Simon moves from the floor where he was kneeling beside the couch, and sits next to me while maintaining some space between us. “How long?”
I look over at him. “What?”
“How long have you been having nightmares?” His jaw tenses.
“Oh.” I hug myself tighter. “Um, like…forever? I don’t know. Don’t you have them?”
“Every night.” Simon twirls the ring on his index finger with his thumb.
“What about?” I ask him even despite it being such a personal question.
Simon sucks in a breath and exhales. “Well, for starters, you’re in a lot of them.”
I chuckle. “So, I’m not your dream girl, I’m your nightmare girl.”
He side-eyes me and shakes his head. "Something like that."
“Am I chasing you around with a knife Michael Myers style?”
“Something like that,” he repeats with a grin.
"And the ones I'm not starring in?"
“Uh…”
“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” I turn toward him and lean my head on the back of the couch.
“Promise you won’t laugh…or tell anyone?”
I hold out my pinkie toward him.
He locks his around mine and gives it a little shake.
Our hands lower onto the couch with our pinkies still intertwined.
“I can’t swim. Not well, at least…”
I look for any indication that he’s lying, that he’s fucking with me. “Really?”
Simon bobs his head up and down. “Yep.”
“Lots of people can’t swim,” I tell him in a weak attempt to make him feel better.
“Maybe lots of kids, but not grown adults.”
“Why didn’t you learn when you were younger?”
Simon looks away like he’s recalling a memory. Every bit of him seems to tighten with the recollection. “I just didn’t.” He takes his free hand and runs it through his dark brown hair. “And in these nightmares, I’m drowning.”
“That must be terrifying.” I’ve had my fair share of nightmares: being burned alive, chased, attacked, cheated on, assaulted in any way you can imagine. I can’t say I’ve ever had one where I was unable to swim, though. I guess our minds torture us with the things we’re most afraid of or insecure about.
“It’s not a good time.” He turns his head back toward me. “Enough about me though. Are you okay? You were screaming something fierce.”
"I don't even remember what it was." But that's a lie, because, with each passing second, pieces of it come into my head and taunt me with their memory. I won't admit that to him, though. Instead, I'll keep it bottled up and hope I never have to dream it, or live it, ever again.
“Even if you do…” Simon keeps his voice low. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”