The Impostor, A Love Story

by Tiffany Carmouche

“I told him you liked stuffed animals.”

  “And the fox and the big bunny, that was him?”

  “He loved how your face lit up when I gave it to you.”

  I took the rose in my hand and smelled it. Its gentle fragrance filled my nose as I walked over to Dylan. “Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful.”

  Every time he looked at me, I forgot how to exhale. Finally, I managed to ask, “What are we doing tomorrow?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “How do I dress?”

  “You should let me stay over, and I’ll help you pack for the day.” He smiled.

  “Dylan, you’re so bad! I don’t think Emily would like that too much. ”

  “I was just joking. I know; no meaningless sex. Although, I have to say, with you it wouldn’t be meaningless.”

  “No sex,” I playfully smacked him. “Look, Dylan, I don’t want to waste your time. I’m not going to change my mind. If that’s what you’re after, I am the wrong girl.

  “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll behave. Truth is I haven’t been with anyone since Rita.”

  “Her psycho-obsession made you wake up?”

  “No, it was more this sassy brunette who ruined me for all other women.” He winked at me.

  In my head, I knew how this story was going to end and that I was ultimately going to get hurt, but I finally decided to go along for the ride anyway.

  “What if I don’t bring the right clothes?”

  “We’ll have to take you shopping.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that. Just tell me what I should bring.”

  “I’d love to take you shopping. I have a little less than a month to spoil you.”

  I felt like I was dreaming. Take me shopping? The band can’t make that much money yet. I hadn’t heard of them before they started working here.

  “Need you for a sound check, Dylan,” Justin called him over. The night had flown by.

  “I’ll be right there.” He leaned over and gave me one last kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you after.” He squeezed my hand as he began to walk away.

  “We’ll see,” I managed out. I got a weird knot in my stomach. At the table, it felt like he was all mine; on stage, he was everyone’s.

  Once he left the table, Katie snuck over and leaned in as if she was telling me a secret.

  “Such a hottie.”

  “Katie, did you call him?”

  “Yesterday, he begged me to call him when you got in today. I figured it wouldn’t hurt anything. Besides, it gives me an in with Justin. Dylan really likes you. I can tell you like him too. Every girl in this place would die to be you right now. Aren’t you having fun? You sure seem like it.”

  I decided to wait at the bar and talk with Brad since business hadn’t picked up and there was hardly anyone in my station. The band hung out behind the stage while the tech tuned their instruments for their set. Chris came in to see Emily since he was in town, so I figured I’d leave them alone. Emily deserved someone like him. I hoped they would end up together, but she was like me. After your heart has been broken, it’s hard to jump back up and trust again.

  That is when I had my perfect idea. I ran over to their table. “What are you doing tomorrow, Chris?” Emily glared at me like she was going to kill me. I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I actually have a date.” I perched on my seat like a peacock—proud, because I wouldn’t be the tag along. “Emily is going to be my bodyguard. She is a light-weight, and I thought maybe you would like to come as her back up.”

  “So, who is the lucky guy? I want to shake his hand.” Chris laughed.

  “Dylan.”

  He motioned toward the stage. “Dylan Richardson, the guitarist?” He nodded, pointing Dylan out on stage. “You’re going out with Dylan?”

  “You all are friends right?”

  “Yeah, we go out together when he’s in town. I’ve known him for years. He grew up in Anchorage.” He took a sip of his beer. “Our fathers do some business together sometimes. They live in Washington now.” He hesitated for a moment and then spit it out. “He’s a great guy, but a bit of a ladies’ man.”

  “I know. I don’t know what I’m doing.” I decided, however, that I was going to forget about all his past women and the other girls here tonight that longed for him as much as I did. I wanted to get to know him more. He didn’t seem to be the jerk I had labeled him as. For some reason, I was willing to take the risk, even though it was probably emotional suicide.

  “So you coming?” I knew Emily would come even if Chris didn’t. But I figured she would have more fun not being the third wheel.

