"No, it's fine."
I nod and lean against the back of the couch.
"So..." He starts.
"I'm really sorry," I rush out. "I don't know what came over me and I don't want this to be the end of us."
James sighs and looks out the window. We've never really fought before; this is new to both of us. We're used to everything going smoothly--up until recently, anyway.
"I don't want it to be the end, either," he says and I breathe a sigh of relief. "I guess I was just shocked I found you at Dylan's place when you said you hated him."
"I do," I say, trying to convince myself, too. "He was just doing me a favor."
James nods. "All right," he says and I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling my face into his chest. I'm so glad we didn't part ways. Even if James and I have our differences, he gives me a sense of security that I like.
"I just...James, I think you need to think more of me," I say, looking up at him. "I don't think you care about me as much as I care about you."
"I'm sorry, you're right, Katie," he says, nodding.
"Can you pick me up from work tomorrow?" I ask him. I know I must seem like an idiot for asking him, but I should give him a chance to redeem himself, at least.
"Yes," he says. "I promise."
James kisses me and tells me he has to run, he's on call. I try not to appear disappointed as I bid him goodbye. He has an important job to attend to, and I shouldn't complain.
I sit back on the couch. I pay little attention to the TV as I mull over my thoughts. Am I really going to try to get to Dylan's file tomorrow? The thought sends excitement and fear through me. Will I be able to do it? Should I?
I go to sleep with traces of Dylan's laugh lingering in my mind.
Chapter Twenty Three
I watch Dylan from my desk.
He's actually working today; skimming over multiple papers and scribbling different things here and there. His jaw is tense and I can't tell if he notices me staring or not. He probably does. Dylan notices everything.
I, meanwhile, haven't touched my unedited manuscript. It sits in its manila folder on my desk, undisturbed. I unwrap a piece of gum and pop it into my mouth, still watching Dylan. He wears a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing some of his tattoos. A black tie is knotted around his neck. He leans on his elbows, eyes scanning the papers in front of him.
He suddenly sits up, sliding a paper across his desk to Rachel. "You made a calculation error," he says plainly.
Rachel looks at the paper, brow furrowed. "Oh," she says. "Sorry."
Dylan nods and moves some papers around, clicking a pen erratically between his fingers. He chews gum, popping a bubble every once in awhile.
There's so much I'm dying to find out about him. I obviously won't be able to get it out of him by talking, so there has to be another way.
My plan from the night before surfaces in my mind. Could it work? If I get caught looking in Dylan's file without proper authorization, I could be in serious trouble. Is it worth it?
My eyes are still fixated on Dylan when he looks up and locks gazes with me. The pigment of his eyes is green as ever as he presses his lips into a tight line. I quickly look down to my desk.
"Katie." I look up back into his eyes. He rests on his right arm, leaning slightly toward me. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."
I blush and look down. I can practically hear the smug in his light laugh.
I stand from my desk and walk to the break room. I open the fridge and look for something that appeals to me, but I find nothing.
"Hey, Katie."
I jump at Oliver's voice, leaning back against the wall. "Oliver," I breathe. "You startled me."
Oliver chuckles and ducks down to look inside the fridge. "Sorry," he says.
I run a hand through my hair and sigh. "It's fine," I say.
Oliver straightens up and cracks open a Diet Coke. "So what's up? You seemed kind of distracted today."
"Oh, um...I don't know." Oliver leans against the counter and sips his soda. A thought suddenly occurs to me. "Oliver," I say, tilting my head to the side a bit. "What do you know about Dylan?"
Oliver shrugs. "He's an asshole," he says, cracking a smile. "But we're friends, I guess."
"Hmm."
"He's a damn genius, though," Oliver goes on. "Great at math and such. The opposite of myself." Oliver chuckles.
"What...do you know about his past?" I know this is nosy of me to ask these things, but I can't help myself.
"Not much. He doesn't talk about his family a lot, or anything." Oliver takes another drink of his Coke, eyeing me.
I nod. "Well, thanks," I say. "I was just curious." I smile at Oliver before walking out of the break room and back to my desk.
