by Lynn Stevens
“You can’t tell me you’ve never had a boyfriend,” Dylan said.
“This is so not the conversation I expected. But, yes, I’ve had a boyfriend. We dated. He dumped me, end of story. Nobody since. I’m not a perfect little angel.”
Dylan’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulled me back against him. “Don’t think those high school boys didn’t find you sexy as hell. They were probably too chickenshit to ask you out. The way that Brady guy stared at you, I guarantee he’s not the only one who’s ever looked at you like that.”
“Like what?” I whispered. I put my hands over his arm.
Dylan’s hot breath kissed my ear. “Like he wants to get you naked in his boat.”
“You don’t look at me like that,” I pointed out.
“Jesus, you are blind.” Dylan spun me around. His lips found mine before I could steady myself.
I sunk into the kiss. Dylan’s arms were the only thing keeping me from melting into the ground. His tongue danced around mine, teasing and hungry. My fingers dug into his hips. The harder he kissed me, the tighter I pulled him closer. All thoughts disappeared from my head. The only thing I could think of was yes. Dylan’s hand moved up my back and lifted my shirt. A moan slipped from my mouth.
Then his lips were gone.
“We have to stop,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. “I can’t.”
“You can’t kiss me?” I asked, wishing like hell he’d do it again.
“I won’t stop.” He stepped back, face flushed and fist clenched.
“What if I don’t want you to?” I whispered. As much as I wanted to close the gap and reclaim him, I kept my distance. He stopped for a reason. He had to be the one to make another move.
“It’s not that easy, Cameron.” Dylan glanced down at the gravely bank for several minutes before meeting my stare. “You have no idea how much I want... but I can’t. I told you why. If I quit on myself, I’ve fucked everything up again. I intend to keep this promise. I need to keep it.”
I put my hands behind my back and nodded. Did I understand? Not even a little, but I had to respect that. No means no, regardless of gender. We stood in silence. I watched my feet shuffle across the rocks as I moved toward the picnic. After gathering the trash, I walked toward the kayak.
“We should go,” I said without looking at him. If only I could avoid looking at him the rest of way back to Jack’s. Or the rest of the way home. I needed time to think and sort this out. He didn’t reject me, but he rejected the idea of anyone.
That didn’t stop it from hurting though.
CHAPTER TWENTY
By the time we made it back to the dock, I’d made a decision. It was so simple really. I was a little angry at myself for not thinking of it sooner. I’d just pretend that he never kissed me, that my insides hadn’t melted, that I hadn’t wanted to have his hands touch me in places the sun never saw. Easier said than done, but that was what Dylan wanted.
“Hey, Cami,” Brady said as we cruised up to the dock. “How’s the water?”
“Great,” I said, forcing the joviality in my voice. “Got a lot of boats still out?”
“Couple of kayaks and a canoe. Should be back soon.” Brady glanced at his watch, then Dylan. “You should hang out. Dad’s smoking some bass.”
Dylan slipped as he climbed out of the kayak, but he caught himself on the dock before he face-planted into the water. Brady stood and watched. When it was my turn to get out, Brady offered his hand. I took it without thinking. He pulled me a little too close and I stepped away quickly.
“Um, thanks.” I answered. “Maybe next time. Dad’s expecting me at home.”
“Yeah, okay. Tell your dad I said hey.” Brady grabbed the cooler and handed it over. His fingers brushed against mine.
“You know, buddy,” Dylan said, stepping in between us. “You could not hit on her when she’s with me.”
Brady glanced at me then at Dylan. “I only told her to say hi to her dad.”
“Uh-huh, after you asked her to stay for dinner. After you molested her with your eyes.” Dylan shook his head. “You could’ve at least waiting until I was out of earshot.”
Brady opened his mouth, but I was having none of this bullshit.
“Just stop, Dylan. Brady and I are friends.” I stared Brady in the eye. “Right?”
Brady swallowed. “Right.”
“See?” I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the dock. Over my shoulder, I said goodbye to Brady. Yeah, maybe he had been flirting with me, but Dylan didn’t need to be an asshole about it. I didn’t drop Dylan’s arm until we were at the car. Then I turned on him, jamming my finger into his chest until his back was pressed against the door. “You had no right to be an asshole. Brady’s harmless, and we’re just friends. Same as you and me.”
“Friends?” Dylan reached out and touched my cheek. “Is that what we are?”
“According to you, that’s all we can be.” I leaned against his palm. “Or did you forget what you said twenty minutes ago?”
Dylan smiled sadly. “I didn’t forget.” His thumb drifted over my lower lip before he dropped his hand. “And you’re right. I was an asshole. For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, too. Brady hit on you right in front of me. That’s a clear violation of the bro code.”
“Oh please tell me you didn’t just use that phrase.” I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.
“I did and I stand by it.” Dylan stood straight and stared into my eyes. “I can’t be just a friend to you, Cam. I don’t want that.”
“What do you want then? Because I’m confused here.” I squeezed my arms tight against my body. “You say one thing, do another, then say something completely different.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I’m fucked.”
