This sucked so much. Why in the world had I gotten involved with her when I knew I would only have a couple days with her? I knew why; I hadn’t expected to fall for her. She had taken me by surprise and knocked me on my ass.
“She’s leaving the day after tomorrow, too.” I reached for my cell phone sitting on the bedside table and clicked on the camera icon.
“What are you doing?” Brooke squealed, covering herself up.
“Giving you a going away present.” I wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed our cheeks together, snapping the picture.
“You better not be able to see boob in that,” Brooke said, grabbing my phone and checking. I studied the photograph, amazed at how right she looked beside me. Her caramel hair brushed against my face, and her big blue eyes were wide with amusement as she smiled wide. I looked up and stared at her in awe. When she noticed I was watching her, the smile fell from her lips. Without hesitation, she leaned down and kissed me. Deciding this was another great photo op, I held the phone out and clicked another picture.
She sucked in a sharp breath and hit my chest playfully. “Sneaky, sneaky.”
“I’ll forward them to you, so when you’re hopelessly distraught over leaving me, you’ll have a reminder of how good you had it.”
“And cocky, too,” she teased, climbing off my lap. She bent down and retrieved her borrowed shorts from the floor. Standing, she turned to face me, seriousness claiming her features.
“Thank you for the past couple days, Dylan,” she said earnestly. “You’ll be a time in my life I won’t ever forget.” She laughed to herself, glancing away and then back at me. “It’s ironic that I’ve had a crush on you for three years, and now that we’re talking, I’m leaving.”
I sat up and inched to the edge of the bed. Reaching out, I took Brooke’s hands and guided her between my legs. Settling my hands on her hips, I stared up at her.
“It’s nice to hear you admit you’ve been in love with me for so long. I knew you were, but it’s still nice to hear it.”
She laughed. “No one said anything about love. I just thought you were cute.”
“What exactly do you think is cute about me?”
“I see you don’t reserve fishing for just lakes.”
My fingers crept up her sides causing her to wiggle. “I guess I’ll just have to tickle it out of you.” I moved my fingers faster, and she bent over in laughter, trying to break free of me.
“Is it my amazing green eyes? My delicious body? My god-like face? All of the above?”
She was laughing so hard a snort escaped her nose. “I think it is your modesty.”
I shook my head slowly, easing my tickling so Brooke could breathe. “I don’t even know that word.”
“What about smartass?” she asked. “Do you know that one?”
I pursed my lips as though deep in thought. “I’ve heard it a time or two.”
We smiled at each other, knowing we were stalling. I didn’t want to take her home knowing I wouldn’t see her again, at least not until she came home for winter and spring break. Life is a bitch, giving me this amazing girl just to take her away. Maybe it was my payback for being a dick to so many other girls. I deserved it, but that didn’t make it suck any less.
“I should get dressed,” she finally said, breaking free of my arms. I watched as she stepped into the shorts and slipped my t-shirt over her head.
“I can mail this back to you.” She tugged on the shirt. “After I wash it.”
“Keep it; it’ll be another reminder of what you left behind,” I teased. “The shorts are actually Dana’s so you could just give them back to her at school.”
I didn’t miss the surprise in her eyes. She probably thought they belonged to one of my one-night stands. Standing, I bent down and retrieved the shirt I had dropped earlier, finding the hem and slipping it over my head.
“You never told me what your tattoo says.”
I grabbed a navy blue baseball cap off my rack and put it on my head. My hand came up to rub the words below my left pectoral. I had gotten it on my eighteenth birthday after finding and reading my mama’s suicide note. My mind drifted back to that time, and my chest constricted. She and my father divorced when I was fourteen because she was seeing someone else—a Roseville snob. The man made her think he would give her the world and take her away from this speck of dirt. I remembered her dragging my sister and me to the country club in hopes of speaking with the man but, when we got there, the guy pretended he didn’t know her. My mama hadn’t been the love of his life like he said, but rather just a slice on the side he discarded when he got his fill. It ruined her, sending her into a downward spiral until alcohol bottles littered our counters, and we would find her passed out drunk all over the house. When the alcohol still wouldn’t drown her heartbreak, she took a straight razor to her wrist and decided to bleed it out of her. I had never seen that much blood in my life.
“Dylan?”
I gathered my anger and sadness and turned to look at Brooke over my shoulder. It was ironic—I’d spent so much time hating the Roseville snobs and now had completely fallen for one.
“Anima offuscata,” I said. “It’s Italian for ‘tarnished soul.’ My mama was half Italian,” I explained, sucking in a deep breath through my nose. When we were little, she tried teaching us the language, but it never took. When I saw those words in her suicide note I looked them up, and they stuck with me ever since. I wore the tattoo as a brand. Everything bad that happened in life left a mark on our souls, tarnishing them. The man my mama loved had taken what little she had left and destroyed her. The words were my way of remembering the evils of this world.
I felt Brooke’s arms come around my waist from behind, and I held onto her hands. I should have made up a meaning for the words—told her it meant ‘Rebel without a cause’ or some stupid shit like that. My reason behind my mother’s suicide was never brought to light. People labeled her a screwed up drunk, while the man kept his good reputation and continued living his happy life with his wife and kids.
