Charlie~~

For three days already, I've managed to make sure Nora walked out the door with Tye. I don't have Tye come in early anymore. Instead, I've been having Nora come in later. The whole thing has been a balancing act as the start of Tye's job relies on Nora finishing hers.

Now on the fourth day since Dad gave his order, he asked me to drive him this morning from his office to Stefan's apartment before I went in to work. I don't usually take my car to work, but since I was already in it, I decided to go on to my office. Rifting is usually far simpler than driving through the city.

Nora arrived two hours later, and Tye came in two hours after her. A few minutes ago, Nora finished her work, meaning they both can leave now.

As they're getting ready to go, Nora excuses herself to use the restroom, and Tye leaves before I can tell him to wait.

Alone for the moment, I bury my face in my hands and tug at my hair. In three days, this week will be over.

And this will all end with Nora getting hurt.

I hear the restroom door shut followed by the sound of Nora's footsteps. She appears in front of her desk and grabs her bag.

"See you tomorrow, Charlie." As she heads for the door, I hear it. A pitter patter rapidly graining strength. Nora swipes her hand over the sensor, and the door slides open. Rain beats down on the pavement outside, and a harsh wind yanks her hair as it blows inside.

It wasn't scheduled to rain today. I swivel in my chair toward my computer and a few keystrokes later reveals it will now be raining for the rest of the day.

"Damn it."

Nora stares at me, her face scrunched up. The times I've been agitated around her, I've never let her know it. I kept it hidden. Bottled up.

But all I said was two little words. I can recover from this. I can make myself seem calm again. Make her think everything is fine.

"I'm going to wait it out a little." She lifts her bag off her shoulder to set it down. She and I . . . in my office . . . alone, and Dad knows it. It's clear with the weather changing as suddenly as it did that he has eyes on us.

I have my car though. I can take her home. Drop her off without setting foot in her house.

Reaching under my desk, I picture a large black umbrella. I feel it become solid in my hands, its weight dipping on the end with the handle. "I'll take you home. I have my car."

"If you have a car why do you always take a cab?"

"I usually have my car," I lie and pass her the umbrella. "But somedays I don't feel like driving." After reaching my hand under my desk to create another umbrella, I'm ready to go.

Nora opens the door and another gust of wind blows rain inside. Dad really would prefer we stay inside. Even with the umbrellas, we're going to be soaked.

"My car's silver. It's parked on the street." I clutch my keys, ready to unlock the car the moment I'm close enough.

If she knew we were dreaming, I'd rift us to her house, and we'd get wet.

Nora opens her umbrella and makes a run for it.

I step outside, wind and rain bashing into me, but I still pause to check the alley.

Tucked into a corner of my building and hidden underneath a brown umbrella, Cobbs lifts his hand in greeting.

Gritting my teeth, I take off after Nora, now realizing that when Dad asked me to drop him off at Stefan's, he wasn't planning for the rain to be enough to isolate me and Nora in my office.

He's herding us to my car.

There are only two cars, the other is dark blue. Cobb's car.

I unlock the doors right as Nora reaches for the handle. Rain soaks through my shirt, and the wind pushes into my wet skin.

I open my door, and the wind shoving against the door causes it to swing open for a moment, making me fear it will snap off. Tossing my umbrella in the back, I grab hold of my door with both hands and pull it shut.

Cobbs make his way up the alley, but it looks like he's angled for his car and not mine.

I push a button to start the ignition, and my engine purrs to life. Nora's jaw trembles, her teeth chattering slightly, and I crank up the heat.

"I have a spare shirt in my back seat."

She's wearing slacks today instead of a dress. It's irksome that I have the ability to dry us off and can't use it.

"I can't take your shirt. You should use it."

As I reach back and grab it, I use the opportunity to check out the rear window. Cobbs is in his car.

I hand her the gray button up. "Please."

She bites her lip, probably to keep me from seeing her teeth chattering.

"Please," I say again.

She relents, taking the shirt into her hands. "Thank you. Am I . . . do I just go ahead?"

