Saying Goodbye, Part One (Passports and Promises Book 1)

by Abigail Drake

  I decided two could play this game. I turned slightly in my chair and crossed my legs, giving him a view and pulling up my skirt ever so slightly so he could catch a glimpse of my thighs as well.

  “See anything you like?”

  His gaze shot back to my face, and I raised an eyebrow, holding up the menu. He watched as I chewed on my lip, pretending to study the dinner selections.

  He cleared his throat. “Let me choose. I’d like to surprise you.”

  He held up a finger and the waiter instantly appeared at our table. Dylan ordered wine, and I wasn’t surprised no one asked for ID. He seemed older than twenty-two. He had an aura about him, a worldliness that most college guys did not possess.

  “Is there anything you can’t or won’t eat?” he asked. I shook my head. “My kind of girl.”

  He proceeded to order the entire meal. In Italian. My arousal increased exponentially with every word that came out of his mouth. A sucker for all romance languages, Italian happened to be my personal favorite.

  “You speak Italian.”

  “I lived in Italy for a while growing up.”

  I’d been right about the worldly part. And the rich part. He also seemed kind and smart and funny. The perfect date in every way. I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to say something stupid or completely mess up, but he never did. We talked and laughed and enjoyed the best meal I’d ever eaten in my whole life. He asked me lots of questions, and seemed genuinely interested in my answers.

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  He’d ordered tiramisu and espresso for dessert. I rode on a mild, happy buzz from the wine I’d consumed. The coffee was a very good idea. Dylan’s wine glass had barely been touched.

  “My mom is a teacher and my dad an accountant. He works at a power plant.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  “One sister. Sophie. She’s still in high school.”

  “Do you like your family?”

  I blinked. “Of course.”

  “Good.” He nodded, like it had been important to him. “I like my family, too. My parents are great, and my brother Jake…”

  I waited. It took him a few seconds to answer. He seemed unexpectedly emotional.

  “He means the world to me. He’s in high school, too. I miss him.”

  Dylan paid the bill, and got angry when I tried to contribute. “It was expensive. At least let me pay the tip.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “No.”

  I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Dylan.”

  He brought my hand to his lips, and kissed it, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart did a funny little flip-flop in my chest, something I hadn’t experienced since Will.

  I’d thought my heart had been broken so badly it would never come back to life, but I’d been wrong. It had been injured, but not damaged beyond repair, and Dylan Hunter seemed to be just the man to fix it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  We left the restaurant, and I pulled on my shrug. The air had gotten cooler. The valet looked at us expectantly, but Dylan put a hand on the small of my back and led me toward the river.

  “Do you want to take a walk first?”

  I nodded. The feel of his hand on my back, possessive and yet comforting, made me want to lean against him and rest my head on his shoulder. When we stopped to watch the paddleboats go up and down the river with their lights on and music blaring, I got up the courage and did it. Dylan slid his arm around my waist and held me close, making a sound like a satisfied purr.

  I giggled. “You remind me of my cat.”

  “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Murasaki.”

  “Uh, okay. ‘Fluffy’ was taken, I guess?”

  I turned to face him. “Lady Murasaki wrote the first novel. Ever. She’s kind of a literary rock star.”

  “Tell me more.”

  I went on and on about the Tale of Genji and Lady Murasaki’s life at court. Ancient Japanese history fascinated me. I’d never really studied it in high school, so it was completely exotic, unknown, and interesting.

  After I rambled for a few minutes, I gave Dylan a sympathetic look. “You should never have let me have the espresso. I’m talking your ear off. Am I boring you?”

  “Never. I could listen to you all day.” He tucked a curl behind my ear and then looked at his watch. “But I’d better get you home or your friends won’t let you go out with me again.”

  I pulled my phone out of my purse. I’d turned it off during dinner. I had about ten texts from Bethany and Gabriela, most demanding a response in increasingly threatening language.

  “Yep. We’d better go.”

  We drove back to the Theta house in silence. Dylan held my hand in the dark car, his thumb stroking my skin and making it a little hard for me to maintain a normal breathing pattern. I thought about inviting him in, but didn’t want to mess this up.

  Dylan solved the dilemma for me. He walked me to the door, gave me a very chaste kiss on my cheek, and said goodbye. I stood there, not sure what to do.

  “Um. Thank you for dinner.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned at me, his teeth a flash of white it the darkness. “My pleasure, Samantha.”

  I had my fingers on the doorknob, but paused. I knew Bethany and Gabriela were probably waiting for me, but I wasn’t ready to go inside yet.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Dylan’s voice, carried on the night wind, came softly to my ear. Deep and just a bit husky, even his voice did something to me.

  I turned around and looked at him. We’d had a perfect first date, but I wanted more.

  “No.”

  Worry flashed across his face. “What’s wrong?”

  I stomped up to him, standing on my tiptoes so I could pull him close, my hands tangled in his silky hair. I pressed my lips to his. Once. Twice. Three times. With each kiss, I grew bolder, but he remained as still as a statue. I sensed the tension in his muscles and felt the acceleration of his heartbeat beneath my fingers, but he held back.

