by Piper Lawson
I grabbed his arm to distract him and pulled him back to face me. It took him a second to refocus, but when he did he smiled down at me. The genuine smile I hadn’t seen since showing up at his lab. I realized suddenly how much I’d missed that smile.
Dylan’s dark eyes were solemn on mine but brighter than they’d been a moment ago.
“Alexis.” He rolled my name over his tongue like he was testing it out.
“Dylan.” I matched his tone expectantly, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to say anything. “Listen, do you need me to walk you back to your seat? You know they kick you out if you look too drunk.”
His lips lifted into a lazy half-smile. “Are you here to rescue me this time? Be my knight in—” he glanced down at me and his brow furrowed as he took in the distinctly casual if girly getup “—whatever the hell that is?”
“Apparently.”
“Sweet. Carry me?” The visual was crazy, even before he lifted his arms like there was a chance in hell I was going to comply with the request.
“Nice try. How are things going with Marcia?” I felt the dull pain just from asking, but it helped force my mind back to reality.
He frowned. It was definitely not the response I’d expected from a guy who apparently had all the attention of one of the most desired women on campus. “Fine.”
It wasn’t clear whether that meant “fine, we’re still figuring things out” or “fine, we have crazy hot sex every night and sometimes during the day”. I tried not to care.
We started walking together toward the stands, flowing with the traffic. It seemed everyone was trying to get back to their spots, many precariously balancing food and drink. I stayed right beside him, afraid he might tip over if I left his side.
“She hasn’t declared a major.” His tone would’ve been more fitting if he’d just said she had herpes. “She’s not very funny.”
And that’s when I realized it: Drunk Dylan was pouty. It shouldn’t have been cute but damn if it wasn’t. I pushed the feeling aside.
“I see. And this is a problem because … you were dating her for her superior intellect?” My words weren’t as light as I’d intended. “I thought it was about the sex. She might not pull up your GPA, but she seems harmless. So what’s wrong?”
We were nearing the steps that would take us up to our seats. At the last moment Dylan hesitated, tugging on my hand and pulling me just off the main path where the crowd was thinner. I apologized to a man we’d cut off on his way to the steps. He started to shoot us a dirty look but relaxed when he heard my words. “Dylan, what the—”
Dylan seemed completely oblivious to the people around us. He leaned back against the side of the stands, eyes alert and boring into me. He suddenly looked less drunk, more like normal Dylan. The wheels in his mind might be turning more slowly given whatever he’d consumed, but they were still turning. He rubbed a hand through his hair, which was already messy, and let out a sigh that was half groan, half laugh.
His hand was still on mine and it was distracting. I thought he was going to say something, but nothing happened. This was going nowhere.
I wondered vaguely whether he’d consumed enough alcohol to risk passing out on me. My sense was that he didn’t drink a lot, at least not anymore, and maybe he’d overdone it. “Dylan, we’re going to miss the second half.”
Dylan trapped my fingers and tugged me closer toward him so I was standing with my feet between his. I tried resisting but he was easily twice as strong.
If he hadn’t been leaning against the stands, our bodies would have been touching. We were definitely nearing the edge of my comfort zone.
“Lex.” His voice sounded rough around the edges, like sandpaper, as if he was struggling with something. I waited for him to say more, but he took his time before going on.
“I miss hanging out with you.”
“I know. I miss hanging out with you too. But I told you, midterms …”
“Stop. I don’t believe you.” His eyes probed mine. Unable to hold his gaze, I glanced down. Studied the toes of his brown boots peeking out from under his jeans on either side of my ballet flats. Coward.
“You don’t believe I have midterms? Want me to show you the scars? Actually most of them are emotional, though I might suffer long-term effects from malnutrition. Living on ramen and Snickers bars isn’t healthy. I think I read that somewhere …” I was rambling.
“No. You know what I mean. You could ace them in your sleep. That’s not why you haven’t been hanging out with me.” He said it almost accusingly but didn’t wait for a response to continue.
“I like Marcia.”
Huh? That was an abrupt change in subject. It was hard to keep up with him. “I’m glad, Dylan.” I had no clue where he was going with this and was ready to leave. Unfortunately, his thumbs had started rubbing patterns in my palms. He might not have even been aware of it. I was, and felt a shiver run up my bare arms despite the warm day.
He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “No, I mean—I keep trying to like her. But it’s hard.”
I’d never seen him all broody like this before. A muscle twitched in his jaw and my eyes fell to his mouth. I forced my gaze back to his eyes.
I definitely wasn’t going to be sucked into the role of relationship counselor a second time. “It shouldn’t be that hard.”
“Easy for you to say.” His eyes searched mine and suddenly I couldn’t look away. “It’s the weirdest thing. All the guys think she walks on fucking water.”
“So …”
“So she has this one unfixable flaw. I think it’s a deal-breaker.”
“What’s that?” I was losing my patience again. “What’s wrong with her, Dylan. She’s a C student? She’s a Leo? She’s a vegetarian? No girl is perfect, believe me. Not even that one.”
