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I leaned closer as we talked, drawn into this unexpected glimpse beneath his lighthearted exterior. Dylan wasn’t just playing a role - he truly understood the soul I poured into my creations. It was as if he could see past the paintings themselves and into my essence.
“Thanks for letting me into your world Aves, it’s been a privilege. I’ve gotta run to the station now. Maybe see you for dinner at Maggie’s later?” As he left the studio, Dylan turned to me with a smile. “This has been amazing. Never stop painting, okay? You have a gift that needs to be shared.”
I smiled back, warmed by his words. With one sincere conversation, my perception shifted. Dylan wasn’t just my charming, joking neighbor.
***
I eyed my phone as it lit up with a text from Dylan, asking if I was on to meet for dinner at Maggie’s Diner. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was already 7 pm. I had been so absorbed in my painting that the day had slipped away from me.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me I had eaten nothing since that quick sandwich at lunchtime. I stretched my arms over my head, loosening up my tight shoulders. As much as I loved losing myself in my art, hours hunched over the canvas took a toll.
Dinner at the diner sounded perfect. It would give me a much-needed break and I welcomed the company after a long day alone in the studio. I quickly texted Dylan back:
“Dinner sounds great! Meet you there in 15?”
I tidied up my supplies and slipped on a light sweater before heading out into the cooling evening air. The short walk to Maggie’s Diner helped clear my head. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the salty ocean breeze.
As I approached the diner, the neon “Open” sign cast a warm glow onto the sidewalk. Stepping inside, I spotted Dylan already seated in a corner booth. He looked up from the menu and flashed me his charming, lopsided grin.
“Well hey there stranger, I was starting to think you stood me up,” he joked.
I slid into the red vinyl seat across from him. “And miss out on Maggie’s famous apple pie? Never.”
We fell into our familiar pattern of playful teasing and banter. Dylan regaled me with an animated story about a recent hose malfunction at the fire station that ended with him soaked from head to toe. I countered with a dramatic re-enactment of my battle with a particularly stubborn tube of cerulean blue paint that morning.
Our conversation ebbed and flowed as effortlessly as the tide. Dylan’s humor and captivating manner had a way of putting me instantly at ease. I could just be myself with him - quirks, paint-stained clothes and all.
I stirred my coffee absentmindedly, watching the swirls of cream slowly dissipate into the dark liquid. Across from me in the red vinyl booth, Dylan was now uncharacteristically quiet. The diner hummed around us, silverware clinking against plates and the low murmur of other patrons’ conversations blending into comforting background noise.
Molly had just stopped by our table, beaming as she offered her hearty congratulations on our engagement. “You two make such a darling couple,” she had exclaimed, patting Dylan’s shoulder warmly. “I always knew it was only a matter of time before you moved to our little corner of the world, Avery. Pebble Point has a way of bringing soulmates together.” Her words, though based on our fictional engagement, had struck an emotional chord in me. I glanced up at Dylan, wondering if he felt it too.
“You know, this whole pretend fiance thing...” I began, keeping my voice low. “It’s making me think about what I want in life. My relationships, my art...who I am and who I want to become.”
Dylan nodded, his green eyes softening with understanding. “I know what you mean. Being here with you, playing this role...it’sgiven me a glimpse into a different kind of life. A life where I could let someone in, instead of always hiding behind humor and charm.”
His candor surprised me. I realized how little I knew about his past relationships and the experiences that shaped him. But I could relate to that yearning he described. To be truly seen and valued for who you are.
“I guess pretending has a way of reflecting reality on us, huh?” I said.
The corner of Dylan’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Yeah, it’s like fun house mirrors or something. All distorted, but somehow making things clearer, too.”
I sipped my coffee, contemplating his words. Molly came by again to freshen our mugs. As she topped mine off, she gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
I met Dylan’s gaze again, feeling the weight of Molly’s perceptions and the entire community’s expectations resting on us now. “Well, I guess we’ve got them all convinced,” I said with a small, nervous laugh.
Dylan reached across the table then, his hand covering mine in a gentle, reassuring grasp. “It’s not all pretend though, is it Avery?” he asked softly. “There’s something real growing here, too. I know I’m not the only one feeling it.”
My heart quickened at his touch and words. I turned my hand over to lace my fingers between his. “No, you’re not,” I confessed. The truth of it filled me with both exhilaration and fear. I cared about Dylan more than I wanted to admit. But it was all still so new, this blossoming tenderness. Were we ready to nurture this fledgling bond? Or would it crumble under the weight of expectations and vulnerabilities?
Sitting there, hands entwined over our coffees, I knew only one thing for certain - I wasn’t ready to let go yet. Whateverthis was between us, real or pretend, my heart was in too deep already.
***
Dylan walked me home after our dinner at Maggie’s, his hand gently grasping mine the whole way. Even after we reached my front door, he lingered, neither of us ready to say goodnight. Eventually, he squeezed my hand and, with a small smile, headed back across the quiet street to his own house.
I stood at the window, peering out at the dark silhouette of his home. His living room light flicked on, casting a warm glow into the night. I imagined him settling onto his worn leather couch, kicking his feet up after the day.
I sighed, pressing my fingertips to the cool glass. A whisper of confusion stirred within me. Were my feelings shifting from fake to real? The thought both thrilled and terrified me. Vulnerability was not my strong suit. But Dylan had a way of slipping past my defenses with his compassion and charm.
