by S. J. Sylvis
She was an epic rule-follower as a teen and looking at her almost distraught face now, I knew she still was.
“Okay,” I said, letting out a loud breath.
We didn’t say a word the entire drive back into town. When I pulled up to my house, Ivy opened the passenger door and walked right through the door and into the kitchen. I was following closely behind her, but I stopped near the front door when I heard her upstairs gathering her stuff out of my bathroom and fumbling with her black bag full of clothes.
When she descended down the stairs, I stopped her from leaving. “You can just stay here; I’ll stay with Emmett. Your house is still a mess.”
She shook out her long locks. “I’ll stay with Becca.”
I protested. “Ivy, stop.”
She finally brought her head up to mine. “Dawson, I’m not staying here only to wake up to Breanna in the morning. She’ll see the truth all over my face.”
My shoulders pulled back. “Breanna isn’t coming here in the morning, Ivy.”
She shot back, irritable voice and all. “Well I assume she’ll stop by at some point to see her boyfriend that she hasn’t seen all weekend and I’m not going to be here for the freaking reunion.”
I blew out a heavy sigh. “You know that I’m breaking up with her, right? I didn’t just kiss you for the fun of it tonight. I meant that kiss in every way possible.”
Her face twitched, as if a wall just fell down right in front of our faces. “Just…” she closed her eyes, evening her breath. “Just… when you’re done figuring shit out with her, then come talk to me, but for now…I’m going to Becca’s.”
Then she stormed past me and out the front door.
Once she got to her car, she stopped and looked at me standing in the doorway, and then to the structure of the house, a look of uncertainty on her face.
Then she slammed her car door shut and peeled down the road, tires spinning in her wake.
I knew one thing for certain – Breanna and I, we were over, and Ivy and I, we were just getting started.
I hope.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ivy
“Okay, start over.”
I glared at Becca, who was lying on her stomach, sporting a freaking adult onesie with flying pigs on it.
“Which part?” I asked, annoyed.
Becca’s hazel eyes lowered. “The kiss…”
I groaned, slapping my hand over my eyes. “This is serious, Becca! Dawson basically got me pregnant with a kiss and, uh, can we talk about the fact that HE ISN’T SINGLE!!”
“Okay,” she sat up, crossing her pink, fuzzy, flying-pig legs underneath her. “He’s basically single. So, stop. I’m almost positive that Breanna has cheated on him in the past, so whatever.”
My heart hammered in my ears. How dare she cheat on him!
I felt sick. Dawson cheated on his girlfriend with me. He told me it wasn’t my fault, that he shouldn’t have kissed me (talk about a big blow to my ego), but it was my fault because I didn’t stop him right away.
I couldn’t. His mouth on mine was like silencing every sound on earth. His breath along mine, it sent goosebumps over every single inch of my body. All I wanted was more.
I would never get my fill of Dawson. Never.
But still, I knew it was wrong. I also knew that every single thought I’d had of him was wrong, as was crossing all those friends-to-lovers lines. I knew that being alone with him at the cow pasture was wrong because if I were Breanna, I wouldn’t be okay with how we were acting toward one another.
Longing stares, playful nudges, touching each other when we shouldn’t have been. It was wrong from the beginning.
I never should have stayed at his house and I never should have traveled down memory lane with him.
Even if it did feel so incredibly right.
The truth was, I never saw Dawson as my friend for life.
I saw him as so much more.
Even when we were teens and still in that awkward friend-zone place, I saw him as so, so much more.
“Just relax, Ivy,” Becca said, drawing me out of my incessant thoughts.
“I feel bad, though,” I whispered, lowering my head.
She came over and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pushing me further down on the loveseat. “But you shouldn’t. You should never feel wrong for loving someone.”
I drew back. Wait, did I say I loved him out loud?
“Who said I loved him?”
Her plucked eyebrow rose. She half laughed, “Your teenage diary.”
A small smile started to lift my cheeks. “Very funny.”
She quipped, “Well it’s true.”
“We’re different people now, though, and I’m no longer a fifteen-year-old with a massive crush on my best friend.”
Becca said nothing, which was unusual, so I peeked over at her. She was biting her lip but her eyes were doing that thing that Tyra Banks always shouted about on America’s Next Top Model: “Smile with your eyes! Smize, dammit!”
Becca was full-on smiling with her eyes.
I see you, Tyra. I get it.
“The kind of feelings that you had for Dawson, even if you were fifteen, never go away, Ivy. Even back then, everyone could tell that you and Dawson were just… it.”
Confused, I asked, “It?”
“Yes, it. You two only had eyes for each other. It was so obvious to everyone but you two. Like the world didn’t spin around you guys, you spun around it. You and Dawson had this bubble formed around you from the very beginning, like you two couldn’t be separated by anything…”
Becca stood up and walked over to her bookshelf, bending down (a pig on her butt staring directly at me) and then said, “Ah-ha!”
She pulled out something from the bottom shelf and pattered back over to me.
