“Okay.” He didn’t look convinced, but he leaned to kiss her again.
“Try, Butler,” Mariella said, and then she was sitting straight up in her bed, the sheets tangled around her ankles and her eyes squinting against the overhead light, which had come on the way it did after a power failure. “Dammit!”
They should’ve had plenty of time left in their dreams, but her neighborhood had all overhead power lines and at any sign of bad weather they’d go down. Whatever had happened had been brief. Her clock blinked and the light had come on, but nothing flickered with a sign that it was about to go off again. Still, she knew better than to hope she could find him again, even if she could get back to sleep in the hour before her alarm went off. She might as well get up.
She paused as she swung her legs out over the edge of the bed. Her arms had been painted with threaded red marks that were rapidly fading but still prominent. Blinking, Mariella touched them. The pattern of red on her skin branched like the roots of a flower.
“Oh, my God.”
As she watched, the marks faded, leaving nothing behind, not even a tingle, to remind her they’d been there. But she could never forget them. She’d never taken anything out of the Ephemeros before. Stroking a fingertip along the now clear skin, Mariella shivered, her nipples peaking.
“Who are you, Butler Meadows?”
* * *
Long day at work, followed by a run. A beer in front of the TV. Takeout Chinese that would be better cold for breakfast, which wasn’t saying much. In other words, Butler thought as he settled in front of his laptop at the kitchen table with a second beer, boring. Dull. Lame. And, he admitted, a little lonely.
There was a remedy for that, and it wasn’t team building in a sports bar after work with a bunch of people he barely liked, but it was only a little more appealing. Still, it was his only option at the moment, so he navigated to the dating site where he’d had an account for the past year and a half. Some people joined a gym every New Year’s and paid all year for the privilege of never exercising. For Butler, it was FindADate, where he paid for the privilege of not dating.
He’d had a few dates over the past eighteen months. Nice women, for the most part. Soccer mom divorcées with midlife makeovers—he seemed to attract them a lot. He’d gone out for coffee, to the movies and dinner, once to a cigar bar on a date that had seemed promising until the woman had launched into a political debate that was the complete opposite of everything Butler had ever believed in. That had ended on a sour note, and though she’d texted him frequently for a while, he’d stopped replying.
Still, though he hadn’t been on a real date in months, he did check his messages every week or so to see if anyone interesting had come along. Tonight he scanned the new profiles and looked at his inbox to find a few old winks that he hadn’t responded to. Sometimes he opened the site with a hopeful lift in his heart, but other times, like tonight, it was only depressing.
All he could think about was the dream.
Tapping his fingers on the table, Butler sat back in his seat to scan the pictures and information in front of him. Lots of pretty faces, a few interesting profiles, maybe even a couple women he’d have messaged even a week ago. Stupid, he told himself. Letting an imaginary fling affect his real life.
But it had felt real. Butler had heard of lucid dreaming, but had never experienced it. There’d been only a few dreams where he’d realized he was asleep. But twice in the past month he’d done it, and both times the woman had been there. And the second time...Butler let out a low groan at the memory of her taste. The feeling of her body underneath his. His cock stirred.
FindADate had the option to log in to an instant message system. He rarely used it, preferring the ability to answer messages and texts at his convenience, though real-time conversation had been useful a few times. He’d connected once or twice with a woman whose wit and sense of humor had matched his, chatting for hours online before they’d agreed to meet. As it had turned out, she’d taken one look at him in person and smiled regretfully, saying she didn’t date short guys. Since his profile had been meticulously truthful about everything including his height, Butler could only shrug.
He eyed the instant message box now, considering logging on. It could lead to something exciting. Fantastic, even. He let the cursor hover over the go online button. Bed would be better, he thought. But dreams weren’t real.
He clicked.
* * *
For those poor suckers who couldn’t shape their dreams, only experience and then forget them, the internet was almost as magical as the Ephemeros. You could represent yourself however you liked, anything from being a vampire to using Photoshop to make bigger boobs and a flatter stomach in your profile picture. You could visit exotic places. Meet new people.
And, if you knew how to search just right, you could find out almost anything about anyone who’d ever gone online.
Mariella was searching now. Butler Meadows. If that was his real name, and if he’d ever opened a Connex profile or posted in any forums, he should be easy enough to find. Easier than a John Smith would’ve been, anyway. So far she’d found a housing development in Indiana, a bunch of people with hyphenated last names of Butler-Meadows and then...
“Bingo.”
Butler Meadows had a Connex account set to private, a publicly viewable Pixstream account without any photos in it and according to the White Pages, he lived in a town forty minutes away from her. A few minutes deeper digging pulled up a match with his Connex profile email and one on FindADate.com. Mariella looked at the results and chewed her lower lip for a moment. This was getting into stalker territory.
She held her hands out in front of her to look at her bare arms. Unblemished now, but the memory of those branching marks had stayed with her for the past few days. Just as she’d never brought anything out of the Ephemeros with her, neither had she ever tried to find anyone in the waking world that she’d met inside the dream one. Yet she’d been unable to stop thinking about him.
