Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

Harry’s POV

As I wake up I immediately sense Jeanne curled up to my body. It’s not the first time we wake up like this, but it feels like the first time. The air is filled with sunlight, the morning splendour accentuated by the whiteness of the room. I turn to lie on my side and brush her hair out of her face. It feels like a dream, but it is better than the sweetest of dreams, than the sweetest of memories… This is all I ever wanted. And even now that I’ve learnt her true feelings for me she hasn’t lost an ounce of her mystery. Where does this serene expression come from? And how does she have that boundless, unselfish heart? The answers remain as unknown as they were five years ago or just yesterday. The difference is that I’m not afraid anymore. I press our naked bodies together, and kiss her full lips. She begins to awake, rosy-lidded eyes fluttering, and watching her is like watching a sakura flower blooming in time lapse, a pale, delicate cherry blossom. Once she sees me she laughs with that crystalline laugh of hers, and I melt.

“Good morning, my love…” Yeah, I’ll go ahead with ‘my love.’ That’s how dramatic I am.

“I love you…” She says, as compensating for the time lost, and I couldn’t be more pleased. If it was up to me she could go on forever. She throws her arms around my neck, and places light kisses on my chin. There has to be no greater feeling than to love and be loved in return. “It’s you.” A déjà vu sensation overcomes me and I stare into her eyes. “It’s you…–––she repeats at my confusion, her embrace growing tighter. It’s you and not a dream…”

“Did you dream of me too…?” I mumble, absolutely weak. She makes me so fucking weak. Jeanne nods her head, and closing her eyes she kisses me fully on the mouth. I breathe in, her morning breath, the smell of her hair and the fresh linen… I can’t help but feel transported back to Paris. “What did you think when you woke up next to me the very first morning?”

“I thought I’d never seen anything more beautiful, so I left…” I love it when she tells me these things. They don’t sound as statements of physical laws anymore, but sorely personal.

“That’s a lie,” I defy her, as I trail the line of her spine with the palm of my hand. Jeanne puts up a little fight, pretending to be offended. “It was 2014… I was a bit chubby that year, and my skin was a mess. And you get to see yourself in the mirror everyday…” I don’t know if it’s the mellow tone or the compliment, but her eyes sparkle, her body adjusting even more to mine.

“The issue is overruled…–––she whispers. Have you seen my daughter?” I asked out of curiosity, but I’m determined not to dwell on that summer anymore. Things wouldn’t possibly stay the same. Lara’s here now, and that changes everything. But her presence won’t make this any less meaningful, but quite the opposite. My heart knows the best is yet to come, like in Nazim Hikmet’s poem. We can make it even better this time. We just have to learn the way.

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit, as you’re the mother…” I smile, bringing her closer, and another giggle escapes her lips. I take my hand to the back of her head and lean in for a kiss, my lips grazing hers first, before I make it deep. Jeanne moans, and there’s no way to prevent a hard-on at this point. I crawl on top of her, as she rests her back against the pillows, my hands roaming around her smooth skin. I don’t want to get too carried away because I need this talk more than I want sex. I mean, I do want sex, but it can wait. There’re things called priorities, and we already had our round two. “What are we…?” I ask, letting go enough to speak.

“Two persons…” She surely enjoys not settling down to my expectations. I sit up a bit.

“You know, Jeanne…” I rest my finger on my nose, before I close my fist. “Communication has been quite an issue between us. Can we leave that phase in the past?” Playing around is fun, but being proactive is sometimes mandatory. This is one of those times.

“Yes…” She sits up a bit too, her face, transfixed, and motions to me. “We can do that…” I rest my head on her chest, and she begins to stroke my hair, white sheets all around. “What do you want?”

“I don’t care about labels, but about substances…” I stare into space. “As long as you are committed to me and I to you, I don’t care how to call us.” I come to look her in the eye, my heart rate picking up.