“Come on,” I said, breaking free of Brooke’s hold. “Let’s get you home.”
My parents were sleeping when Dylan dropped me off at the end of our very long driveway. After a short make out session, I said goodbye to Dylan and watched his taillights disappear into the night. I stood at the end of our drive, just staring. Tonight had been perfect in every way, and it would all be gone with the rising of the sun. I would be submerged in reality again and leaving Roseville the day after tomorrow.
When I was with Dylan, it felt as though we were living in our own little world, blind to everything around us. When we were apart, I found myself wishing for that made up world where I could be with him and everything was easy. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but the excitement of leaving for school all of a sudden didn’t seem that thrilling.
As I climbed into bed, I lifted Dylan’s t-shirt to my nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled like laundry soap and him, reminding me what we had done tonight. I should have been embarrassed, but I couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t pressured me for sex like James would have, and his calloused hands had been so gentle with me as they explored my body. The intensity of his eyes as he watched me was burned into my memory, and I knew every time I closed my eyes it would be his I saw.
My cell chimed from my bedside table. Stretching, I grabbed my phone and smiled at Dylan’s name on the screen. I tapped the little envelope icon to open my text messages and smiled wider when a photograph of Dylan and me kissing popped onto the screen. Our heads angled in opposite directions as I held onto his shoulders and tasted his mouth. We were both shirtless, but you couldn’t see anything other than bare arms. Beneath the picture was a text saying, “Goodnight Princess,” with a pair of lips beside it.
I was too energized and giddy to sleep, so I got out of bed, retrieved my song journal, and sat on my window seat. I hadn’t written a song in almost five months. As I poised the pen over the paper, I th
ought about tonight and all the new emotions that had consumed me. I started writing songs when I was twelve. Normally, my parents told me what I was thinking or feeling. Writing and singing was my way of handling all of the emotions I had to hide from them. When I told my parents I wanted to learn how to play the guitar at fourteen, they looked at me as though I had just told them I wanted to run off with the circus. After a couple days, they agreed to get me lessons if I would also learn the piano. By the time I was sixteen, I was fluent with both instruments. I sang for Lily once, and ever since then, she’s been trying to drag me to karaoke nights at random places.
I scribbled the title to a new song down and lost myself in the lyrics, Dylan’s face filling my mind. I reread and sung the words, adjusting the lyrics until it was perfect. When I was done, I hummed a tune and ran through the lyrics again, smiling when I had it just right. Closing my journal, I left it on my window seat and climbed back into bed. I stared up at my ceiling until my eyes grew heavy and sleep claimed me.
My mother had turned our home into a madhouse. Men and women in khakis and white polo shirts rushed around as they got our backyard ready for the party tonight. When Lily called, it gave me an excuse to find a quiet space. My mother had been picking out my clothes all morning, wanting me to look ‘just right’ because they had a photographer coming. When it came to parties, she didn’t understand the word modesty.
“Hey,” I said to Lily, heading down the porch, barely avoiding a man carrying a tray full of crystal goblets.
“You never called me back yesterday.”
“Sorry, I forgot. My mother has been keeping me busy,” I lied, hoping she would believe it.
“She’s probably freaking out that you’re leaving her there alone with your daddy.” Lily laughed at her joke, but it made me think. My mother occupied her time with charities and me. Once I was gone, whom would she pick clothes out for or lie to about her tears. I wondered—not for the first time—why she didn’t leave if she was so unhappy.
“I cannot wait to see you,” Lily continued, oblivious to my inner thoughts. “Can you believe we’re going to be college students and roomies? It’s all happening just like we planned it as kids. We’ll graduate, move back to Roseville, have double weddings, and get pregnant at the same time.”
I eyed the driveway, remembering Dylan’s big truck at the end of it and the way he held me in the cab while we parted ways. When Lily and I were freshmen in high school, we came up with a plan for our perfect lives. At the time, I was just listing stuff I thought would make Mama and Daddy happy. If I knew then what I knew now, James wouldn’t have played any part of my future fantasies.
“History repeating itself,” I mumbled, cringing when I realized I had spoken my thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
I wanted to tell Lily about Dylan and the way he made me feel, but I knew how she would react. Dylan came from no money, worked as a mechanic, and had a bad reputation. Lily wouldn’t understand that the way he made me feel was better than the materialistic things he couldn’t offer me. Just a few days ago, I might have agreed with her. Funny how the simplest of things could change the hardest of heads.
“Lily,” I began, hesitating, “I … I’m gonna break up with James.”
I heard the sharp intake of her lungs and cringed for the lecture I was sure was coming.
But James is perfect.
You and James have been together for two years.
I thought you loved him.
“Good for you.”
I held the phone away from my ear to check the screen. Surely, I wasn’t talking to the Lily I knew, the one who based everything on how it would reflect her social standing. It wasn’t an accident she and Grant ended up together. Lily had weaved a devious plot to break him and Becky Richards up, and they have been dating ever since. Lily was ruthless when it came to the things she wanted. I was just happy she was on my side.