I recognized what she held in her hand immediately. A yearbook from high school. I got one my freshman year, but unfortunately, it had gotten burned up in the fire – along with every other part of my life.
Becca flipped through the pages quickly, as if she knew exactly what she was looking for. I scooted closer, taking peeks at the blurring pages.
“Look…” she said, sliding the book over into my lap. It still smelled of glossy paper, like the yearbook hadn’t been opened since the day she got it.
I followed Becca’s finger as she dragged it along the smooth surface, skimming over random pictures of people I barely recognized.
“Look at that picture and tell me that you two weren’t totally wrapped up in one another.” I swallowed as my heart lifted up higher in my chest.
I almost wanted to cry, staring down at the two young teenagers, totally captivated by one another. From the looks of the picture, we were in the middle of some type of pep-rally, with blue and black streamers flying through the air behind our heads. Everyone was posing for the picture; Becca in her cheerleading outfit, with a perky ponytail, sticking her finger up as if she were saying “We’re number 1!”, then you had Casey (who now lived in California with her Army husband and three kids), sticking her tongue out and scrunching her eyes closed. Max was standing on the other side of Dawson, sporting his blue football jersey, as were a few other guys, and then there was Dawson and me – smack dab in the middle of the chaos, but we weren’t even looking in the direction of the camera like everyone else. Dawson was staring down at me, smiling like a boy on Christmas morning, and I was peeking up at him, with the same type of smile. It really did look as if we were in our own little world, not even realizing that there were other people screaming all around us.
We had on the same smiles that we wore today, and last night, once again, wrapped up in our own little world. Dawson made the world seem a little brighter.
“See?” Becca piped, causing me to tear my eyes away from the photo. “If I believed in love, you and Dawson would be it, even after the last six years apart.”
“I thought you hated Dawson,” I said, wondering why all of a sudden she was rootin
g for him.
“I hated him when I thought he hurt you.” I nodded in agreement because that was understandable, but there was one more thing I was confused about.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the house?”
Her eyes squinted. “What?”
I pushed back, leaning my body against her soft couch. “Why didn’t you tell me about he and his father building my house?”
Becca’s mouth dropped. “What?!”
“You really didn’t know?”
“Know what? What house?”
I swallowed and filled her in on the fact that Dawson and his father had rebuilt my house and how Dawson now resided in it.
“HOLY SHIT. This could be a freaking movie, Ivy!”
I laughed, “It is. Haven’t you seen the Nicholas Sparks movie?”
“Oh my God. Did he write you letters?! If so, I’m dead.”
I laughed harder. “No, shut up. He didn’t write me letters.”
Becca gave me a side glance, pulling her blonde hair to one side. “Are you sure?”
I chuckled. “I’m pretty sure…but you really didn’t know?”
She shook her head, looking around the room in complete and utter awe. “No. I didn’t know or I probably would have told you. You know Dawson and I didn’t really speak for years, and even though I don’t agree with some of the stuff he did while you were gone, I know for a fact that he cares so much about you.”
I urged her to continue.
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You should have seen how pissed he was when you were sitting with his brother the other night at Ships.”
“He looked mad but I wasn’t really sure why.”
“I thought he was going to kill his brother and then the other guy, Kip. My God, I thought he was going to blow.” She laughed again.
“This is so confusing,” I said, feeling like I was just in a car crash with epic whiplash.
Becca looked over at me, a grin covering her face. “There is nothing confusing about this, Ivy. You two belong together, and not as friends. Let him deal with his shit, and then you two will work it out… easy peasy.”
It did sound easy. Like for once in my life, something would work out the way it was supposed to.
But…I couldn’t help the weird, dreadful feeling that lurked over my shoulder.
Something would go wrong.
Nothing was ever this easy for me. At least, not for the last six years it wasn’t.
✽✽✽
“Great, thank you for getting it dry so quickly!” I hung up my phone after saying goodbye to Dawson’s father, pretending I wasn’t at all disappointed that it was Mr. Lanning calling me instead of him.
It was Monday morning and I was on my way to work. I had to leave Becca’s forty minutes earlier than usual because her house was on the outskirts of town, and that meant I had to get on the highway, which also meant I’d get stuck in traffic.
Dawson was right. It was taking me forever to get into town.
It would have been so much better if I could have stayed at Dawson’s again, but as of right now, I had no idea what was going on.
Did he break up with Breanna?
Did she kill him because she somehow found out that he’d cheated?
Was she going to be waiting for me at my house, to do the same?
I wasn’t sure. At this point, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
After spending yesterday with Becca yammering on about how Dawson and I were going to have much needed, pent-up-for-six-years sex soon, and then my sister texting me every five seconds, asking me how staying with my “long lost best friend/major crush” was, and if we’d done the deed yet, I wasn’t sure I would be able to soothe the burn if we didn’t have sex.
Like, what if he decided last second that he wanted Breanna instead of me?
I’d likely just die.
Which only made me feel weak.
My phone vibrated again in my cup holder, reverberating off the plastic sides. My heart leapt as my fingers jumbled with it. Hope blossomed in my chest, ready to break out in luminous colors, and then it was quickly zapped away.
