The girl of my dreams, literally. Once or twice a week, I fell asleep easily (for a change) and had the most vivid dreams. Dreams full of laughter and smiles. Warm and reassuring smells on the edge of my tongue, sounds on my skin. I could’ve easily mistaken them for special memories.

If not for the fact I didn’t know her.

That wasn’t strictly true, though. I knew her voice and what she looked like. From an embarrassing Christmas present, I knew what she smelled like, too, as far as her favourite perfume went. She liked to tease me. I knew her thoughts on ordering video games before they were released (and learnt some foreign swear words in the process), and all about her opinions on various foods (frying anything made it better, somehow even cake).

The hours we spent every week, chatting to each other and playing all sorts of games, made me feel so close to her, despite the eighteen-thousand kilometres between us. Foolishly so, in fact. The dreams were proof of that.

Recently, rather than just dreaming about the games we’d played together—taking down dinosaurs, or bizarre role-play in a MMORPG where we dressed our characters like maids, or making a house together in a building game—I had been dreaming about us… together. I dreamt we sat on the sofa and watched a movie, so close our arms touched, her head resting on my shoulder. I dreamt we went out for dinner, sharing a dessert, taking turns to feed each other a spoonful. I dreamt we kissed under a full moon, her lips warm and soft and sweet.

Those weren’t the sorts of dreams I was supposed to be having with her. I tried not to let it all get to me, but hearing her laugh, hearing her say my name, just made me so giddy; when our voice calls ended, I felt so lonely. Those mood swings of mine didn’t ruin the rest of my life or anything, overall as well-adjusted of an adult as I could be while still playing video games every evening, but they exceeded anything else I felt. When a new game came out, or I ate a tasty dessert, or I had a bad day, I always thought about telling her.

What really didn’t help matters was how she ended every call.

“Love you!”

A platonic goodbye which never failed to make my heart flutter. I hated myself for it. Such a cliché, falling for the first real friend I ever had, someone who played the same sorts of games and liked my jokes and all that. But, she teased me so much I only hated myself a little.

“You’re so cute.”

I didn’t really want to be called cute, yet it sounded so nice coming from her that I didn’t really mind. That was true of a lot of things. My Internet handle, that embarrassing name I’d chosen before I’d even started high school, usually made me cringe when said aloud—not when she said it. I could go on and on about all sorts of little things like that.

Five years older than her, I met her when she was sixteen on an online game we both played a lot, but I only really became her friend when she started university. Since we lived in different countries, I could only give her general life advice about living by herself (well, in a dormitory). She appreciated that—or at least said she did. I remembered what it was like, afraid of coming across as stupid for not knowing something easy, so I didn’t mind helping her out. That was over five years ago, her degree a long one.

I didn’t fall in love with her straight away. The long holiday before her second year brought us a lot closer as we played all sorts of old games together. We did kind of strange things, too, like video calls while one of us was cooking. Slowly but surely, we became real friends who talked about everything and anything, fought over mundane things, and generally just laughed. One sidedly, she teased me an awful lot, taking some kind of pride in how she made my cheeks redden and mouth stutter.

Over the last couple of years, something inside me must have grown selfish and my dreams came to reflect that. I didn’t think she felt the same way about me, didn’t think she ever would, didn’t think she ever could. Love hadn’t been much of a topic between us, both awkward and nerdy and not in the way that had become somewhat cool. I probably wasn’t someone she could even consider. She didn’t blush when we video called, never stammering or tripping over her words.

No, I was just the worst cliché, so desperate and lonely I would have fallen in love with anyone who got close to me. The absolute worst. I could accept that, though, content that I didn’t have to let my emotions control me. Every day, I put aside those feelings. Every night, now and then, those feelings surfaced. But, I treated her like my friend all the same; nothing more, nothing less, just my special friend.

With her graduation nearing, she had been teasing me a lot about coming to see her for it. I could afford to, but I wanted to keep that distance between us in case I let my guard down. Seeing her in person, it would have been too easy to say, “You look beautiful,” when she showed off a dress, or something like that. She teased me enough already.