  “Sure, I’ll be in town tomorrow.”

  I clapped with enthusiasm and gave him a hug. Emily would thank me later. “A double date, this will be fun!”

  I took a couple orders and went over to the bar.

  “So, you are into musicians, huh?” Brad smirked, handing me the beers.

  “Why? Do you play something?” I winked. I couldn’t let him see how far I was falling. I delivered the beers and went back to the bar, finding nowhere else interesting to wait around.

  “I never would have guessed Dylan would be your type.” Brad raised an eyebrow.

  “What type did you think I’d like?”

  “I don’t know, not a musician though.”

  Was this a warning?

  “I have watched you turning down so many guys; I figured you were waiting for royalty or something. I still can’t believe it. A musician—and Dylan, of all people.”

  “What is wrong with him? I thought you all were friends.” I leaned on the bar as if in counsel.

  “I love Dylan. He’s like a brother. I have just never seen him with one girl. He asked me to invite you over the other night, but I never thought . . . He’s had a thing for you for a while, but I really didn’t think he had a chance.”

  “I didn’t, either.” I sighed. “I know he’s your friend and all, but am I being completely stupid?”

  “It depends what you are searching for. He’s a great guy, but you know he’s leaving next month. And to be honest, the longest I have seen him with the same girl is a few days. If you are looking for something serious, well . . .”

  “I know . . . I know I’m being an idiot.”

  “A musician. I still can’t believe it.” He shook his head again.

  “I’m really not into musicians.” My eyes gravitated to the stage. “I don’t know what he did to me, but he did something.”

  “Yeah, he kind of has that effect on girls,” he said under his breath.

  Were all his little comments clues for me to run for my life?

  “Do you have any clue where he’s taking me tomorrow?”

  “Probably somewhere outside. Dress warm.”

  What do I wear on a first date in Alaska? I wanted to look cute, but not like I was trying too hard. Turning, I saw a table of guys whose glasses were empty, so I went over to get their order.

  “Hi, my name is Nicole. I’ll be your server now. Tammy is off. You about ready for another round?”

  “That would be great. All around.” My eyes drifted to the stage. I was trying not to stare too much—trying not to get caught up in Dylan. I didn’t really want him to see me watching him, but that didn’t work. Our eyes meet, and he gave me a wink. I turned away, timidly biting my lip.

  “They are good, huh?” one of the guys said.

  “They are, aren’t they?” I sighed like a smitten schoolgirl but quickly snapped out of it. “Let me get your drinks.” As I was walking back to the bar, I heard Dylan’s voice. I turned back to the stage to see him peeking over at me.

  “This is a song I wrote last night, so it’s a little rough, but the guys said I could try it out on you all tonight.” I loved it when he sang.

  “I want to dedicate this to a lady I have grown quite fond of and who I can’t stop thinking about. I know she isn’t quite sure what to make of me, but I want
her to know, I’m pretty into her. Nikki, this is for you.” My eyes opened wide and my breath fluttered. I glanced at Emily in disbelief. She gave me that “you go girl” grin.

  He gazed at me while he sang. I tried to look away, but I was so caught up in his voice—in his words—I just disappeared into them. I wanted to rush to the stage and go to him like all those cheesy movies—she scurries to him through the crowd, leaps on stage, and they embrace. Fantasizing, I wanted this moment to never end. This instant where I was lost in his eyes, lost in his lyrics.

  “Excuse me, miss. Excuse me,” an annoying voice pestered me. I couldn’t believe he messed up my moment. It took me a minute to get out of my trance.

  “Excuse me. Can we get some more beers?”

  I wanted to smack him for his terrible judgment in timing. Couldn’t he see I was hypnotized? Didn’t he realize this Greek god was serenading me? Why couldn’t he comprehend that this was one of the sweetest moments of my life?

  “Can we get some more beers, please?” he repeated, inconsiderate of my bliss. I was kind of pissed. Two minutes, couldn’t he wait two minutes? I shook off my disappointment.

