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I whipped my head around to face my friend and sighted companion, and my eyes rounded with a warning for her not to leave me alone, more out of fear that I wouldn’t find her again than anything else. But she gave her brows a quick jump as she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to be right over there,” she said. “Just follow the bar, and you’ll find me at the end.”
“Okay,” I muttered, swallowing hard and hoping my crappy vision didn’t get me lost when it was time to leave.
“Have fun, girlie-girl,” she crooned, then trotted away with her hips swaying and drink held high.
My stomach twisted tightly with nerves as I watched her leave. She was my sight—had always been since we had been kids—and as she faded into the sea of well-dressed strangers, I found myself alone. Standing beside a man I’d only known in my dreams.
“So, how do you two know each other?” he asked, steering my attention from Tarryn’s disappearing act.
“We met in preschool,” I replied absentmindedly, dropping my gaze to the bar in search of my drink.
Tarryn would’ve left it right where I could find it, but the clear glass disappeared against the surface of the bar. I didn’t want to make an ass of myself by asking James—or worse, Dylan—but where the hell did it go?
“Here.” Dylan’s hand shot out in front of me to grab a glass only a foot from my gaze. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen James put it down, and I hadn’t seen Tarryn grab hers. So, I swallowed my uncertainty and bit my bottom lip before admitting, “I’m not sure. Tarryn ordered our drinks, and I have no idea what it’s supposed to look like.”
“Well then”—Dylan placed the glass back on the bar and stood up straight to raise his hand—”what were you drinking?”
“I don’t even know,” I confessed, laughing. “Tarryn worked her magic on the bartender and got him to make a couple of drinks I had never heard of. I didn’t even want one, to be honest, but you know Tarryn …”
My voice trailed off at the realization that he didn’t know Tarryn. They hadn’t met before the award show rehearsal—I would’ve known, trust me. I bit my tongue, feeling stupid and wishing Tarryn hadn’t left me stranded. How was I supposed to inject her confidence into my psyche when she wasn’t here to give it to me?
But slowly, Dylan lowered his hand, keeping his eyes on me as he returned to his position against the bar. Then, he asked, “Listen, if I promise to bring you back to your friend, would you go somewhere with me?”
Safe—it was how I had always lived my life. Risks were a no-no, and wandering off with strange men, no matter how worshipped they were, was a major risk. But tonight, I was Tarryn, and Tarryn would go.
So, with my chin lifted and my heart on fire, I asked my god, “What do you have in mind?”
***
The combination of grease and salt pummeled my senses as Dylan approached. There was a limp in his gait that I hadn’t noticed before when walking beside him, but I saw it now. The slight lean to his right, shifting his weight in a way he never used to. Memories of him before the accident—exactly four years ago today—played vividly in my mind. His prowess and swagger. The seductive sway of his hips that brought to mind carnal thoughts of sex—the dirtier, the better.
That was gone now—all of it—and yet something about this hit different. Better. Deeper.
Because this time, he was walking towardme.
His hands were full as he came to me—a paper bag in one, a cardboard drink holder in the other—and without question, I got up to take them from him.
“You don’t have to—” He stopped himself from continuing, maybe realizing that it was for the better, then came around the coffee table to drop clumsily onto the couch.
I didn’t look at him as I unloaded the bag of burgers and fries from Shake Shack, but I could hear his breath huffing heavily with agitation and embarrassment. It felt wrong and backward for Dylan Pierce to be embarrassed in my presence, so I pretended not to notice.
“So, Lennon,” he said as I sat beside him with a burger already in hand, “tell me something about yourself.”
“Well, what do you want to know?” I asked, finding it impossible to believe that he would care to know anything about me.
Dylan snorted, reaching for his cheeseburger on the coffee table. “Anything other than the fact that you don’t eat cheese because I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be able to look past that.”
Laughing nervously, I reached out to snag a fry from the paper carton on the coffee table. My fingers pinched the carton instead—a mistake often made by having crappy vision—and I hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“Hey, I’m not saying anything aboutyouliking it,” I defended myself. I popped the fry in my mouth and then, without thinking, wiped the grease off my fingers with my thousand-dollar dress. “Shit.”
Dylan drew my attention with a chuckle, a gravelly sound from deep within his chest. Glancing at him, I was startled to find his eyes hooded and mouth curved in a tantalizing smirk, and I just as quickly looked away.
“So, um, what do you want to know about me?” I asked, clearing my throat while desperately trying to grasp on to the confidence I'd briefly held earlier.
“Well, first things first. Where have I seen you before?” he asked as he placed the half-eaten burger he'd needed so badly onto the coffee table.
