Dylan (Wild Men)

by Melissa Belle

  Shit. I may be scared, but I don’t regret what just happened.

  I wave at him and turn and leave.

  Out the door, down the hall to the stairwell, and I don’t stop until I reach my room.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I bolt the door. Then I throw on my ear buds and pace around my room while I listen to music on my phone. I can’t stay still. I’m not used to feeling this alive. Dylan’s fingers and his sounds when he touched me are on replay in my head. I want to turn the fantasy off. I need to turn it off. Because this three-day thing I’m in the middle of is just that—a fantasy. Real life doesn’t feel this good.

  My favorite song by Tori Amos comes on, and my eyes smart with tears. I feel like a part of every woman’s heart is in her vagina. Lilla says I should use the word pussy. She thinks it’s more sensual. Either way, I think a piece of my heart resides in that part of my body, which is why it’s so important who I allow inside. Because I’ve already made a lot of mistakes in that area. Not in terms of numbers—I’ve only slept with three guys. But all three were missteps. Miscalculations. All three couldn’t give me even close to what I needed. And I don’t want to make another error in judgment. Not with my body and not with my heart. Because for me, the two have always been intertwined.

  I go over to my mound of clay and stare at it. Then I kneel on the floor. And I sculpt him. I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t get Dylan Wild out of my head. And sculpting is the only way I’ve ever found to stop thinking.

  I work at the clay for quite a while. When I’m finished, I don’t think anybody else would recognize the figure as Dylan Wild. Because I sculpt rather weirdly. I’m a weird sculptor. Abstract, I like to call it. When I sculpt with a particular person in mind, I go for their essence rather than their physical features. Something like that.

  That’s why I quit art school. I got my business degree to be practical, but I tried art school for one semester in the night program after work. I thought it was just what I needed, but I quit by the end of term. I felt like they tried to change me, tried to change my own unique style so that it meshed with everyone else’s. It felt like taking the best part of someone and trying to squeeze them into a predetermined mold.

  I never even opened my first set of grades. I threw the envelope into the trash and took the garbage down to the street immediately so I wouldn’t be tempted. Grades and judgment can be a dangerous game to get hooked on, and I have enough problems as it is.

  I’m in the bathroom washing the clay off my hands when I hear—

  “Jasalie!” Lilla’s knocking on my door like the hotel’s on fire. “Jase! Are you in there?”

  I throw a towel over the sculpture of Dylan and go let her in. “Hey, Lil. Is everything all right?”

  “Where have you been?” She throws herself down on my bed. “I need guy advice!”

  I join her on the bed. “I don’t think I’m the best person to come to then. My own situation’s a bit of a mess.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll talk about you later. Me first—I’m freaking out!”

  “Sure, but tonight’s event starts early because they want to finish up by nine-thirty. I need to start getting ready, and you should too, so spill it fast.”

  “I think Marcus’s girlfriend is flying in for the team party tonight.” She sits up and pouts.

  “Well.” I pause as my own internal warnings about Dylan go off in my head. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s still planning to discuss it with you?”

  “I doubt it. He’s been totally blowing me off.” Lilla returns to a prone position on the bed. “We had the most passionate night together, but today…nothing.”

  “Lil,” I say. “Why don’t you just ask him straight out? You know, rather than worrying yourself sick over it?”

  “Good idea! Mind if I use your phone?” She’s already up and crawling toward it.

  “Well, actually, I think that’s more of a private thing…” I begin. “And whatever happened to a cell phone?”

  She’s already dialing. “I don’t want him to recognize the number. So calling him from the hotel phone is the only way.”

  “I’m just going to step outside while you talk.” I grab my phone and run for the door.

  “Hi, baby, it’s me. What? It’s Lilla, you dumb-ass!”

  I groan as I slip outside the room. I sit down on the hallway floor and wait it out.

  Ten minutes go by. I really wish I’d brought a book out to read. I hear some yelling from Lilla, and I’m really glad I’m out here.

  “Hey, Jasalie.”