“Good for me? That’s all you’re going to say?” I could almost see her shrugging her bony shoulders.
“James Henderson is a catch, for sure, but his personality is vastly lacking. I always thought you guys were awkward around each other. What are you going to tell your parents? I know how much your daddy loves him.”
My eyes went to the house. “I’m going to tell them after I leave and say it was a mutual breakup.”
“Is it mutual?”
I chewed on my lip before answering. “I think James is as unhappy as I am. Aside from trying to get in my pants, he ignores me.”
“Well you can’t hold onto your virginity forever,” Lily said. “Maybe if he got laid he would loosen up some.”
“I don’t think sex is the issue,” I told Lily. “James and I are just … different.” I wrinkled my nose in thought sleeping with James. In two years he had never been close. My grimace turned into a smile as I thought of last night with Dylan. He hadn’t pressured me to do anything I didn’t want. James would have bitched until I did something to please him, as though I owed him.
“You’re probably right,” Lily said. “And I bet he would be just as boring in bed.”
I laughed, having no clue how someone could be interesting in bed. Were there tricks I didn’t know? Lily had only slept with her boyfriend, but she talked as though she was super experienced.
“Just a minute,” Lily called to someone in the background. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’m so excited to see you tomorrow.”
“Me too,” I said, meaning it. I hated the thought of leaving Dylan, but I missed my best friend. We spent every waking minute together, and now that we had been apart for five days, it felt as though I hadn’t seen her all summer.
After we hung up, I made my way back to the house. Round tables with linen tablecloths dotted the backyard. A portable dance floor had been set up behind the tables and twinkle lights were strung from poles, making a crisscross pattern overhead. Small vases of floral arrangements sat on each table and vines wound around the poles in red and white—AU colors. The napkins and dinnerware were also in AU colors. No matter how much I was dreading the party, I was impressed with my mother’s planning skills.
After work, I met Dana at my dad’s house to take her shopping. She needed a couple of last minute things for school, and my dad wasn’t supposed to be back until later tonight. Dana played with the knobs of the radio, leaning back in the seat when she found a song she liked. I had my arm propped up on the open window, concentrating on the feel of the wind against my skin instead of what I really wanted to think about—Brooke. I couldn’t sleep last night as thoughts of her tormented my mind. I would get to a place where I was okay with her leaving, and then get pissed at myself for caring that she was leaving. It was a vicious circle that left me yawning like crazy today. Jase had bugged me all day for details of what happened last night, but I wanted to keep that between Brooke and me. I could still picture her face as she came and the soft moans that fell from her lips. I shook my head, banging my hand against the side of my truck.
“Why are you so grumpy today?” Dana asked, tucking one leg under herself.
I smiled at my sister, thinking how much she looked like our mother. Her dark brown hair was cut in layers against her face, and her blue eyes had the same aqua tint as our mom’s had.
“Just tired,” I said, leaning forward and changing the radio station just to bug her.
“I was listening to that.” Dana leaned forward and switched the song back, arching a challenging brow at me. I laughed, inching my hand toward the radio. She smacked it away and began to sing the lyrics at the top of her lungs just to annoy me. It was going to be so different without her here. She would only be two hours away, but with how much I worked, getting time off would be rare.
“You think your piece of shit car is going to make it to school?” She drove a 1990 Cavalier that broke down more than it ran. She loved that damn car for some reason.
“It better,” she said. “I don’t want to get halfway there and have to call you to pick
me up.” She sent me a sidelong glance, a knowing smirk on her face. “Though I doubt you’d care about driving me to school. It would give you an excuse to see Brooke again.”
My head snapped in her direction. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh please,” she said with an eye roll. “I thought it was strange you wanted me to invite her to my party, but last night I received this very interesting text message from someone who was at the Bakers’ farm party.” Dana dug her phone out of her purse, tapped a couple icons and held the screen up for me to see.
Volleying my eyes between the road and the phone, what I could see was a couple standing in the driveway. It was dark, so just the silhouette of their bodies showed against the glow of the moon. I knew it was Brooke and I, but it was difficult to tell.
I snorted, feigning indifference. “How does that pertain to me?”
“Uh … maybe because it’s a picture of you with Roseville’s princess. Boy, those two move on quickly.”
“First of all, that picture is dark and could be anyone, and secondly, what do you mean those two move on quickly? Who two?”
“Brooke and James … they broke up, right? Wendy said she saw him making out with some drunk chick last night. A huge downgrade from Brooke from what she said.” She swiped through her photos again and held the screen up to me. Again, the photograph was difficult to depict, but I’d know those pressed khakis and tucked in polo shirt anywhere. It was definitely James with a girl sitting in his lap.
“Wendy also said she saw you with Brooke, so cut the crap. Did you deflower the princess?” She laughed as though proud. It wasn’t a secret that Dana did not like the Roseville snobs. They hadn’t made her high school life easy. Then again, they didn’t make anyone’s lives easier.
“It’s not like that,” I said. “We just talked a couple times, and you shouldn’t be talking about your older brother deflowering anyone. Boundaries, Dana, learn ‘em.”
Turning Home (A Small Town Novel) Page 9