Dizzy

by Jolene Perry

  “Alright!” Derrick interrupts. “We’re breaking up into boy/girl teams.”

  “I call Lora!” I raise my hand to give my brother crap. It’s not like he’s letting Lora on any team but his.

  “Haha. When did you turn into a comedian?” He puts his arm around her.

  I grab Ziah and pull her to my side. We’re supposed to be friends, so that’s what I’m doing. “That’s okay. Ziah’s tougher anyway.”

  Derrick just rolls his eyes. Paul pairs up with Mardie and Sam with Karissa. Ziah’s wearing camo, which is pretty freaking cool, and as soon as Derrick says go, each group of two takes off into a different area of the course.

  “Come on.” I’m holding her hand as we run. We take up behind a big wall, both of us panting hard.

  “Karissa was scared to death to do this. I say we go for them first,” Ziah tells me.

  “Good looking out.” There’s a hole in the wall, so I look through it. “They’re by the tree on the left. Wanna go for it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We make a run for it, and then hide behind another wall. I point, and she immediately catches what I’m saying. We each head around different sides to close in on Karissa and Sam. Ten seconds later, we take them out. Karissa screams like crazy, but looks way too happy about being done.

  “If I know Paul, he’s coming for us.”

  Ziah smiles. “We got this.”

  When Paul jumps out from behind a mock-building, I shoot him. Ziah’s aim is awesome, and she gets Mardie.

  “Hell, yeah!” I hold up my hand, and she gives me five.

  Right then Derrick jumps out. I shoot at him and miss. He takes off again, hiding.

  “I think Lora went first,” Ziah tells me.

  “Attack or retreat?”

  She raises her eyebrows, and I don’t need her to reply. “Attack,” we say at the same time. And we do. It takes a lot longer to get Lora and Derrick than it did the others, but eventually we take them out, too.

  When they both have red pain splattered across their chests, I collapse to the ground. Ziah is right next to me. We’re both breathing hard.

  “That was awesome.” As soon as the words clear her mouth she starts laughing.

  I can’t help but laugh, too. I don’t let myself question why I told Chastity no or what’s going on. It’s not about how hot she is or how good it feels to kiss her. She’s just cool as hell, and I like hanging out with her.

  ***

  I am so lame. Seriously, I would make fun of myself if it didn’t make me even lamer.

  I knew I liked Ziah. That I enjoyed kissing her, and that I told Chastity no probably because of Ziah. But somehow, just laughing with her on the paintball course, and how well we work together is the last straw that makes me know I’m in over my head.

  I can’t stop thinking about her, and I both want to stop and don’t at the same time. I’m not sure when I turned into that guy—the one who’s scared to move forward, but doesn’t want to back up either.

  It sucks.

  Derrick trusts Lora, but it’s like a roadblock I can’t get past. I’ve tried. And Dad can’t either, which is why I’m sitting outside his building like an idiot.

  It’s one of my favorite places to come and draw. The noise of the city somehow settles me. On any given day, I have my choice of a million different pictures to capture. They’re never the same, except his building. The constant in the ever-changing picture of the city.

  Putting pencil to paper, I start with the outline of the structure in front of me. The windows, the glass. I know exactly which one is Dad’s office, where I’m sure he’s working like crazy, even more distracted than usual. But at least I feel close to him here. This place is my dad.

  Soon the building has eyes, familiar eyes. And a smile and hair. Like I said, totally lame.

  “Dyl, what are you doing here?” I turn to see my dad walking across the grass toward me.

  It’s actually a sunny day. He looks tired, or maybe a little nervous to see me. He’s been out even more than usual lately.

  “Nothing. Thought I’d see what you’re up to.” I close my sketch book.

  “Just working. Thought I’d take a little break and saw you out here.” He rubs the back of his neck.

  I don’t reply. I’m not sure how. Something is off… different. He fills in my silence.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, are you okay with everything? Derrick, the wedding? I know… I know you took it hard. Derrick’s a smart kid, though.”