No shit. I kept my mouth shut and waited for Dylan to come back to this world. His lips moved, but he said nothing. At least that’s what I thought until I leaned in and heard “hallowed be thy name”. He recited The Lord’s Prayer. When he finished, he lowered his head and met my eyes.
“Sorry, I’m... hoping for some guidance.” Dylan pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the doors. “Let’s go back to my place and play. That helps clear my head.”
I let my arms fall beside me. Music cleared my head, too.
Dylan cranked Cash on the way to his place. I stared out the window, singing along. This was easier. This was what I knew. This was what I needed to focus on. I fingered the pages in my bag. I wanted to share this with him, and now I wasn’t so sure. It was a piece of me. Dylan had went on a roller coaster today and taken me with him. I didn’t want to get back on that train anytime soon.
He parked in the driveway, but he didn’t get out.
“I can take you home, if you want.” He tapped his fingers against his knees and stared out the windshield. “I’ll understand if you don’t want anything to do with me.”
I closed my eyes. Hadn’t I just been thinking the same thing? Hearing him say it was a knife to my chest. I didn’t want him out of my life, but I didn’t want crazy Dylan in it either.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he said.
Another stab. This one going deeper than the last.
“I should’ve had more control. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said without thinking. I opened my eyes and turned toward him. He didn’t look at me so I reached out and forced him to. Tears rimmed his eyes. “I’m not sorry you kissed me. It was ...” I searched for the right word, but there wasn’t one. “More than I could ever hope for? I don’t know how to describe it. It was like hearing a song for the first time and knowing it’s your song. I don’t regret it, and neither should you. But if you can’t do it again, we need to move ahead as friends and nothing more.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Cam,” he said. “I want to be so much more, but I can’t fail myself. Don’t you understand that? I... can’t fail again. I’m trying to take control, regain t
hings I’ve lost, and figure out where I’m going. That was the reason for this show. Dad wants to find his former glory, and I want to figure out my future glory. If I lose myself, I’ll lose myself with you.”
“What if you find yourself with me?” I asked.
Dylan smiled and turned to kiss my palm.
“What if we find ourselves together?” I reached out with my other hand and put it on his shoulder. “I only know one thing for sure, Dylan, and that’s I’m going to sing. I don’t know what. I don’t know where. I don’t know if I’ll be in a band or solo or singing somewhere in a bar. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life making music. The rest, that’s just details.”
Dylan leaned across the console and pressed his lips to mine. “What if I’m the one thing that stops that from happening?”
“What if you’re the reason I make it?”
He kissed me again, slowly. I reveled in the kiss, the way his mouth moved against mine in a ballad until the crescendo hit and his tongue hummed in the same rhythm. I didn’t want to stop, but I knew I’d have to be the one to make that decision. Dylan didn’t want to lose himself, and I didn’t want him to break his promise either. I pulled back and smiled.
“Let’s go inside.”
“No sex,” he said, desperation in his eyes.
I almost laughed. “No sex. Clothes stay on. Promise. But I do want to show you something.”
“Are we going to try this?” he asked, not letting go of my hand.
“I want to.”
His face relaxed into a real smile. “Me too.”
“Okay then. Let’s try this.”
I opened the car door and waited for Dylan by the front bumper. He took my hand, weaving our fingers together, and led me inside. The front door stuck, but he shouldered it open. He wouldn’t let go of my hand, even after we stood in the living room and stared at each other.
“Well?” he asked.
“We need to go downstairs.” I pulled him with me as I walked backward to the basement. Dylan smiled and waggled his eyebrows. I laughed before turning around and pulling him down the steps. His grip tightened on mine. Once we were by his guitars, I faced him again. “I’m gonna need my hand for this.”
Dylan pulled me close and kissed me quickly. Then he let go.
I turned back around and picked up his three-quarters guitar. Dylan kept a small stool nearby. I pulled it over to the couch and sat down. Dylan settled on the couch. I couldn’t look at him as I began strumming. But I couldn’t sing with my throat constricted, so I lifted my head and closed my eyes. I began to sing:
A cold June day
A storm outside.
The world brews with life
Lightning cuts the sky
Thunder echoes inside
As he dies.
Daddy always said
Life isn’t meant to be
A permanent thing
To miss out on.
Daddy always said
Don’t forget to fly
Don’t forget to love.
But most of all
Don’t forget to live.
I finished on a G chord and opened my eyes. Dylan stared back at me. His expression was blank, and my heart fell into my toes. I stood and placed his guitar where it belonged. My throat locked up on me. I wanted to go back and ask him what he thought, but I didn’t want to either based on his expression. He hated it. I knew it as well as I knew my own name.
“Cam?” Dylan said.
“Yeah?” I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t.
“That was good,” he said, his voice was strained. “Really good.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I inhaled and spun on my heel. He leaned forward on his elbows with his hands clasped in front of him. “Don’t patronize me.”
“What?” Dylan leaped to his feet. “I’m not. It was good.”
“Why don’t I believe you then? I poured my heart into it.” I paced toward a new drumset that hadn’t been here the last time I was. “And it was the first time I’ve ever tried to write a song. You could—”
“The first time?” Dylan closed the distance between us and put his hands on my shoulder. “That was the first time you’ve ever written or attempted to write a song?”
