He Looked Back

by Hollandaise, Melissa

  I cross my arms over my chest. "I don't need this right now."

  Dylan is silent. I hadn't realized how close we were sitting on the bench; our thighs almost touch. There seems to be some invisible field of electricity sparking between us as we sit in the cold.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  "Want to go do something?" Dylan asks me.

  I look at him skeptically. "Like what?"

  "Like play poker."

  I shake my head. "I don't gamble."

  Dylan snorts. "Of course not."

  Something in his tone makes me angry. "You know what," I say, standing. "Let's go play poker. And I'm going to kick your ass so hard you'll be crying back to Cheshire."

  Dylan's smile widens and he stands along with me. "Not if I beat you," he says, raising an eyebrow.

  I smile back at him. "Best of luck," I say.

  Dylan stares at me another moment before turning and leading me to his car. I feel like I've ridden in this car so many times at this point. I can't say I mind now. I mean, when we first met, I would have never thought I'd be voluntarily going to play poker with Dylan. Maybe I'm doing this to spite James, but either way, I don't care.

  "Where is this place?" I ask Dylan.

  He half smiles. "The closest thing Edinburgh's got to a casino."

  I furrow my brow. "Aren't we underdressed, then?"

  Dylan looks at me from the corner of his eye. "No, we're fine."

  He soon pulls into the lot of a building that's close to the river. The building is all black, with tinted glass doors. A tall man stands out front, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "There's a bouncer?" I ask Dylan as we walk up.

  Dylan shrugs as we approach the man.

  "Wilson," the man greets Dylan. "Good to see you."

  "You too, mate," Dylan replies. "Busy tonight?"

  "Nah, it's a Monday. Only three or four tonight."

  "Cool. See you around."

  The man nods to Dylan and we walk inside.

  "Three or four what?" I ask Dylan.

  "Fights," Dylan replies.

  I swallow trepidation that has begun to spark inside of me. Why did I agree to this? I know what types of people Dylan is involved with. Hell, I was attacked by two of them.

  Inside, lights are dim and it looks like a legitimate casino. A bar is in the middle, and cigarette smoke fills the air. I feel like I've been transported to Vegas, with all the glamor this place holds.

  Dylan leads me to a poker table in the far corner. I recognize George, the guy I met when I first moved in, sitting at the table. He smiles at me in recognition.

  A few other people sit around the table. A girl with long, black hair and olive skin smiles at me as well as a boy with fiery red hair. My heart almost stops when I recognize one of my attackers, Ethan.

  "Hey," George greets us. "Nice to see you, Katie."

  Dylan sits at the table next to the boy with red hair and motions for me to do the same. I feel incredibly out of place in my black skirt and grey sweater, when I look at the other girl she wears a pretty red dress with a plunging neckline.

  "This is Leigh-Anne, Ed, and Ethan," Dylan says. I chew on my lip as I look at Ethan.

  He notices my expression and smirks. "Don't worry, I'm off tonight," Ethan says.

  This statement doesn't make me feel too much better but I nod anyway.

  "Nice to meet you, Katie," the girl, Leigh-Anne says.

  "You too," I say.

  "Alright, enough shit, let's play poker," Ed says.

  Dylan cracks his knuckles. "Anyone got a smoke?"

  George nods and brings a pack out of his pocket. Dylan takes one and looks at me.

  I haven't smoked since high school. I wouldn't mind it, but I decide against it. I shake my head and I know he's trying to hide a smile.

  "I don't want to play poker," Leigh-Anne whines. "Can't we play 21 instead?"

  "Leigh," Ed sighs.

  "We always play poker," she says. "Always."

  "I'm fine with 21," Ethan says.

  "Fine," Ed grumbles. Dylan brings the cigarette to his lips and blows out a puff of smoke. Ed shuffles the deck and gives everyone two cards.

  "Everyone knows how to play, right?" George asks, looking at me.

  I nod. I used to play 21 with my father and sister on Saturday nights.

  "Wait, everyone's got to contribute," Ethan says. He looks at Dylan and I.