“‘Le temps de la bohème’ is over for me, because I’m not alone anymore, but not necessarily for you…” I shake my head. I understand her reserve, but…

“It doesn’t matter–––I claim. It’s not that I could go backpacking through Europe if it wasn’t for you.” It’s not. I know what I want. I know what I’m doing. “I gave up a lot of things people my age do because of my job, and in exchange I got the chance of doing stuff most people would never dream of…” She nods her head. “I don’t want to give up on love or a committed relationship because of it too, or because of anything else, if that’s what you want…” Jeanne stares at me blankly. She told me she loves me… What does she think she’s doing?

“We can be together for now, because of work, but…–––she mutters, cupping my face. It won’t be as simple when the filming’s over…” I was wrong to despair. I tend to forget she’s not a cold statue, but a complex individual with actual feelings and a tendency to overvalue control.

“One step at a time…”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore…” I hover over her.

“Don’t worry, my love…” I kiss her on the neck, in that spot she likes. “There’s a certain amount of risk I can assume as long as you want to be with me. We’ll make it work…” I roll my lower lip up to her mouth, and she reacts instantly. Our wet tongues brush against each other, and I sense her body relaxing into such intimate contact. I continue to kiss her, slow and steady, savouring every ounce of her, every texture. I take my time, my hands quietly resting on her back. I don’t want anything other than let her know she can lean on me, that she doesn’t have to make the decisions alone. I’m here for this, wherever it takes us.

“They asked me to stay at Stanford, but I don’t think I want to–––she says as she pulls away, eyes half-shut. I want to be a full-time writer, and I’m in a position to do so, but maybe I could find something in UCLA…” She’s making plans with me… She’s including me in her life. This is becoming so real all of a sudden. Take the lead, Harry. Take control. Show her you can.

“Or maybe we could live in Rome…” I suggest, as casually as possible. It’s not like I’m forcing her to stop doing what she wants. She said herself she wants to be her own boss. It couldn’t be more fitting. “For a season…” She looks at me, confused, assuming Vajrasana pose. Don’t let her perfect boobies distract you from your task. “They offered me the main part in Shelley’s biopic. You could write your books and travel with me if I’m abroad for too long… Lara is still young; she doesn’t need to go to school yet. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there…”

“You, as Shelley…?” I nod my head, not flinching. Jeanne glances away, as meditating. She’s such an imposing bearing she’s intimidating even if it’s not her intention. “I can see it,” she states, returning her attention to me, and places a hand on my heart. “‘Cor cordium.’” I can’t help but squint. Is that Latin? I’ve come a long way since 2014, but still haven’t done my research on Shelley yet. Jeanne tilts her head and flashes me the most loving of looks. “You’d get to meet Italian Jeanne…” A potent rush of heat surges through my body. That’s a yes for her… She smiles broadly, holding her hand out for me to take it.

“How’s Italian Jeanne?” And I take it, intertwining our fingers. I take everything. The calm that engulfs me comes from the fact that this is happening. We’ll find the way.

“Louder and with more cleavage…” She gestures her free hand in front of her, and we both laugh, just to stare at one another a moment later.

“I’m sure I can get used to it…” I mumble after a second, clasping our hands together. This is really happening.

“Can we live in Piazza Navona instead of some impersonal neighbourhood outside the city?”

“So we can have breakfast in the terrace with great views…” I humour her. Anything she wants, she got it.

“It doesn’t need to be a big fancy flat…” Something twinkles in her eye. I get it right away.

“A cute, boho attic would do the job…” How much have I craved this? We fall to silence one more time, but good silence. Knowing silence. “By the way…” I resume the conversation when a related issue interrupts my thoughts, but just to stop myself once her attention is back on me. “Nothing…” I play dumb. How do I tell her I bought ‘La biguine’?

“Why don’t you take a shower while I make lunch, which is actually the dinner we skipped last night?” Jeanne moves to the edge of the bed, and her feline movements are enough to dispel any current concern. I realise I’m starving. It might be around noon.

“I really like what I ate last night…” I say in a grin, capturing her wrist. She was lying across my chest when I woke up in the middle of the night. And I couldn’t do other than make her face down. I must have been exhausted, because I fell fast asleep as soon as she came. Jeanne giggles and I let go of her. She owes me a blowjob. “I’ll need a few things…” I watch her walking towards an upholstered chair and grabbing a white buttoned shirt she puts on. I locate my clothes in the back of the sofa, where I placed them when we came upstairs. “Lend me some towels and I’ll ask Emma to bring the rest, if you don’t mind…” I ponder with caution.