Still, the night before her graduation ceremony, I had a wonderfully indulgent dream. In it, I’d flown across the world to see her. She met me at the airport and we took a taxi straight to her university, chatting all the way. Once there, she disappeared into a room to get changed, coming out in her academic gown; lilac, it suited her. She always looked best wearing pale colours and purple especially. Only a couple dozen of students turned out for this dream ceremony. One by one, they went up on the stage, shaking the hand of someone who looked suspiciously like a famous actor. Then, it came to her turn and they called out a name.

“Daphne Rivers.”

Only, Rivers was my surname, and then I realised there was a wedding band on her ring finger, and then I realised there was a wedding band on my ring finger, too.

Waking up, my heart beat so fast I guessed I must have gotten too excited. I checked the clock. While only three in the morning, I didn’t think I’d manage to get back to sleep before my alarm went off.

Rather than toss and turn and end up even more exhausted, I got up and shuffled through to the kitchen of my flat. Kettle on, I checked my phone, unsurprised to find a handful of messages. Opening them up, it was a mix of pictures and text.

“I’m so nervous.” “Did anyone trip at your graduation?” “I’m too scared to go to the toilet wearing the gown….”

Interspersed was a picture of her standing in her bedroom with the gown on, followed by a landscape photo of her university and some of the other students graduating, followed by her standing next to a ladies restroom door.

I smiled as I went through them, then sent her a simple reply.

“Good luck.”

Before I could put my phone away, it vibrated, so I took it back out. After tapping in my passcode, I opened up the app again.

“Thanks!” she replied, along with a picture of her smile.

I stared at it longer than a friend should have, only really stopping because the kettle finally boiled. Making a cup of tea, I drifted over to the sofa and sat down. I sipped slowly. A minute later, my phone vibrated again.

“You’re up early.”

“I woke up and can’t get back to sleep,” I replied. Before she sent another message, I took a big swig of tea, burning my tongue a little. But, I was proven correct in my course of action when her message came in quickly.

“Bad dream? Wanna talk about it?”

A morbid smile came to me, wondering how she would have reacted to hearing about my dream. Instead, I indulged a little, my day going to be bad enough already with how little sleep I’d had. “Nah. Did you really want me to come for your graduation?”

“Yeah.” “I even wanted to ask you something.”

“You can ask me now.”

“I gotta see you in person to ask it, but don’t worry.”

Suddenly worried, I asked, “Why in person?”

She replied with a picture of her finger over her mouth, as though telling me to be quiet; she captioned it: “Secret!”

Thinking for a moment, I asked, “Why don’t worry?”

“Well, it’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

She sent me a gif of some actress laughing, then a message. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll tell you.”

Always teasing me, if only a little, but I didn’t hate that. “Please.”

“Call me mistress.”

Shaking my head, I replied, “No.”

“Meanie.” That was shortly followed by a photo of her pouting.

I typed out: “Cute,” but deleted it, my sleepy brain catching up. Instead, I replied, “Come on, please tell me? I’ll go fishing with you after work.”

She quickly sent me a wink, and then typed up something longer. “I’m coming to work in the UK!” Before I’d finished reading, she sent another message. “Flying over next month!”

I read both messages again, only then the words setting in. Quickly, they connected up with her previous message, my heart thumping in my chest. “That’s awesome!”

“Come pick me up, okay? And take me to dinner somewhere nice, your treat. Wear something nice!”

So loud I swear I could hear it, my heart raced. “Sure.”

“Then, it’s a date! Talk soon, ceremony now.”

Five minutes passed before I put away my phone and I still didn’t know how to feel, my head and heart in complete disarray.

My head lolling back, I stared up at the ceiling and muttered to myself, “It’s going to be a long month.”

I was very correct in saying that.

At least once a day, she sent me a picture of her suitcase, often with no concern for the underwear and bras on display—in fact, rather likely intended it. Looking forward to the northern hemisphere’s summer, she made me promise to go with her to the beach, giving me a teaser of a new bikini she bought for the occasion. On top of that, she spent most of the time we played together asking me a ton of questions about what living in England was like.

