Page 190 of In Somnis

Tessa lifts her hand, palm out, and I mirror it without thinking, reaching across the threshold, fingers stretching toward fingers, while the crystal on my neck starts to warm and…

A hand closes around mine from behind, and the presence feels familiar in the way that means it’s been in my dreams before.

“Don’t.” Ridge pulls my hand down.

He holds it, fingers lacing through mine while he looks at the doorway, at the yellow kitchen and everything it means, and then he raises his free hand, giving all of it a middle finger.

Then he turns us around and pulls me back down the beach.

I yank my hand from his before we’ve made it ten steps. “Did you just flip off my parents?”

“I flipped off This Man to show him what I think about his offer.” He doesn’t slow down. “Your parents happened to be in the vicinity.”

“That was This Man?” I turn and look back, but the door to 5D has fallen closed again. “What offer? What are you talking about?”

We stand in front of a tall red door with a brass handle, and he pulls it open without answering. On the other side is a city street, full, loud, and moving, afternoon light cutting between buildings, people flowing past in both directions.

He steps through, dragging me with him.

“Ridge—”

He’s already moving, my wrist caught in his hand as he cuts through the crowd with the purposeful stride of someone who absolutely knows where he’s going.

Even if I’m sure he doesn’t.

“How did you even get into Tessa’s dreamscape?” I ask, half jogging to keep up.

He stops abruptly and turns. “How did you?”

“I…” I open my mouth, then close it, giving it some thought. “I thought about her while I fell asleep.”

“Right.” He turns back and keeps walking.

“That’s not an answer!”

“I wasn’t there for her.”

“Then why were you there?”

He glances over his shoulder. “You’re very nosy for someone who kidnapped my REM cycle.”

“Why are you always pulling me?” I wrench my wrist free and plant my feet. “Every single time, you just grab me and drag me somewhere as if I’m luggage.”

He spins around so fast he almost knocks into someone behind him.

“Because every time I don’t have hold of you, something tries to steal you!”

He looks briefly irritated with himself. Then he rolls his shoulders and smirks as if he didn’t just snap.

“So, yes,” he says lightly, stepping closer again. “I pull your pretty little ass around.”

I stare at him. “Fuck you.”

Something shifts in his expression. The carefulness drops, replaced by something more awake and focused, as if I’ve accidentally said the most interesting thing anyone has said to him in a while.

“Is that an insult or a to-do list?”

Heat floods my face before I can stop it, and I watch him clock it—the exact moment—and the corner of his mouth does that thing.