“Just dinner,” he agreed, and disappointment warred with relief inside of me.
Then he stepped back, ran his stare over the length of my body in a way that told me exactly what he wanted besides dinner. Under his stare I felt my nipples pucker and heat pool between my legs.
He smiled, the bastard, so sure of the effect he had on me. I glared, ready to tell him off, but his final words shocked me into silence.
“Just dinner... for now.”
Chapter Five
At school I’d gotten used to eating dinner sometime in the hours between seven and nine o’clock. I hadn’t heard from Dylan all day, and was working myself into a fully blown tantrum when he showed up at the door of the house at six the next night.
“I’m not ready,” I informed him, irked that he hadn’t bothered to give me any details. “I didn’t think you were showing up, since I didn’t hear from you all day.”
“I said I’d take you for dinner,” he answered, his voice mild, his hands stuffed in the pockets of jeans worn to tantalizing thinness. “Here I am.”
“You’re not usually rude,” I continued, anger levelling the sense of unbalance that I usually felt just being around him. “And not giving me any details about tonight was rude.”
“I’m sorry if you see it that way.” He looked me over with that way he had, the one that made me feel like I wasn’t wearing any clothes. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was trying to keep you off balance so you wouldn’t cancel on me.”
I opened my mouth to yell, then closed it again.
Damn it. Was I so transparent? Then again, I hadn’t exactly been shy in telling him my thoughts on us.
Us, together.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, looking down at my bare feet. I’d removed the chipped green polish, and impeccable blue sparkles shone in its place. “But I’m still not ready.”
“You look perfect.” With that little touch that I was coming to associate with him, that press of his hand on my chin, he tilted my head up so that I had to look right at him.
I’d been so grumpy, I hadn’t even bothered with makeup, and I squirmed under the intensity of his star. Flushing, I looked down at my outfit. I was wearing old jeans with the knees worn out and a ribbed white tank top through which my hot pink bra was entirely visible, something his smirk told me he hadn’t missed.
“You look hot, Kaylee. I’d do you.” His words had swung from that hint of tenderness to light and a bit abrasive, and I knew he’d done it on purpose.
I felt safer with a Dylan who didn’t seem able to look right inside of me. I wouldn’t let myself dwell on the fact that he understood that.
“So that’s the real reason behind dinner, then? So you can sexually harass me?” I smirked at him, then turned to slide my feet into a pair of pink flip flops. I closed the door behind me, not bothering to lock it.
Maddy had gone to hang out the teddy bear guy she’d been flirting with at Jax’s shop, and Serena was off to do yoga beside the lake. They didn’t have keys. My mom was already at the bar, and I was pretty sure that she didn’t have one either.
“I thought that was obvious.” As I made my way down the porch steps Dylan turned to give me that smile that had haunted my dreams for the last few years. As I fell into step beside him our fingers brushed, and a jolt of something as powerful and stunning as a bolt of electricity shot through me, making me jump back.
To his credit, Dylan didn’t smirk. Instead he eyed me for a long moment, whatever he was thinking hiding in the depths of those eyes.
I knew what I was thinking—what I was wondering. What did he see, when he looked at me? The girl I’d been? Or who I was now?
“Is Twin Peaks okay?” he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. I was both relieved and disappointed that he had removed the point of potential contact.
“Yeah.” I swallowed down the urge to make a crack about the name. Only outsiders did that, and though I’d spent so much effort and energy trying to distance myself from Fish Lake, I found that I didn’t want Dylan to think of me that way. “Not like there’s a lot of choice.”
He chuckled in response. In addition to the diner, Fish Lake boasted a sandwich shop, a tiny outlet of a fast food franchise, and a Chinese food place that the health inspectors shut down approximately once a year.
Twin Peaks was the best bet.
“I thought about having you over and cooking for you.”
From the corner of my eyes I saw him watching me steadily.
“You can cook?” My pulse jumped at the thought if being in Dylan’s home, amongst his things.
And oh, that was so stalker-ish.
“I can do lots of things.” He said smugly. I turned fully to face him, and saw in his expression just what some of those things were.
I flushed and ignored him.
“I can’t cook at all. Well, I can heat up stuff like nobody’s business. If that counts. And at school that usually means ramen noodles on a hot plate.” Having reached the cafe, I allowed Dylan to hold the door open for me before stepping into the interior of the diner, where the steamy air was scented with the aromas of French fries and apple pie.
“Hard to beat that tasty treat.” Dylan said wryly as he followed me into the diner. “I was going to say I’ve scrimped and saved so order whatever you want, but maybe we’ll just have to see if they’ve got any ramen in the back.”
I laughed, the sound escaping me before I could help it. Dylan had never struck me as the kind to joke around, had always seemed too dark and serious for that.
I found I liked it, nearly as much as I liked what he’d said. He was poking fun at the fact that nothing on the diner’s menu was over four dollars, but it made me feel like we were... maybe... on a date.
It wasn’t. I was the one who wouldn’t let it be. But I hugged the sensation to me all the same.
