I DREAMED YOU FIRST

He always found me in the dark. Not the kind that makes you afraid. This dark was warm. Heavy. It wrapped around you like a second skin and made you forget there was a world outside of it. He was already there when I arrived. He always was. Standing with his back to me, hands in his pockets, looking out at something I could never quite see. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Stillness that felt deliberate like silence existed for him. I knew this place. I always did. Floor-to-ceiling glass. City lights bleeding through like scattered diamonds. No sound except breathing. His. Mine. He turned before I could speak. He always knew I was there. "You came back." His voice settled in my chest, low, unhurried, too familiar to make sense. "I always do." Something like a smile touched his mouth. Private. Just for me. He crossed the room. I didn't move. I never did. He stopped close. The air between us tightened. His eyes moved over my face slowly, like he was memorizing something he couldn't afford to forget. "You look tired," he said. "I'm asleep." His hand lifted. His fingers brushed my jaw, light, barely there, and I felt it everywhere. "Nova." "Don't." "Don't what?" "Say my name like that." His gaze dipped briefly into my mouth. "Like what?" "Like I'm something you want to keep." Something shifted in his expression. He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel his warmth. His hand slid into my hair, slowly, giving me time to stop him. I didn't. "What if you are?" he said. My breath caught. He tilted my face up. I let him. His mouth hovered just there, and then, the alarm detonated. I jerked awake, dragging air into my lungs. Dark ceiling. My apartment. Reality crashing in too fast. My phone hit the floor. The alarm screamed until I finally silenced it. I pressed both hands into my face. Breathe. In. Out. Again. Silence. I stared at the water-stained ceiling. Two years of the same dream. Same man. Same voice. I still didn't know his name. Didn't know his face clearly. The dreams never gave me enough light. Just enough to feel. I knew his voice. The way he said my name. The quiet he carried. None of it was real. I grabbed my phone. 6:47 AM. Tuesday. Work. Cold shower. The only thing that fully pulled me out of him. By the time I stepped outside with coffee in hand, I had already done what I always did. Packed him away. New city. New start. That was the deal. The subway was crowded, loud, normal. I let it swallow me. Forty minutes where nobody needed anything from me. No deadlines. No, "Nova, can you tweak this?" from Derek, who used a tweak like a threat and smiled like he didn't know it. I stepped out onto the street and turned, and stopped. The crowd moved around me. Someone bumped my shoulder. I didn't react. Because across the street, high above the glass face of a building, was a billboard, and on that billboard… Was him. Same jaw. Same eyes. The faint scar near his brow I knew without knowing how. My coffee slipped from my hand. I didn't feel it hit the pavement. The billboard was clean. Expensive. His face. Three words beneath it: DAMIEN CROSS. VISIONARY. ICON. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and typed his name. Damien Cross. Tech billionaire. Twenty-eight. Built everything before most people figured out their lives. I scrolled. And then I saw her. A photo, his hand at the small of a woman's back. Elegant. Effortless. The caption: Damien Cross and fiancée Celeste Harmon… I locked my phone. So the man I'd been dreaming about for two years… Was real. And engaged. I bent and picked up my cup. The coffee had spread in a slow dark stain across the pavement. Someone had already stepped through it. My sleeve caught the lid as I straightened, wet, cold, immediately. I stood there a second longer than I should have. Then I walked. Fine. This changes nothing. The plan lasted forty-five minutes. Derek caught me before I reached my desk. "Good… you're here." He fell into step beside me, already talking like I didn't have a choice. "Cross Foundation just signed with us. Full campaign." I stopped walking. "They want fresh energy. I'm putting you on it. Kickoff Friday." He glanced at me sideways. "You might work directly with Cross." My stomach dropped. "Don't make me regret this." He walked away before I could answer. I stood there, the noise of the office fading under the weight of what he'd just said. In seventy-two hours, I was going to be in the same room as the man who had lived in my dreams for two years. I walked to my desk. Sat down. Opened my laptop. Typed his name again. Not because I wanted to. But because I needed to remember one thing. He was taken. Untouchable. Whatever the dreams meant… It ends here. I believed that. For about three seconds. Then I looked at his eyes on the screen, And everything shifted. God help me.