Author: SallyMcFine
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Feedback would be a dream come true.
Setting: Contemporary, non-canon, at college.
Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own these characters.

I had seen her around several times before, and had always admired her from afar. She was in my psychology class and usually sat near the front. I sat a few rows back and spent most of the lecture looking at her hair, which was blonde, but I think she dyed it. Every few weeks some dark roots would start to show, and then a few days later they'd be gone.

I also saw her a few times studying in the student union. She was usually camped out on the same couch every time, surrounded by textbooks and notebooks. She often had a pen behind her ear and another one keeping the bun in her hair together. I usually preferred to study in the library where it's quieter, but once I noticed that she studied in the union, I started going there too. I rationalized that they let you have coffee in the union, but not in the library, so it improved my concentration.

I watched her a lot.

I had never spoken to her, though, so it was sort of a mystery to me how we ended up kissing each other. I wasn't about to complain, though. I hadn't ever really considered kissing another girl before, but now that I was doing it, I wondered why it had never occurred to me.

I was in her arms, and we were kissing. It was soft, it was passionate, it was amazing. I wasn't worried about how it had happened - what was taking up all of my available attention right now was my lips on hers, her tongue in my mouth, my arms around her waist. She was soft - so soft. She smelled so good. I felt almost like I was intoxicated.

It felt different than kissing anyone else had felt before, even my ex-boyfriend. With him, I was always thinking, thinking what comes next? How far are we going to go? Should I follow his lead, or try to take the lead myself? How long will this last? At the time I thought that it was just me - I'm always in my head, analyzing everything. I thought this was just how I was, that I wasn't capable of being any other way.

Boy, was I wrong. All I needed to be able to let go was to be kissing someone else. A girl. This girl. I forgot my name, her name (actually, come to think of it, I didn't even know her name), forgot to think. My whole world was her lips, her tongue, her hands, the way she smelled and tasted. I had never done anything else in my life but kiss her, and be kissed by her.

It was so easy, so effortless. I kissed her lips, her neck, her collarbone. I seemed to know what she wanted instinctively; we didn't need any words. She sighed in pleasure as I kissed the soft place at the base of her neck and caressed the swell of her hip through the clingy material of her shirt.

I wanted more. I kissed her collarbone through her shirt, trailed my lips and nose down her chest, inhaling her scent as I descended to her midriff. She raised her arms slightly as my mouth reached her waist, and her shirt rode up, exposing a portion of her stomach. I kissed a circle around her belly button and rubbed my cheek against the softness.

I could tell by the way she was breathing that she was very aroused, and wanted what would come next as much as I did. She wore brown corduroys that fastened just below her waist, and I reached to undo the button and the zipper.

I kept rubbing my cheek against her stomach as I worked at the button, but it was stubborn and wouldn't come undone. Something strange seemed to happen as I fiddled with it - it seemed to be disintegrating, or fading away. I looked up at her to see if she was concerned by what was happening to her pants. But I couldn't see her face - it was too light. I blinked my eyes, trying to clear my vision, and saw...

...my clock radio.

I was lying on my side, resting my cheek on my pillow. My pillow was incredibly soft, and I had just put some 300 thread count sheets on my bed earlier that week. The sun was shining into my dorm room through the window shades.

Damn.

You've got to be kidding me - this was a dream? It seemed so real. That's totally unfair. First of all, because it didn't really happen, and second, because I want to go back to sleep and get back into that dream.

Damn.

I haven't been able to get that dream out of my mind the entire day. You know how you dream something and the feeling stays with you? That's what this has been like. The whole day, at breakfast, my morning classes, psychology class, where I'm sitting now, that feeling has stayed with me. I feel like I should still be kissing her. I kind of thought that seeing her in psychology might snap me out of it - that she would look different in person than she did in my dream, but she didn't look different. She looked the same, like she should be in my arms and I should be in hers.

I'm sitting here in class not listening to a word the professor says, just staring at the back of her head, her hair, which she is wearing down today, and the bell just rang. I'm gathering up my books and my blank notebook and putting them in my bag. I'm getting up, moving toward the door. I'm walking by her seat, and she's finishing up writing something on the notebook page.

I don't know why I do it - I guess inspiration strikes. It's not something that I normally would do - people are always borrowing notes from me, not the other way around. I'm the one who always pays attention, takes good notes, Old Reliable. But other than the very practical problem of my not having any notes from this lecture, it's a good excuse to talk to her.

"Um, hello," I say to her.

She looks up at me, standing there in front of her chair. I wonder if she's going to think I'm an idiot.

She smiles. She has a beautiful smile.

"Hi," she says back. Her voice is low, musical.

"I was wondering, uh, if it would be okay if, or possible for me to, um, borrow your notes from this lecture?" It seems like a stupid question, and I cringe inwardly when I hear myself asking it. Why would I need to borrow her notes if I was in the same lecture she was?

"Sure," she says easily. I guess none of the questions that I would have if someone had asked me that question occurred to her - that I'm insane, or narcoleptic, or just a really bad student.

"Oh, thank you!" I say, relieved. As I always do when I'm nervous, I talk too much. "I've been having a little concentration problem lately. I just can't seem to focus in this class, I don't know why. My name is Willow, by the way."

She cocks her head at me and smiles again as she picks up her backpack. "I'm Tara. Are you missing notes from other days, too, Willow?"

I'm embarrassed to admit it. "Yes, actually." I cough.

"Well, I have pretty good notes from the earlier lectures, if you'd like to borrow those," she says.

"That would be great!" I enthuse. "I'd have them back to you on Wednesday, in class? I have a lot of catching up to do before the exam."

She hands me her notebook. "That's fine."

We're walking out the door, and I start to panic a little bit - will this be all? I don't want this to be it - I want to keep talking to her. Another idea occurs to me. "Actually, if you would be interested, um, would you like to study together before the exam? I think it might help me since I'm a little behind."

She gives me another one of those wonderful smiles. "That would be lovely."

"Great!" I say. "Fantastic." I wonder if I sound too enthusiastic, but she doesn't seem put off.

She gives me a sidelong glance, as if she's trying to figure something out. "Do you have any other classes now?" she asks.

"Nope," I say. "Psych is the last subject of the day for me."

She takes a breath, and says "Would you like to go get some c-coffee?"

"Yes!" I say instantly. Is this a date? Is she even gay? Am I gay? I have no idea. But even if I did have another class, even if I had a midterm, there is no way I would pass up having coffee with Tara. I would skip the class. I would miss the midterm, and say I was sick so I could retake it. I can't believe it.

We're going for coffee - we're walking across the campus, talking like new friends, asking each other questions, laughing at each others' jokes, stealing glances at each other. I say each other because I'm stealing glances at her, and I've caught her looking at me a couple of times in the same way. My heart is pounding, and I'm nervous, but I'm also so comfortable with her. Does that make sense? Wow.

It's cheesy - oh, it's sooooooo cheesy - but this is a dream come true.