It had hit her like a fever, this desire to discover if there was a real Butler Meadows out there in the world. And if so, if he was anything like the man in her dreams. The chances of that were so small as to be infinitesimal...but she had to try.
She could friend him on Connex, but that would be weird. FindADate required a free signup in order to view anything beyond the initial search page, and though Mariella knew free was just an introduction into what promised to be a monthly financial commitment, she filled in all her information anyway. Her real name. Real photo. Real location. Her fingers flew over the keys, typing before she could wimp out and make up a bunch of stuff the way she would’ve done in the Ephemeros. She hit Save. Then her extremely specific search criteria, though she couldn’t be entirely positive of his age, height or anything else and had to guess and hope that how he’d represented was indeed how he really looked. She hit enter.
And there he was.
Butler Meadows, thirty-seven, five foot nine. Brown hair, hazel eyes. He’d listed his body type as athletic, and she could attest to that, all right. He liked horror and action movies, no surprise there. He also liked sports, travel, working out. Mariella gave herself a rueful once-over. She went to the gym, but wasn’t exactly a gym bunny. She kept scrolling.
He had a sense of humor, evidenced in his self-deprecating but charming profile description. They liked the same kind of music, too. And the photos he’d uploaded made butterflies begin to dance in her belly.
But should she contact him? The wink button tempted her, but something stopped her. Sudden self-doubt. What if he didn’t respond? He’d been on this dating site for close to two years. What did that mean? That he was a serial dater? A player? He didn’t look like one, but even if he’d been representing his lovemaking skills as far greater than what was accurate, it proved he had the imagination, anyway. Or maybe he’d s
imply been waiting for the right woman to come along, Mariella told herself.
She didn’t wink.
“Shit,” she breathed, sitting back in her chair. “Just do it.”
But she couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. What could she say to him, anyway?
“Hi, we fucked like magic a few nights ago, and by the way, the dream world is also a real place called the Ephemeros, and since I’m one of the people who can control what happens in it, I was able to remember you and look you up in the real world.”
Totally not creepy at all, right? Even if he didn’t think she was a lunatic for claiming dreams happened in a real place, not just in people’s minds, admitting that she’d tracked him down would surely be enough to scare him off. And she couldn’t blame him. Just because he’d been easy to find didn’t mean he want to be found.
Her computer beeped at her. Confused, Mariella checked her email. Nothing new. No new updates to install, either. It beeped again, and this time, she took another look at the screen.
Hi, read the message in the small box she hadn’t noticed in the upper right corner of the FindADate page. A blinking cursor below it showed her where to type a reply. It was an instant message box, and it was showing her status as online.
I hope you don’t mind, came the next message before Mariella had the chance to type anything. But I saw your profile and thought I’d say hello.
There was a reason Mariella had always avoided these dating sites. A new profile was like chum to a school of circling sharks. Seriously, she’d barely filled anything in beyond the basic information, and already she was getting pinged? She wasn’t really here to find dates, anyway. She moved her mouse to click herself offline, but before she could, another beep alerted her to more text.
My name’s Butler.
* * *
He wasn’t late to work, though once again he’d slept through his alarm. This time, not because of dreams. He’d been up until 3:00 a.m. chatting online with Mariella.
She was smart, and funny, and if her pictures were accurate, really pretty, too. He’d pinged her totally on impulse, expecting to either be shut down or have to find a way to duck out gracefully from the conversation within the first few minutes, but when she caught his reference to Brave New World, Butler knew this woman was going to be someone special.
“Morning. I brought you coffee.” Kacey held up the cup from the local coffee shop around the corner. “Morningstar Mocha had some great pastries today, too. I got you one. Blueberry scone, right? That’s your favorite?”
“Yeah.” Butler paused, still shrugging out of his jacket. “You didn’t have to do that. But thanks.”
Kacey set the paper cup and bakery bag on his desk and stepped back. “So. Big day today, huh? Think we’ll finish up the project? Get it off to testing?”
“I hope so. We should be able to.” The coffee smelled amazing, and his stomach rumbled. He dug into the scone and sipped coffee, already focused on the list of tasks for the day. He gave her a glance. “This was really nice. I needed it today. Didn’t have time for breakfast. I slept through my alarm again.”
Kacey leaned against his cubicle wall. “How come? You usually get up for a run first, right?”
“Yeah.” Butler paused. “How did—”
“At least you weren’t late,” Kacey said with an awkward laugh. “Lasenby would’ve totally been all over you.”
“Yeah. He would.” Butler waited for her to leave, but she didn’t.
Awkward became uncomfortable.
“So...how come you slept through your alarm? Big night? Did you have a date or something?” Kacey’s smile looked forced.
Butler hesitated again, uncertain what the hell was going on. “No. Sort of, I guess. I met someone—”
“Where? Where did you meet someone?” Kacey stuttered out a breathless laugh, then cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s hard to meet someone, that’s all. It’s just really hard.”
