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“I see…” I didn’t know what to say. I felt guilty now about turning to Becker to try to forget about Dylan, and especially guilty about bringing Becker to Dylan’s game after that.
“Dylan, I have no interest in Becker. The truth is, I really never did. He was just someone Clara had been trying to set me up with for a while, so when I started getting to a point where it was getting harder and harder to ignore my feelings for you, I got desperate for a distraction. So I agreed to go out with him one night a couple weeks ago.”
Dylan laughed and shook his head. “I’m glad to hear you’re not interested in him. Apparently he’s been known to have a temper. ‘Roid rage or something. I was going to hate to have to beat up your boyfriend if he ever laid a hand on you,” Dylan said as he brushed a hand down the side of my arm.
I laughed. “Thanks for that. Why are you just now telling me this? You were just going to let me figure that out on my own?” I feigned an angry disbelief.
“Would you have listened to me if I had told you?” he asked as though he already knew the answer.
“Well, probably not,” I admitted. “But I’d at least have kept it in the back of my mind so that I could have watched out for the signs.”
Dylan and I talked for another couple of hours before we shared a cab to my apartment that night and he walked me up to my apartment door on the fifth floor.
We made plans to hang out the next day after classes and practice, and he gave me the most heart-melting kiss goodnight before I went inside for the night.
I spared no detail to Clara before going to bed that night, and of course she wasn’t surprised.
“I’ve been telling you all along, Z. You both had it bad for each other, and everyone could see it but the two of you,” Clara said as she shook her head.
That night as I lay in bed, hugging my pillow and texting sweet messages back and forth with Dylan, I came to a realization.
It was funny how I thought I was so great at reading people, and maybe in some ways I was. But my first impression of Dylan could not have been further from what he was really like. Imagine everything I would have missed if I had been set on my first opinion of him from that night at the Book Shelf. I’d never have gotten to know what an amazing person he was.
Thank God for second impressions!
CHAPTER 11: DYLAN
When I arrived at the Book Shelf Saturday evening, Zia was already sitting at a table waiting, punctual as ever. As soon as I saw her, my pulse quickened.
A lot was at stake tonight, and my nerves knew it.
I observed her sitting there alone for a moment before she saw me. She looked… sad? Nervous, maybe? It wasn’t like her, I thought. I was used to seeing her so cheerful and positive. I continued to have my doubts, but my resolve was steel. I would carry out my plan tonight, regardless of how it might turn out for me.
I painted the most sincere smile I could muster as I approached her table. She apparently saw right through it immediately.
“You’re not having second thoughts now, are you?” She chided playfully.
“Not at all,” I responded. “Good evening.” Now my smile was sincere as I took a seat across the table from her.
“Good evening to you, too,” she returned. “Are you ready for your final session? Maybe tonight is your lucky night.”
God, I hoped so.
“I have a good feeling it could be,” I said optimistically. What could it hurt?
“Well, I’m only here for moral support. Tonight we’re taking off the training wheels so we can see how you fare doing this on your own.” She must have read my mind.
“Okay, I like that idea.” I smiled. “I was going to suggest the same thing, to see how well I do at choosing the right girl for myself now, from what you’ve shown me.” I leaned toward her, and had to restrain myself from taking both of her hands in mine as they sat on the table in front of me.
“That sounds like a plan. So, do you want to look around and check out the playing field you have tonight?” She turned her head, scoping first one side of the room, then the other.
I looked around to see what she was viewing, then back at her. “I think I see one that might pass the Marzia Benagli seal of approval. I tell you what, I’m going to go to the bar and get a couple of drinks, and then I’ll just go up to her and offer her one. Does that sound like a good plan?” I asked.
“Yes, I think that’s a great plan,” she agreed, nodding her head with less enthusiasm than her voice attempted to get across.
“Okay… so what kind of a drink should I get that might generally be a good one to offer a girl?”
“Well, I guess for most girls, you can’t go wrong with something fruity, like a cherry vodka sour or a margarita,” she answered.
