From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin)

by Scott, S. L.

  There’s something in her body language that tells me he’s flirting and she’s enjoying it, but nothing has ever happened. Maybe it’s in his body language—he’s trying too hard to be seductive. It doesn’t come natural to him. He wants her. That much is clear, but he’s barely legal looking. Jules Weston needs a man.

  I move closer until I’m near, not wanting to invade her space. She turns, then our eyes connect.

  She whispers to him, both of them wandering over after. With a smile on her face, she says, “Dylan,” as if it’s of no surprise that I’m here. We knew we’d see each other again when we said goodbye on her birthday.

  “Jules.” I greet with a smile of my own. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You came to the show?”

  “I wanted to see the paintings you mentioned the other night.”

  While touching the other guy on the shoulder, she says, “This is Jean-Luc, the artist.”

  This guy is the artist? Of course he is. He hasn’t had real passion but tries to capture it in his paintings. He doesn’t shake my offered hand. Yep, I called it. He’s immature.

  Dropping my hand to my side, I look back to Jules who’s giggling. She always said artists were temperamental. She reaches forward and grabs my wrist unexpectedly, pulling me closer. “Have you seen this one yet?” She’s referring to the painting of the naked woman on the wall in front of me.

  Jean-Luc is talking to some woman who flirts with him. His hands are on her just as they were on Jules minutes before. I’m relieved to find out he does that to everyone.

  “It’s okay, but it lacks sincerity. It’s superficial stuff,” I note, glancing down at her. “Nothing real about the woman is exposed, just her flesh. Her eyes say nothing. A woman’s eyes always say more than her lips ever could.”

  She’s staring at me, my eyes, my face, my mouth. Her eyes overtly lingering on my mouth, then she shifts. “That’s an incredibly sexy observation.”

  I lean a little closer. When her eyes finally meet mine again, I whisper, “Do you want me to tell you what your eyes are saying right now?”

  She blinks rapidly, then I feel her breath against my cheek paused to say something.

  “That’s a painting of Jules.” I jerk up to see Jean-Luc referencing to the painting again.

  I think my skepticism is showing when I ask, “That’s Jules?”

  “Yes. I painted it about 5 months ago. She’s stunning and her body… I let my imagination run wild.”

  With sarcasm, I add, “That’s why it lacks emotion. You painted for you not—”

  “Dylan. Stop.” Jules takes my hand and pulls me away. I’d go with her willingly but I like her hand on mine too much. She drags me a few feet away… away from the ‘artist.’ “Dylan, please don’t upset him. He’s very talented and very sensitive.”

  “He needs a dose of reality.”

  She rolls her eyes but I see the smile in the corners of her mouth. “It’s abstract and you, my friend, are going to be thrown out of here with that attitude. It’s Jean-Luc’s night.” Her tone is playful, not threatening.

  Nudging her, I ask with a smirk, “So I’m your friend now?”

  Looking up at me, she tilts her head. “That’s all you got from that?”

  “That’s all that matters,” I say, more serious than I intend. I don’t want to scare her, but she’s all that matters. That’s the truth.

  “Oh, Dylan,” she sighs, looking around the gallery.

  It’s getting busier, more crowded. She’ll have to leave me soon, so I need to act fast. “Say it, Jules.”

  With her arms crossed in defiance, she says, “No.”

  She’s such a tease. “Come ooonnnn… say it. Just for me. No one else has to hear.”

  “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “You’re playing games.”

  “Fine.” She leans in really close, lifts up on her toes and whispers, “You win. We’re friends.”

  “Was that so hard?” I poke her playfully in the side, much like I used to when we were a couple. The ease between us right now is not lost either. I see it in her eyes. Jules is smiling from the inside out.

  I reach into my pocket and pull the small box out, presenting it on my palm. “It was rude of me to not have a gift for you on your birthday. I thought I’d make up for it.” I step half a foot closer, almost touching, but not.

