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It all started with a dream. Or at least, Scott thought it was . . . snow doesn't generally fall upwards. Especially in a desert at dusk.
Not that he’d even been to a desert (He wasn't even sure there were any in Canada . . . Scott wasn't going to bother looking it up either), but he knew snow. And he was pretty sure a figure gliding across the sand in the distance . . . wasn't a common occurrence either.
Bright hair like the sunset behind her. She shot like a violet comet across the pale swirling sands. Sand and snow whipping around her, a plume rumbling in her sliding wake.
She was roller skating.
In a desert.
What? Was all Scott could silently mutter.
As though she could hear him, she sorta stumbled and glanced at him, as she continued slowly, but still faster than she had any right to be. Bright blue eyes flicking upwards, glancing in his slate grey. Heat creeped up his cheeks like rising water, as her mouth opened.
Oh . . . yeah she definitely heard him.
“Scott?”
* * *
“Scott”
“Yes, dream girl.”
“Scott,” A snarky voice lits from the amber-grey of the early morning “I am flattered you would dream of me, but I am gay. Not a girl.”
Oh . . . it's just Wallace. He grimaces and then rolls back over, covering his head with his roommate’s long since claimed spare pillow.
“Dont look at me like your week old dishes.” Wallace steps off the mattress, and looks over his roommate. Brown hair and baggy eyes wrapped in two thirds of the blanket and his ex’s half-dead band shirt. “I’m not the one who stayed up till 2AM ordering random shit from Amazon.”
“I shop online when drunk… ”
“Or high.” Wallace's dark eyes simply glance off Scott before wandering to the kitchen, hands sifting through half-empty cupboards. “Or tired. Or employed. Or unemployed. Or bor—” Opening a drawer or pulling an item from the fridge with every pause.
“You don't get it.” He huffs quietly.
“Get what?” He mutters as he lights the old stove, before dramatically smoothing back his dark hair. “The ache of the heterosexual heart? Just join the winning team.”
Scott groans as he looks up through the small window. This wasn't the first time Wallace had made that comment. And it's not like he hadn't tried. H’ed kissed boys before, even Wallace when they first met . . . it just never felt right. Not that his dating history with girls was much better.
“Knives smashed my phone.” And I wish I was a lesbian. He doesn't say the second part out loud. That was his personal musing . . . perversion.
A mixture of pity, amusement, and long saturated apathy flickers across his face. “You were dating a seventeen year old as a college dropout . . . it wasn't going to end well.” Wallace chirps as he cracks an egg into a plastic bowl, his nose only slightly twinging at the smell. Good enough. “Want eggs?”
“I know…” Scott slowly starts to slide out of the bed. A faint smile crossing his face. “Scrambled with bacon bits please.”
“As you please, princess.”
Scott coughs out his fucking lungs, his gut and chest twist, as at the same monet . . . a chime rings across the sparse apartment.
The doorbell rings.
“Probably yours.” Wallace shouts over his shoulder and the sizzle of breakfast. “What did you even buy?”
“I don't even remember.” He shrugs as he swings open the door "Probably noth—”
It's the dream gurl
A messy bob of purple and pink hair rustling in the winter breeze, googles above her sharp blue eyes looking down at him, a worn denim jacket covered in pins, and bright yellow rollerblades.
And a face . . . that's . . . familiar. He can almost put his finger on i–
“Ive got your package.” She smirks, and he swears he almost hears chuckle. “Please sign here.” Pulling out a box and clipboard then definitely shouldn't fit in her small round messenger bag.
Scott tries to speak, and nothing comes out.
Dream girl snaps her fingers. “Earth to space cadet?”
“Ah sorry you just look . . . familiar . . . are you new to town?” He signs, not taking his eyes off her.
“I’m not supposed to give out personal info to customers.”
“Ah right….” His fingers pull at the edge of his shirt, slightly shivering as the snow filters in. “Do you like movies?”
“Who doesn't?" She shrugs, as she looks away. Stashing the clipboard and shoving the box is shoved into his hands.
“My dad.” Scott weakly laughs. That's funny right? Is it too sad or weird? Fuck shes cute.
“True.”
What?”
“What?”
“....”
She steps back. Tripping over her words and not her skates, as the sharp edge melts a degree. “I meant my dad’s like that too.” Dream girl taps the cardboard box in Scott’s hands. “Anyays here's your box. And you probably should go check on your boyfriend..” She glances over his shoulder to see a rising bloom of smoke take over the kitchen as Wallace is chucking water onto a stove broiling with heat. Scott’s eyes follow her and he winces. He glances back . . . only to see her halfway down the street, and disappearing as fast as in the dream desert.
“He’s my roommate!” He shouts after her. “And my name is Scott!”
She looks back. “Bye Scott.” She smiles.
“What's your na—” And . . . she’s gone.
“A little help here my darling boyfriend~”
“Ugh.” Scott slinks back inside, as he grabs the spare spare fire extinguisher next to the door. “You’re driving to the party tomorrow."