  “Of course you can. What would you like?”

  “Bring us three shots of Jose Cuervo and three Buds. Do you want to do a shot with us?”

  “No, thank you. I’m working.”

  “You sure? No one will have to know.” As inviting as it was, the last thing I needed was alcohol in my system, especially tequila. I’d probably jump on the stage.

  “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you. I’ll take a rain check.”

  I brought the orders to the bar knowing that Brad would torment me about the song.

  “Can I have eight Buds, two martinis, a glass of white zin, and three shots of Jose Cuervo?”

  “I think that’s a little excessive, even for you. Look at you, you’re blushing.”

  “Shut up, Bradley.”

  “He wrote you a song. Is that what it takes? I think maybe I will take guitar lessons.”

  “Shut up, Bradley.”

  Dylan was still singing. I was still blushing. I tried to ignore Brad and turned back to the stage. The song was almost over, and I wanted to savor every moment of it. No one had ever done anything like this for me before.

  “And we wonder why he always gets the girl. You know every girl in this place hates you right about now. It’s bad enough he likes you, but he’s singing a song for you.”

  “Shut up, Bradley! Just give me the drinks.” I proceeded over to the customers with a full tray, all my attention savoring Dylan’s every word. He was staring into my eyes, and I was gazing into his. I didn’t even notice the tiny step down into the lower level. My foot twisted and drinks flew through the air as I fell to the ground. So graceful. Shit. I was covered in tequila and martinis. I scanned the room, completely humiliated, praying nobody had seen me, but realizing on a slow night like tonight, everyone had.

  Dylan stopped playing for a second, but when he realized I was all right, he winked at me with a grin. One of the customers sitting at a nearby table helped me up.

  “You okay, miss?”

  “Just incredibly mortified.” I picked at my wet clothing, trying to unstick my shirt from my body. He scrambled to help me pick the glasses up off the floor.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You sure you are okay?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” I snuck back to the bar. Now not only was I bright red, but completely self-conscious.

  “That was classic. You fell with such grace,” Brad picked at me.

  “Shut up, Bradley. Oh my god, that was so embarrassing.”

  “Are you kidding? It made my night.”

  “You are such a jerk. Give me some new drinks, please.”

  “You sure you can handle them with pretty boy on the stage?”

  “Bradley, shut up! Can I get off after this? It’s slow and I’m all sticky.”

  “It’s almost closing. You can handle thirty more minutes. There are only three of you. Besides, if I let you go home before he gets off stage, Dylan will kill me. He is bigger than I am, so that wouldn’t be good.” He tried to lighten my mood.

  “Please? I feel so gross.”

  “You are cute wet. Now give those customers their drinks. And you are cut off.” He smiled. He knew I hadn’t had anything to drink.

  As I made my way across the floor, hoping no one would notice me, I glanced to the stage.

  Dylan winked at me again, mouthing, “You okay?”

  I just nodded, even though I was probably damaged for life. I just wanted to go home. Let me hide for the next . . . eternity. Why wouldn’t Brad let me leave? It was only thirty minutes. Emily could handle the pitiful crowd.

  “Thank you all. We will see you Tuesday night.” Oh, shit. They were getting off the stage. I dashed over to the bar.

  “Brad, I gotta go. Can you call me a cab?” Cabs didn’t fill the parking lot on Sunday nights the way they did on other weekend nights.

  Right then I felt Dylan’s muscular arms wrap themselves around me as his warm body pressed against mine, trapping me at the bar. He moved my sticky hair away from my neck and his tongue gently savored it. “Mmm, you taste like Tequila. I couldn’t wait to get off stage and taste you. You looked so delicious.”

  “That was so embarrassing.” I turned in his arms, facing him.

  “I’m just glad you are all right. You fell with grace, I have to say.” Dylan smiled—such a lie. My legs and arms had gone hurling through the air with all of the alcohol.

  “Yeah, right.” I lowered my head, totally horrified.