  And this is my opening. If I can take it. “What if he’s not?”

  Dad sighs, looking at the ground, a tree, anything but me.

  “I really screwed up with you, didn’t I, son? Because your mother… that doesn’t mean it will go the same for Derrick. That doesn’t mean you boys shouldn’t live your lives. That you shouldn’t ever take that step. All relationships don’t end the way mine and your mom’s did.”

  Then I’m rubbing my neck, too. “Why don’t you live your life, then? Why didn’t you ever move on?”

  Do you still believe in love? Is it worth the risk?

  Whoa. Love? That came out of nowhere.

  Dad sits on the ground in his suit next to me. This isn’t my dad. He’s not a suit-in-the-grass kind of guy.

  “Because I’m stupid? Weak? I’m not sure, Dylan. But I can tell you it’s lonely. Without you boys, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  I hear his voice crack. My dad, who showed how broken he was when she left but now never shows emotion, is giving me a glimpse of his pain. I’m not sure I want to be like that.

  “There’s a girl… Lora’s sister, actually. I kind of like her. Maybe really like her, but I told her we could only be friends.”

  Dad shifts. “There’s a woman in my office who asked me out for drinks. It’s the first time since your mom left that I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t. Don’t be like me, Dylan. You’re too young, have too much life in you for that. Out of all of us, you’ve always been the one with the most life—and the one who took her leaving the hardest. That’s my fault for not being there for you.” His eyes shift, and he sucks in a breath. “I left you too, didn’t I?”

  Yes, you did…

  I can’t help it, I hug him. We probably look crazy, but I don’t care. He squeezes me back, and now it’s his words that are replacing my thoughts. Don’t be like me, Dylan.

  “Would you ever want to see her again? It’s up to you, son, but if the opportunity came, would you want to see her?”

  His words shock me, kind of jolt me away from him. “What? No.” I shake my head. “She was everything, and then she left. I hate her for that.”

  And that’s the truth. She was the one I watched movies with at night, and the one who made me cookies or brought me to the park. She was my world and then she burned it down.

  “You were young… so young, when she left. She was…”

  She was what? I want to ask, but I let him finish.

  “No matter what, I loved her. Through it all. I guess that makes me even more to blame than her.”

  Suddenly, I need to make him feel better. No one forced her to leave. She just did. “It’s not your fault. You should go out with that lady, Dad. No offense, but it’s probably been way too long since you got some.”

  Dad laughs and shakes his head. “Only you, Dyl.” Then more seriously, “I’ll think about it. You, on the other hand. Well, not the ‘get some’ part because I don’t even want to think about that, but you shouldn’t run like I do. Give yourself a chance to be happy. Don’t be afraid to have something real—something that means more.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I counter, and I will. I’m not sure I can go there, but I might want to try. Because he’s right. I don’t want to be like him… alone. “Thanks, Dad.” I stand up.

  “There’s more. We really need to talk, Dylan. Or you need to talk to your brother.”

  Groaning, I ask, “Is it good? Actually, don’t answer that. I can tell
. Can we do it later though? I think I’ve had enough for today.”

  I know it’s something bad. He wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t, and I’m kind of sick of bad.

  “You should really stop giving us excuses to put this off.”

  “I know, Dad. Soon, okay? I have something I need to do.”

  Dad nods. “I’ll see ya later. And thanks. I love you.”

  I don’t remember the last time we said that to each other.

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  Twenty

  ~ Ziah ~

  It’s not that Dylan never calls me; it’s just that it doesn’t happen often. “What’s up?” I answer.

  “I wanna get together. Do something. You know, hang out.” His voice sounds a little weird.

  “I’ll see you this weekend, remember?”

  “What?”

  “All the people who actually go to college have the week off, remember? That’s why they picked the date for the wedding. So they could all have a week of fun before the big day. Lora said we’re getting together Saturday.”

  “I thought maybe we could get together sooner?”