  Dylan reaches into his pocket and slaps a fifty on the table, the cigarette caught between his lips.

  "That's from the both of us," he says.

  Ethan shrugs and adds it to an already piled high stack of money.

  I pick my cards up from the table, studying them. I have a relatively good hand, amounting to about fifteen. I just need a six...

  "I'll go first," Leigh says.

  "All right," Ed says. "Draw or pass?"

  Leigh bites her lip. "Draw."

  Ed hands her a card and she curses. "Pass," she mumbles.

  Ed smirks and looks to Ethan on his other side.

  "Draw," he says. Ed gives him a card, and he draws twice more after that.

  Now, it's my turn.

  "Draw," I say.

  Ed hands me a card and I internally do a victory dance. It's a six.

  "Pass," I tell him and he moves to Dylan.

  "Draw," Dylan says, his voice raspy from the smoke. He holds the cigarette between his fingers as he examines his cards. He looks so exquisite, dangling the cigarette between his fingers, wisps of smoke escaping his pink lips. "Pass," he says to Ed after.

  After everyone has had their turn, we all lay our cards down. Leigh has twenty six, Ed has nineteen, Ethan and George both have twenty, and Dylan and I have twenty one.

  "Looks like it's a tie," Dylan says, his voice slow and deep. His eyes seem to drink me in as he leans lazily on the table.

  I half smile. "Looks like it."

  "Flip a coin," Leigh suggests.

  I'm about to open my mouth to reply when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  It's James.

  "I should take this," I tell them. I slide out of my chair and walk through the area and out to the parking lot.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  I lean against the building and answer the call.

  "Katie, I'm so sorry, I can't believe--"

  "James, where were you today?" I ask, cutting him off.

  "I don't know, I really have no excuse--"

  "You promised."

  "I know, I'm so sorry--"

  I sigh.

  "Are you mad?"

  "I...I don't know. This has happened three times, James, it's making me think that you don't care about me," I admit.

  "How could you think that? Of course I care about you, Katie."

  I sigh. "Look, can we talk later? I'm kind of busy."

  "With what?"

  "Uh...work. I had to edit some manuscripts at home this week..."

  "Oh. Well, I'll talk to you later."

  "All right."

  I end the call and breathe the fresh air. I really could use a smoke right now.

  As if on cue, Dylan emerges from inside, his eyes locking with mine.

  "Something wrong?" He asks as he approaches. His cigarette is still poised between his fingers.

  "James called," I reply.

  "Hmm."

  "He was apologizing profusely."

  "Did you forgive him?"

  I don't answer. Instead, I take the cigarette from Dylan's fingers and bring it to my own lips, taking a long drag. The smoke ignites my lungs in the familiar feeling and I relax a bit.

  "And to think all this time I thought you were lying when you said you used to smoke," Dylan says, smiling.

  I hand him back the cigarette and he brings it to his lips. We switch off for a while, just leaning against the wall and smoking. I feel more relaxed, and I lean my head back against the wall.

  "You know, Dylan," I say. "You win."

  He looks at me confusedly. />
  "21," I clarify. "You win."

  Dylan doesn't say anything. "Hmm."

  "Yeah. Now we're even."

  "Even?"

  "I owe you so many favors, for taking me home, giving me tea, all that," I say. "And now we're even."

  Dylan looks at me. "I say we split it, fifty-fifty."

  I shrug. "Fine."

  Dylan stamps out the cigarette and turns to look at me. "What are you hiding, Katie?" He asks me.

  "What?"

  "I can tell you're hiding something," he says. "It's why you never talk about London."

  "Well, you never talk about Holmes Chapel."

  Anguish flashes in Dylan's eyes and he looks down. "Everyone's got a secret," he says quietly. "It just depends on how good you are at keeping it hidden."

  I process Dylan's words. It just depends on how good you are at keeping it hidden.

  "What's your secret, Katie?" Dylan asks, stepping forward.

  "It's a secret for a reason," I say.

  We're only inches apart now, our bodies radiating heat. Dylan's usual smell of spearmint is laced with smoke, almost intoxicating me. He leans toward me, our noses almost brushing.

