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The loud cacophony of hands and voices gradually faded until it was nothing but a dull, distant rumble in the background, and I listened as a door closed.
“I was, yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “But I'm not anymore.”
“That's crazy,” I said in awe, thinking out loud.
Dylan chuckled, low and deep. “You're still not used to it yet?”
“I'm not sure I ever will be,” I said, speaking honestly as I swept my eyes around my room.
It didn't feel like long ago when those walls had been covered in his pictures. Teenage me would've killed for the opportunity to speak to him once, let alone nearly every night. Let alone with the memory of lying with him to accompany the voice.
I might not have been that girl anymore, but she was still a part of me. I couldn't pretend she didn't exist, and I couldn't pretend she didn't emerge every now and then, screaming internally at the sheer thought of receiving a casual call from Dylan freakin’ Pierce after he just performed for an audience of thousands.
“Yeah,” he mused thoughtfully. “I guess it doesn't really fit yournormal lifenarrative, huh?”
I bit down on my bottom lip as I listened to shuffles and movement from his side of the conversation. His melancholy tone revealed the hurt he felt, maybe even resentment, and it held my heart tight within its choking grasp.
“No, I guess not,” I answered, dropping my gaze to the keyboard and away from the walls that still remembered his face.
“Well, you know what I think?” he asked. Before I could respond, he continued, “I think … you weren't born normal, you’re never gonna be normal, so why try and force something that was never meant to be yours in the first place?”
My throat clenched firmly around a ball of tears and emotion, and I blinked rapidly, fighting the sudden urge to cry.
All I’d wanted was to ask him what he thought about my releasing my book on the anniversary of his accident. Breaking down at my desk hadn’t been part of the plan.
Still, I couldn't stop myself from clearing my throat and asking, “And what is it that you think I'm meant for instead?”
“Do you really need me to say it?”
“Maybe I just want to hear it,” I replied, my voice scraping along my squeezing throat.
“Okay,” he said with strong resolve. Then, in a raspy whisper, he added, “You're meant forme. Not Peter, not anybody else—me. And I’m just biding my time until you realize it.”
My body tensed at his possessive, gravelly voice. The need in his words, the desperate urgency in his tone. I knew with certainty that, if all these miles weren't stretched out between us, he would've been at my house, banging on the door and demanding to be let in. And I knew with certainty that I would've gladly opened, swearing to never make him leave again.
But with all these damn miles between us, I wasn't ready for profound declarations. I wanted to hear the beating of his heart and know that he was there. I wanted to smell his skin and see his face and feel the smooth, aged leather of his jacket beneath my fingers.
So, I took a deep breath and replied simply, “I know.”
“You know?” He was startled, taken aback, and I smiled. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait … what do you mean,you know?”
With a stupid grin on my face, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling as I listened to someone in the background—Simon maybe—tell him they had to get going.
“Hold on a second,” Dylan answered. “Lennon, are you saying what I think you're saying?”
But I still wasn't ready for a grand declaration, and he had to go.
So, instead, I asked, “Do you mind if I release my book on October 10?”
“What?”
“I'm trying to decide on a release date, so I was thinking of October 10 because … well, it's important. But I won’t if it bothers you or—”
“No, you should,” he replied, cutting me off with a gentle, firm tone. “I think it's a good idea. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I know,” I answered almost absentmindedly as the release date for my first novel was solidified, making my debut into the literary world even more of a reality.
“But … you’re not going to,” he accurately guessed, and I answered with a taunting laugh. “Fine, you fucking tease. And, hey,” he said as the line was met by the distinct sound of the outside world, “speaking of October 10 …”
