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I stand my ground. "How else am I supposed to take what you said?"
"You completely overreacted. Haven't you listened to anything I said—how I feel about you. About us."
"Us? There isn't an us!"
"Of course there fucking is! Otherwise you wouldn't be so pissed off with me!"
I glare. Touche.
He pushes a hand through his hair. "I called someone to come and get us. If you'd waited—"
"Who?"
Does this mean people know where he is now? This gets worse… "I've asked them to take your car and fix the engine too."
"I don't need anything from you."
As I attempt to push past him, Dylan blocks my way. "Please, Sky. I meant what I said. Don't go."
"I have to," I say.
He extends a hand as if about to touch me and I step away. Dylan’s shoulders slump. "Can’t we talk about this? Until I said what I did, everything was going well. Don’t leave yet—not because of one dickhead comment."
"Things are different now," I say quietly, hardly able to meet his eyes.
"Why? Because of the sex?"
"I know who you are," I blurt.
A transformation comes over Dylan. Muscles rigid, face hardening he looks at me as if retreating back to his soul. "How?"
"I googled you." This sounds funny, apart from he's not laughing.
"Why?"
"Because my curiosity took over, and I needed to know who you were."
He runs his tongue across his top teeth. "And?"
"I think I should leave. I don't want to get caught up in...whatever."
Whatever existed has shattered into pieces, because when I meet his eyes, my Dylan no longer exists. "I wish you hadn’t done that."
"I would find the truth eventually. You should’ve told me."
"We said no to the real world, so I didn’t. Just like you didn’t tell me who you are. It’s not fair you’ve done this; I can’t fucking google you."
"I’m an accountant-receptionist-dogsbody and I live in Bristol. I just split up with my boyfriend of five years, whose family I unfortunately work for. So I'm probably jobless and homeless now too."
"That’s not much compared to what you know about me. Or think you know."
"There’s nothing much to know. I’ve not had the most eventful of lives."
Dylan slumps against the doorframe. "Do you know how fucking hard it is to be owned by everyone around you? What that does to a person? Coming here freed me– meeting you, the first person who treated me the way I deserve, both good and bad. You showed me who I could be. And now you know who I am, I’m their Dylan Morgan again, not your Dylan Morgan."
"Mine?"
"I mean the one you know. The one you freed by not knowing the other one." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Too fucking good to be true."