“Oh. I have a profile on FindADate—”
Again, she interrupted him. “I know. I mean, I think you told me.”
Butler was 98 percent sure he’d never discussed his dating life, or lack of it, at work. Certainly not with Kacey. He barely knew her, and besides, work wasn’t the place to talk about that sort of thing.
“So you met someone on there?” she continued, shifting from foot to foot. “I’ve heard that site sucks.”
“It usually does.” Butler paused again to study her. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Oh. Sure. Just had a lot of coffee already today. It’s good, from the Mocha. My favorite place to get coffee. I drank a lot already today. So,” Kacey said abruptly. “You met someone. Is she nice? I bet she’s pretty. Really pretty.”
Butler sat back in his chair, unable to stop himself from grinning like a doofus at the memory of last night’s conversation. “Yeah. She’s nice.”
“And pretty,” Kacey said in a low voice.
“I think she is. But I only saw pictures of her. So...”
“Anyone can look like anything in pictures,” Kacey said. “To really know someone, you have to meet them in person. Get to know them. Spend time with them. Learn about them, you know. Like how they like their coffee. Stuff like that.”
“Maybe,” Butler said slowly, “I will meet her in person.”
Kacey let out another barking laugh. “Right! Sure, of course. Hey, maybe I should sign up for that site. See what happens for me, huh?”
Before Butler could say anything else, she gave him a little wave and disappeared around the corner. Butler sat, stunned, unsure of what, exactly, had transpired, only that something had. Shrugging it off, he opened up his queue for the day just as his phone pinged from his pocket. Since he always tried to make sure the ringer was off before he got to work, he was reminded again of how rushed his morning had been. And then the reason why he’d had such a hard time waking up, and he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
He smiled harder when he saw the email. It was from Mariella. Good morning, it said. I had a great time talking with you last night. Hope to talk again soon.
Butler hoped so, too.
* * *
“No, no, no.” Mariella laughed, cradling her phone to her ear as she bent to slide a frozen pizza into the oven. “The chupacabra is totally real.”
Friday night and no date. Not exactly. But Butler had replied to her morning’s email, and they’d sent a few messages back and forth during the day before he’d asked if it would be all right if he called her tonight.
Of course she’d said yes.
“Sasquatch, maybe you can convince me. But a goat sucker? No. Sorry. Can’t do it.” Butler had a rich, warm laugh that vibrated in her ear. “I’ll even give you Loch Ness Monster before chupacabra.”
Mariella poured herself a glass of wine. “Fine. Be like that. But you’ll be sad when one comes to your house and eats your goat.”
They laughed together at that. The conversation shifted from one topic to another as effortlessly as though they’d been friends for years, instead of having only met a day or so before. Of course, Mariella had the advantage of remembering they’d met and been a lot more intimate in the Ephemeros than they’d been in chat or on the phone, a situation that surely helped their blooming relationship because even if Butler didn’t remember it, it was in his subconscious.
“So...Friday night. No big plans, huh?” Butler said.
“Hanging out with my new best friend Butler,” Mariella said lightly. “Drinking a glass of wine. Thinking of watching a movie later, maybe.”
“Should I let you get to it...?”
“No,” she said softly. “No, I like talking to you. I could talk to you all night.”
And they did. The hours ticked past as they both ate dinner—he’d cooked some pasta from a meal in a bag
while she ate the pizza that wasn’t half-bad. His wine was red, hers pink. An hour or so into the conversation, they’d figured out they could both video chat from their phones. Seeing his face for the first time on her screen hadn’t felt like an introduction, but rather a return. Looking at Butler felt like coming home.
They’d both changed into pajamas and settled into bed with a movie running on their TVs at the same time, though neither of them was paying much attention to it. Mariella propped the phone on the pillow next to her and rolled onto her side to face it. Butler did the same.
She touched the screen. His face. “It’s going to be morning soon.”
“Yeah. I should let you go.”
“No,” she said on impulse. “Don’t.”
Then they didn’t say much of anything, speaking with their smiles and eyes. The movie ended, putting her room into silence. Mariella watched Butler’s eyes close, flutter open, then close again. She listened to the soft, slow sound of his breathing.
“Sweet dreams,” she said, but didn’t disconnect until she couldn’t say awake any longer.
* * *
“Well, hello,” the woman said. “Again.”
The same woman. He knew it. But this time she had short dark hair in a 1920s flapper cut, along with the matching fringed dress and rolled stockings. She wore her lipstick in a saucy little bow on her lips, with two pink circles of blush on pale cheeks. She fluttered extra long lashes at him.
Butler wore a zoot suit, and why not? This was a dream. Just to be sure that he wasn’t actually at a costume party and about to embarrass himself by pulling her into his arms and kissing the breath out of a stranger, he checked his watch. Yep. Wildly spinning hands and the numbers were all hieroglyphics. If that wasn’t enough to convince him, all the cars on the street where he suddenly stood were driving in reverse.