It still hadn’t sunk in for me. I thought it probably wouldn’t until I actually saw her. My brain must have thought she was talking about a new game, anticipating how much fun it would be to play it with her, without comprehending that it meant we’d be meeting up. I tried not to think about that too much. My hopes needed to stay as low as possible without me thinking I’d finally get to see her with my own eyes, hear her with my own ears—knowing her, I’d even feel what it was like to be hugged by her. A dream come to life.

Day after day, the date grew nearer. I focused on work to keep myself sane and made sure I had something alcoholic as soon as I came home before throwing myself into whatever game we decided on, losing myself in the virtual reality rather than the impending reality.

It wasn’t like I was running away, more avoiding looking straight ahead. The light at the end of the tunnel too bright to stare at. But, the end of the tunnel had to come eventually, plunging me into the harsh sunshine whether or not ready.

“Ah, I gotta get my taxi now.”

With that, she logged off her gaming account. I let out a long sigh. Then, a minute later, my phone buzzed.

“On my way to the airport!”

It was going to be a long twenty-six hours, especially during her layover in Canada.

We sent little messages back and forth; though, my ones mostly ended up chiding her for staring at her phone when she should be concentrating on her flight. I didn’t want to say, but she was the sort to lose track of time, even when staring at timestamped messages on her phone. Still, I had nothing better to do on my weekend. I pulled up videos to watch and things to read, switching my attention to my computer when she finally boarded and got up in the air. Part of me expected her to find a WiFi connection and keep going, but the majority of flights didn’t offer that and her mobile data would only last for a bit of the ascent.

So began the long silence. She’d said it would be a thirteen hour flight and given me the flight number, an aeroplane tracking website one of the tabs I had open. At around dinner time, a lonely thought came to me, wondering if this would be the longest we’d gone without talking to each other in years. It had become so easy to stay connected; I usually sent her a message around when she woke up and she did the same for me, but we also sent goodnight messages and messages when we were both awake, so the biggest gap was normally eight hours when one of us slept.

Only after going through all that deductive reasoning did I realise just how far off the deep-end I’d gone. It was only thirteen hours, nothing major. After calming myself down, I carried on with my evening, checking how her flight was doing from time to time.

Right on time, or thereabouts, it set down in Vancouver and, not long after, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Where’s my good morning?”

I laughed to myself reading that, wondering if she’d gone into a bit of withdrawal like I had. Before I incurred her wrath, I did as she wanted, sending her a reply. “Sleep well?”

“Earplugs best thing ever.”

“Everything okay?”

“Slept from like 10 p.m. to 2 p.m.,” was her message, quickly followed by a gif of another actress laughing.

I didn’t have the pool of reaction images she did, so I just replied, “Lol.”

“Only 4 hours here, not too bad. Wish I had my computer. Grind some gear, or fish.”

“Like four hours is enough time for you to fish.”

This time, she sent a photo of herself grinning, looking like she’d taken it mid-laugh.

We chatted back and forth for the duration of her layover, featuring pictures of the meal she ate and a few of her making various faces in reply to something she or I had said. Then, just after midnight for me, she boarded the plane that’d take her to London—to me.

“Goodnight,” was the last message she sent me before I went to bed.

I had another dream. Unlike the one before her graduation, this time it was simple and abstract. We sat together in Hyde Park under the cherry blossoms and just talked, my hand resting on top of hers, and nothing more.

When morning came—in the form of an alarm on my phone—I found the image lingering and a thought came to me that slipped through my lips. “That dream could happen, right?”

Rather than waste time on sentimentality, I got out of bed and brushed my teeth and all that, enough time to get ready before her flight landed, but not so much that I could get distracted. Checking the tracker before I headed out, it still looked to be on time.

Driving through London traffic was never pleasant, but I didn’t live close to the city centre, so made good enough time heading over to the airport. Parked my car and strolled in, her plane touched down at about the same time. I found somewhere to wait and did just that as I lost myself in thought.