  "What's your secret?" I ask him, my voice just above a whisper.

  "You," Dylan breathes. He leans in further, our lips brushing momentarily before he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me.

  He slides his tongue between my lips and I feel weak in the knees. His mouth tastes like smoke and mint gum. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as my pulse pounds wildly. His lips feel smooth and soft, like heaven.

  He pulls away slightly and I feel cold at the loss of contact but he moves his lips to my neck, biting gently. I roll my head back onto the wall, sighing as he kisses behind my ear. His breath fans out lightly across my skin.

  My eyes flutter shut as he brings his lips back to my own. My heart pulses loudly in my ears but I don't care. All I care about is kissing Dylan.

  And then reality hits me again, knocking me onto my back and filling me with guilt.

  James.

  I bring my palms to Dylan's chest and push slightly. "Dylan," I say into his mouth.

  He doesn't respond at first, and then I push him harder. "Dylan," I say louder, more forcefully. He takes a step back, eyes full of confusion.

  "I can't do this," I say. "James..."

  Dylan turns his back on me, running a hand through his hair. He doesn't say anything.

  "I'm sorry," I say quietly, blush rising to my cheeks.

  "For what?" He asks.

  "For..." I search for words.

  "Come on," he says, his tone cold. "Let's go." He starts walking back to his car and I slowly follow.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  I look out the window as we drive home. Dylan is silent, for obvious reasons. His jaw is locked, hand gripping the steering wheel like a vice.

  Why did he kiss me? Does that mean he likes me? Why would he like me? He acts like he hates me ninety percent of the time, and the other ten percent he annoys me.

  The part that scares me the most is that I kissed him back. I pulled him closer, I let him kiss me. And I enjoyed it.

  How could I have done that? I have James. I don't like Dylan. Right?

  Does this mean I cheated on James? Dylan kissed me, but I did kiss him back. A wave of guilt crashes through me like a tsunami and I lean my forehead against the cool window.

  "Don't fall asleep in my car," Dylan says in a monotone, eyes flitting over to me briefly.

  I sigh.

  I yearn to ask him why he kissed me that way; and why he's being so cold now. I think for the upteenth time that there are so many things I want to ask Dylan, but I know he'll never answer.

  We arrive back at the apartment building and I hastily get out of the car, not waiting for Dylan to catch up to me. I decide against an awkward elevator ride and begin climbing the stairs, my heels clicking against the concrete steps.

  As I reach the first landing, I hear someone begin to climb the steps as well. I stop and turn to see Dylan, his eyes cast down as he catches up to me.

  He stops where I am and looks me in the eye, his expression blank.

  We stare at each other for a few moments. His gaze is intense, burning with something I can't quite decipher. I swallow.

  Dylan looks like he wants to say something, and he looks down. "That wasn't supposed to happen," he says quietly.

  I nod. "I know." I chew on my lip.

  "Are you going to tell him?"

  Am I? It would be the right thing to do. But a tiny part of me wants to keep the encounter between Dylan and I--our own little secret that we keep buried away.

  "No," I say finally.

  "Why not?" Dylan's tone is challenging.

  I shrug. "I have a feeling he has secrets of his own."

  "I thought you said he'd never hurt you."

  "I don't know anymore."

  He finally breaks my gaze and continues to climb up the stairs. I turn quickly and follow him.

  We arrive at our floor and Dylan digs in his pockets for his keys. I fish for my own and unlock my door, pushing it open. I turn and look at Dylan.

  There is so much I want to say to him, to tell him I wish I had never broken the kiss, that he makes me feel a way that I've never felt before. But he's closed off now, and he'd just insult me.

  "Thanks for...cheering me up," I say quietly. "And...your friends are nice."

  He looks at me, frowning. He nods before opening his door and walking into his apartment briskly, the door slamming shut behind him.

  And I can't help but wish I had said something more--anything more, really. Dylan confuses and baffles me to no end, but that's the thing about mysteries--they're made to be solved.

  Chapter Twenty Eight