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Pleased he’s full of the old Dylan life and happiness, and hoping to hell he’s not about to do something stupid, I follow him through the revolving doors.
Instantly, my happiness fades. Cameras flash in my face, anxiety flying into my body as I grip Dylan’s hand. I attempt to duck my head and walk past but Dylan doesn’t move.
“Dylan!” I look to him, but he wraps an arm round my shoulders and grins down at the press.
Journalists shout questions about him, us, the overdose, and more—I can’t keep track. I blink at the camera flashes wishing that Dylan would tell me what the hell is going on.
“Okay, everyone. Write this down.” The questions stop but the cameras don’t. “As you can clearly see, I’m alive. I intend to stay that way. I’m with Sky, and I intend to stay that way, too. We’re flying back to England tomorrow together and that’s the story. If you want any more news about Blue Phoenix, I’m sure Tina will fill you in.” He pauses a moment, ignoring new questions flying his way. “Here’s your photo.”
I have my head down, hair falling into my face in an attempt to avoid the cameras so when Dylan spins me around I’m caught unaware. He circles an arm around my waist and pulls me to his hips. With the other hand, he holds the back of my head and digs his fingers into my hair. My mouth opens to protest and is greeted with his lips pressing firmly on mine and his tongue pushing into my mouth. I place both my hands on his chest to shove him away, embarrassed by his public display.
He feels the tension in my arms and stops, whispering in my ear. “You are exactly the girl Dylan Morgan should be seen kissing. Give them their picture and let’s go.”
Dylan rests his head on mine, and amidst the chaos and shouting round, only he exists. The man who stole my heart and soul when we hid in Broadbeach is here with me now, and we’re completely unhidden.
Giving him one of my ‘you win’ looks, I tiptoe and wrap my arms around his neck, placing my lips on his. The warmth and taste of Dylan does exactly the same as always and I spin back to the edge of his universe; the one we now belong in. I dig my fingers into his hair, holding him close, and we kiss as if we need each other to breathe.
When he pulls away, the cool air fills the gap between our lips and I’m back in the world of flashing cameras and demanding voices. Dylan doesn’t need to say anymore, to the media or me. Despite my annoyance at him putting me through this, I understand.
This final step into each other’s worlds is needed, but when we get back to Bristol, he’ll find out this works both ways.