I glance in her direction to make sure there isn't a car coming. "I won't look." Cobbs shouldn't be able to see her.

She starts to peel off her black soaked blouse, and I fiddle with the heat more.

She laughs for the first time in a while. She hasn't voiced it, but I'm certain she's been angry at me since that day Dad met her. "I think we're making it more awkward by acting like it's awkward. You can start driving." I hear the heavy rustle of wet fabric. "It's not as if I've got much to hide."

"It's not awkward," I mumble and peel my hand away from the heat controls. As I settle back in my seat, I catch a glimpse of dark green lace. My throat goes dry—is that one of the bras Dad picked out for her? That thought is enough to make me sick.

I put the car in drive, checking the rearview mirror for any other cars besides Cobbs's, and pull out of the space.

There's a flash of fabric in the corner of my eye as she pulls on my shirt. "I hope that didn't make you too uncomfortable."

"Of course not." She doesn't need to know I've never had any sort of girlfriend, never been near a girl without her shirt on or had a girl wear one of mine.

"I'm sorry if my friend embarrassed you the other day. In the park."

I feel heat creep up my neck. "It's fine. We're really not dating though."

"She was the person who welcomed me to Somnia."

I nod. "I know. She told me after we left you." What would Nora do if she knew I was standing behind that mirror?

"I'm not trying to ask a smart question, but I just . . ."

"Don't understand why we'd need to have a meeting?"

Her silence is answer enough.

"You know I do more than just handle letters. Meeting with her was part of my welcoming committee duties."

She furrows her brow for a moment before she settles back in her seat.

I raise my eyes to the rearview mirror. Cobbs appears to be following me. I make a left, and Cobbs makes a left. I take the next right, and he takes that right. It's no surprise that he's trailing me.

He'll follow me all the way to Nora's house and make sure I follow through with Dad's orders.

We need to go somewhere public.

Instead of turning right where I would if I were going to her house, I drive straight.

Cobbs follows.

So I head for the north part of the city.

It doesn't take long for Nora to realize we're going the wrong way, my shirt now buttoned up on her all the way except for the top few buttons. "Charlie? Where are we going?"

"The botanical gardens."

It takes her a moment to reply. "It's raining."

"They have a conservatory."

"But the botanical gardens?"

I shift in my seat, my wet clothes sticking to the leather. "Have you ever been?" I imagine my clothes slightly dryer, not enough that Nora will notice a difference, and they dry.

"No."

"Perfect."

Cobbs still keeps behind me but lingers behind enough to not look suspicious.

Grumbling about just what I'd like to do to him, I press down further on the gas.

"What did you say?"

"I was complaining about the weather."

"I can go to the gardens another day—when it's not raining."

"I want you to see the conservatory in the rain. There's nothing like it."

She shrugs, eyeing me warily. "All right then."

I know she wants to change out of those pants without her having to tell me, so I imagine her clothes dry.

Her face scrunches up as she pats her pants.

"Everything fine?"

"Yeah." Another pat. "Yeah."

It takes twenty minutes to reach the conservatory. Their parking garage is located underground thankfully. Cement blocks and parking lots of asphalt and metal cars don't blend with the gardens.

Cobbs doesn't follow me down into the garage.

Once out of the car, Nora heads for the elevators, and standing behind her, I finish drying myself off.

The elevator takes us a floor up—still underground—to the lobby. From here, ramps lead up to the outdoor gardens.

About twenty people stand in line to buy tickets. Bypassing them, I guide Nora over to a cylindrical glass elevator and swipe the same card I use to get into my office. The elevator door opens, and the wariness in her eyes returns.

"Who are you?"

"Somnia runs the botanical gardens." This seems to satisfy her because she steps inside, and I follow her in, noticing she's tucked my shirt into her slacks, giving the shirt the appearance that it's loose and flowy and not just large on her.

The elevator shoots up into the conservatory—a glass greenhouse. Trees and ivy stretch up the walls, reaching toward the water pouring from the gray sky, slamming into the glass and running over it in streams. Flowers in almost every shade cover the greenhouse. Flowers birthed in a dream. They're brighter, fuller, and each gives off its own scent, mostly sweet like a perfume. I don't have much experience with real flowers with which to compare. I have to go off of what I've heard.