  I look up at Colton Wild as he peers down at me. As the team’s star tight end, Colton’s huge—stockier than Dylan and with enormous arms. He’s an impressive figure in the otherwise empty hallway.

  “Hello, Mr. Wild.” I jump up.

  He grins. “Please call me Colton.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m on my way to the ice machine. The one on my floor is broken.” He tips his head at the empty plastic bucket in his left hand.

  I nod politely.

  “How are things going?” he asks me.

  I swallow. “Um…”

  He chuckles. “I’m not snooping around for Dylan. Don’t worry.”

  I smile. “I know he’s your cousin and your best friend. That’s nice you get to be on the same team.”

  “It’s a lifesaver,” he says soberly. “Neither of us would have survived the lifestyle otherwise. Anyway, Dylan’s happy,” Colton says with a genuine smile. “Reminds me of myself when I met Sky. My wife. We’re newlyweds.”

  I swallow hard. “Oh. Congratulations on your marriage. That’s exciting.”

  “We’ll have to all go out together sometime. Maybe when we get back to L.A.”

  I nod politely. But Colton just stands silently, waiting for me to say something.

  “Um,” I stammer. “That would sure be a surprise. Dylan and I kind of…”

  Colton smirks. “I know about the ‘deal’ you two struck. Dylan can be a stubborn ass.”

  “Well, I’m not any better. I realize what we’re doing sounds crazy.”

  “Nope. Not to me. I know Dylan better than anyone. I get how guarded he is. And it sounds like he’s met his match.”

  I let out a long breath. “Guess so.”

  “But agreeing to help so Dylan can land the support he needs for Wild 4 Kids—that’s awfully generous of you.” Colton nods in approval. “It’s an awesome charity. Thanks for doing that.”

  I swallow. “Of course. I totally get the idea of art being therapeutic for kids.”

  “Well, Sky’s waiting for me. I’ll see you later, Jasalie. Nice to see you.”

  “Same here.”

  Once he’s gone, a sweaty rush of discomfort washes over me. What if Dylan and I are both in way over our heads?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lilla laughs as we take the elevator down to the lobby. “So you’re a star! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me and I had to see it for myself—you and Dylan on Hollywood Now!”

  I blow out a breath as we step out of the elevator and walk into the bar. “Bill’s already texted me his congratulations. Which is just ridiculous. I don’t look like a star—I look stupid.”

  “Bill said he thought you looked like a model, and I agree. You looked hot, especially when you took that cameraman down. And the way Dylan was looking at you”—Lilla gets closer and whispers in my ear—“I think he’s in love with you.”

  I laugh and playfully tap her with the stack of pamphlets in my hand. “Far from it I’d say. Come on, let’s get started with these.”

  I start tossing the pamphlets on any table I pass.

  Lilla follows along next to me, picking up every pamphlet I put down. “You’re not supposed to put these on the dining tables. Bill said to designate one table in the corner just for brochures and pamphlets, and then the guests will come by and leaf through them. At least that’s his hope.”

  “They’re not going to freaking leaf thr
ough a bunch of pamphlets on our company.” I swerve to avoid a few players entering the room and exhale in relief that Dylan’s not with them. “This is a huge waste of our time.”

  “What’s going on with you?” Lilla asks me. “You’re awfully grumpy for someone who just spent an entire day with your dream man.”

  “I’m not grumpy,” I protest. “And I told you how I screwed up the interview. It was humiliating. His agent was furious with me. I just hope Dylan doesn’t tell his entire team about it.”

  “I’m sure he’d have no reason to,” Lilla reassures me. “I think this is about more than the interview, though.”

  I increase my pace through the room.

  “I think this is about that ridiculous pact you two made to keep this thing between you temporary.” Lilla hops alongside me as I march toward an untouched corner table. “You’re having regrets, aren’t you?”

  I grab the pamphlets and brochures out of the binder and start putting them, in no order whatsoever, onto the table I’ve chosen. Lilla takes some out of my hands and helps me.