Dylan isn't at his desk.
I look down at my manuscript and internally groan. I open the manila folder and click open my red pen just as Mr. Morris steps out of his office.
"Katie," he calls and I shoot up, walking over to him.
"Is there something I can help you with?" I ask politely when I reach him.
"Yes. You still need to verify the accuracy of your file in Mr. Crane's office with Mr. Wilson, so I'd like you to do that now."
I swallow. "O-okay."
"And I suggest you take the stairs." Mr. Morris smirks.
I blush. "All right."
I don't see Dylan anywhere so I make my way up to Mr. Crane's office. I climb the flights of stairs and finally arrive at reception of Mr. Crane's complex.
"Harris," I say to the receptionist and she nods for me to go into the office.
Dylan slumps in one of the seats across from Mr. Crane's desk. His expression is blank as I sit down.
"Miss Harris, it's a pleasure to see you again," Crane says, smiling at me.
I nod and try to ignore Dylan's presence beside me.
"Mr. Wilson has done an excellent job of associating your file with the company, I just need you to read over it and correct any errors."
I take the file into my hands and open it, my eyes skimming all the information I already know about myself. Everything is neatly typed and accurate. I nod and hand the file back to Crane.
"Everything's right," I say and I see Dylan half smile out of the corner of my eye.
"Perfect," Crane says and turns to slip the file into a cabinet by his desk. That must be where he keeps the records of everyone. Including Dylan.
I inhale sharply. I need to get in there to read about Dylan. I hate that my curiosity is eating me alive; I hate that I'm letting it control me like this.
Dylan stands from his seat and I follow suit. Crane shakes my hand and then Dylan's. I follow Dylan out of the office.
We walk down the stairs silently. Dylan has his hands in his pockets and his eyes cast down.
"Katie," he says me suddenly as we step onto our floor.
"Yeah?" I say, surprised that he's even talking to me.
"Ever heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat?'"
"Once or twice," I say carefully.
He looks at me with something I can't quite decipher, nodding, and walks into the office, leaving me and my confusion.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Did he hear me talking to Oliver? Oh no. If he did, he must be angry with me. But his tone was so placid. I shudder and walk into the office.
Four o'clock rolls around and Dylan stands to leave, walking out without a word. I gather my things and take the elevator up to the eleventh floor. I stand in the stairwell, watching as everyone files out of Crane's complex. They chatter and laugh as they step into the elevator. I watch as Mr. Crane exits the office, engaged in a phone call.
I silently creep out of the stairwell, leaving my bags and other items on the stairs. I walk into the empty complex, double checking that every desk is empty.
I look around for security cameras and surprisingly find none as I slip inside Crane's office.
Chapter Twenty Four
Adren
aline pumps through my veins as I walk over to the file cabinet I saw Crane put my information into. My heart pumps loud in my ears. I silently slide open the drawer, examining the files before me. They're alphabetized by last name, as I expected. I skim the tops for 'S,' and finally find it.
Wilson, Dylan Edward.
Is this right? I wage in an internal battle as I stare at the labeled folder in my hands.
I swallow and pull the file out, the smooth manila folder resting in my hands.
This is the moment of truth.
I flip open the file and skim it.
Born in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, England, United Kingdom on February 1, 1989. Educated at Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School and Oxford University with degrees in mathematics and calculations. Past occupations"Katie?"
The file is dropped from my hands, papers scattering everywhere. I widen my eyes at Dylan standing in the doorway of Crane's office, arms crossed over his chest.
I straighten up, brushing myself off. "Dylan."
Dylan licks his lips and walks over to me, bending down and retrieving the file. He slowly rises to his full height, eyes unreadable.
He doesn't say anything yet and it terrifies me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Sorry," he repeats, his voice deep. "You're sorry." He looks up at me with blazing eyes and I swallow.
I stay silent as he runs his tongue over his lips, looking back down at the folder in his hands. My heart pounds loudly in my chest.
"Are you aware that this is a serious felony?" He asks me slowly, shutting the manila folder and putting it back into the file cabinet. His tone is eerily calm.