  She reaches tentatively for the box and I try to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it’s quite intimidating after seeing how you reacted to Austin’s small present.”

  An instant comeback slips from her lips, “If you thought I looked worried, you should have seen your face.”

  There’s my girl—all spark and moxie. We laugh as she takes the box and opens it like she has a point to prove. Her expression becomes more serious, so I say, “You always loved that one we had years ago.”

  She looks up, holding the prism by the string. Her eyes are watery now. I didn’t mean to make her cry. “Dylan, I—”

  “Hey, that’s just like the one in your apartment,” Austin says, taking to her side and kissing her cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was brutal from the downtown. Dylan, good to see you.” We shake hands.

  No matter how much his presence bothers me, he just gave me way more than I expected. She still has it. She has the gift I gave her for Christmas back in college.

  Austin is his usual polite self, and asks me, “Did you come for the art or the beautiful company?”

  Watching as his arm snakes around her waist, I answer honestly, “The company, of course.”

  She places the prism back in the box and closes the lid. Turning, she kisses Austin, a nice greeting but she could’ve done better. I remember some very heated kisses when she’d greet me. With a smile, she says, “Hi, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So that’s like the one you have hanging in your window, right?” He smiles between us, oblivious that he’s interrupting anything.

  “Yes.” Jules’ answer is abrupt and she keeps her eyes averted.

  Facing me, Austin adds, “That was very kind of you. I know Jules loves those. It will be cool to see this one hanging next to her other one.”

  I cut in. “I felt bad for showing up empty-handed on her birthday, so I thought I’d I’d bring a token tonight.”

  Her expression changes when she says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You didn’t know it was my birthday.” Her voice holds steady, but I see the pain in her eyes that I might have actually forgotten the date of her birth. But I can’t reply with Austin standing here and she knows it. She says, “I’m just kidding, Dylan. Of course, you wouldn’t know.”

  I smile, keeping up the charade for her sake and because Austin’s a good guy. He almost makes me feel bad for thinking about her, for dreaming of her, for jerking off with Jules on my mind, and for deciding she will be mine again.

  Almost, but I don’t…

  Jules has to work, leaving me and her boyfriend alone. Austin invites me to have a beer with him sometime before he leaves to make a business call. I should go and would rather say goodbye in private. Before I find Jules though, Brandon finds me first, and asks, “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?”

  I reply, “Doing what, Brandon?” Exasperated, I look to my side not actually giving him my full attention.

  “Jules? You’re going to pursue her, aren’t you?” Our eyes meet and the truth is there. He knows without me confirming.

  “Austin treats her the way she deserves, so don’t ruin it with lousy intentions.”

  “How do you know my intentions are lousy or less genuine than his?”

  “I don’t.” He sighs. “That’s what worries me.”

  I narrow my eyes, my brow furrowing. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

  “You know I do.” He bites the inside of his cheek in thought, looking out over the crowd. “But we’re better as friends,” he states bluntly.


  Good to know.

  Any weakness he was about to reveal is quickly covered when Austin approaches. They greet each other like old friends. Maybe they are.

  “Have you seen the painting?” I ask, needing a reprieve from the weight of judgment from Brandon.

  We turn, standing side by side by side, Brandon, me, and then Austin. Our heads all tilting to the right, arms crossed over our chests, staring straight ahead—all looking the same, all in love with the same woman.

  “Well that’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” Jules says from behind us, giggling.

  We look over our shoulders and see her smiling. She doesn’t realize her slip. I should hate that she might be hurt when Austin finds out about us, our past, but I can’t because I’ll be there to comfort her, like I should’ve been all along.

  “The painting is of Jules,” I say, seeing Austin and Brandon swiftly turn back around to see the bold work of art.

  Austin spins back to look at her. “Really? That’s you?”

  Jules nods.

  “When did you pose for it?” His voice is concerned and on edge.

  “She didn’t,” I intercept the conversation.