  “Jase,” she says firmly. “Am I right? I am, aren’t I? You’ve fallen for him.”

  I don’t answer her at first. I work to collect myself.

  No, I practice saying in my head. I haven’t fallen for Dylan. Not at all. We haven’t even had a proper kiss, for God’s sake. How could I fall for someone without knowing if I like the way he kisses? It’s not possible.

  “Lilla.” I turn to face her. “I can’t have second thoughts about the temporary nature of what we’re doing. While it may seem crazy to you, to me it has been a relief. It gives me great clarity about when this relationship will be ending. And believe me, Dylan is on the exact same page.”

  “Well, according to your little plan, your affair or whatever it is ends day after tomorrow. That’s less than forty-eight hours away. You going to sleep with him between now and then and still not fall in love with him?”

  I open my mouth to argue over all of her points, but then I shut it again without answering. I frown and turn back to the table.

  “You may want to live in this world of delusion,” Lilla says to me. “But I’m not. I see the complete reality of this situation you’ve gotten yourself into, and I’m looking forward to seeing what the two of you decide to do about it. Should be interesting.”

  Should be. Too bad I’m the star in this psychodrama. If I weren’t, I may actually enjoy the ending as well.

  “Hey.”

  I hear the greeting, but it’s so quiet I don’t quite register that someone’s there. I keep throwing down pamphlets.

  “Hey, Jasalie.”

  I scream when I turn and notice Dylan standing two inches from me. Without thinking about it, my hands are up in a quick thrust to put distance between us and I’m shouting, “Back off!”

  Dylan jumps about a foot backward. “Hey. What the heck—”

  Bill looks over at me menacingly from where he’s talking to the owner of the Cougars.

  I swallow and regain my sanity. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. I just…you scared the crap out of me.”

  “Wow.” Dylan fights a smile. “Are you always on this high alert?”

  “I told you I lived on the streets for a short time.”

  Why do I keep circling back to that?

  “What streets?”

  “L.A.,” I say. “It wasn’t for that long, really.”

  Six months isn’t long in the scheme of things although it felt like six decades.

  “Where was your family?” he persists.

  “Question hour is now over.” I reach up and put my finger to his lips.

  “Sorry.” He reaches up to his mouth and takes my hand in his. “You look gorgeous.”

  My cheeks go hot. I packed this dress on a last-minute whim. I bought it three years ago with my friend Bella, who insisted we each needed to “buy something sexy” as an act of self-acceptance. Well, Bella’s moved back to Maine now, and this dress has sat in my closet ever since it was purchased, but I tossed it into my suitcase for this trip. Kind of like how I tossed in the condoms—hopeful but not really serious. The plunging neckline shows far more skin than I’m comfortable with, and the cream color and sleeveless arms add to my feeling of vulnerability. Even my back is partially exposed.

  I look up and meet Dylan’s heated gaze on my body. Shoot. I really need to stop trying so hard to dress up for him.

  “Thanks.” I cross my arms over my chest and let myself peruse him. His charcoal suit looks like it cost a million dollars. “Very classy suit. I think I’ve only seen ones like it on television.”

  “This is for you.” He grins and bows.

  I turn away to hide my smile. All I can think about is this afternoon in his room. His hands on my writhing body, my mouth on his shirt, my moans as I—

  “Jasalie.” The word comes out of his mouth gruffly. “Look. About earlier—”

  “No need to explain or feel like you have to coddle me,” I say. “You and I made that no strings pact together, and I’m still fully on board. But I need to get back to work,” I say over my shoulder. “So I’ll see you later on.”

  I hurry off as fast as I can and go straight to the bathroom. Once I get into a stall and lock the door, I lean my head against the metal wall and exhale deeply.

  I spend the next two hours running around the bar and offering to do whatever Bill needs done. As usual, he’s got plenty of requests, from faxing a last-minute receipt to the office to making late-night dinner reservations for him and his new lover downtown. I do all of it with a smile, anything to avoid more awkward conversations with Dylan.

