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"Nah. London."
"London? Dylan!" London is over a two-hour drive. Jesus, did he drive himself in this mess? He stinks of alcohol and I’m sure he smells of perfume too, unless he's changed to a floral cologne. I cross my arms tightly over my chest. "Do you know how crazy this is? You shouldn’t come here drunk," I say quietly.
"I said I had to see you. I need to talk to you," he replies in a low tone. "I tried to stay away but I think I deserve a proper explanation. You just walked away and that was unfair."
"I had to."
"Why?"
"I told you on the phone—because I can’t cope with my life out of control again. I thought you’d forget me as soon as I left. I didn’t expect you’dwantto see me again."
Confusion lines Dylan’s face and he stands. "I told you I wanted us to be more; why would you think I’d forget you? I’ll never forget you."
Tears prick my eyes. "What do you want from me?"
"You." The sincerity in his face knocks the breath from me. "Sky, I want you to give us a chance. Things were going well until—"
"— I discovered who you really were and our fantasy world imploded."
"I wasgoingto tell you, once I realised I wanted more than the Sky from our fantasy world."
"Holiday romances are great while they last, but they always end." I smile weakly.
He shakes his head. "I have so many things I want to say to you, Sky. I don't know how to make you understand that I currently don't give a fuck about anything but trying to make things work with you."
"How? How would we work? In Broadbeach, we had fun because everything was different. Nobody could touch us. This is reality."
"And I want you to be part of my reality," he says, turning the eyes I could drown in back to mine. "If you hadn't discovered I’m Blue Phoenix Dylan Morgan, would you have given your Dylan a chance?"
I wince as the realisation hits. He gave part of himself to me and I'm rejecting more than rock star Dylan Morgan. "Dylan, you’re making things hard for me by being here. If anyone finds out who I am—"
He stands and takes my face in his hands. "Why won't you see me again? What did I do?"
"Nothing... you didn’t do anything wrong. We had a holiday thing which is over now." My traitorous body reacts to his touch, skin heating beneath his palms and desire to be in his arms again rises.
"And that's all our time was to you? A ‘holiday thing’?" His scrutiny doesn't waver, and I summon the courage to meet his eyes and lie. Lie to the man who filled my world with more colour and happiness than I've had in my life for years.
Lie to protect my heart that Grant shattered into pieces and not allow anyone to pull me apart again.
"Yes, that's all and I certainly never expected you to randomly arrive at my flat.”
"How else can I talk to you if you refuse to speak to me?"
"We did speak.”
"Once. On the phone."
"I’ve been busy. Looking for work, moving house…"
He stares blankly at me, reinforcing that he’s unable to see the real world. After a long day in a new temporary contract, a visit from Dylan in the early hours wasn’t part of my night’s plan.
Dylan not very subtlety scans my night-time ensemble of striped flannel pyjamas beneath my robe. I make an exasperated noise before I stalk past him into the shoebox kitchen, hoping he doesn’t follow.
Wrong. Over the noise of the kettle, I hear the rustle of movement and turn to see him in the doorway. He's dressed differently too—an expensive looking black woven shirt over his distractingly tight jeans with a couple of buttons undone, allowing a glimpse of the taut muscle beneath. I appreciatively take in how his jeans shape his long legs.
"Why are you really here?" I ask.
"Because I want you," he says. Not seductively, not arrogantly, but quietly, accompanied by a sadness drawing his features.