His eyes had widened a little as I vented, but he didn’t let go of my hands. I tugged them lightly, bent on insisting he let go, but instead he tightened his grip. “It’s none of that.” He shrugged a shoulder helplessly, eyes searching mine for what felt like minutes.
“She’s not you, Lex.” His eyes ran over my face, searching like they had that night in his room. “She’ll never be you.”
Dylan Cameron had just hit me with a two by four. At least, that’s what it felt like.
A million responses flooded through me. Panic. Warning. Somewhere, a completely unwelcome sense of wanting.
How was it even possible? I knew there had been something physical between us, but never suspected he’d been thinking this. For how long?
Apparently he was waiting for me to say something in response. I rushed to do it before getting too caught up in the possibility that he actually wanted me, or the possibility that it mattered if he did.
“Dylan, you’re confused. And drunk. And we’ve been hanging out a lot. It’s totally natural that …” I tried starting again. “The human brain works in mysterious ways. Especially yours.” All completely inadequate in the face of what he’d just said.
“You’re stalling. What are you trying to say? You actually don’t believe there’s anything between us?” His thumb had moved to the inside of my wrist and it was doing crazy things to my insides. Did he feel my pulse jump? I hoped not.
I willed my heart rate to behave itself as I tried again. “Dylan, we’ve known each other forever. You’re my best friend’s little brother.” He winced but I pressed on. “I’m two years older, and a single-minded OCD head case.”
Dark eyes searched mine. He was starting to look far more lucid than he had a few moments ago. “You’re only fourteen months older. And you’re a sexy, brilliant OCD head case.”
A startled laugh burst from my chest before I could rein it in. This direction was dangerous, fuel for the rogue thoughts that had been plaguing me these past two months since our kiss at the party. The ones I’d been stamping down, chalking up to withdrawal and misplaced gratitude for how good he’d been to me this fall.
“We’re frie
nds. And I don’t want to mess it up with … anything.” I squeezed his hands in what I hoped was an amicable gesture then released my grip, moving to step back.
Instead of letting go, Dylan wove his fingers through mine in a hold that was suddenly more intimate. “Maybe we’re not supposed to be friends.”
My breath caught in my throat. We watched each other for endless seconds. I could hear the band start playing in the background. They sounded a million miles away.
Self-preservation kicked in, telling me to get gone yesterday.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” It was the best thing for both of us.
He looked like he was ready to argue, but I didn’t stick around to find out.
I pulled my hands firmly from his and walked back to my seat. If he was lucid enough to throw my brain out of orbit, he could find his own way back.
Chapter 14
Normally I’d consider myself a middle of the road exerciser. I wasn’t a hard-core CrossFit type, but usually made an appearance at the gym at least two days a week. My workout routine consisted of running and a weekly yoga class with Jane. So, she was surprised when I suggested we go to kickboxing Sunday morning instead. But I wanted to hit something. The harder the better.
The more I thought about my conversation with Dylan the more frustrated it made me. I’d been so diligent to abolish any attraction that might have sprung up after that first kiss. And he’d been quick to agree it was off limits. It wasn’t like our time hanging out together had been easy. Every day he seemed more attractive rather than less, which meant harder work on my part to stay true to the no-guy pact with Ava. Guys got sexier when you realized they were smart, and thoughtful, and maybe a little complicated. But Dylan had seemed almost totally relaxed around me for the last month, so much so that I thought the attraction was entirely one-sided.
Then why was he suddenly making this a thing? It was selfish and short-sighted of him. And, knowing he was thinking about me like that made it much harder to keep thinking of him in a strictly platonic, all-clothes-on kind of way.
The gym was quiet for a weekend. Most of the people celebrating homecoming were probably still in bed nursing their hangovers. Still, there were a good number of people in the studio, in which heavy practice bags on stands were scattered throughout the room. After a short warmup the instructor told us to pick a bag. Jane and I paired up to practice our punches on opposite sides.
“Don’t lock your elbows,” the instructor was saying to the pair beside us as he came around.
“Nice work. You’re really putting your body behind it.” He walked around to Jane’s side. “See what your friend’s doing? Follow through like that.” What he didn’t know was that Jane was at a distinct disadvantage. Unlike me, she hadn’t come into class feeling ready to murder someone.
I felt like I’d finally figured out where Dylan and I stood. The kiss and resulting attraction had been a minor blip—our interactions had smoothed out and we’d stabilized in the friend zone. Despite our occasionally weird or intimate conversations, I could ignore the odd moment of attraction because I knew what we were.
Then Dylan had to go and change the rules of the game again. I was tired of feeling like I didn’t know what I was feeling. And when I didn’t have to think about what he was feeling, it was so much easier.
“Wow, you have some serious energy today,” Jane commented. “Who’s on the receiving end?”
“Do you and Cass ever fight?” I asked her. Cass was her boyfriend. They’d been dating since last year, but he went to an out-of-state school so she only saw him on break and every few weeks when one of them would travel to the other.
“Sometimes,” she answered.
“What about?”
“Usually it’s when he does something stupid.” She gave me a deviously un-Jane-like smile.
I must’ve looked shocked. “You’d date someone who’s not perfect?”