  “I promised you it was just dinner. No attachments. Only food.”

  I made a noise that sounded a bit like a growl. “Shut up and kiss me, Dylan.”

  I’d given him the permission he needed. He wrapped his arms around my body, pulling me against his warmth, his mouth capturing mine.

  Dylan Hunter didn’t kiss like other guys. He didn’t do anything like other guys. Instead of rushing into the kiss, he savored it, exploring my mouth softly with sweet little kisses before tugging gently on my lower lip. When he finally tasted me, his tongue meeting mine in a sweet caress, I melted, moaning into his mouth and pressing against him.

  When Dylan ended the kiss, we were both breathing hard. I didn’t want him to stop, but he stepped away, composing himself as he brushed a shaky hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  “For what?” My words sounded a little more irritated than I intended due to sexual frustration. A lot of it.

  He cupped my face in his hands. “I want to do this perfectly.”

  I swallowed hard, finding it difficult to stand this close to him and not kiss him again. “So far, so good.”

  He shook his head. “I want you to know I respect you. That means no kissing on the first date, right?”

  I covered his hand with mine. “Definitely old-fashioned, but since I was the one who kissed you, I guess that means you’re off the hook.”

  He brushed his lips against mine, a butterfly kiss, his mouth barely touching me.

  “Goodnight, Samantha Barnes.”

  “Goodnight, Dylan Hunter.”

  He walked backward to his car. “Dream of me, okay?”

  I laughed, but didn’t answer. I knew quite well I’d dream about him all night. He watched me until I opened the door of the Theta house and was safely inside before he drove away. I turned around, my back to the door, and leaned against it, hugging my arms to my chest.
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  Part of me leapt with excitement to feel this way again, and part of me was filled with dread. I’d been hurt before.

  If you can’t swim, don’t jump into the lake.

  I rolled my eyes. Now I was hearing the voice of my mother in my head. Great. But, if I were completely honest with myself, she may have been right. I always jumped into relationships before I was ready and always ended up regretting it.

  Bethany came out of the kitchen, a tub of ice cream and a spoon in her hand. She skidded to a halt when she saw me. Her hair had been pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and she wore my fuzzy, pink slippers.

  “It’s about time. We’ve been texting you all night. We waited here to make sure you got home safely. Why didn’t you answer us?”

  “Sorry.” I sighed.

  Bethany froze, and then called over her shoulder. “Gabriela. She’s sighing. Get in here.”

  They came up to my room as I undressed, carefully placing the beautiful dress back on a hanger. I told them every single detail of the night. When I got to the kissing part, I thought Gabriela might swoon.

  “He didn’t want to kiss on the first date? How romantic.”

  “More frustrating than romantic, but I got my way and kissed him anyway.”

  Gabriela played with the hem of her shirt. “That’s what I want. Love. Romance. If it weren’t for both of you, I would have lost my virginity last weekend on a washing machine. Yuck.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  I gave her a squeeze. “Zach is not the kind of person you want to get involved with. Trust me on this.”

  “I guess,” she said, brushing her dark curls out of her eyes. “But he’s always been so nice to me.”

  “He wants in your pants, plain and simple. But you deserve better,” I said.

  Bethany, oddly quiet, sat eating her ice cream. She’d nearly finished the entire tub, a sure sign she was worried. Bethany had always been a stress eater. Fortunately, she had the metabolism to keep up with it.

  “What’s the matter, B?”

  She winced, I couldn’t tell if it was from brain freeze, or from what she was about to tell me. I pulled on my PJs and sat down next to her on my bed. Bethany poked at the bottom of her empty ice cream container. There was nothing left. Not even a chunk of chocolate. Finally, she let out a sigh.

  “Be careful, Sam.”

  “With Dylan?”

  She nodded. “There is something odd about him.”

  “Like what?”

  She tossed the ice cream container in to the garbage. “Like where was he last year? And why did no one at the Sig house ever talk about him?”

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for it. I’ll ask him. Okay?”

  Bethany folded her arms across her chest. “You know how you are. Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I said, but we both knew I was lying.

  ~

  The next few weeks passed in a blur, as I ignored Bethany’s good advice and got closer and closer to Dylan. I’d avoided Max, although he called me a few times and texted me almost every day. I sent him back noncommittal replies, and he never asked about Dylan, so I never mentioned it.

  Dylan and I met for lunch every single day, and dinner most nights. We studied together, and on nights when we weren’t together, we chatted or Skyped for hours. Soon, I couldn’t remember what I’d done before he’d been a part of my life. Exactly what I hadn’t wanted. Exactly the sort of relationship I promised myself I wouldn’t jump into.

  We never talked about his absence from school the year before. Every time I mentioned it, somehow he changed the subject or avoided the issue altogether. It was frustrating, but he had ways of distracting me.

  Our kisses grew more and more passionate, but he refused to let it go any further. He never came to my room, and never invited me to his apartment. I’d become a ball of sexual tension. The only consolation came from the fact he wasn’t much better off than me. The thing that pissed me off, however, was how he controlled it. He controlled everything.