  I’m not sure if I trust myself around Dylan without a group, but I don’t want to blow him off. “I have a few big tests this week and will definitely not be any fun. How about I see you on Saturday for dinner, and we’ll plan something to save ourselves from what will probably be wedding-week insanity.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Cool.”

  When we hang up, I get this weird feeling Dylan walked around what he wanted to say but never said it. After the last time we had a big talk, I’m sort of relieved he didn’t.

  ***

  “Ziah!” James jogs up to my locker.

  It’s both comforting and weird that we’re talking again. It’s better than avoiding, but I don’t think we’ll ever have the easy friendship we had before we started dating. It does make me think twice before trying to date a friend again. Maybe Dylan’s right to be scared.

  “What’s up?”

  “I talked to that Matthew kid who’s so good in our AP English? And he said he can get together with us next Wednesday if we want to gear up for big test after break.”

  I scan his face for any sign that more might be going on, but I don’t find it. “With Matthew?”

  James rolls his eyes. “That would be the point, yeah.”

  “Okay. That week is crazy, but I need all the help I can get. I’m in.”

  “Great.” He smiles wide, and it’s more relaxed and less forced. James and I will be okay.

  ***

  It’s Saturday before the wedding, and we’re all at the first event of what is sure to be a week of insanity. It started with Alyssa and Paul shamelessly flirting at the table—both over the top and ridiculous, but at least they were entertaining. After the last time I went out with Lora and her friends, she promised Mom an early night.

  “I owe you a dance.” Dylan takes my hand and pulls me from my chair. The whole crew is out tonight, and even Alyssa tagged along for fun.

  The music slows as we hit the small dance floor, and Dylan pulls me close. My heart starts pounding.

  “Relax, Hanes.” He grins as he pulls me closer, pressing our stomachs together.

  Right. Relax. “You always smell good,” I say.

  I’m not sure it’s something you’re supposed to say to your friend, but instead of pulling away, he breathes in and pulls me even closer.

  “So do you,” he whispers as he leans in even more.

  We’re almost cheek to cheek, and a shiver runs through me as his breath touches my ear and neck.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you—” he starts.

  “Shhhh.” I let myself really relax into him like I never have.

  He started it, so I’m feeling like I’m safe. I readjust my arms around his neck wanting to be closer when I’m not totally sure it’s possible.

  “But—”

  “Please. Just dance and relax for a few.” I lean into him farther as our bodies move together.

  Dylan says nothing, and his hands slide lower on my waist. Are we dancing like this to a fast song? It doesn’t matter. The heat from him radiates through my body. Our hips move together, and his fingers trace patterns on my back. As my nerves start to take over, I swallow. Hard. Now his hands slide up my bare arms, and mine are making patterns in his hair.

  “Dirty dancing!” Paul nudges us from the side. “Nice.” He wags his brows as Alyssa falls easily into his arms, and they laugh together as they dance.

  Dylan sighs.

  I move away, but just slightly. His hands rest on my shoulders, and he whispers again. “I really want to talk to you.”

  I’m so afraid of another, “I like you, but can’t,” speech, I rest my head on his shoulder, willing him to be quiet.

  Derrick steps next to us and whispers, “Hands off, and we’re leaving in about ten.”

  Dylan shoves him away. “Okay.” He looks at me with annoyance on his face. “I need air.”

  “I’m coming.” I have no idea what this is about, but I get the same feeling I did on the phone. That Dylan has something to say and doesn’t know how to say it.

  My gut turns over in nerves.

  We step out the small back door into a downpour.

  “Shit,” Dylan sighs.

  I step into the alleyway behind the restaurant letting the cold water soak me.

  “Ziah.” He grabs my hand as he follows me out. “I don’t want you to get cold or wet.”

