A Soul's Kiss by Debra Chapoton

a week ago. I take a longer look at his face. His jaw is strong and square; he hasn’t shaved in a day or two and the stubble is more blonde than red, like his eyelashes. He is actually quite good-looking. The freckles, without a reddening blush going on, are just lazy marks scattered across a nose that is perfectly proportioned for his face. Why haven’t I noticed how cute he is before now?
    Well, I’m not going to kiss him, but those lips look faultless even with that tiny freckle on the edge. The corners turn up in a hint of a sleepy smile. What could he be dreaming about? I have to know.
    As gently as I can I press my forehead to his and find out.
    It’s snowing. There’s a blizzard and school has been called off. Tyler has walked for miles to come see me. He’s at my front door. I see myself open the door. I’m beautiful.
    “Hi, Jessica,” Tyler says. “Do you want to take a walk in the snow?”
    “Sure,” I say, grinning the biggest, warmest smile ever. I come out the door, suddenly wearing a thick blue coat I’ve never seen before and furry brown boots. I can’t explain how odd it is to see and hear myself yet not be in control of my movements and words.
    Tyler holds out his arm for me to take as I walk down the porch steps. The house diminishes behind us as we walk to the end of my street and enter a snowy meadow. I remember this area. It’s just like it was five years ago before they built phase two of our subdivision. The snow is mounded up over two sawhorses that Rashanda and I had placed in the meadow long ago. We’d dragged them from my dad’s workspace in the garage and pretended to be horses jumping over them when we were eleven or twelve.
    But why would they be in Tyler’s dream?
    Maybe because I’m in Tyler’s mind. I squeeze his arm tighter and look sideways at him, taking control of my part of his dream.
    “I would do anything for you, Jessica,” he says. Snowflakes catch in his eyelashes. We walk further into the meadow and a pheasant takes flight from a bush. We both jump. And laugh. The bird is a memory of mine, but what happens next is not.
    He takes both of my hands and holds them. Silence that swells around us and I know he is going to kiss me. I see myself through his eyes and I want to be the person he sees. His version of Jessica Mitchell glows. She doesn’t simply smile with her lips, she smiles with her soul. My soul. I like it.
    Tyler’s whole being moves into me and when our lips touch the world stops. I have no breath. I have no thought. I have no heartbeat. The drumming that smashes the silence does not come from my own unsteady center. It’s Tyler’s heart. When our lips break apart, I see us both, first the look in his eyes—adoration. And then my face as he wants it to be with the same puppy love reflected.
    Sweet.
    I break away and lean back into my chair, out of his head now.
    Awesome. And confusing. I stare at him some more. His chin is tucked into Rashanda’s hair, his arm loosely circling her shoulder, their hands no longer clasped together. His eyes are still, his dream over.
    I am definitely jealous.
    “Rashanda,” I whisper. Her eyes open a quarter inch, then feather shut again. “Rashanda.” She opens them all the way, looks through me, then focuses on my eyes. Yes. “Don’t move,” I say, “or you’ll wake Tyler and I’ll probably disappear. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Understand?”
    She blinks once and I ask her if I can slip into her head. She blinks a yes and then closes her eyes. I glance at Tyler then press my forehead to hers.
    “Hi,” she says. It looks as if we are still in the grieving room, but alone. Funny how her mind’s eye is producing this.
    “I had to talk to you,” I say. “You’re not going to believe what I can do.”
    “Well, getting into my head like this is pretty amazing. Two voices in my head. Or am I talking out loud?"
    “No, I don’t think so, and you’re not sleeping either. Not this time.” I