I followed Dylan into a booth at the back of the diner, the vinyl of the bench seat pulling at the skin that was revealed by a rip in the back of my jeans. For a moment I wondered why he’d chosen to sit in the very back corner of the diner. Did he think people might judge him for spending time with the Kaylee twin when he’d once been so close to the Ella one?
I snuck a peek at him through the fringe of my eyelashes. Though all accounts pointed to the fact that he’d changed his rebellious ways, he still looked like a badass. The way his face set sternly when he wasn’t actively doing anything else. The small smirk that tugged on the corners of his lips from time to time. The attitude that he still wore like a shield.
I didn’t think that Dylan McKay gave a shit about what other people thought of him.
I wished I felt the same way.
“So why didn’t you tell me about your new job?” I asked as we perused the menus, then ordered. I stirred my straw through my cola. I’d considered ordering something with vodka, to help me relax, but remembering how he’d cornered me at the shop after I’d had a few beers told me that I needed my wits around me when dealing with him.
Dylan raised an eyebrow before sipping at his tea. I’d had to fight the urge to snicker when the guy who looked most at home slugging back a beer ordered a pot of orange pekoe.
“Why haven’t you told me what you’re planning to do in school, even if you haven’t declared it?” He didn’t ask me where I’d heard about his job. If Jax hadn’t told me, someone would have—Fish Lake was just that small.
I bit my lip and rattled the ice in my glass. He had a point, not that I cared to admit it.
“Because I don’t know.” I inhaled deeply and spat out the words. I knew it was strange, going from being so set on one path to not having a clue, but it was the truth.
How in the hell was I supposed to decide on my future when I didn’t even know who I was anymore?
I looked down at the nails that I’d repainted a smooth burgundy color. I felt defensive, somehow, even though Dylan hadn’t said anything.
“Aren’t you going into your senior year?” he asked finally
. I sank my teeth into my tongue until I tasted blood.
I nodded jerkily, irritation rising, though I knew damn well that he had a point.
“Jesus, Kaylee.”
I finally looked up to find him frowning at me. I could feel my hackles rising.
“What?” I was angry. What I did in school, what I didn’t do—it was none of his damn business. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It’s my business when you do something stupid in a misguided attempt to keep Ella alive.” Laying his palms flat on the table, he looked me right in the eye. “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Because this isn’t you.”
Feeling as though I’d been sucker punched, I started to stand.
“You don’t have any idea what’s me and what isn’t.” My voice was quiet. And isn’t this what you want? Ella, or someone just like her?
Frozen like that, we stared at each other, anger poisonous darts that shot between us. Finally Dylan looked away, breaking the spell, and I shuddered in the sudden absence of tension.
“Can I just ask one thing?” He said, pushing his mug away.
I nodded hesitantly.
“Why did you give it up? It was your dream.” The judgement was gone from his voice; in its place was genuine puzzlement.
“You know why.” I’d intended to snap at him, but my words came out as barely more than a whisper. “And it’s not my dream anymore.”
I could feel his eyes on me, but I focused on the table. After a long pause, during which my burger and his steak sandwich were delivered, he spoke again.
“Probably some of the same reason I cleaned up my act a bit.” He drummed his fingers on the table, and I fixed my eyes on the small movement.
“Oh, yeah?” Memories came crashing down, and I blinked against a sudden sharp sting at the back of my nasal cavity.
“Yeah. I had this revelation, I guess you could say. That life was too short to be a fuckup.”
I looked up at him then, my eyes narrowed with interest.
“You weren’t a fuckup.” My voice was incredulous. He’d been like a god in the small town. Everyone wanted him or wanted to be like him, him and Jax and Nick.
And Ella, of course. Though she hadn’t hooked up with them until her teens, she’d rounded out their quartet.
Dylan snorted, a sound both inelegant and sexy.
“I was a troublemaker, Kaylee. I threw my money away on booze and pot. I didn’t care about anything except a good time.” Watching my face intently, he continued. “I sure didn’t know how to treat a girl. I thought that by being up front about the fact that I didn’t want anything serious would be enough. It wasn’t.”
My nerves screamed. Before that one night we’d had, he hadn’t said those words to me. Did that mean that I was more special, or less?
And how did I compare to my sister, in his eyes? More special, or less?
“This is so fucked up.” I think I caught him off guard, because he blinked once before letting loose with a roar of laughter.
“Can’t say you’re wrong.” Lifting his tea, he took a long swallow, and I watched the muscles in his throat work, mesmerized by the sight.
“So no school in the works for you?” I couldn’t resist poking at this a bit more. He’d always struck me as smart, someone who understood things without really having to try.
But he’d never been much of a student.
“School is hard for me. Not that I’m an idiot or anything.” He eyed me as though gauging my response.
I waited, patient.
“I’m dyslexic,” he said finally. I tried my best to keep my expression steady, though I was super surprised.
“Ella never told me that.” Not that Ella had told me everything about the two of them. But she’d talked about Dylan often enough that I thought she would have mentioned something so major.
“Ella didn’t know.” He pinned me with that intense stare before busying himself with his dinner again. I felt my lips part with surprise.