  Brandon hasn’t taken his eyes off the painting.

  “But you said—” Austin starts to question.

  “Look at the eyes,” I add. “There’s nothing there, no depth.”

  Jules puts a comforting hand on his arm. “Look closely. You know it’s not my body if you really look. It’s all from his imagination.”

  Brandon has finally tuned into the conversation. He’s listening, but remains quiet.

  I know that’s not her body just by looking at it. There’s no mole three inches below her left breast. Her nipples are more pink than brown. She also has a scar on her right thigh from a water-skiing rope burn she got when she was twelve.

  She leans closer to Austin and whispers while pointing to her ribs on the painting, “No mole.”

  Austin shakes his head not understanding. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking know about her mole. He doesn’t know her body at all. I step back, needing the space as anger courses through me. He’s careless.

  When her eyes meet mine, she knows I know her body. I know that mole. I’ve kissed that mole. I’ve savored that mole. I’ve come on that mole. I’ve made her come just by appreciating her body with my mouth while circling that mole with my tongue.

  Jules looks down, and I have a feeling that she remembers just like I do. Sadness comes over her face and I take a step back, not wanting her to feel bad she’s with a guy who doesn’t realize she has a mole three inches below her left breast, the guy who claims to love her. I eye Brandon. He knows. He knows about the mole, but stays quiet. And I’m left with the realization that Jules did sleep with Brandon. For some reason, I’m not surprised, but what does surprise me is that she’s not with him now.

  It’s obvious. He was the rebound. Poor sap. It doesn’t feel like a victory winning this way but I’ll take what I can get right now. One day, she’ll see that I’m the one she’s meant to be with… again.

  She walks me to the door, her hand on my forearm. “Thank you for the gift.” Looking around, she seems uncomfortable. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “I’m always thinking of you.”

  “Dylan, please.”

  I drop it, letting it go, letting her go… for now. “I’ll see you soon, Jules.”

  With a soft smile in place, she says, “Okay. I’ll see you soon, Dylan.”

  THE BREEZE CARRIES the scent of her hair and I inhale. Relaxing, I sit down on a bench facing the city at the edge of the park.

  “Why are you sitting behind me?” Jules asks, knowing I’m here.

  “What?” I ask. She’ll never believe it was a coincidence. “Jules? What are you doing here?”

  She turns, smiling, the sun reflecting in her eyes, making them shine. “I’m having lunch like I do almost every day here. What are you doing here, Dylan?”

  “I come here, too,” I reply, “quite often.” I’m putting on my best I’m-still-so-shocked-to-see-you face. “This is such a coincidence.”

  “You work like thirty blocks south of here. You can’t even make it here on your lunch hour, much less back again.”

  “I’m allotted longer lunches and I like this park.”

  She’s silent for a moment, then laughs.

  I smile at the sound, then ask, “You buying it?”

  “Nope.”

  “I didn’t think so.” I drape my arm across the back of the bench, turning to face her more fully. “Whatcha having for lunch?” I ask, peering over the bench down at her lap.

  “Something incredibly glamorous and gourmet. Tuna salad.”

  “Man, I miss your tuna.”

  “Dylan!” she scolds playfully.

  Since the birthday dinner, everything seems to have gone from angry to easy between us. “You’re a perv, Jules.”

  She shrugs. “Eh, what’s new?”

  So much that we aren’t able to talk about yet, so I keep it light for now. “So I have turkey and avocado on ciabatta. You wanna share?”

  “You haven’t changed. Yeah, I’ll trade you half of mine. Turkey and avocado sounds good.”

  I hand her half of my sandwich and she hands me half of hers. I quickly take a bite of the tuna. “I missed this. You always made the best tuna salad.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but smiles while looking down. She’s so beautiful. We chat a little and eat our lunch, the silence between us okay at times.

  Eventually I have to ask because I’ve become obsessed with these thoughts, “Did you think of me over the last three years?”

