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Chapter Two
Blaze
My footsteps pounded against the pavement. Cars swerved to avoid me, their drivers screaming obscenities. I didn't care, my eyes focused only on the girl.
She was real. That single statement opened up so much inside me. I had so much to ask her, so much to tell her. I couldn't let her get away.
My shoes hit sidewalk. I skidded to a halt, now directly behind her.
"Uh, hey!" I called out half-heartedly. "Hey, you!"
She stopped in her tracks, turning at the sound of my voice. Looking for the source, her eyes swept across the street and stopped on me. Her brilliant golden eyes stared directly into mine.
The noise of the street faded to a dull murmur, the loud thumping of my heart ringing in my ears. The people moving around me seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but the girl who was staring right through me. I felt completely helpless, unable to turn away from her gaze.
Then, she blinked.
The world returned, its noise and pictures reappearing all at once. I exhaled loudly, letting out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
The girl tilted her head, studying me. Slowly, she began to step towards me.
I froze, immediately beginning to panic. My mind was divided, wanting both to run straight at her and escape her presence at the same time. My feet moved first, traitorously plodding their way towards her.
We stopped, barely a foot away from each other. The scent of her jasmine perfume hit my nostrils, causing me to inhale deeply.
"Silver?" she asked.
"Blaze?" I replied without thinking.
Inside my head, explosions were going off. Her name…I know her name…how do I know her name?...what a beautiful name…Blaze…Blaze…Blaze, Blaze, Blaze!
"You're real," Blaze murmured, still staring at me.
"So are you," I said stupidly.
"Who are you?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Silver. Silver the Hedgehog. Orphan. Been living on my own for two years. Painter," I said rapid-fire, trying to answer the best I could.
"Painter. Interesting," Blaze said observationally. "I never would have guessed."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't exactly look like the artist type, do I? " I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head. "The gallery director says I'm just trying to express some deep feelings I have."
"Are you telepathic?" she demanded suddenly.
I blinked. "Uh…no. I'm just an ordinary hedgehog, trying to make an honest living."
"You're sure?" Blaze said suspiciously. "You don't enter peoples' minds while they sleep and haunt their dreams?"
"You dream about me?" I blurted out without thinking. "I have dreams about you!"
I immediately regretted it.
Blaze glared at me. "What are you, some kind of pervert? Watching me in my dreams?"
"No, no!" I hastily amended. "It's not like that!"
"What is it, then?" Blaze asked icily.
"You're in my dreams," I said simply. "I've been dreaming about you as far as I can remember. You and me, escaping the flames in that city…"
I trailed off, noticing Blaze's eyes growing wide. "Is something wrong?" I asked timidly.
"That's the exact same recurring dream I have," Blaze said in a hushed voice.
"Really?" I asked, surprised. "And we're both in it…do we have some sort of connection?"
"How could we?" Blaze asked skeptically. "Aside from those dreams, I've never seen you before in my life. However, I must admit that you seem somewhat…familiar."
"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "We must have known each other at some point, but something must have happened to our memories! Maybe…maybe if we concentrate hard enough we can remember!"
Blaze rolled her eyes. "You're so-"
"Naive," we finished at the same time.
"How did you know I was going to say that?" Blaze asked, confused.
"You say it all the time," I said without thinking. "Whenever we're together."
"But we just met," Blaze reminded me.
"I can't explain it," I said, shrugging. "I just know it's true."
Blaze studied me intently. "You're quite the strange one," she muttered under her breath.
She seized me by the wrist, dragging me back the way she came.
"Hey, what's going on?" I protested. "Where are you taking me?"
"My place," Blaze replied over her shoulder. "We have a lot to talk about."
I gulped.
I like writing fluff well more than a guy should. I can't help it. I'm a hopeless romantic.
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