  He’s avoiding me too, though. I can tell by the way he always manages to be surrounded by at least two people every time I pass by him.

  I’m about to head for the bathroom to take a break when three women rush over to me from across the room.

  “Jasalie, it’s so great to meet you!” one gushes.

  “You’re just adorable!” says another.

  “We’ve been hearing so much about you, but we never got a chance to actually pin you down while you were working!” says the third.

  I take a step backward. “I’m sorry. Are you all…”

  “I’m Maura, Wes Janson’s wife.” A short brunette smiles at me. “We heard Dylan and you have been spending time together. Wes pointed you out, and we thought we’d come over and say hello.”

  I smile awkwardly. I’m not comfortable talking to random women about my love life. I actually find myself missing Lilla right now. She’d know what to say to these people.

  “I’m Chrissy Dosa, Taylor’s wife.” I shake hands with another dark-haired petite woman before she gestures to the curvy redhead next to her. “And Harlow is Dante Robinson’s latest.”

  Harlow laughs and puts her arm around me. “We’re the two newbies here; right, hun?”

  I don’t answer her. Instead, I shift so I can locate Dylan. He and Dante are clicking shot glasses high above their heads. I watch them swallow what’s inside them and slam them down onto the bar. I remember Dante’s bio in the handbook: Pro Bowl wide receiver, and he got some league record for catches last season. He’s super tall, clearly in amazing shape, and his light brown hair is cut in a buzz cut that works for him. His blue eyes are piercing as they scan the room, almost like he’s always searching for someone to tease. His fun-loving attitude would be cute if he didn’t have a strong creep factor attached to him. I can feel it from here, and a chill goes down my spine.

  “You and Dylan are too cute together,” Harlow says to me.

  I look at her. Her eyes are a pretty green, but they’re calculating and shifty. Mean girl eyes. I’ve met women like Harlow before, and I can tell immediately not to trust a word that comes out of her mouth.

  “Thanks.”

  An awkward silence ensues between the four of us.

  Where the fuck is Lilla?

  Maura starts talking. “I love my husband, but those nights can sure get lonely whe
n our men are out of town. Wes has been in the league for ten years now. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to his retirement one of these days.”

  “Oh, I know,” says Chrissy. “I mean I’ve only been with Taylor for two years now, at least with him exclusively if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, who’s with their man exclusively, really?” Harlow laughs. “I mean you are, Maura, but you and Wes are the exception, not the rule.”

  Maura squirms as she looks over at me. “Now that’s not true,” she says unconvincingly. “Wes isn’t the only faithful guy on this team. Come on.”

  “Not the only faithful guy, no, but I could count the number of young guys on this team who are only dating one woman on my pinkie finger.” Chrissy laughs.

  “Aren’t you and Taylor married?” I ask Chrissy.

  “Over two years.”

  “So…” I think I must be missing something here. “Aren’t you guys faithful to each other?”

  “We try.” She sighs. “But he’s just gone so much, it gets hard. I mean who can blame him right? If I had hordes of men hanging all over me, I’d be harder pressed to sleep alone. As it is, I’ve had my share of indiscretions. But, you know how it is, Jasalie. Right?”

  No, actually, I had no idea how it is. None at all. I’d suspected, but I guess I’d started to feel like maybe Dylan was different. Or maybe he and I could be different.

  My stomach rises up into my throat, and I think I’m going to be sick. I look back over at Dylan. He and Dante are talking to the bartender and laughing. A waitress comes up to them and asks them something. Dante puts his arm around her, really close to her ass, and whispers something into her ear. She turns red and walks away. Dante looks at Dylan and laughs. Dylan doesn’t laugh with him, but the whole thing makes me nauseous. I look away.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the three women as I turn and walk outside the hotel.

  The desert air is dry and cool. I lean up against the windowpane of the bar and stare down at the sidewalk. A piece of gum I must have narrowly missed stepping on is right next to my foot. I tug at the strap of my dress, wishing I hadn’t worn this outfit. Deal or no deal, there’s no room for me in Dylan Wild’s world. None at all.