The Cuddle Clause

by Roxie Ray

I was dreaming about marshmallow fluff and the end of student loans when I was rudely jolted awake.

My inner monologue clapped its hands and screamed: Cool cool cool. Pretend you didn’t dry-hump him in a dream like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time. Everything’s fine.

She looked the way every candle I’d ever lit felt: soft, warm, a little wild. The floral dress skimmed her body, and my throat went dry.