I stared at his black Chucks and nodded.
“Then that was incredible.” He lifted my chin with his fingers. “And had a little plagiarism, but still incredible.”
“Plagiarism?” I ran through the words and couldn’t think of any song with those lyrics.
“The melody is the same as ‘Hard Moon,’” he said raising his eyebrows.
I heard it instantly. I’d written one of Hank Walker’s biggest hits with new words. I put my head on his shoulder. “I didn’t even realize.”
“I know.” He pulled me into a hug. “You’ve also been singing that song so much it’s just a natural thing now. You probably sing it in your sleep.”
“And in the shower.”
Dylan laughed and pushed me back. “Look at me.”
I did, feeling the heat rising under my skin. My face must’ve looked like a plump tomato.
“We’ll work on it. Together.”
“So you’re my songwriting partner now?” I tried to grin, but my embarrassment wouldn’t let me.
“More like your songwriting teacher,” he said. “Mom wrote most of Hank’s biggest hits. She taught me everything she knows. I can teach you. Look at it like part of our other sessions.”
This time I did grin. “When do we start?”
“After this,” he said, leaning in and kissing me until my toes curled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dylan and I spent every minute together. We fixed the song with a new melody, but it still wasn’t right. The video he had upload slowly gained traction and the comments were positive for the most part. It was exhilarating that people were finally hearing me sing. Me not backup singer me. I should’ve started a YouTube channel years ago.
We arrived at the theater for the sound check the next day. Dylan kept his distance to a degree. It hurt, but I knew what he was doing. He was protecting himself as much as he was protecting me. Hank already thought we were sleeping together. Image if we flaunted it.
Dylan parked in his usual spot and squeezed my hand. “You sure you’re okay with keeping us quiet?”
“If that’s what you need, then yes,” I said without a doubt.
“You’re too good for me,” he said before opening his door and climbing out.
I didn’t move. The words slapped me hard. I wasn’t too good for him. If anything, he was too good for me. I pushed the thoughts down. Focusing on the show was the priority. And getting through the evening without touching him. That was going to be hard enough.
The theater buzzed with excitement, more so than opening night.
Dylan stopped one of the grips as he ran past. “What’s going on?”
“Some music reviewer from out west is coming. Hank’s freaking out and making us check everything on stage.” The grip glanced down at me. “Watch your back. He’s on a rampage.”
I nodded. Having been the target of Hank’s rampages before, I was glad to have the heads up.
“Thanks,” Dylan said. He took my hand and started to lead me toward the dressing room.
I yanked it free.
Dylan froze and glanced over his shoulder. His expression was a mix of hurt and gratitude. “Sorry,” he mouthed.
“If you want to hold my hand, you can,” I said.
“I do, but ... you know.” He shrugged and took off, leaving me behind.
It was dark and busier than usual. Navigating the grips and stagehands took some time, but I made to the dressing room just barely unscathed. Or so I thought.
“Oh my shit,” Crystal screeched. “What the fuck happened to you?”
I stared back at her and lifted my shoulders. “What’re you talking about?”
Crystal pointed to a spot on my forehead. A boom had grazed me as I made my way
toward the door and I didn’t think much of it. It was just a brush of metal. Yeah, it stung a little, but I’ve felt worse. It wasn’t anything major. Until I put my hand up and felt the sticky blood. I pulled my hand away. Red covered the tip of my fingers. My vision faded in and out, its sole focus on the blood. I tried to pull my eyes away, but I couldn’t not even as I heard Dylan’s voice shout my name. Then I didn’t hear or see anything.
Someone slapped my cheek. My eyes snapped open. Dylan’s fuzzy face hovered over me. As my eyes refocused on him, concern drew his eyebrows together.
“You okay, Cam?” Dylan asked, brushing my hair back off my face.
“Yeah, I just...” I reached up and gripped his fingers. “Blood does that to me, I guess.”
Dylan smiled, but it didn’t ease the lines around his eyes. “Are you sure? Your head... It’s not pretty.”
“It’s fine,” Crystal said somewhere near my feet.
I closed my eyes. “Did everyone see me pass out?”
“Oh, honey, we all saw you,” Heath said with a chuckle. “Just be glad Dylan’s fast on his feet. He caught you before you crashed.”
“Thank you,” I said, still keeping my eyes shut.
“Anytime,” he whispered.
A damp towel touched my forehead. The cold felt fantastic against my overheated skin. I didn’t move as someone cleaned me up. I didn’t want to move. Dylan’s fingers brushed through my hair. The movement soothed me. I opened my eyes and met his. Dylan’s gaze bore into mine with an intensity I’d never seen before.
“It’s a small scrap,” someone said. “She’ll be fine.”
Dylan nodded, but he still didn’t move. “Don’t scare me like that, okay?”
“Don’t let me see blood again, and I won’t.” I grinned and he finally relaxed.
“Oh yeah, they’re totally screwing each other,” Crystal said a little too loudly.
My face burned.
“So much for keeping us quiet,” Dylan said, but he smiled. “I hate keeping secrets anyway.”
I laughed. “Maybe you should let me up.”
