“Handy that you live so close to such a great bar,” he commented. She shut the door and they were enveloped in darkness.
“Handy that August listened when I recommended it,” she corrected him. He was startled to find she was standing right in front of him. Then she brushed past and a lamp was turned on.
“You live here alone?” he asked as he took off of his jacket. Zoey laughed and discarded her cardigan, as well.
“No, Ocean, I share this spacious apartment with three roommates.”
He glanced around and felt foolish – it was a studio apartment. He was standing next to an end table and a small couch. Beyond them was a bookshelf, which effectively separated the living space from the “bedroom”. A made-up bed was visible through the shelves.
He cleared his throat and looked away from it.
“Someone said there'd be whiskey?”
The far wall was a kitchenette, and she produced a bottle of Maker's Mark along with two squat glasses. She poured them healthy shots, then handed over his glass before toasting him.
“To ...” she gestured for him to make a toast.
“To weird fucking nights,” he offered, and she smiled again.
“Amen, Ocean.”
They both downed their drinks in one shot, so she refilled them.
“You've lived here a long time?” he asked, moving to the windows and looking down to the street. She walked past him into the bedroom area and sat the liquor bottle down on her nightstand.
“Yeah, ever since college. Adele moved in with Charlie, and I moved in here,” she said.
“Seems like a nice spot.”
“It is. Maybe not as nice as your place in Philly, though.”
Ah, so Zoey Blanke was on a fishing expedition. He smirked into his glass.
“Definitely not. I have two bedrooms, and original hardwood floors.”
“Excellent points, excellent points,” she agreed, all while slowly taking off her shoes. She dropped about five inches in height when they were gone. “But I still think my place is better.”
“And why is that, Ms. Blanke?” he asked, fully turning to face her. She tossed back her second shot of whiskey before joining him in front of his window.
“Because my place has me in it,” she said. “And right now, it also has you in it.”
Ocean didn't know if he'd be in L.A. next week or not, didn't even know what he wanted in life anymore. He'd spent the last couple months chasing after his sister; he'd lost himself somewhere along the way.
Maybe he'd find himself in Zoey Blanke.
He was kissing her before he even thought about doing it. He dropped his glass and speared his hands into her hair. She was so much smaller than him, he had to lean down to meet her even as she stood on her tiptoes. He fell into her, causing them to stumble up against the window sills behind them.
“Jesus, I thought you'd never do that,” she moaned when he started kissing along her jaw.
“What, and you couldn't make the first move?” he asked, fighting and yanking at the zipper down the back of her dress.
“Your life is too easy,” she laughed, making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. “I wanted to make you work for something.”
Her dress pooled at her feet and his shirt fluttered to the ground. He wanted to slow down, wanted to stand back and admire her amazing body and her beautiful face. But he was also worried that if they did slow down, he'd realize exactly what he was doing and with whom, and then his stupid brain would overthink things and ruin them.
He couldn't let that happen.
Ocean's pants hit the floor at the same time Zoey wrapped her legs around his waist. He stepped out of the jeans as he carried her across the room, her biting along the edge of his shoulder the whole way. When they got to the bed, he laid them down and kissed his way across her chest.
“God, this is a bad idea,” he groaned.
“What are you talking about? This is the best idea,” she teased, scratching her nails across his shoulder blades.
“I'm probably leaving, you're my sister's best friend. I don't want to fuck things up between you,” he explained, leaning away from her and toying with the front clasp on her bra.
“Ocean,” she said his name loudly. “First of all, Adele and I are better friends than that – she's an adult, I'm an adult, and I don't expect anything beyond this night other than what's happening right now. And second of all, it really freaks me the fuck out that you're thinking of your sister at a time like this, so either shut up and get to work, or get out.”
One flick of his fingers and the bra cups fell away from her breasts.
And as he lost himself in the smell of her skin and the sound of her moans and the taste of her mouth, Ocean couldn't help but feel like he'd also found something incredibly special.
27
When August was just arriving on a plane at LAX and Ocean was still trying to figure out whether or not he should text Zoey about the goodbye party, Adele was sitting at the small kitchen table in Jones' cabin, caught somewhere between elation and depression.