Eric was calling.
Again.
Apparently, Dawson making those ludicrous sex noises in the background last time we’d talked was eating away at him. He’d texted me fifteen (yes, fifteen) times in the last two days and now had resorted to calling me.
I had a really bad feeling that he wouldn’t stop hounding me if I didn’t meet up with him sooner or later, even if it was to truly end this little “I want you back” thing.
Something had to give, eventually.
He wasn’t this clingy, even when we were together. My God.
My phone had stopped vibrating, only to start up again. I wanted to scream in annoyance.
“Jesus, F, CHRIST!” I shouted, pushing my finger down on the side button and turning it off completely.
If anyone wanted to get a hold of me, they could just call work.
I was done with the stupid phone calls that weren’t from Dawson.
And thankfully, the day passed by without a single phone call from anyone – other than a couple work calls.
I felt completely defeated and void of any other emotion as I pulled my car up in front of my house. I knew that Dawson wouldn’t be here working today. Did I wish he was? Yes. But did I know better? Also, yes.
The question as to why he hadn’t called or texted me or sent a fucking carrier pigeon ate away at me with every passing minute.
We’d kind of fought, and I’d never truly been in a fight with him before, not even when we were younger.
I didn’t like it.
At all.
Rounding the front of my car and hopping up onto the sidewalk, heels clicking against the concrete, I told myself to suck it the fuck up.
I’d been let down before and I said it best the other night: you don’t always get what you want, especially in this world. I was a true believer that shitty things happened to good people, and shitty things happened to bad people.
It just was. And the shitty thing was that maybe Dawson and I would never be a thing. Maybe we had simply just shared another amazing kiss, and that was just the end of it.
What a shame.
He was such a good kisser. A sexy kisser. Talented.
“Hey.”
I squealed, dropping my phone and purse in one single movement, stepping backwards with a wide-eyed expression etched on my face.
“Jesus, you scared me!” I yelled, staring into those familiar blue eyes.
He was here. Dawson was sitting on my porch stairs.
How did I not see him before? OH, that’s right. I was too busy telling myself to get over the fact that he hadn’t called. But here he was, and just like that, my thoughts of getting over it went poof.
I would never be able to get over it. No way.
“You’re very unaware of your surroundings,” he mused, slowly standing up.
I fought a smile. “Why do you think I’m always tripping?”
He let out a throaty chuckle and I felt it go directly down to my southern regions. After kissing Dawson the other night, I was even more linked to him. Like his mouth was just a small taste of temptation and now I was just left with wanting more. Needing more.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do or say, so I kept my mouth shut after he laughed. A pregnant pause passed between us, me staring at him, him staring at me. I avoided looking into his eyes for too long, afraid I might get swept away like dust in a wind storm.
Dawson looked hot; that was something I couldn’t take my eyes off. He was wearing business-like clothes, just the same as the first time I saw him, back in his father’s office.
His dark grey slacks hugged his thighs and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, like he was literally about to be photographed for Sexiest Man of The Year. I wouldn’t be surprised if I walked into the grocery store later and he was on the front cover of Glamour magazine.
He w
ore rugged, working-man well, but seeing him all sleek and fancy wearing dress clothes – that was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
I was burning up.
“I broke up with Breanna,” he said, as I passed by him to get to my front door.
I paused, my back to him, heart coming to a complete halt in my chest.
Fiddling with my keys, I unlocked my door and stepped inside, thankful that my house was, in fact, dry and all cleaned up.
I could feel Dawson behind me. His warmth and masculine scent wrapping around my body like a vine creeping along a tree trunk. I slowly spun around, swallowing my desire, and asked, “Did you already install my 5-star security system or should I go ahead and buy about fifteen deadlocks so she can’t murder me in my sleep tonight…”
Dawson’s face twitched, a small grin playing along those luscious lips. He stepped closer to me, causing me to walk further into my house and shut the door behind him.
The sun was setting in the background through my living room window, but the rest of my house was dim. Shadows danced along the far wall, sinking further and further away as the sun threatened to disappear for the day.
“I didn’t tell her I kissed you.” He swallowed, taking another step towards me. “She told me she didn’t want to know.”
My heart climbed in my chest and my legs clenched together. Dawson’s tone didn’t hold his usual playfulness. In its place was something that came from my wildest and sexiest dreams. His voice was guttural sounding. Throaty.
“So what exactly did you tell her, then?” I asked, whispering.
Dawson took another step towards me, causing my heart to go into triple speed. My back pressed along the wall as I stared into his darkened eyes.
“I tried to tell her what had happened but she basically beat me to the punch, saying she knew that she and I could never be what she wanted and that she knew there was something lingering in my feelings for you.”
I nodded slowly. That was good. She already knew, and that made me feel a little better about what had happened Saturday. But at this point, looking up at Dawson’s hooded expression, I didn’t care what she thought. I wanted Dawson in the worst way possible. I hated that I didn’t care, but no one’s perfect and if being with Dawson was wrong, I never wanted to be right again.