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17
We climb into my car,Dylan looking completely out of place scrunched up on my tattered passenger seat. He pokes around in the footwell with his toe.
"You have a lot of books here."
"I always forget to take them out of the car."
"I can't remember the last time I read a book. I should." He picks one up and stares at the man on the cover whose physique matches his. "Maybe not one of these."
"No, my books are probably aren’t your ‘thing’."
He flicks the pages, thankfully not opening a book to read. "Or are there some tips for me in here?"
Last night..."I doubt you need sex tips."
His eyes widen. "Oh! So they are porn?"
"No!"Much.
"I meant tips on how men should behave," he teases. "I could learn how to treat you nicely?"
The contradiction in this situation is that the guys like him in my books are more on the 'bad' end of the scale—and that's what I like about them. But no way am I telling Dylan this fact.
"So where are you taking me?" he asks.
"Where do you want to go?"
Dylan pauses and taps the dashboard. "Somewhere I wouldn't usually go."
"And away from the general public, I suppose?"
"Yeah, and that too." He taps the dashboards. "Where did you go yesterday?"
"Only as far as the next town—Sandchurch. I wandered around the shops, ate scones—"
"We can go there?" he interrupts.
"I'm still not asking who you are, but do you think you’re safe to go to Sandchurch? You seem paranoid someone will spot you."
Dylan runs his tongue along his teeth. "Was the town busy yesterday?"
"Not really—mostly a few older couples, and most of them were in the cafes."
Dylan wriggles his nose like a kid. "What do you reckon? I'm bored of the beach now. Plus, I want to explore more of you." He puts his hand over his mouth. "Sorry, I mean explore morewithyou—other places from the past."
I ignore my body’s reaction to his teasing. "Okay." I turn the key in the ignition. "But are you sure?"
"I brought this." Dylan holds up a plain blue baseball cap. Grinning, he shoves it onto his head and pulls the peak down. "No hair and a hat; I’ll be harder to recognise."
I point at his arm and say, "Tattoos?"
"Good point; I'll grab my hoodie." His tall figure slips out of the car, emptying the space of the presence I don't want to admit gives me goose bumps on my arms—and makes me wish he hadn't stopped last night.
* * *
We parkthe car in the shade of a large oak tree, at the edge of the car park furthest from town. As we head towards the centre, Dylan walks besides me, hunched downward with his cap pulled down. After a few steps, he slides his hand into mine, the gesture arresting me. He flashes me a smile and I roll my eyes at him.
"We're on a date; I get to hold your hand."
