Dylan, who seems to be completely oblivious to her flirting, casually responds with a “Hi, Cheryl, nice to see you too.” Then he looks at me, and his green eyes crinkle as his lips curve into a smile. “This is my friend Lucy.”
Friend. How sick I’m getting of that word.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Iswallow. “Hi, Cheryl, nice to meet you.”
She feigns interest in me for Dylan’s sake before grabbing a small notepad from her black server’s apron. “What can I get you both?”
Dylan places his menu down and motions to me. “You choose, Luce.”
Oh. “Um, let’s do a medium pepperoni, please.”
“Sure.” She scribbles my order down on her notepad with a gel pen. Brown eyes rise back up and shift between the two of us. “Anything to drink?”
“How about two IPAs?”
“Coming right up.” She gives Dylan a wink before tossing her curly, brown hair over her shoulders and turning around to head back to the kitchen.
“So, Cheryl, huh?” I ask as soon as she’s out of earshot, unable to hide the jealousy that courses through me. How can I possibly compete with someone who lives in the same time as him? “Is she an ex-girlfriend of yours or something?”
“No,” is all he says as he traces an invisible picture on the table with his index finger, almost like he’s drawing.I wonder if that’s a nervous habit of his. “I went to school with her and see her in town every now and then.”
“Do you come into town often?” I ask.
He pauses his doodling and finds my eyes. “Not really. Just to go fishing, do laundry or get groceries. Or to pick up a pizza to go.” He goes back to his invisible sketch. “I’m not close with my parents anymore, and I don’t like to risk running into them in town. I think I just do better on my own for the most part.”
My heart sinks fast and deep, like that Danforth anchor he tossed into the ocean, falling right to the bottom. I work up the nerve to ask the only question I’m thinking. “Is that because of what happened to Raven?”
I can’t help but notice the way his mouth flinches at the mention of her name. “I think I remind my parents of what they lost. We looked so alike, the same hair and eyes. Even our smiles were identical.” I picture a little girl with emerald-green eyes and a wide grin that shows off the same sharp teeth as him.
“I bet she was beautiful,” I say.
He smiles before his mouth turns once more. “They still blame me for what happened. I think it’s better for everyone if I’m not around as much. Then, hopefully, they’re not as sad as they might be. Easier this way.”
I reach my hand out and grab his. “I can’t pretend to have any idea what you or your family have gone through, but tochoosenot to have you in their lives is a mistake.”
“Thanks, Luce.” A small smile forms, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “They don’t see it that way, unfortunately.”
Before either of us has a chance to say anything else, Cheryl comes back with our two overflowing, frothy pints of beer. She places them down in the centre of the table besideour clasped hands, turns on her heels, and walks back over to another table.
“I don’t think Cheryl is my biggest fan,” I giggle as I slide a glass toward me.
And just like that, my favourite smirk is back. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls his own drink up to his lips, and as he swallows, his Adam’s apple juts out as the beer makes its way down his throat. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Pretty surewedidn’t get off on the best foot either,” I come back at him, wiggling my eyebrows in his direction.
He laughs and winks, but says nothing. Just takes another long, slow swig of his drink. “I like how you held your ground with me,” he finally offers. “Not many people do, and it was refreshing to have someone try to put me in my place.”
Normally, my fiery mouth gets me into trouble, but not with him, it seems. He sees me for exactly who I am and likes me for me. It feels nice to know.
“You’re fun to spar with, Dylan Hart,” I tell him after another sip.
Cheryl arrives back at our table soon after with our steaming pizza. She places it down on a raised red plastic tray and places two ceramic plates beside it. “Enjoy,” she says, mostly to Dylan, before leaving us alone.
Dylan grabs a slice, the melty cheese pulling like an elastic as he lifts the piece off the tray and then onto one of the plates. Passing it to me, he licks some leftover cheese off his finger, and I tongue my cheek in response.
As soon as I take my first bite, a loud groan leaves my mouth. Dylan’s eyes lock on mine, darkening at the sound. “This is amazing,” I say, stuffing another bite into my mouth. I groan again, and Dylan clears his throat as hebrings a hand to my face, wiping off a bit of tomato sauce from beside my lower lip. He grazes my open lips, and a shiver runs down my spine. Then he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, pulling it back out with apopbefore picking up his own slice and taking a bite.
