Harvesting Her

What Dreams leave behind Her breath hitched as his lips claimed her skin, moving with a hunger that made her knees tremble. His mouth trailed between the soft swell of her breasts, tasting her, worshipping her, and she couldn’t see his face—couldn’t even lift her head to find it. Not when his hands were everywhere, not when his tongue drew patterns that made her gasp, her body arching toward him as if it had learned to beg without words. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Was it always this fast, this intense? Was it wrong that she wanted more, even though she barely understood what more meant? She was new to this—new to the rush of heat that tangled her breath, new to the ache blooming low in her belly, new to the slickness gathering between her thighs that she had only read about but never truly felt. She tried to follow, to keep pace with the rhythm of his hands, but her body was betraying her, already slipping, already surrendering. Slow down, she wanted to tell him, but her voice dissolved into a soft, desperate moan as her head tipped back, her chest rising to meet him, her lips parting in silent permission. I’m not ready. But… I don’t want you to stop. Somewhere in the haze, she felt herself slipping—like the heat was pulling her under, like the air was thinning around her. His touch faded, the sound of his breath against her skin vanished, and the delicious ache unraveled into nothing. Her body jolted, her breath tearing from her lips as her eyes snapped open, chest rising in frantic waves. Sweat clung to her skin, her body still burning from the dream she hadn’t wanted to leave. Why? The question pulsed in her mind as she pressed a trembling hand to her racing heart. Why does this keep happening? She squeezed her eyes shut, chasing pieces she couldn’t hold—his hands on her skin, his mouth between her breasts, the way her body craved more, begged for more. She could feel him, taste him, ache for him—but his face always slipped away, always just out of reach. Why now? Why him? These dreams never touched her before—until she turned twenty-two. Until she came back from that trip. She should feel ashamed. Instead, all she felt was this pull—this maddening curiosity, this desperate wanting to know who he was. And why, deep inside, she wanted him to find her again. Just as the weight of the dream pressed on her chest, her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, jolting her out of her spiral. She blinked, breath still shaky, as the name flashed across the screen—Kiara. Of course. Loud, rich, impatient Kiara, who never waited for anyone and never, ever liked to be ignored. Eva cleared her throat, still tangled in the haze of sleep. “Hey…” “Finally!” Kiara’s voice hit sharp. “I’ve been standing outside your dorm for ages!” Eva’s brows pulled together, her voice groggy. “Wait, what? You just called me now.” Kiara scoffed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Are you serious? I’ve called you like a thousand times. Check your phone, Sleeping Beauty.” Frowning, Eva pulled the phone away from her ear. Seven missed calls. Her stomach tightened. How did I not hear them? “I… I didn’t hear it,” she whispered, more to herself than to Kiara. “Eva!” Kiara’s voice sharpened, dripping with impatience. “Where the f**k are you? Get ready and step out of your dorm. We’ve got an exam to attend—remember? The one we rescheduled because of your precious birthday?” Eva jolted, scrambling out of bed, clutching the phone between her shoulder and ear as she rushed to get dressed. She didn’t waste time on makeup or finding the right outfit—she never did. Sliding into her usual comfortable jeans and a soft, simple top, she tied her hair into a loose ponytail, the strands falling messily around her glasses. Unlike most girls around her, Eva never cared for flashy clothes, tight dresses, or high heels. Her style was plain, her choices quiet, but there was something effortlessly beautiful about her—a kind of subtle charm that never needed to scream to be noticed. Sliding into Kiara’s flashy car, Eva barely had time to catch her breath before Kiara flicked her dark glasses up her nose and started furiously tapping at her phone. “Ugh! Why the f**k is this tour guide not accepting my follow request? I mean, seriously—who does he think he is? Ignoring me?” Eva sank into the seat, her fingers curling around the straps of her bag, trying to slow her breathing. Kiara jabbed her phone screen, her glossy nails clacking. “Does he think he’s some kind of celebrity or something?” Eva blinked, a sharp, unfamiliar pull suddenly tightening in her chest. She didn’t know why—but something in her gut whispered that this wasn’t just coincidence.That name. That place. That trip. And for some reason, she couldn’t breathe.