“I don’t think it can be helped. Guys are dumb sometimes. They say things without thinking. Like last week Cass was visiting and he suggested I go see him for Thanksgiving instead of him coming home because he wants to play in a flag football tournament that weekend.”
“He wanted you to spend the whole weekend on the sidelines?” I figured that didn’t go over too well. Jane was demure but had one of the best bullshit meters I’d ever seen.
“Apparently. We discussed it, and he decided it makes more sense for him to come home instead.” Jane smiled sweetly. Cass sounded like a smart guy. I wouldn’t want to cross Jane either.
“Sometimes,” she added as we shouldered our gym bags and pushed out the door and into the sunshine, “guys are stupid. They can’t help it. It just means that sometimes you have to set them straight.”
It sounded like good advice. Maybe I just needed to tell Dylan where we stood, since he clearly was not getting the message.
Chapter 15
The week delivered one trial after another. By Thursday afternoon I felt like I’d been hit over the head with several midterm-shaped mallets.
Finske’s finance exam read like Greek. Somehow the things Jane and I had studied just didn’t seem to match up with the questions on the test.
I’d tried proving the Modigliani–Miller Theorem four different ways, and as the clock ran down I had a sickening feeling none of them were right.
To cap it all off, my mom called for her monthly check-in. I gave her the light version. Easy on the details but without resorting to excuses. Both Mom and I hated excuses. It was the one thing we had in common besides DNA.
“What happened, Alexis? Didn’t you study?”
“Of course I did, Mom.”
“Senior year is likely a big step up. Passing advanced courses won’t be a walk in the park. Why don’t you get a tutor until you have a better handle on the material.” I gritted my teeth. I was in the top ten percent of my class and not about to slide. Somehow after all these years it still stung that she thought I wasn’t smart enough or working hard enough.
“I was calling to say we can get you an interview for a summer internship with Alicia’s company. If you keep your grades up.”
“Sure, Mom.” Protesting never worked. Eventually she’d realize I wasn’t onboard and give up.
“Oh and one other thing. I know Grant said we’d be able to make it out to New York this Christmas to visit you while you’re there, but Chelsea is doing a pageant in LA. Why don’t you just stay in California for break?”
The fact that I was there to work and take the biggest meeting of my life had evidently made no impression on her.
It felt like she’d have rather I left along with my dad instead of ending up dumped along with her. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t be as perfect as Chelsea.
“I can’t. But it’s fine, Mom. You guys will have a great time at home. Tell Chelsea good luck.” I hung up.
It had been the worst day in recent memory. The last thing I felt like doing was catching up on work, but that’s exactly what I’d been forcing myself to do at home for six hours now. I knew I should sleep, but it wasn’t a remote possibility.
I needed a friend and Ava wouldn’t cut it. She was far too fond of reminding me how narrow-minded my mom was for failing to see the opportunities in Travesty. A mom-bashing wasn’t in the cards for tonight.
Kickboxing had helped me let off some frustration about Dylan, but I hadn’t talked to him alone since. He’d driven us to school Monday and again this morning, but I’d been as silent as possible without arousing Ava’s suspicions. He seemed to know there was something off and, so far, hadn’t tried to take a run at it.
But now I needed to see him. I was pissed for the way he’d laid it on the table, but more importantly I missed his thoughtful eyes and the way he could get me to relax.
Before my brain could catch up with my fingers, I sent off a text.
Chapter 16
You still up?
Yeah
Can I come over?
> I didn’t wait for his answer but pulled a sweater over my tank top and skirt, intending to walk the ten blocks from home. It was still warm out for fall. I thought absently about how happy the surfers would be.
Dylan’s reply came when I had already locked up and was heading down my driveway.
Sure
When I knocked on his door a few minutes later, Dylan opened it right away. I wondered which Dylan it was—the one who listened and calmed me down, or the one who made my head explode because I couldn’t make sense of what seemed to be escalating between us.
He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His hair was all over. On him it looked sexy and not messy. Bottomless brown eyes were sleepy and warm on mine. It all just made me more irritated.
“Come in.” I did.
“How’d you get over here? I didn’t hear your car.”
“That’s because I walked.”
His furrowed brows told me he wasn’t happy. “Seriously? Shit, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out alone.” I leaned back against the closed door. His obligatory chastising done, Dylan waited for me to make the next move. He probably wants you to tell him why you texted at 1:00 a.m. on a weeknight.
“So … do you want to talk?” Dylan hadn’t moved from where he was leaning against the railing of the staircase. He was giving me lots of space. It annoyed me, along with everything else from his perfectly imperfect hair to the fact that he’d obviously gotten out of bed so I could come over.
“I want to know what the hell is wrong with you.” I said it without preamble. Seeing him in the flesh made me realize I wasn’t quite ready to let go after all.
Dylan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then reverted to calm and assessing. “You want that alphabetical or chronological?”
“I’m not playing games, Dylan. What was that? At homecoming?” I took a step toward him. Balled my hands in fists to keep from shoving him.
The muscle worked in his jaw. He took a long breath. Let it out. “I meant what I said.”