• Almost as if my mind wanted to tease me further, that night I dreamt of a boy my age if not a year or two older. His shoulders were broad with long lightly toned arms that wrapped around my waist and one supporting my back. His hands were warm and soft to the touch unlike the dry, padded feeling you’d usually think of when it comes to men. His fingers were long and strong, working their magic as they soothingly massaged my back as he laid me down closer to the neglected clothe of the couch. His torso was hard, but not overwhelmed with muscles, but just enough to make subtle waves through his ocean fog gray shirt. His chest and godly abdominal muscles lead down to slightly protruding hipbones and an appropriately shapely backside, linking sturdy, well-built legs that trapped mine in are moment of timeless romance. Looking up, I finally saw my suitors beautiful face. His hair swept in a sandy side part, while his eyes glistened a cheeky, sharp, and almost provocative blue. His cheekbones were chiseled into perfect angles. At last, I set my gaze upon a pair of rose colored lips that seemed to put me in a trance, trying to decide whether or not to kiss them now or later. Before I could calculate the ratio between roughness and tenderness (Yes, I am that much of a nerd) two fingers rested under the tip of my chin, creating just enough leverage for my man o’ mystery to draw my attention away from his sinful lips and back to his charming eyes shining in all of their glory. We started to lean in but as we did everything started to get foggy. His angelic features started to smudge until I could only see the back of my eyelids and the sleep that prevented me from opening them.