep could this ever be safe. It was a luxury I would take advantage of as long as I could.
"So do you still think I'm another of your stalkers?"
"I don't know. You seem fairly recovered in history, judging by how you've ignored me for weeks now."
His chuckle was a deep, warm rumble that made my pulse race. "I'm not ignoring you. Just trying not to scare you away again. You know, I'm not supposed to want this, either."
My heart stopped for a second.
He huffed out a short sigh. "Savannah, can't we at least be friends?"
"I would love that." It came out on a sigh without any hesitation. I wasn't breaking my family's rules by being friends and holding hands with someone in a dream, right?
"Good. I'll remember you said that." He slowly raised our hands to press a too-warm, too-real-feeling kiss to the back of my hand.
CHAPTER 11
Savannah
When I woke up, I could swear I still felt the press of Tristan's lips against my skin, and I wanted to cry. Why did the good dreams never seem to last long enough?
Then again, maybe I should be glad it was only a dream. Otherwise I would be responsible for Tristan's missing out on playing football for the rest of the year.
I rolled over, looked at my alarm clock then sighed. No time for bawling like a baby over a dream. I needed to get up and ready for the fundraiser. The Charmers were working as carhops at the local Sonic today. All tips would go toward paying for things like our team charm bracelets, duffel bags and game-day team shirts. I and some of the other Charmers were working the early lunch hour, so the tips should be good for our shift.
The job was easy, just delivering food and taking money, and made even easier by the Sonic manager's counting out change for us. Or at least the job had been easy until a certain black, chromed-out, single-cab Dodge Ram rumbled into a parking spot near the glass doors of the Sonic building. Instantly, that familiar ache filled my chest and stomach.
The driver-side window rolled down, revealing the driver. I barely held back a sigh. Tristan should not be allowed to wear sunshades. It ought to be illegal to look that good.
My muscles tensed as he placed his order, the speakers near the grill filling the kitchen with his deep voice.
I willed the regular employees to slow down, to take a little longer at putting together Tristan's order. We were swamped with customers now, and all the other Charmers were still out delivering orders. Which left only me to deliver Tristan's.
Just as his order was ready to go, Bethany Brookes returned, granting me a reprieve.
"Here you go." I thrust the tray of food at the stunned blonde. "Car five."
"Uh, okay," she muttered, no doubt wondering why I didn't take it myself. Oh, well, let her think I was being lazy. Anything not to have to take that particular order myself.
With a sigh of relief, I watched her go. No way could I have faced Tristan today. Not after last night's dream. My hand tingled again with the memory of his kiss. I rubbed the spot and turned away from his truck.
I could swear I felt someone staring at me.
I tried to ignore the urge to rub my tingling neck. When someone else's order came in, I was only too grateful to take it to a car parked on the row opposite from Tristan's.
When I returned, the relief was short-lived.
"Milk shake for car five," the manager said, sliding a red plastic tray with a foam cup toward me. I searched for someone else to take it, but I was the only Charmer there. Lovely.
Clenching my teeth, I grabbed the tray, headed toward Tristan's truck and braced myself for emotional impact.
"Hey, Savannah," he murmured when I reached his window. He'd removed his sunshades, and I felt the full effect of that watchful gaze on me. Maybe his wearing sunglasses shouldn't be illegal, after all. At least they would have given me some protection against those soft green eyes and long, gold-tipped eyelashes. Why, oh, why, did the boys always get the long eyelashes?
I couldn't speak; my throat was too dry. So I forced a small smile instead.
"I guess you heard the news by now."
That got me to look up, at least as high as his nose. "Hmm?" He was wearing an electric-blue polo today. A white T-shirt peeked out from beneath its opening. My fingertips itched to trace that ribbed collar.
"About last night's game?" he prompted.
"Oh. Yeah, I saw it."
"Seems like everyone did." His chuckle sounded just like it did in my dreams. "So, I suddenly have a lot of extra time on my hands. And a free first period every day."
Wait. What? "You're not playing football anymore?" Why wouldn't the coaches have just temporarily benched him or something? Getting kicked off the team for shoving a team-mate seemed a bit overkill.
"Yeah. My parents yanked me from the team for the rest of the year."
Holy crap. Just like in my dream. My heartbeat took off. How the heck had I dreamed about this? Was this some kind of witchy thing, like clairvoyance or ESP?
And in my dream, he said that Dylan and he had been fighting because of me.
Was it true?
"Tristan, did you shove Dylan because of-" Wait. I couldn't say that without sounding like an egomaniac. But I had to know. "Um, why were you and Dylan fighting? If you don't mind my asking, that is."
He froze, then lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Don't worry about that. So listen, Bethany had an interesting suggestion."
I fought the urge to frown. Of course he would think anything Bethany said was brilliant. Everything the perky blonde said captivated the boys. Good thing she was actually nice or more girls would fantasize about murdering her on a daily basis.
Tristan continued. "She said your team has an opening left for an escort."