  She turns away and I can’t see her face. It’s unsettling, but then she says, “Every day.”

  “Me too.” I want to be honest with her. “You never left my thoughts.”

  This time she holds my gaze, searching my eyes. “Dylan.” It’s a tone, a warning to stop. “I can’t do this.”

  “Because I hurt you?”

  “You hurting me is the exact reason I want to have this talk, but it’s not appropriate to talk about that when I have a boyfriend.”

  “Austin,” I say, reminding myself..

  “Yes, Austin,” she repeats. “I don’t want to hurt or betray him.”

  “You betrayed him when you acted like we were strangers on your birthday, Jules. You did that,” I point out. “I played along to protect you. Why’d you lie?”

  She stands, crumbling a napkin in her hand as she fists it tightly. Her eyes search the surroundings. Turning her head, she looks at my lap, my chest, my chin, not my eyes—everywhere but in my eyes. “I need to get back.”

  She starts to go, to leave, but I stand. I’m immediately by her side, not touching, but close. It’s painful not to touch her. “Don’t go… please.”

  She stops, her gaze slowly sliding up my body. When it lands on my eyes, we stare momentarily before she asks, “What are you really doing here, Dylan?”

  “I wanted to see you.” I ache for you.

  “I like that you’re here.” She pauses to look around the park like someone is watching us. “But this is too much. I’m in a relationship. We can’t do this. You said friends.”

  “You did too.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t think we could actually be friends.” She tilts her head suddenly and looks like the girl I saw in the quad that day so many years ago, young and bright-eyed, sun shining behind her. “Is being friends really possible?”

  “Just live in the here and now with me.”

  Stepping closer, then even closer, she presses her palm flat against my chest and lifts up on her tiptoes. Her lips graze my cheek, and she whispers, “Help me, okay?”

  I nod, closing my eyes, savoring the feel of her soft lips on my skin again. At that, she turns and walks off, leaving me dazed.

  When I was working on Austin’s financial forecast earlier, I realized how good his company is looking. He’s a smart
businessman as well as a nice guy. For some reason, maybe because he’s a good guy, I don’t want him as a casualty despite my pursuit of his girlfriend.

  I return to the park every day at lunch for the rest of the week. Technically I’m skipping work for the two and a half hours it takes to get across the city, but I make up for it by staying late. I’m also starting to understand more of the pain I caused Jules when I left her. She doesn’t talk about it much, but stuff occasionally slips out. One thing she never mentions is the time right after I left. I never bring it up either, thinking it’s best. She’s still fragile, as if she’ll break if she talks about it, faltering when we get too close to the topic. So I change the subject quickly not wanting to cause her any more pain.

  Today is Friday, the end of the work week. As we get up to leave the park, I’m feeling a disappointment slip over me when I realize I won’t get to have lunch with her tomorrow. I don’t have an excuse to see her. It remains an unspoken emotion as I walk her back to the gallery. Hesitating before she goes inside, I hold the door open longer than usual. Standing in front of me, she looks down, then angles up and whispers, “It’s been a good week.”

  “The best.” It’s all I can say right now, my heart starting to throb as she takes one more step inside.

  “I’ll see you Monday?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  “Have a nice weekend, Dylan.”

  “You too, Jules.”

  She flashes me a small smile before going inside.

  I watch through the glass as she retreats into her office. My breathing is strained without her near, so I step forward needing her just one more time, just one more hit to my heart to help me through the long days ahead without her.

  From the sidewalk, I knock on her window, her eyes going wide. Putting my hand flat against the glass, she rises from her chair while I wait, hope teetering on devastation.

  Standing in front of me, glass dividing us, she slowly places her hand flat against the window, against mine. My forehead drops forward as does hers, our eyes closing together. The glass is cool but starts to heat with her near, our bodies so close.

  Sneaking a peek, she turns her cheek, pressing it against the glass and I kiss it. Innocent.