Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.50)

With an amused smile, the other woman said, “Oh, I see. So I’m the hot chick from Vegas, huh?”

Leaning against the counter, arms folded over her breasts, Cassandra nodded. “Totally. Though I made you more of a hippie chick in my dream. I wonder why?”

Appearing flattered and even more amused, the woman said, “Maybe because I’m a witch.”

“That’s it!” Cassandra raised her hand and flexed her fingers. “That magical buzz you left on my hand. I made you into a witch in my imagination.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Cassandra felt her knees going weak when the woman gave her a sultry sidelong look while she reached for her cup of ice cream.

“Going to get any ice cream? It’s calorie free since we’re--you’re dreaming.”

Cassandra shrugged. “Sure. Chocolate. Two scoops and syrup.”

“Sure thing, ma’am!” The over-enthusiastic ice cream scooper went back to work, chipping away at the creamy chocolate in the bin.

“Not adventurous I see. You stick with the basics.”

“Are you teasing me?” Cassandra smirked.

“Uh huh.” The other woman licked some ice cream off her pink plastic spoon.

“So, woman of my dreams, what name shall I give you?”

“Aimee.”

“Aimee?” Cassandra mulled this over. She had never dated a girl with that name, nor had it ever registered as one of her favorite names. “I wonder why I picked that one.”

“Oh, you didn’t. My mother did.”

Cassandra scrunched up her brow. “Uh, sure.” She claimed her cup of ice cream dripping in chocolate sauce.

Aimee spooned some green ice cream into her mouth, smiling mysteriously.

“I have to say, I don’t usually dream so vividly about eating ice cream,” Cassandra said after a hesitant beat in their conversation. “The hot woman totally fits my usual M.O., but the rest of this...”

Walking to a booth, her long skirt swirling around her battered cowboy boots, Aimee beckoned for Cassandra to follow. “Join me?”

Taking the benches on either side of one of the tables, they set their treats on the gleaming white table. Cassandra slumped in her seat and stared openly at the gorgeous woman across from her.

“And if this is a sex dream, it’s really off to a slow start,” Cassandra muttered while jabbing at the firm lump of ice cream.

“Sex dream?” Aimee laughed. “Oh, no. It’s not a sex dream. It’s a magic dream.”

Cassandra pouted a little. “I could use a good sex dream.”

Flipping her long, shimmering bronze hair over one shoulder before leaning her elbows on the table, Aimee gazed thoughtfully at Cassandra. “Really?”

With a loud laugh, Cassandra shook her head. “Okay, I’m feeling embarrassed in a dream. My own dream. Gawd, I need to just wake up, eat something, and finger bang to Lana Del Rey.”

Aimee’s hand lashed out and she gripped Cassandra’s forearm tightly. “Don’t wake up. Please.” Her delicate features were drawn into a mask of desperation. “It took a lot of power to make this dream happen. I don’t know if I can do it again. I didn’t have that much of your hair to both track you and cast the dream spell.”

In small graduations, Cassandra’s mind fit all the pieces together. “No, no. Can’t be.”

Aimee smirked, released her arm, and started stabbing at her ice cream with her spoon. “Uh huh.”

Gulping, Cassandra shook her head. “No way.”