“I don’t.” She returns to my side, and bending over she pecks me on the lips. After going to the corridor where a cabinet must be situated, she comes back with some linen. I’d never been in this storey before. One of the towels she hands me is made of microfibre fabric, to prevent the hair from getting frizz. She couldn’t be more thoughtful. “There’s a lot of spare room for your things…” I can’t help but grin.

“You know you tell me this and I interpret it as I want…” I grab her by the wrist once again, pulling her closer so I can kiss her this time.

“I’ll make you a smoothie…” She smirks devilishly, before walking away.

So this is it. This is how relationships start. I’ve got “the talk” before, but just to make up excuses for myself. I’ve never been sure of anything as I’m sure of this, but if someone had told me about it yesterday I’d have never believe it. Life is stranger than fiction. And today it’s not that I have a girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’ seems too little to define what Jeanne means to me. She’s the only person I could ever love. As naked as I am I go to my jeans and pull my phone out of the pocket. Eleven o’clock. I open the messaging app and begin to type down.

Harry: Can you bring a bag with my hair and facial products, grooming accessories, toothbrush, my favourite pyjamas, bathrobe, silk robe, silk underpants, Calvins, a pair of nice slippers, socks, plain white t-shirt, plain black t-shirt, jogger pants, black jeans, hoodie, plaid shirt, nice shirt, sunglasses, and Nikes to Jeanne’s house as soon as possible?

Harry: No questions, please.

Emma is thoroughly discreet, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be a bit of a pain in the neck under some circumstances. About a second later I get a reply.

Emma: From your house or brand new?

Harry: Whatever that’s quicker.

It shouldn’t take more than an hour.

Emma: No questions though…

And here we go.

Harry: No. Thank you, Emma. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday morning.

She must’ve caught the vibe already. I’ve kept her in the dark regarding my feelings for Jeanne, but this is quite obvious.

Emma: As soon as possible.

Harry: That’s it. Lovely Emma.

Harry: You know what? If you look around my house I’m pretty sure there’s a spare one of each, somewhere. Oh, and could you also bring a pack of my favourite brew and a candle? And a massive bouquet of sunflowers? And please, grab the book I’m currently reading. It’s in my nightstand.

Harry: And the newspaper.

Jeanne loves reading the press in the morning. Emma’d only have to stop at the florist’s and the newsagent’s, maybe even two in one.

Harry: Left-wing, please.

I don’t want to start another Anglo-French war.

Harry: And can you take care of my car? It’s parked outside.

I’ve been lucky enough not to be spotted to ruin it by being overly careless.

Emma: My family sends you kind regards.

Oops.

Harry: Sorry. Love you.

–.–.–

I walk out of the bathroom wearing Jeanne’s silk robe in off-white and minimal flower drawings. It falls to the middle of my thigh, so that would suffice to remain decent until Emma arrives. Decent with a bit of cheeky… That could easily be my epitaph.

Before I leave the bedroom I approach the vanity table to pick up my phone. I glance another time at the surface, her most personal belongings, the birth control packet. Pretty obvious she was on something to let me fuck her without protection. But she trusts me though. She trusts my commitment to stay healthy, and she’s right to do so. Beside my first experiences and a couple of times with Abigail, she’s been the most radical exception to my norm, since the beginning and with everything. It does feel like I always knew. I smile to myself. There’s still one thing I have to do before I join her downstairs.

To mum: Don’t worry anymore. She loves me.

I shake my head. I don’t think I’ll ever not be a giggly fool over these three little words. My mum will be relieved, as I’m aware she must be struggling. But I won’t ask for further clarification, because it’s in the past, and the past should stay in the past. The present is all that matters now, and the future.

Pushing the phone inside a pocket I make my way to the kitchen. Jeanne gets to live in the most gorgeous houses. I’ve always been fond of these London maisonettes, but they don’t meet the security requirements I need, at least to live on a regular basis. I have indeed given up a lot of things because of my job. But that’s the price you pay to keep life relatively normal. You learn to deal with the insane amount of attention, even if it doesn’t make any sense to you, as you are just like the next person. Jeanne and I still have to decide the way we’ll manage this publicly, which is a massive turn-off I admit. But not today. This day is only about the two of us.

