Quiet as a mouse, I slipped in to Max's bedroom and lay down on the bed beside him, listening to his gentle breathing as he slept. After a few minutes I relaxed and closed my eyes too - and, in about half an hour, he started dreaming. To my delight, I was present in his dream again, and the two of us were talking in the school library. Keeping my eyes shut, I focused in on Max's dream, and felt it unfolding around me as I listened in on his thoughts.

My dream-self asked, "Is there anything you want to tell me, Max?"

To my surprise, Max replied, "I really loved it when you hypnotized me the other night."

My eyes popped open, and. I turned my head to look at him. He remembered that dream? In all the books I'd leafed through, I'd never read about this - a dreamer remembering a previous dream during their current dream and referencing it, like it was all part of one long story. People did have recurring dreams - where they confronted fears, for instance - but not like this. I'd thought his hypnosis dream might fade into the recesses of his subconscious, but here it was, vivid and alive in his mind.

Dream-me smiled coyly. "Really? Why?"

"I've always been fascinated by the mind," Max confessed, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Hypnosis, dreams, two people connecting in an otherworldly way... I wish that sort of thing were possible in real life."

I felt my lips curve into a smile, mirroring the one my dream-image gave him. Oh, Max. If only you knew.

"What if I were to ask you to kiss me again?" dream-me asked, leaning closer.

Max leaned in too, his feelings unmistakable. But just as their lips were about to meet, my dream-self disappeared, leaving him reaching out into nothingness.

"No!" Max stood abruptly in his dream, looking frantically around. "Edie? Where are you ?" His voice was raw with frustration and longing.

The real me, lying beside him, couldn't bear it. Without thinking, I whispered softly, "Max, you will listen to my voice, but you will not wake up. I'm right here, Max. I'm not going anywhere."

In his dream, he turned, and there I was, standing behind him, waiting. He pulled me into his arms, holding me close. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice thick with relief.

"You didn't," dream-me replied, resting her forehead against his. "I'm here."

In his dream, Max kissed me. It wasn't hurried or uncertain, but tender and deep, a kiss that spoke of trust and affection, of hope and connection.

The real me, lying beside him, felt my heart lift with emotion. I watched the faint smile on his lips as he dreamed, the way his whole body seemed to relax as the tension drained from him. For a moment, I closed my eyes and simply listened to the quiet rhythm of his breath, savoring this fragile, stolen moment.

Someday, I thought, he'll know the truth about all of this. About me. But not tonight. Tonight, it was enough to be here, to be part of his secret world.

I lay beside him until the sky outside began to lighten, whispering softly to him as he dreamed, making sure he knew he wasn't alone.

It's funny how I've changed these past few weeks. I used to just throw my hair into a loose braid or tie it up in a messy bun without a second thought. Now, whenever I know I'll see Max, I take more time. Today, I pulled it back from my face and clasped it at the back of my head with a simple barrette, letting it stream down to my waist. As I walked into school, I caught sight of my reflection in the glass doors and felt a flicker of satisfaction. Max always notices, and I'd be lying if I said his compliments didn't make me grin.

Sure enough, when we met up before class, his gaze drifted to my hair almost immediately. "Your hair looks amazing today," he said, his voice warm. "It always does, but... wow."

I smiled, trying to play it cool, though I felt a surge of pleasure. "Thanks, Max. I'm glad you like it."

We walked to class together, chatting about the latest assignment for English when, out of nowhere, the ground started trembling.

"Earthquake!" someone shouted.

The tremor wasn't strong, just enough to rattle the lockers and send a few loose papers fluttering to the floor. Then, with a loud crash, one of the light fixtures from the ceiling broke loose. It plummeted toward us, but before I even had time to think, I grabbed Max by the arm and pulled us both out of the way.

The light fixture shattered on the floor, scattering glass across the hallway.

"Whoa!" Max exclaimed, staring at the mess and then back at me. "You're fast! Why aren't you doing any sports?"

I blinked. "Oh, that? It was just adrenaline. I'm not that athletic," I said quickly. "Anyway, have you had any interesting dreams lately?"

It was a clumsy attempt at changing the subject, but Max didn't seem to notice. His expression softened as he considered the question. "Actually, yeah. There was this one dream… I was looking for someone—" He glanced at me, his cheeks flushing faintly. "You, actually."

"Oh?" I prompted, feigning casual curiosity while my stomach did a little flip.

"Yeah. It was weird but... nice. You were in this huge library, and when I found you, we just talked. It felt so real, you know? Like it was a real conversation." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "That probably sounds ridiculous."

"Not at all," I said softly, touched by his honesty. "Dreams can feel incredibly real sometimes."

He smiled, his eyes meeting mine. "Well, if I'm going to dream about someone, I'm glad it's you."

I felt my face heat up, but I smiled back. "I'm glad, too."

As we walked to class, I couldn't stop replaying his words in my head. If he only knew how real our connection already was—or how far I was willing to go to keep it that way.

