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“You and the delectable Lily.”
“Shut up, Jem. You’re drunk.”
“We should all have a nice, cosy chat about her. What do you reckon?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Dylan crosses to Jem and drags him to his feet by the shirt. “I almost got pulled into your stupidity tonight, just piss off and sober up.”
The two men glare at each other. Dylan’s back is to me, figure stiff. Jem flicks his eyes to me, grins drunkenly, and then claps Dylan on the back.
“Night then, kids.”
I watch Jem wobble down the hallway toward the end of the apartment I’m staying in, then turn back to a frowning Dylan.
“Is he sleeping near me?” I ask.
“Oh. I didn’t think. You don’t want to be around him?” The look I give him indicates the stupidity of his question. “Sleep in my room.”
“I don’t think—”
Dylan touches my face. “On your own, I’m not presuming you want to share a bed with me.” His eyes flick to breasts spilling over the dress and I shove him. He smirks and bites his lip. “Sorry, Sky, but you know how much you turn me on.”
My brain shouts ‘you’re not ready to trust him yet’ but my body flares into arousal at the hint of suggestion around this. “Jem dragged things up, Dylan.”
“I understand.” He huffs and leans against the edge of the sofa. “Not quite the end to our date I was hoping for.”
“Me either.” I hover, unsure of the situation. I want to kiss him so much, but I’m scared of letting myself give in to the swirling hormones that will lead me to his bed. I’m already locked back into Dylan’s orbit, but there’s a huge trust issue in the way. Not the accusations, which I believe aren’t true, but the fact he didn’t tell me and ran instead. I’m vulnerable and unsure.
“I enjoyed tonight,” he says. “Being with you turns the brightness up on the world.”
The darkness hovering around Dylan is still apparent, but he’s relaxed, or was until Jem appeared.
“You’re good to him,” I say, nodding my head in the direction Jem disappeared.
“Yeah, he’s the same age as me but like the kid brother I never had. Tomorrow I’ll ask him to tell you his side of the truth. Then we can draw a line through this and move on?” He watches me warily.
“Please, let’s not go there tonight.” I step toward Dylan and place my lips on his. He stiffens in surprise and then winds an arm around my waist, kissing me gently back again. Dylan, the guy who turns my insides out with just a look and whose touch makes me feel safe. I expect insistent kisses, but he pulls away and grips me to him, burying his face in my hair.
“I bought strawberry shower gel when I was away,” he whispers, “because I wanted something to remind me of you when things were bad and your hair always smells of strawberries. Is that weird?”
“I told you I liked you because you were odd.” I rub my face against his shirt, the warmth of his chest against my cheek. How bad are things? He’s different, a paler version of himself that tugs at my heart.
Dylan laughs softly and tips my chin to kiss me again. This time I push my mouth harder against his, tugging his bottom lip into my mouth because I want him to know not to stop this time. He groans and holds me tighter, tongue delving into my mouth. The space between us isn’t filled with heavy clothing like in the car the other night, and Dylan’s heart beats against mine, thumping rapidly in rhythm. In that moment, in our world, nothing else matters.
“You guys. So cute.” Jem’s drunken slur interrupts us.
Dylan’s hands scrunch around my dress as he exhales heavily, and lets me go. I wipe my mouth and look at the floor. Never one for PDAs, this is weird. Is Jem going to haunt us now?
“Just getting a drink,” says Jem.
I don’t turn to him, but the chink of glass suggests he doesn’t mean water.
“Fuck, Jem, haven’t you had enough?” asks Dylan.
“Nope. Night.”
I turn to see Jem wandering back down the hallway with a bottle of whiskey and a glass in one hand.
“Does he realise what a cliché he is?” I ask.
“I don’t think he realises who he is at all.”