Death isn't a concept in Somnia. Flowers don't die here. They wilt, but dreamers don't realize that wilting is dying. They don't realize that the meat they eat is supposed to come from animals. They don't even know it's called meat.

Here pork is not pig, just as beef is not cow.

I suppose life is Somnia's virtue. It shields dreamers from the cruel realities of life so that when death finally does come for them, they don't know to be afraid of it.

"What do you think?" I ask.

She turns slowly, staring upward. Above us, people walk across bridges that are covered in flowers and ivy and that weave through breaks in the branches.

There are plenty of people around. Dad can't force me to do anything to her here.

"It's magical."

The air is warm but not humid despite being trapped in a greenhouse. It feels more like a blanket, and as we walk down a path where the flowers are the most clustered, a faint chill will brush by us every now and then, cooling us off.

Her eyes take it all in, and I take her in. She bunches her damp hair up in her hand and drapes it over her shoulder, before dropping down to admire a patch of berry red flowers with layered petals that are long and concaved. I don't know their name. Flowers are not a subject to which I've devoted much time.

Her hand reaches out toward them but stops as if she's hesitating. "My mom plants chrysanthemums by our front door."

I freeze.

She cups her hands around the petals of one of the flowers. "She'd choose a new color every fall."

"Nora?" My voice trembles around her name.

She draws her hand back and places it on her head, pressing her palm into her forehead. "I'm sorry. I don't know who Mom is." Her blue eyes are wide, and she looks lost as she tilts her head up toward me. My heart cracks. "Do you know who she is?"

A man further up the path and a woman in a staff shirt stare at us. Dad's bugged most places in Somnia. Cobbs would have told him where I took Nora, meaning Dad's probably got eyes and ears on us right now. I can only hope Nora's voice was too soft to have been picked up on a mic, but regardless, we need to get out of here now.

Crouching down, I loop my arm around her shoulders. "I don't know her, but I think we should get you out of here."

Her hand still presses against her head. "Am I not supposed to remember her either?"

Her expression, and the way her voice cracks rips my heart.

"We need to go." I keep my arm around her as I pull her to her feet and then to the elevators. The door closes, and I release her to send a text to Tye.

You can deliver the rest of your letters tomorrow. Meet me at your apartment. It's Nora.

A few minutes later we're back in my car and on the way to Tye's apartment.

Nora snaps out of her reverie with a jolt. "Where are we going? I'm fine. Really."

"No, you aren't. And we're going to Tye's. You don't need to be alone."

"I'm not alone."

"With someone other than me." The words come out too harsh. Too mean. Too bitter.

Crossing her arms, she leans back in her seat, her head turned toward her window. She sighs. "I never asked to come with you. You didn't have to bring me."

I drag my hand down my face. "No. It's not—I didn't mean it like that. You shouldn't be alone with me."

She whips her head my way. "We're alone most of the day."

"Exactly."
"Then fire me," she snaps.

I grip the wheel, coming to a stop at a light. "You're different Nora, and you make it too damn obvious." I immediately wish I could take back the words.

Her eyes widen for just a second.

I glance at the rearview mirror. No one seems to be following us.

"I know I'm different." Her voice is almost a whisper. "Why are you the only one who thinks anything of it?"

"I'm not. Believe me, people notice."

Her eyes widen again, her lips parting this time as fear laces her face. She's scared.

The light turns green, and I force my eyes to remain on the road.

"How am I different?"

It would be so easy to tell her about the dream. Maybe she'd laugh. Maybe it would all click. Telling her she's dreaming won't bring her memories back—it might make them return faster, but she has to remember them first. She won't be fully Lucid until then. In a few days, she'll undergo interrogation. I don't need to speed up her memories before that if I want her to have any chance at passing.

"Our world isn't right, Nora. When you realize the truth, you'll understand why you have to hide what makes you different. And for your sake—and mine—stop asking clever questions." 

This chapter single-handedly started my love affair with chrysanthemums.