Surprise and, I was ashamed to say, a pure golden surge of pleasure.
“So why firefighting?” I knew I was being nosy, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. The entire evening felt like a dream, once that I couldn’t be sure would be repeated.
I had the opportunity, and I wanted to find out as much as I could about this man who had haunted my thoughts since the very first time I’d laid eyes on him.
“I like being outside. I like using my body.” His smirk dared me to comment. I blushed and looked down at my napkin.
“I felt like it was something that could help, you know? Could make a difference.”
I nodded, though I hadn’t come to such an understanding myself yet.
“And the adrenaline rush of rapelling out of a helicopter hovering over an inferno helps channel some of the urges that had me doing stupid shit when I was younger.” His words held a strange kind of finality in them, and I felt my eyes drawn to his face. For a long moment we just sat there, staring at each other, my pulse tripping faster and faster until I was certain that everyone in the diner would be able to hear it.
“Is... did you get your tattoo because of your job?” My throat was dry, but I couldn’t bring myself to move and interrupt the intensity of the moment.
“Partially.” Not breaking eye contact, he shoved the sleeve of his T-shirt up so that his entire tattoo was visible.
My fingers itched to trace over the inky lines.
“It’s a firebird. Better known as a phoenix.” He watched me as my eyes devoured his tattoo, his skin.
Him.
“I got it partially because of the job. But more than that...”
I held my breath and waited.
“More than that... it’s a symbol. In mythology, the firebird would burst into flames and be reduced to ashes. But then from the ashes he would be born again.”
My breath hitched. I understood. Oh, I understood exactly what he was getting at. It was what I’d been trying to do by moving so far away, by trying so hard to change myself, though since I’d come back here I knew that I hadn’t transformed nearly as much as I’d thought.
“Sometimes even when things crash and burn... it’s for the best, you know?” When he looked at me like that, I felt like he was looking into my very soul. Like he saw everything I’d tried so very hard to hide from the world.
My chest tightened, my ribcage hugging everything until I had trouble drawing a breath.
The guilt was horrendous. I knew what he was saying—that we could move on, could still do great things, even though our lives had nearly been torn apart in the wake of Ella’s death.
But wasn’t I part of the ‘stupid shit’ he was trying to move on from?
“I see.” I phrased the words carefully. I felt sick. God, I hadn’t even been a screw-up myself when all of this had gone down. Now who was I? A party girl with mediocre grades and no immediate plans for the future. If he was truly trying to get his life back together, then what the hell was he doing here with me?
“I—I think I’m ready to go.” My lips were numb. Suddenly the diner felt too close, too tight. I needed fresh air.
Eyes examining my face, Dylan suddenly looked stricken.
“Kaylee... I didn’t mean...” Frustrated, he raked his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “Shit.”
“It’s okay. You were only telling the truth.” I slid out of the booth, trembling a bit. I wasn’t so easily upset most of the time, but to know for sure that the memory I’d turned over in my head for the last three years was something he saw as one of the mistakes of his youth...
It hurt. A lot.
Dylan’s eyes narrowed as he pulled out his wallet, throwing some cash out onto the table. Normally I would have argued and tried to pay at least my share—I didn’t like owing people anything, especially men. It drove Joel nuts.
But where Joel finally gave in after I pitched enough of a fit... well, with Dylan I knew I could rage all I wanted, but it wouldn’t
change the end result.
We made the walk back to my house in tense silence. I’d told him to leave me, that I could walk back on my own, but I hadn’t been too surprised that he hadn’t listened.
I’d given him a chance to leave, but he hadn’t taken it.
I had no idea what was up ahead.
“How do you feel about climbing?” Dylan asked abruptly as we neared my house. I furrowed my brow in response.
“Climbing what? Stairs? A ladder?” I cocked my head at him, frowning because I was still irritated, and was rewarded with a smile that set my pulse to racing, even through my upset.
“You are so refreshing,” he said, low and quiet, and the fast-moving blood in my veins turned molten.
I hummed in response, my face tilting up towards him with my intending it to, a flower reaching for the sun. Then I shook myself, remembering that I upset, and why.
“Dylan, you don’t have to do this.” My voice was quiet. “I don’t want to be some source of guilt that you need to alleviate. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
He glared at me. I scowled right back.
“I mean mountain climbing. With ropes and harnesses.” As if I hadn’t even spoken, he pressed one hand lightly to my waist, then urged me up the porch steps. Though the cotton of my tank top separated his fingers from the skin of my torso, the point of contact still burned.
I held my breath as he followed me up all but the last step, which put our faces level. Perfect height for a kiss.
Not that I wanted one. I was angry. Confused.
Right. I’d keep telling myself that.
“Kaylee?” Dylan prompted, and the fingers at my waist squeezed, just the lightest bit. I felt the touch all the through to the tips of my fingers. “Climbing? Ropes? Harnesses?”
A witty brush off was right on the tip of my tongue, but those weren’t the words that came out.
“Sounds kinky.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think, something I would have said to someone who knew me back in New Haven. Mortified, I clapped my palm over my mouth, staring up at Dylan with wide, embarrassed eyes.
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