It was Jules. I heard him, but I still couldn’t see him. I was flailing and fighting. I was desperate to save him.

“Sully! Wake up!”

I jerked my eyes open. I found myself on top of Jules. I’d pinned him and was holding him down by the throat. In the dim light of the moon, I could see his eyes flashing in shock.

“It was a dream, Sully. Just a dream.”

I rolled off him quickly, sitting up and swinging my feet onto the floor. “Sorry,” I said. I felt confused and disoriented. It took me a moment to work out where I was.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, pulling me down gently by the shoulder. I lay on my back, chest still heaving. He kept his hand on my shoulder. The feeling of his skin on my skin seemed to soothe me. My breathing slowed and I fell into the first peaceful sleep I’d had since Storm blew into town, if not before then.

By the time I woke up, Jules had already made breakfast and was grinding beans for our coffee.

“Morning,” I said, stumbling out of bed and trying to pat my hair down into something that didn’t resemble the sort of look generally favored by cavemen.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry about last night. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine, but it was intense. Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, almost every night.”

“Jesus. Is it always like that?”

I nodded.

“Whoa.”

“Don’t you have them that often?”

“I do, but they’re different. They’re not like that.”

“What do you mean?” I’d been worried about the dreams for a long time, but something about who I was and what I wanted in the dreams made me feel hesitant about talking about them.

“I told you. My dreams are . . . they’re like . . . you know.”

“I see.” I smiled. It was rare to see Jules even slightly resembling anything bashful. “Are you trying to say your dreams result in nocturnal omissions, Julius? Is that what you’re saying?” I raised the pitch of my voice to sound as much like Mrs. Beauford as I possibly could.

“Ugh, fuck you, Sully Cleary,” he said, waving me off. I chuckled softly. “I know it’s weird, okay? I know it’s weird to be twenty-one and to be having wet dreams almost every night. I know. I don’t need you to tell me.” He eyed the bed we’d shared furtively.

“Wet dreams? Holy fuck! I was only kidding,” I exclaimed. “Are you trying to say you . . . last night?”

“No, you dork!” Jules looked intensely uncomfortable. His brows didn’t seem to know if they wanted to be up or down. “I fucking did not, okay? I was worried I would though, so I jerked off while you were off playing paw patrol.”