Jones was sitting across from her, and he was listening to her, and he existed in real life – elation. But he wasn't exactly the same man she remembered from her dreams, and he wasn't exactly head over heels in love with her, while she was still very much in love with him – depression.
“So you dreamt that we spent a lot of time in a poppy field,” Jones went over the things she'd told him about her coma dreams. “I've never even seen a poppy in real life. I certainly didn't talk about them with you.”
“No,” she shook her head. “No, I think the poppy field was from a favorite movie.”
“Like the castle.”
“Yeah. I was always really into Cinderella,” she chuckled, toying with the water bottle sitting in front of her. “But I've never been in a diner like your place, and I've never been to this cabin before, so those have to be from you.”
“This is amazing, Adele,” he said, leaning forward so he could rest his arms on the table. “You actually heard me. Heard me so well, you dreamed about the things I was telling you. And you can even remember them. I've never heard of something like this happening before.”
“But I still don't understand some things,” she said. “Like how did I know what you look like? I mean, I recognized you immediately at the hospital, you look exactly like you did in my dreams.”
“I checked your eyes daily, and you also opened them yourself several times. Who knows what the brain is capable of seeing and recording while you're in a coma,” he offered. She nodded.
“So basically my eyes saw you and my subconscious remembered the image – but my conscious brain didn't remember from where,” she tried to simplify it.
“Sort of, or definitely something like that. It's the only thing that makes sense.”
Yeah, or we're soulmates, and we found each other in my dream, and just realize you're in love with me already!
“I can't believe it. You must have talked to me about ... everything,” she sighed. “And I was just ... listening. Listening and dreaming, picking and choosing what to retain.”
“Sounds like it. It's really incredible. And this may sound kinda weird, but I have to tell you something. I didn't want to say anything after everything that happened at the hospital,” he started, rubbing at his neck sheepishly. “But when I saw you at the nurse's station, when you fainted, I had the same feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“Like I knew you,” he said. “Like I was seeing an old friend again. It's funny, I used to joke that you were my therapist. I spent a lot of time with a lot of patients, but more with you than anyone else. You were close to my age, and I just felt so bad for you. So I would come in on my breaks and lunches and just hang out with you. Talk to you. Tell you everything. I didn't realize you were listening the whole time, that I was making you dream the things I was talking about.”
Adele smiled sadly and stared at her water.
“You said that to me.”
“What?”
“In my dreams,” she managed a sad little laugh. “You told me I dreamed something so wonderful, I didn't want to wake up. And that's exactly what I did – it was all just ... a dream.”
There was a pause, then Jones' hand slid into view. He patted her on the arm, and while it was nice to feel his skin on hers, the platonic nature of the gesture just depressed her even more.
“I know none of this is easy,” he said. “Jesus, it's probably freaking you out. And I'm sorry I didn't want to listen at first. But I'm listening now. I'm here for you.”
He sounds so much like him, but he's not him. My Jones was never real. It was all just ... a dream.
Her dreams may not have been “real”, but that didn't make her love for him any less true, which was why this whole situation hurt so much. Here she was, amazed she'd found the soulmate from her dreams in real life, thinking they could start their life together for real now.
He just thought it was interesting his long time coma patient had actually heard him when he'd been talking to her, and that was it.
To her, he was her soulmate. To him, she was his ... patient.
If Adele kept allowing those thoughts to creep fully into her brain, she'd start crying, and she was pretty sure she'd never stop. So she forced out another laugh and pulled her arm away from him.
“I guess that pretty much explains everything,” she said, standing up. “I heard your voice and I dreamt that I knew you, and I woke up and still thought I did. I'm sorry, for everything. For getting you in trouble and following you out here.”
“Hey, don't be like that,” he said, trailing behind her when she left the kitchen area. Stupid cabin, there wasn't really any space to escape from each other. He caught up with her in the living room and stood in front of her. “You do know me, in a way. I mean, if you were really listening, then whoever you dreamed up, he was at least partly like me, right?”