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And getting married, buying a house, having kids …
Don't forget you want that too, Lennon. And he doesn't.
This is all about him writing his songs. It's all abouthimand not at all aboutyou.
“Stop.”
Before he could act on his own, my hand was on his wrist, pulling his fingers from my body. The skirt fell around my legs as I hurried to step away from him. My arms hugged around my middle while I shivered underneath a cold moon and frigid stars, somewhere on the north shore of Long Island. Too far from home, too far away for a wedding that meant nothing to me, too far away to be with a stranger.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not.”
His hesitation was louder than the silence before he asked, “What's wrong?”
Ignoring the little voice that told me not to say anything at all, I replied, “This just … it doesn't feel right. This isn't what I want.”
“Okay,” he drawled slowly. “Then, what do you want?”
This was it. This was where I spilled it all. I had to, for the sake of my own sanity, even if it meant I never saw him again.
So, I turned to him to find his beautiful face covered in uncertainty and concern, and I began.
“You keep thinking I'm someone you recognize,” I said. “And I keep telling you I'm not.”
“Okay …”
“Because youcan'trecognize me from anywhere. I'm nobody, Dylan. I am an unemployed twenty-nine-year-old, living at home with her parents because nobody will hire me,” I went on, letting the words pour out without a second thought. “I'm legally blind with a condition called achromatopsia. It's super fucking rare, and I don't expect you to know what it is. But in a nutshell, what it means is, I can't see for shit. I'm ridiculously sensitive to light, I can't drive, and I'm completely color-blind.”
His brow crumpled as he nodded. “I figured you had vision problems.”
“Yeah, well, there you go,” I said, swallowing against the terror that I'd never hear his voice again outside of a speaker. “Tarryn really is my best friend, and the only reason I was at that party that night was because she wanted someone to attend with her. And the only way she’d talked me into going was by saying I'd get a chance to meet you.”
If nothing else had grabbed his attention, that did it. His chin lifted, and his eyes narrowed. “So, you didn't just know who I was …”
“I've been a fan since I was a kid.”
He turned his head, diverting his gaze. His jaw shifted from side to side before he blew out an angry, furious breath and said, “So, you used me.”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe he could even think something so asinine.
Not whenhe’dbeen usingme.
“Dylan, after I left the award show, I assumed there’d be no chance of coming close to you, let alone ending up back at your hotel room. I had no idea what happened would happen. I swear to God, all I wanted was to meet you.” My mouth twisted around the absurdity of it all before I spat out, “Sleeping with you was never even on my radar.”
He was quiet for a moment, giving the stage to the hushed night and my racing heart, as a venue employee cut through the courtyard. The two men nodded at each other by way of greeting before the guy in the waiter uniform disappeared once again inside.
Then, Dylan said, “Fine. But you got more than you imagined, and you still didn’t tell me anything about yourself. You let me believe what I wanted while we fucked and spent time together, and you don’t at all think you used me.”
My damn bottom lip had begun to wriggle, and by the time he was through, staring at me with the stoniest of expressions, I was fighting back the tears with a determination to not let them fall.
“I-I liked how it felt,” I reasoned pathetically, knowing that, in some way, he was right. Even if it had been mutual. “It felt nice to be someone for a while when I had been nobody for the longest fucking time.”
“So, you want my pity,” he replied, glowering over me with such dark, hateful fury burning in his eyes.
“N-no,” I stammered. “Of course not.”
“But now, you say you don’t want … what? Me?”