  “You are so adorable when you blush.” He lifted my chin. “You really do taste good. I can’t wait to get you out of this place and get you home. We’ll have to get you out of those sticky clothes.”

  I playfully smacked him. “You’re so bad.”

  I searched for a way to say goodnight, but I couldn’t with him so close. I didn’t want to break free of his arms. I wished I could stay there forever. They felt so safe.

  “I can’t go home with you, Dylan. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, you can. I promise not to bite.” He kissed my neck.

  I pulled away from him a little bit. “I’m not ready to do anything. If you don’t want to go out tomorrow I understand.”

  He pressed his finger over my mouth. “Shh, I just want to be with you. If you’re not ready, then I will wait.”

  “I understand if—”

  “Shhh, not another word. I said I will wait.” He pressed his forehead against mine. I could see my reflection in his eyes.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for the song. It really was… so beautiful!”

  “Dylan, you coming?” I heard one of the band members yell out from the door. Dylan had the keys in his pocket so they couldn’t leave without him. I guess the guys had taken a cab to work.

  “Do you want a ride home?” He tucked the sticky hair behind my ears.

  “I’m fine. Emily already called a cab.”

  “So where do I pick you up tomorrow?” I had already written the address on a napkin for him. I realized if he was a friend of Brad’s, we should be okay.

  “Dylan, hey is it okay if Chris Anderson comes tomorrow?”

  “Sure. I’ll call him tonight. I’ll get you around ten, that good?”

  “Dylan, you coming?” they called out again.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” He pulled me close and kissed my forehead goodnight. He walked away still staring into my eyes.

  “You pussy, what’s wrong with you?” Trevor from the band hit him.

  Brad turned to me. “You’re not going home with him?”

  “Of course, I’m not.”

  “I’m just saying. He wrote you a song. He didn’t even comment on your sticky wet dog appearance, and you blow him off for what? He’s getting in a car with a bunch of guys who are ready to have a good time. You shouldn’t have let him get away.”

 
“I can’t worry about what he’s doing. If he goes out with someone else tonight, so be it. I don’t want to get involved with anyone anyway.”

  “Don’t make him wait too long, Nikki. He won’t.” I think Brad was trying to remind me what kind of guy I was falling for. I already knew.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When we got back to the motel, I stayed up rummaging through my suitcase for something to wear. I had nothing. There was a big pile of clothes on the floor that I had tried on and eliminated. Some made me look too fat. Others made me look too short. I didn’t have the right shoes. I drove Emily crazy.

  “Nicole, just go to sleep. They all look fine.”

  How was I supposed to sleep? I hadn’t been on a date in years. I was microanalyzing every pair of jeans, every sweater, every . . . everything.

  “Is this okay?”

  “Just go to sleep!”

  I ended up falling asleep in one of the outfits I had been trying on—another one I had vetoed. We woke up to the knock on the door.

  “Shit. Are they here?” I examined the room. Clothes were everywhere from my neurotic, middle-of -the-night fashion show. I glanced in the mirror. Damn. I look horrible.

  “One minute,” I blurted out. “Emily, get up! They’re here.”

  “Five more minutes.” She turned over.

  “Emily, they are really here!”

  I ran to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on some eyeliner in five minutes flat. I was glad that I had taken a shower the night before. I stuck a clip in my hair to tame it a little bit. I had gone to sleep with it wet, so it was all kinds of crazy looking.

  “Emily, get the door.”

  “No, you get it. I have to get ready still.”

  “One more minute,” I yelled through the door. I can’t believe I slept in. I needed at least five more hours to make myself presentable. Not five minutes. The vetoed outfit I had fallen asleep in was the winner by default. I had no time to change. I can’t believe it’s my first date and I look like this. I grabbed a jacket and ran to the door.

  “I’ll meet you outside.” I rushed out. “I’m so sorry. Our alarm didn’t go off.” I combed through my hair with my fingers again, fixing the clip. “I’m sorry I look so bad.”