The night was quiet, the stars distant pinpricks in an inky sky as I climbed through Max's window once again. His steady breathing told me he was deeply asleep, and I lay silently beside him on his bed. His thoughts began to take shape, his subconscious revealing another dream—this one frustrating and too familiar.

It was one of the only dreams I remembered experiencing myself when I was human. He was sitting in a classroom, a blank exam paper in front of him. He was having one of those annoying dreams where he was taking the final exam for a class he'd never been told he was supposed to attend. The worry on his face stirred a pang of sympathy in me. I remembered nightmares like that from when I was human—feeling unprepared, helpless, trapped.

I leaned in close to him, letting my voice weave into the fabric of his dream. "Max, you will listen to my voice, but you will not wake up. Max, it's me. You can see me nearby. Come here."

In the dream, he froze, putting his pencil down on the desk. Then he looked up, his expression shifting from confusion to relief as he saw me standing at the door, my hand outstretched.

"They put your name on the wrong list," I said gently. "You don't need to take this exam."

"Edie," he said softly, grinning as he stood and walked toward me. "I'm so glad to see you. Thanks for coming to find me. That was awful."

I grinned back, leading him out of the stifling classroom. The door opened not into a hallway but into a park. Birds chirped, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. He followed me eagerly, his hand warm in mine.

"That was awful," he repeated, shaking his head. "I didn't even know what class that was for!"

"You're safe now," I teased, my voice light. "I wouldn't leave you stuck in a nightmare like that."

His image of me said the words as I whispered them into his ear. Reading his mind with my eyes closed - with no one else nearby - was like being in the dream with him.

His gratitude was palpable, but a flicker of playfulness stirred within me. He trusted me so much, and I couldn't resist the temptation to see where this dream might go.

Leaning close to his ear, I whispered, "I'm hypnotizing you. I'm hypnotizing you. I'm hypnotizing you."

In the dream, Max's eyes locked on mine. His shoulders relaxed, and his face grew slack, his expression one of complete surrender.

"You want to dance with me, Max," I whispered, letting the words ripple through his mind. "And now I snap my fingers."

In his dream, my image snapped her fingers, and Max's blank expression transformed into one of radiant adoration. He stepped closer, taking my hand in his. "Edie," he said softly, "may I have this dance?"

"Of course," dream-me replied, her voice full of warmth.

The real me, still lying beside him, watched as the dream unfolded: Max led dream-me into the middle of the park, and soft music seemed to emerge from nowhere. We began to dance, his movements graceful and certain as if he'd practiced this moment a thousand times.

I whispered softly, almost to myself, "You're amazing, Max. You don't even know it."

His lips curled into a smile as he swayed with my dream counterpart. For a moment, I wondered what it might feel like to truly dance with him—to feel his arms around me, his gaze on mine.

But for now, this was enough. Watching him dream of me, happy and free, was more than I ever thought I'd have.

The cafeteria was buzzing with chatter, the clatter of trays, and the occasional burst of laughter, but all I could focus on was Max. We sat together at our usual spot, a little table tucked into the corner of the room. He was munching on a sandwich, his brow furrowed slightly as he recounted some story about his science class, but I had other things on my mind.

"So," I said, leaning forward with an innocent smile, "have you had any interesting dreams lately?"

Max froze for just a fraction of a second, his hand pausing mid-air with his sandwich. His reaction was subtle, but I caught it. He quickly recovered, lowering the sandwich and shrugging. "Actually, yeah," he said, his tone casual—maybe a little too casual. "Last night, I had a really interesting one."

I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "Oh? What was it about?"

He hesitated, glancing down at his tray before answering. "I, uh… I dreamed someone was hypnotizing me."

I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "Was it a girl?"

Max's eyebrows shot up, and he gave a small laugh. "Yeah, actually."

I leaned in slightly, resting my chin on my hand. "You dreamed you were hypnotized by a girl?" My voice dropped to a teasing tone. "That sounds really romantic! Were you… under her spell? Did you do everything she asked?"

Max's cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know if I'd call it romantic," he said. "It was just… interesting. It felt so real."

I bit back a laugh, trying to keep my expression playful but not overly smug. "Maybe it was real," I said, my tone teasing. "Maybe some mysterious girl really did hypnotize you in your sleep."

He gave me a skeptical look but couldn't hide his smile. "Yeah, right. If that's true, then she's got some explaining to do."

"Oh, really?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "What would you ask her?"

Max leaned back in his chair, pretending to think. "I guess I'd want to know why she was hypnotizing me in the first place. Why me? And—" He paused, his smile turning sheepish. "I'd want to know why it felt so… nice."

That caught me off guard, and for a moment, I just stared at him. He was blushing again, his eyes darting away from mine as if he'd said too much.

"Well," I said softly, "maybe she just wanted to make you happy."

Max's gaze flicked back to mine, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the cafeteria faded away, leaving just the two of us in our strange little bubble.

"If that's the case," he said quietly, "then… she did a good job."

I couldn't stop smiling, and I hoped he didn't notice how much I was grinning. This boy was going to be the end of me.

After school, Max and I made our way to the library, settling into the quiet corner where the shelves stretched high above us. The warm scent of old books filled the air, and light filtered through the tall windows, casting patterns across the tables.

