Fairy GodStitch
Why wasn’t she having dreams? It wasn’t fair. Her night had been magical. Nothing spilt on her dress, she danced with Kenai, and... There was another dance that turned her face pink as her pajama top. She should have dreamt about that kiss at least. Kisses like that were in almost every book she read; why wasn’t she dreaming about that kiss? The scene played over in her head. His outstretched arm offering his coat, his hand pulling her in, and those eyes. His eyes were perfectly dark, and deep, and the way he looked at her... Goodness. She was shivering just thinking about it.
Someone had to know who he was. She turned her head, looking at the wall next to the bed. Someone had to know a person with that mask. Stitch. Her head snapped to the other side, and her eyes locked on her sleeping friend. He would know. He knew so many things. At the very least he might be able to point her to a starting spot. She scooted closer. When willing him to wake up didn’t work she started patting his shoulder. “Stitch, I’m sorry. Please wake up?”