I swallow and step away from the cabinet, towards the door.
"You know, when I heard you talking to Oliver, I figured you were just curious," Dylan says as he steps toward me, leaving only about a foot of space between us. "But now that I've caught you with my confidential file..." He shakes his head, his eyes mean. "I see that you're just nosy." His eyes flash.
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer.
"Katie, you need to mind your own fucking business. Yes, I know you've had encounters with people I'm involved with. Yes, I know you know more than you should, but that's not an invitation for you to snoop around my confidential file after hours!"
"I'm sorry!" I shout. "I'm sorry that you baffle me and that you're so secretive that my curiosity is eating me alive!"
"You could have asked me anything that was in that file," Dylan growls.
"You wouldn't have told me shit, and you know it!"
"Why does it matter to you, Katie? Why do I matter?" His eyes are such a dark shade of emerald they're almost black in the dim lighting of the office.
I shrink back away from him, averting my eyes.
"I should turn you in for this," he says, turning his back on me and walking over to the window. "But I won't." He looks back at me, his expression once again indecipherable.
I want to question him, but instead I turn and pace away from him. There is nothing I can say to him to truly justify my actions.
Why did I think I could get away with looking through his file? I'm such an idiot. A nosy, stupid idiot.
By the time I reach the ground floor, I'm out of breath. I curse myself for wearing heels again and head outside, looking for James's car.
Dylan storms out of the building shortly after me. His expression is surprisingly calm as he walks up to me. I look away but he reaches out and touches my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. His touch sends volts of electricity through me, his skin warm. He drops his hand to his side and stares at me, his gaze intense.
"Do I scare you?" He asks me. The wind blows slightly and his tie flutters, along with his hair.
"What?" I ask.
"Do I scare you?" He repeats.
I shake my head stubbornly. "No."
"I don't care if you tell me the truth," he says, almost desperately.
"I already told you," I say. "You don't scare me. Why would you?"
Something in his eyes shifts and he turns away, sticking his hands into his pockets.
I take out my phone to call James. It won't surprise me, honestly, if he forgets me again. I guess I just thought third time's the charm, but apparently I was wrong.
If he doesn't pick up, I'm done with him, my mind says.
He doesn't pick up.
"Dammit!" I curse into the wind, shoving my phone back into my bag. I sit on a nearby bench and put my head in my hands. Why did I ever think James would pick me up after all the times he's forgotten me? He won't change. He was bullshitting me the other night. I should have known.
Dylan sits beside me on the bench. I have no idea why he's still here. Seconds ago he was yelling at me, and now he's completely calm.
"I am so fucking sick of being put second," I blurt. Dylan looks at me. "I'm sick of being told a stupid medical internship means more than me, I'm sick of compromising, I'm sick of being stood up." I take a breath. "I'm sick of being nice to everyone, I'm sick of following the rules all the time, and I'm sick of watermelon gum." The wind whips at my hair. I feel oddly lighter after my small rant, and I lean back on the bench.
Dylan pulls his pack of mint gum from his pocket and holds it out for me. As much as I try to fight it, a small smile creeps its way onto my face and I accept it, unwrapping the green foil and popping the piece into my mouth.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments longer. The icy wind continues to blow around us, earning shivers from me. I don't know what I'm waiting for at this point; James obviously isn't coming for me.
The mint gum is sweet on my tongue as I chew it. I feel Dylan's presence practically radiating heat next to me.
"So, you going to dump him?" Dylan asks.
I shrug. "I don't know," I say. "Aside from his job interfering, he's great--"
"Bullshit," Dylan calls me out.
I look at my lap, knowing he's right. "I can't just break up with him," I say.
"Course you can," Dylan says. "You're just afraid of being alone."
I look over at him. "No, I'm not."
"It's obvious. This guy treats you like absolute shit and you still cling to him."
"I'm not clinging to him," I snap. "I could leave anytime."
"Then do it," Dylan challenges. "I know you want to."
"I...I could love him."
Dylan snorts. "All right."
"What?"
"You're lying. To me, and to yourself. Don't let this guy push you around, Katie. You're better than that."
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