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“You’re something else, Tess. And if we’re calling people out, I’m pretty sure you were picturing me naked when you laid eyes on me again for the first time.”
I blow out, pursing my lips, trying to make it seem like I’m annoyed with his comment, when in reality, I’m trying not to picture him naked now. Since kicking him to the curb, it’s just been me and my battery powered entertainment, and while it gets the job done, it doesn’t hold the same appeal as having Dylan’s muscled body on top of mine. If he could just get it together and make me come, we’d be all set.
“Who says I haven’t filled my bed with someone else already?” I shoot back, watching his face for the jealousy I know he’s trying to bury.
“No.” That’s all he says, his word clipped and harsh.
“No, what?”
“No, you better not be,” he says, and immediately reaches for the glass of water in front of him as if to shut himself up.
Too late.
He’s already said it. He gave up his hand way too early and I almost toss a fist into the air in celebration. I had no idea he’d be so easy to crack.
“Here’s the thing, Dylan, you don’t get to say things like that to me. You don’t get a say in what happens in my life and what I do with my time. I told you what I wanted, and yes, I changed the game, but now you know and if I decide to sleep with someone else, it’s certainly not your business. You don’t do relationships, remember?” I say, winking at him as I stand up.
“Who said I don’t do relationships?” he immediately questions, standing and coming after me as I walk away.
I stop, a hand on my chest, taken aback by his comment. I blink a few times, waiting for him to add more, but he just stands there waiting for me to answer a question that I obviously thought had to be rhetorical. It doesn’t really need an answer, but I guess he actually wants one.
“Okay, the list is pretty long.” I glance down at my watch and back up at him. “How much time you got?”
Again, Dylan says nothing, shrugging slightly as if he has all the time in the world for me to list out the number of ways he basically screamed he will never be attached to a girl.
“Um, so you used to leave my house at three a.m. instead of sleeping over. I once asked if I could borrow your sweatshirt when it was cold out and you lost your shit. I’ve never been to your house. Actually, I have no idea where you live. Are you homeless?” I don’t stop long enough for him to answer, but I’ve started walking again, moving away from the customers who should be enjoying their lunch without having to hear this clearing of the air or whatever we’re calling it.
Dylan keeps up with me, walking right next to me, glancing over every so often as if he’s genuinely interested in what I’m saying. It’s either that or he really enjoys hearing about himself.
“You used to text me at midnight. Midnight, Dylan. We’ve never gone anywhere but my house and even then, it was mostly my bedroom.”
“Wait, there was that one time we did it in your—” he starts to say.
“If you say my kitchen, I’m going to smack you. I don’t even know your last name and up until I cut this whole thing off, I was in your phone as ‘hot brunette from the gym’.” I pause, waiting for him to respond, even though I’m not sure I want to hear what he has to say.
After listing it all out, I’m reminded why this will never work. I don’t want to be someone’s random hook up anymore. I’m too old for that and I know he’s younger than me, and he can keep on that path as long as he wants, but I’m out.
“I know your name, Tess,” he says, like that somehow corrects everything.
“It’s Tessa, but okay and if I asked you to pull out your phone right now, I would bet serious money on the fact that I’m still the girl from the gym.”
“You’re not,” he instantly defends, whipping his phone out and opening up his contacts. He scrolls through for a second and then flashes the screen at me.
I’ll be damned if he isn’t right. There it is, ‘Tessa’ rather than ‘girl from the gym’.
“And I don’t know your last name either, so two can play this game,” he chides, feeling rather proud of himself for his witty comeback. But just as he’s about to pull his phone away, I swipe my finger up on the screen and watch it land on ‘hot brunette from the gym 2’, and I don’t know whether to be furious or to start laughing hysterically.
He yanks it away, jamming it into his pocket as he looks down at his feet.
“We don’t have to keep doing this,” I now say, quietly. “I’m not trying to shit on you, and I don’t want you to think you have to defend your actions. We want different things and that’s totally cool. It was fun while it lasted.”
“Maybe we don’t want different things,” Dylan says, catching me off guard.
“What?” I asked, the appalled tone coming out loud and clear.
“I’ve liked getting to see you kinda regularly, Tess, and hanging out with you at Tommy and Penny’s wedding was nice.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he now asks, and I have no idea why. Up until this moment, he has been nothing but the typical fuck boy and he wore that title proudly.
“The only reason you hung out with me at the wedding is because you didn’t know anyone else. Seriously, Dylan, you don’t have to do this. It’s okay.”
“I’m not doing anything. I really did like hanging out with you and well, I don’t know, maybe I was wrong…” The last word comes out slow and quiet, almost like he hopes I miss it.
“I gotta get back to work,” I quickly say, unsure on how to respond to his comment. I’m not ready to do this and he certainly isn’t ready to make a commitment to me, but for some reason he’s jumping in headfirst.
He knows where to find me if he wants to take this further, but until then, I’m done clearing the air from now on because all I did was cloud it up even more. It’s so cloudy, I can barely see where I’m going.
And instead of walking away like the composed, mature woman I am, I pretty much speed walk, one might even call it a jog, until I’m far enough away that I can shout a hearty, “what the fuck?” outside of anyone’s earshot.