My heart didn’t race, and I didn’t fiddle with my hair the whole time, and I didn’t dart my eyes about, waiting to see her. It wasn’t real to me, not yet. I thought, maybe it never would be and I actually only loved her in my dreams. Maybe, if I was lucky, I would see her as a friend and nothing more when she finally stood in front of me. That became a reassuring thought, even if I didn’t believe it.

“Sam!”

Her voice cut right through my pensiveness, so familiar and different at the same time. After so many years, I finally heard her voice with my own ears, and it sounded so much better than through my headphones. Looking around, I spotted her shuffling through the crowd. Finally, I saw her with my own eyes. My pulse quickened by the second.

If anything, I only fell more in love with her.

The distance between us closed, she did what I expected she would and took that extra step to hug me, her arms wrapped around my back, squeezing tight. My heart clenched, hands frozen for a moment before returning her gesture, albeit more mildly.

“How was the flight?” I asked, difficult with how she squashed my lungs.

She clicked her tongue and let go of me, pulling back far enough to scowl at me. “No. I want to hear you say my name first—I’ve waited years to hear you say it in person, you know?”

I laughed, rubbing the back of my head. “Okay,” I said, bringing my gaze up from the floor until it met hers.

It hadn’t occurred to me we would be different heights, but she was a little shorter than me. Not by much. If she wore high heels, then we’d be the same. Her eyes also looked so different in person, a lot of the detail missed in photos that focused on her face. A little lost in them, I might have taken too long with my reply, but she didn’t complain, her gentle smile unchanging. I’m sure my lips settled into a matching smile.

“Welcome, Daphne.”

Something of a squeal bubbled up through her, and then she hugged me again, but only for a moment. “You’re so cute,” she said as she let go.

I didn’t mind hearing that from her. “Thanks.”

She giggled at my reply before grabbing her wheeled suitcase.

“Ah, let me—you’re probably tired from your flight.”

Her grip on the handle resisted only once before relinquishing it to me. I tugged it to my side.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she said, coming to my other side.

My hand almost went to hold hers without thinking, another piece of luggage for me to bring along. But, I held myself in check… for now. On our way out, we kept talking. “Am I dropping you at a hotel, or what? You didn’t exactly give me any details.”

“Oh, I have somewhere lined up already. I just need to sign the lease tomorrow and I can move right in.”

“Okay,” I said. Then, I asked, “Tomorrow? What about tonight?”

She surely had a cocky smile as she said, “Your place.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said.

She surely pouted as she asked, “That’s it? You’re fine with it?”

“Well, I thought you might do something like this, so I’m not surprised.”

“Spoilsport,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

I laughed, then turned the conversation back to how her flight had been. When we got to my car, I slotted her suitcase into the boot and hopped in the driver’s seat, winding down the windows to let the heat out.

“So, back to my place now? You can have a shower and get changed and we’ll go out for lunch.”

“I hope you have somewhere fancy lined up.”

Smiling to myself, I said, “You’ll love it.”

The trip back from the airport went by much quicker than the trip to it. Getting her suitcase up to the second floor took some heaving, but we managed through the narrow stairwell. Then, inside my apartment, I had to herd her to the bathroom before she peeked in every nook and cranny. While the water ran, I listened to a video so I wouldn’t think about what the water ran down.

When she came out, she wore a summer dress. My heart could barely take it. Sitting on her slender frame, it made her look like a flower, so soft and beautiful and I barely held my mouth back from saying as much.

“Wait, you’re not changed?” she asked.

“No? This is fine for where we’re going.”

She pouted, crossing her arms under her chest. “I got all dressed up for you, and you’re just showing me skinny jeans and a t-shirt?”

A crooked smile on my lips, I said, “Dresses don’t look good on me, sorry.”

“I think they’d suit you,” she replied, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure I have some that would fit you.”

Shaking my head, I stood up and stretched my arms. “Well, you’re probably gonna bully me into it eventually, but no pictures.”