“Where’s my smoothie?” I ask to surprise her, as she hasn’t sensed my presence yet, and grab her from behind. She’s startled for a second, but just laughs. My hands run underneath her shirt to her hips, and I pull her in. She’s put on some sort of French knickers. That gives me tons of ideas. I peck her over the shoulder.

“It’s apple-spinach-banana.” She turns around, handing me a glass, as she checks me out. I’m so cheeky I giggle, and go to sit on a stool. After a short struggle I begin to sip my drink. Nice. No sugar, but honey and a touch of lemon. I notice Jeanne’s spying on me. My eyebrows instinctively rise. She leaves the side of the hob and walks straight at me. “I don’t think you know how hot you look trying to find that straw with your mouth…” I can’t help but rejoice. Jeanne pushes my hair behind my ear, slipping between my legs. “Go on,” she purrs and I continue sipping. She starts to nibble my jaw, her hand resting on my upper thigh. Doing two things at once is not my strength, especially when it involves fragile objects. Her palm moves down, and I’d better abandon the glass on the worktop. Jeanne slowly glides her fingers over my parts above the fabric. “I love it when you are soft…” I gulp hard. I won’t remain soft for too long if she keeps doing that.

“Don’t stop…” I plead, throwing my hand to find hers and prevent her from going anywhere, my head falling back. I push the robe aside and make her grope me. As I sense the contact of her coldish skin I begin to harden. I gaze into her eyes. “Look what you’ve done,” I scold her. A lop-sided grin curls the corner of her mouth, her hand still caressing me, eyes fixed on mine. Her whole attitude is so unbearably sexy, the demeanour, her effortless looks, how she doesn’t hesitate to make the first move. Closing her eyes, she kisses me with a wet, sloppy kiss, but starts to slide her body down, clinging to my thighs. I feel her fresh breath on my tip and shudder, then her tongue resting on my shaft, just beneath the glans, and finally the warmth of her mouth wrapped around me… Fuck. She’s delicious. Not that I had forgotten about it. How could I ever forget?

And how could I ever forget what it’s like to come inside her mouth? How was I supposed to move on from this sensation? This must be what Heaven feels like. Jeanne stands up, and still shaking I pull her into my chest. I hold her in my arms for what seems like forever before I begin to let go. I have to keep telling myself she’s real, that she won’t evaporate into the thin air as soon as I open my eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I murmur, cupping her face, as I sense her moving away. I roll my thumb across her lips, coming to kiss her.

“To the bathroom. Isn’t Emma on her way?” She’s right. I’m so drunk with happiness I can barely think. My head is in the clouds. My heart won’t stop drumming. Sex’s always nice, but when you are in love, it gives you a special drive.

“Yes, she is…” I press my lips on hers one more time, and Jeanne smiles into the kiss. It amazes me how quickly we regained intimacy. When I finally give up she bats her lashes in that dreamy way, and giving me that look she walks away. I plan to make love to her until it’s Monday morning and we have to go back to work. To be honest, I want it all, from lying on the sofa, reading, to bathing together. I want to make up for the time we’ve lost in every sense, including the domesticity I missed so much.

As soon as she takes the corridor the bell rings. I make sure the robe is in place while I get to the door, leaving the dinning area and the lounge behind. It won’t startle Emma to find me like this. She’s seen far worse. As I open I can’t help but frown. Who’s this light brown-haired dude that’s looking away…? What is he holding? Did Emma send him…? The moment he turns around I’m the one who’s startled.

“Schweini!”

–.–.–

Notes

Sometimes the past can't stay in the past, Harry, especially when the past is made of living, breathing people. So Hans-Peter arrived to mess with the lovey-dovey retreat. That'll be fun to watch, ins't it? ;)

Thank you so much for the amazing feedback. I'm speechless. You make me humble. Thank you, each one of you, for sticking up with me. Hope you enjoyed "the talk." Love you all <3