  When he picked me up for a date on Thursday night, I’d worked myself into a snit. Neither of us had any classes the next morning. I should have just relaxed and enjoyed the night, but couldn’t.

  I put on a long sleeved dress, loose with a bright geometrical pattern. Once again, Dylan refused to tell me where we were going. He planned everything. He chose everything. But I never complained. I allowed it to happen.

  I didn’t talk as we drove away in his Volvo. Everything felt off. Everything felt wrong. He tried to start a conversation with me, sending me worried looks as we sped through the city to a place on the far side of town. It was a small restaurant, elegant without being ostentatious, and had only a few tables. Each table was secluded and private. We couldn’t see or hear most of the other diners from where we sat. I should have been thrilled to be in such a place, but mostly I was annoyed. Especially when the waiter brought drinks and soup before we’d even ordered anything.

  The soup, served inside a small, carved out pumpkin, looked delicious, but it didn’t help my mood. I shot Dylan an angry look, and he put down his spoon.

  “Talk. Please. Tell me what is going on.”

  I put down my spoon, too. “You control every freaking thing in our relationship. Occasionally, I’d like to order for myself. You decide where we go, what we do, what we eat, when we kiss. I’m sick of it.”

  As soon as I’d said the words, I wished I could take them back. Dylan looked like I’d punched him in the gut.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I wanted to make things special…”

  “You can’t make something special. It either is or it isn’t.”

  His jaw clenched and his lips drew into a tight, narrow line, but he kept his voice soft. “Are you saying what we have isn’t special?”

  I was about to reach for him, but stopped myself. “No, but I can’t even tell how I feel anymore. The fact you ordered the soup for me tonight, without even asking…it’s just the last straw. It needs to be more of a give and take and less of you deciding everything for both of us.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “You don’t like soup?”

  I sighed. “I just want to have a say in things. Where we go. What we do.”

  I almost said, “When we sleep together,” but stopped myself. It sounded like emotional blackmail to bring up sex, or our lack of it, during a fight. And this was our first fight.

  He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “First of all, I didn’t order the soup.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “The chef only serves a few customers a night. He makes up the menu, and he decides what we’ll eat and drink with each course. It’s a set thing. No options. No substitutions. No complaining. There’s actually never a need to complain because everything here is superb.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I’m sorry I didn’t ask you where you wanted to go. I got into this place last minute, and thought we could celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Our two week anniversary.”

  I put my face in my hands. “Oh, geeze. Now I feel like a real bitch.”

  He shook his head. “You’re right.”

  “I’m a bitch?”

  He laughed. “No. When something is important to me, I tend to be a little too…controlling. I’m sorry, Sam.”

  I gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry, too. Eat your soup before it gets cold. I’m sure this meal will be expensive, and I know you won’t let me pay.”

  “Of course. I can be flexible on a lot of things, Samantha Barnes, but I will not let you pay for dinner, and that’s final.”

  Dinner was fantastic, but as the meal progressed, I felt worse and worse. My head seemed fuzzy and strange, and I sneezed several times. By the end of the meal, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  As we walked back to the car, I leaned against Dylan. He kissed my forehead, and then pulled back in surprise.

 
“You have a temperature.”

  I touched my forehead with the back of my hand. “I do?”

  He nodded, putting his hands on my cheeks. “And you’re flushed.”

  I sneezed. Again. “I think I’m getting sick.”

  He gave me a droll look. “I think you’re already sick.”

  I shivered so badly my whole body vibrated. Dylan turned up the heat in the car. Even though he was probably sweating, I couldn’t seem to warm up.

  “Well, this explains one thing.” I huddled in my cardigan, my teeth chattering. Dylan had tossed his jacket on top of me, too, but it didn’t help.

  “What?”

  “Tonight. I’m always a bitch when I’m getting sick.”

  He chuckled. “Good to know.”

  I snoozed as we drove home. I didn’t wake up until the car had stopped in front of a ritzy-looking apartment building, one I’d never seen before.

  “Where are we?”

  My voice sounded strange, and I felt awful. Dylan got out and walked around the car to open my door. In two weeks, I’d learned never to open a door myself or face the fury of Dylan Hunter.

  “My place. You’re staying here tonight.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders and steered me into the foyer. I let him. It was easier than arguing.

  “Are you being all controlling again?”

  “Sorry.” He came to a sudden stop and looked down at me. “Do you want to stay with me tonight, Sam? Will you let me take care of you? Please?”

  I sighed, too tired and too sick to put up much of a fight. “Fine. Only because you said please.”

  He opened the door for me with a smile. “I’ll remember that.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dylan’s apartment, tidy and elegant, didn’t look like a college guy’s place. He had a black leather sofa, actual artwork on the walls, and not a beer in sight. What he did have was an assortment of herbal teas and an electric kettle. After giving me a long sleeved Sigma Alpha Alpha t-shirt to put on, and a warm pair of socks, he covered me with a blanket and handed me a hot cup of tea. It felt good to get out of my dress, and finally I started to warm up.