“Just one—without your face.”

“Ah, I’ve spoilt you too much over the years, haven’t I?”

“Way, way too much,” she said, smiling softly.

My gaze lingered there for a moment, then I walked over to the door and picked up my keys. “Ready?”

“Yeah!”

The ride passed mostly in silence this time, her eyes set on the surroundings as we trundled to the nearby restaurant. I wasn’t all that hungry, my lunches usually light, but she hadn’t eaten properly in over a day, so I wanted to give her a good dinner. At least, it was around dinnertime for her body.

When we came to the restaurant, I couldn’t help but indulge, spying her reactions. At first she frowned, then pouted, before slipping into a smile of a restrained laugh. She didn’t say anything, though. So, I led the way to the counter, letting the waiter assign us a table and show us over, leaving us with a pair of menus.

“I always wanted to come to Nando’s with you. No one back home liked it,” she softly said.

Rather than reply to that, I asked, “You wanna share a quarter chicken?”

“Yeah.”

We had a mix of small talk and silence while we waited for our food, a little fun moment spent mixing together the different fizzy drinks. Then, our meal arrived and we dished up our plates, pouring the spicy sauces into puddles to the side of the food.

She tried to use a knife and fork, but I wouldn’t let her, even though she pouted at me and called me a meanie. It was too much fun getting a bit messy to let her miss out.

My heart still beating that little faster, I didn’t want this day to end. In person, I still felt that closeness to her, as though we’d hung out hundreds of times before and today was no different. The gap I had thought might exist didn’t. She really was my special friend, no matter what.

When the meal finished, she followed up with a dessert, but I passed. Much to her relief, I let her eat the frozen yoghurt with a spoon. Then, we sat there, a quiet between us for a moment.

“Hey, Sam?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll be friends no matter what happens, right?”

Her tone strangely gentle, almost shy, somewhat reluctant, made me worry. “Of course.”

“Nothing will change that, right?”

“Nope.”

She looked down at the table, then up at me, her arm reaching out. “Pinky swear.”

Though amused by the childishness of it, I reached over with my pinky. “Pinky swear.”

With that done, she lowered her hand and gaze to the table, one hand resting on top of the other. It unnerved me to see her so reserved. I wondered what could possibly have made her feel like that. I thought, maybe I had seemed cold since she was so used to my warm appearance online. But, we’d made video calls before. She should have known what I was like.

So lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t notice when she took on a resolved look, her hands clenched into fists and eyes set with determination. “Sam?” she said with no trace of the earlier shyness.

“Huh? Yeah?” I asked, breaking out of my thoughts and finally seeing her.

The resolve melted into warmth, her smile beautiful, eyes beautiful—her expression almost loving, I thought.

“I love you. Please go out with me. That’s how you ask someone to date you here, isn’t it?”

While I knew what those words meant, my brain hadn’t been prepared to comprehend them at this time, grinding to a halt. Excuses and jokes and all sorts of horrible things like that came to the front of my mind instead of an answer for her, too cowardly to think things through, too afraid.

“You’re saying that when you’re staying over tonight? What if I say no?”

She laughed, brushing some loose hair behind her ear. “You said we’d be friends no matter what, so it’ll be fine, somehow.”

I didn’t want to ask her what would happen tonight if I said yes.

At the least, I managed to hold myself back from physically running away, and I managed to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay after that one slipped out. Then, I managed to keep myself from emotionally fleeing.

“Well? Do you have an answer for me?” she asked, showing none of the worry that leaked into her voice, her words that little bit impatient.

“Close your eyes,” I said.

She did, no hesitation and no questions asked.

I stood up, the chair scraping as I did, and I moved to the side of the table, closer to her. As though knowing what was coming, she tilted her head back and pursed her lips.

Leaning down, I kissed her, her lips soft and warm and sweet. A short and chaste kiss, yet I still, for the first time since I’d known her, made her blush. As I pulled back, seeing her like that, I thought it had been the worth the wait.

“Yes.”