It was peaceful here. I loved these moments with him—how easy it was to just be around him, like the weight of my secret life could be set aside for a little while.

After a pause in the conversation, I carefully ventured into territory I'd been curious about for a while. "Hey, Max," I began, tracing a finger along the grain of the wooden table, "why don't we ever hang out at your house?"

His expression shifted, his easy smile fading into something more guarded. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "It's… a nightmare over there," he said finally, his voice low.

I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue.

"My dad married this woman he barely knew," he said, his tone bitter. "It was like, one day she wasn't in our lives, and the next she was around all the time. Now that they're married, they can't stand each other anymore. They're yelling at each other all the time. And when they get tired of that… they yell at me."

My heart ached for him. Without thinking, I reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Max," I said softly, "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, but his eyes betrayed how much it weighed on him. "It is what it is," he said. "That's why I don't invite people over. It's not exactly the kind of place you'd want to hang out."

I stood up and walked around the table, wrapping my arms around him. "You don't deserve that," I whispered. "You deserve so much better."

He hugged me back, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Thanks, Edie," he said.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, looking at me with a small, curious smile. "Okay, your turn. Why haven't I been to your house?"

I sighed, leaning against the table. "Well, you've probably seen my siblings around school. You know, the four of them?"

He nodded. "Yeah. They're all adopted, right?"

"Right," I said, my voice growing quieter. "They're adopted. And… they're dating each other."

Max blinked, clearly trying to process that. "Wait—what? I thought that was just a rumor."

I sighed again, this time with a hint of amusement. "No rumor. It's complicated. They're not blood-related, obviously, and they're all pretty unconventional. And… they want to find the right guy for me. They're really intense about it."

Max raised an eyebrow. "So, you haven't invited me over because…?"

"I don't want to subject you to the pressure they'd put on you," I admitted. "They'd probably interrogate you, or worse, start planning our wedding or something."

Max laughed, the sound warm and reassuring. "Wow. Sounds like a lot."

"It is a lot," I said, rolling my eyes. "But they mean well. Sort of."

He stood up and hugged me again, pulling me close. "Family's pretty crazy, huh?"

I nodded against his chest. "Yeah. It really is."

I started inviting Max to the library to study with me, to minimize the amounts of time he had to spend at his parents' house.

We spent every day together for weeks. Max was always respectful and kind, but he never flirted with me or made a move. I didn't have to read his mind to tell he wanted to - I could see that from the look on his face. I considered asking him straight out, but then I had a devious idea.

I waited until the clock struck two, the hour when the world seemed to hold its breath and all was quiet. I slipped into Max's bedroom, the familiar thrill of sneaking into his dreams bubbling inside me. I curled up beside him, resting my head on his pillow, and let my voice work its way into his subconscious.

"Max," I whispered, my tone soft and coaxing. "You will listen to my voice, but you will not wake up. It's me. I'm here."

As usual, his dream shifted to accommodate me. This time, I found myself pulling him out of some anxiety-fueled nightmare about being late for something important. He followed me eagerly, relief written all over his dream face.

"Thanks, Edie," he said, his voice warm and familiar. "You always show up just in time."

"That's what I'm here for," I said with a grin, taking his hand. "Come on, let's do something nice instead. How about dinner?"

Before he could answer, the scene around us shifted. Suddenly, we were seated at an outdoor table beneath fairy lights, a warm breeze carrying the scent of roses and lavender. Max looked at me, his dream self relaxing in a way that made my heart ache. I can't eat human food in real life, but we could share meals in Max's dreams like normal friends.

"This is perfect," he said, smiling at me. He pushed my chair in as we sat down.

"Max," I said gently. Dream-me tilted her head adorably. "Why haven't you ever asked me out on a date?"

He blinked, and the nervousness I'd seen him display in real life flickered across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing down before meeting my eyes again.

"Edie," he began, his voice tentative, "you're the best female friend I've had since, like, second grade. You're… you're the only girl who's ever wanted to hug me. And you want to do it all the time, not just as a one time thing. I get really nervous around you sometimes."

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "Nervous? Why?"

"You're incredibly good-looking," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I'm afraid… if I try to be romantic with you, I'll mess it up. I always do. I'll make a fool of myself, or scare you away, or make you think I'm a loser, or put my foot in my mouth or something. I'd rather just have you in my life as a friend than risk losing you."

My heart melted at his honesty, his vulnerability cutting through me in the most tender way. Gently, I leaned closer and whispered in his sleeping ear, "Max, I am kissing you. I am kissing you. I am kissing you."

In the dream, I watched as his eyes softened, and then my dream self leaned forward, cupping his face with both hands. She kissed him, tender and slow, and he kissed her back, his lips pressing against hers with a mix of longing and romance.

Lying beside him in the real world, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. There was something so pure about the way he kissed dream-me, his affection and devotion palpable even in the dream.

I smiled to myself, whispering one last time into his ear before slipping away. "Max, you're better than you think you are. And one day, I hope you'll realize that."