As she said, we sat at the same pink oval table, at the same cafe. Were we always gonna sit here? Gross. That would make this a thing, and I didn’t want that. More time with Miss Perfect? Yeah, right.
    “So…” she started off as she did last time.
    “Just spit it out,” I sipped my mocha, not meeting her eyes. My patience had already run thin before I walked through the cafe doors to her sitting in another skirt, white this time, and her auburn hair in a ponytail.
    She scuffed, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms “It’s a little harder than that.”
    “Is it? Just open your mouth and talk. Couldn’t be that hard since you normally don’t shut up,” I can’t honestly think of a time she talked a lot. She got snippy with me, raised her hand a lot in math but most of the time she seemed…quiet.
    “Anyone ever told you that you can be mean?” I swallowed. Don’t think about that now.
    “Anyone ever told you that you can be uptight and prissy?” she stood up, grabbing her coffee that was topped with whipped cream and a delicious looking caramel, “I’m here for you Miss Perfect, you leaving doesn’t bother me,” I snapped. Don’t think about it now.
    She sighed, looking at the art on the walls before walking away. I sat there, unsure of what to do. Is Miss Perfect really ditching me? That's not how this is supposed to work. She walked up to the counter and grabbed a brownie. She paid. She hesitated. Then she glanced at me. Her ponytail swayed softly with each step as she walked back to the table.
    “Here,” she sat the brownie in front of me, “I’ve seen you eat them a lot so I assume you like them. I-” she stopped, clenching her skirt, “I’m not ready to admit it even though you already know. I’ll try again next time,” that went a lot faster than I expected. Only worth coming because of the brownie.
And with that, she left me sitting at the same pink oval table.

I jolted up, gasping for each breath as my chest tightened, sweat dripping down my forehead, mixing with tears, my heart pounding louder than my breathing. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I pulled my knees to my chest, clenched onto my sweat soaked hair. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
I closed my eyes and focused on only a single blank piece of paper in my mind. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You're fine. It was only a dream.
“Sissy?” I looked up at Jamie standing in the doorway, her princess sleeping gown backlit from the hallway light, “I heard you scream again. Are you okay?”
I nodded, rocking back and forth, trying to dry the tears that kept coming. Her small, warm fingers wrapped around my hand that was much larger than hers.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” she said, pulling back my hair and wiping my cheek with her sleeve.
“Jamie, you don’t need to take care of me, it was only a dream,” is what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get any words to come out.
I picked up Jamie and pulled her into my arms, breathing in the smell of her bubble gum soap. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You’re fine.

Six flashed across my cloud lockscreen as I put the mug full of water in the microwave, putting it on for three minutes. I decided to get a cup of honey tea, though caffeinated, it put me at ease. What does it mean though? Why do I keep having it? I tapped my finger against the counter as I stared out the window at Camille's house. Was Camille awake right now? No lights or signs of movement. Why did she do what she did yesterday? Did I push too much?
I jumped and almost dropped my spoon as the microwave beeped, bringing me back to reality. I needed to stop thinking about Miss Perfect, about the dream, about Her, about everything. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
I sat on the couch with my honey tea, the warmth emitting from the mug. I pulled out my phone and went to my one social media.

6: 13    Hey.

6:16    Why are you awake?

You know..

Ah. Woke me up. Asshat. You doing okay?

Never

I’ll be there in thirty, not at home

Tell whoever she or he is bye for me

He was right, thirty minutes later Robert was walking through my door and plopping on the couch next to me, smelling heavily of cologne and pulling my head into his lap.
    “You know we have school in less than an hour, right?” he said, playing with my hair and rubbing my shoulder.
    “Shut up,” I groaned.
It all felt as if the past few days hadn't happened, but instead, I was observing. Watching my body move without acknowledging, talking without listening, breathing without living. It all seemed like a staged movie, and I was the star.
    I hid in his jacket and listened to his heartbeat as his fingers worked through my hair, trying to let myself finally relax. Everything is going to be okay. It will all be okay.