  It’s too late. I’m in the rain in the dark. I look up at the sky and let it hit my face. The raindrops reflect the city lights above me, and it’s breathtaking—small slashes of silver in the sky. When I let my face come back down, Dylan’s staring. My stomach flips. I want him to look at me like that more than I want anything. Why did he have to drag me out here? Why does he want to talk? Why haven’t I been able to let go of his hand?

  “Hey.” Only the rain is coming down so hard I have to speak it, not whisper.

  “Hey.” His eyes hit me, and I know that look better than anything. There’s no way he’s not thinking about me the way I’m thinking about him.

  His arms come around me, and I shouldn’t want them to but I do. It feels so good to let him hold me. Better than I remembered, or maybe it’s just that I’ve thought about his arms for way more time than I should.

  My head rests on his shoulder, my arms slide around to his back, and I don’t care that we’re getting soaked or that the alley smells. My hair begins to stick to my face, and I swear as we stand together, something changes in the way we’re touching. I haven’t exactly moved, but it’s like my body is starting to take over. It’s like the dance floor, only more intense because we’re alone and there’s no music. Only, I don’t know if my heart can stand to be crushed again if he moves away first, so I do.

  Pulling away means our eyes lock. My arms are still around him, and his arms are still around me. There is no willpower left in me right now. It just doesn’t matter when we’re here like this. He hesitates briefly. I’m still frozen in place, electricity running through me, forcing my heart to beat more franticly.

  His lips touch mine first, and he’s so soft, so sweet. His face is cold and wet, and the rain drips down, mixing between us. My mouth opens to kiss him again, and I can taste him and taste the rain. Why does he have to feel so good, so perfect? Our kiss deepens, and it takes all my willpower to keep some sort of sound from coming up my throat. I’m not sure I succeed. The more time I spend with him, the more touching him overwhelms me.

  A weight rests on my chest—big, flat, and heavy. I can’t do this. If he’d changed his mind, he would have said something, right? And now as much as the warmth of his lips is the most perfect thing ever, I just can’t kiss someone who doesn’t want more from me. The weight settles deeper down than just my chest.

  My arms drop, and I step away. But it doesn’t feel like I just dropped my arms. It feels like someone just dropped me.
r />   I stare at the ground while I take a few breaths in. Anything to try and keep my voice even.

  “I can’t…” I let my eyes find his, and it’s such a big mistake because they’re filled with everything I want from him. And he can’t give it to me. “I can’t do this.”

  I back up and grab the handle of the door. The silver drops of rain slap against my face. Against his face.

  “Ziah, wait, I…” He steps toward me.

  I stop, still holding the door, my back pressed against the wet metal. “What?” Please say you’ve changed your mind. Please tell me I’m worth it. I’m worth the risk. As the rain streams down my face, my consolation is that if I start to cry, he’ll never know.

  “I…” he sucks in a breath and looks around us a few times. His hand grabs the back of his neck, and I’m learning this means he’s nervous. My heart jumps at the thought. And it shouldn’t jump, because he’s Dylan. That seems like a risk in itself, but the more I’m around him, the more surprising he becomes. In a good way. An amazing way.

  “I like you. A lot. And… I know this sucks for you if you feel anything like I do.” His eyes can’t stay on me. This is all Dylan, and all real. I can hear my breathing over the sound of the rain. “Like I want to be close, but I’m not sure how or...”

  I want to touch him again, but I’m almost afraid to. Like I’ll break the moment and stop whatever he’s about to say.

  “Just know I’m trying. I want to be with you. I mean, more than friends…and I’m trying.”

  And my heart sort of melts into my insides, and he’s scary because putting myself out there for someone like him makes my chances of another broken heart, like double. But I can’t help it. I step back into his arms, my heart hitting hard in the cage of my ribs. My eyes close, and I let his warmth wrap me up. And this is me and this is the real Dylan, and it’s like he’s everything. He’s the need and the sparks and the laughter, and he touches my heart in a way it’s never been touched before. It’s terrifying and so honest it makes me dizzy.

  “Thanks for giving me something real,” I say.

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m messing with you.” His fingers touch my cheek.