The Perks of Hating You ( Perks Book 2)
Page 9
Setting me on the closed toilet seat, Dylan crouched in front of me. “Eden, I won’t pressure you to do something you don’t want to do, but if he-”
I cut him off. I knew what he was saying and as much as I hated everything about what had happened between me and Marshall, the things he said after, the way he treated me during, the fact that I saw him with his arm around Kenzie when I finally stumbled from the woods, he didn’t rape me. “No, Dylan. I mean it.”
Dylan held my gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, looking for some truth. I met them head on, but that didn’t mean I was able to hold back the tears. Finally, he got to his feet with a sigh.
Pushing aside the shower curtain, he turned on the water and waited for a second before testing it. When the water was the temperature he wanted, Dylan pulled the lever to start the shower and yanked the curtain closed again.
“Here’s a towel,” he said, choosing a fluffy towel out of the linen closet. “I’ll get you some clean clothes and set them on the counter once you get in.”
And with that, he left, closing the door behind him.
A shower sounded heavenly. I quickly got out of my clothes and put them in the trash can beside the toilet. I never wanted to see them again.
The warm water pounded against my skin. For a second, the scent of Marshall’s cologne floated in the steamy air before it washed down the drain. Glancing around the shower enclosure, all I could find was Dylan’s body wash. I decided I could smell worse- did, in fact, smell worse. I pumped a measure of the soap into my hand and lathered it between my fingers before scrubbing at my body.
A knock sounded on the door. “You in?”
“Yeah.” I froze as he opened the door. Dylan wouldn’t do anything he shouldn’t, and I knew he couldn’t see me but still it was too intimate for him to be in the bathroom while I was naked in the shower. Especially, after-
He cleared his throat. “There’s some clothes on the counter. It’s all clean, I promise.”
“Thanks,” I squeaked.
“No problem.” And then the door closed again.
I couldn’t help myself, I peeked around the edge of the curtain to make sure he was really gone. Of course, he was. Feeling foolish on so many levels, I hurried through the rest of my shower, washing my hair with the bottle of dandruff shampoo in the corner. I turned off the water after making sure my hair was rinsed clean. I hated washing my hair. I remembered the feel of Marshall’s hands buried in the strands and couldn’t wait to get it cut.
I wrung out the moisture as much as I could before grabbing the towel and drying off. Dylan had placed a neatly folded stack of clothes on the counter. A gray t-shirt. A pair of gym shorts with a drawstring. Boxers. My cheeks flushed. Glancing at the clothes I tossed in the garbage, I couldn’t do it.
Pushing my embarrassment aside, I put on the clothes Dylan left for me. His clothes. Using the towel to dry my hair, I fought the feelings of desperation that threatened to suffocate me. Searching through the drawers, I found a comb. It would have to do. Working from the bottom, I combed through the tangles until my hair was smooth as silk.
Another knock sounded on the door. “You okay? Need anything else?”
“I’m good,” I called softly. Or as good as I could get. A quick glance in the mirror told me it would be awhile before my eyes calmed down, they were so red and puffy. My cheeks were bright red from the hot water- my body swam in Dylan’s huge clothes.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.
Dylan stood, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom. I tried not to squirm under his perusal. He must think I was the dumbest girl he’d ever had the chance to meet. My cheeks burned with shame.
“Sorry about the soap. I’m the only one that uses that shower and I didn’t think to get you something from upstairs.” He didn’t move, just stayed there against the wall.
“It’s fine.” I waved his concern aside.
What now?
I wrung my hands anxiously. One side of Dylan’s mouth curled up.
“Come on.” He reached for my hand and led me down the hall, pausing outside his bedroom.
In all the years I’d known Dylan, I’ve never been down here, never been in his room. He watched as I took in his personal space with a thorough glance. It surprised me given the state of his truck, but his room was spotless. The only thing out of order was a pair of jeans thrown haphazardly across the end of the bed he’d obviously been sleeping in when I called. His closet door was closed. His shoes were lined up neatly. The nightstand beside his bed held a lamp, alarm clock, and one book- a biography of Winston Churchill.
His walls were decorated with military posters. One showed military planes through various wars while another had different types of weapons from guns to tanks. A framed photograph of he, Josh, and I at an amusement park sat on a shelf on the wall above his desk. Beside the desk, a futon was shoved in the corner.
“I’ll take the futon,” he said, ushering me into the room.
Suddenly, the situation hit me. I was in Dylan’s house. In his room. Wearing his clothes. And I was supposed to sleep here. My eyes slid shut. Maybe I should leave.
“Maybe I should leave.” My voice trembled.
Dylan paused, a blanket and pillow in his hands as his gaze snapped to me. “If that’s what you want. I’ll walk you home. But if you want to stay, you’ll be safe here, Eden.”
I knew what he said was true. I might hate Dylan because he was an overbearing, overprotective oaf, but he cared about me. Tonight, when Marshall left me all alone at Jared’s party, the only person I knew I could call was Dylan. He wouldn’t rat me out to my parent’s. He wouldn’t even tell Josh. And somehow, I knew he wouldn’t rub it in my face and say, ‘I told you so’.
And I’d already sent the text to my parents that I was going to stay overnight with Allie. They probably wouldn’t see it until morning, but still.
“I’ll sleep on the futon and you can have the bed. No one will come down here if the door is closed on the stairs. What time are your parents expecting you home,” he asked, pulling his phone out of the pocket of the pajama pants he’d obviously changed into while I was in the shower.
Shaking my head, I took the pillow and blanket out of his hand. “I’m a lot smaller than you. I’ll sleep on the futon.”
“What? No, way,” Dylan reached for the pillow. I jerked it back and sat down on the futon. He’d have to physically move me to get me off the futon now.
“I should get home by ten or so. Mom usually goes to the gym and then to coffee with some ladies from work on Saturday’s and I think dad has to work. It would be better to show up while they are gone.” I stretched out on the futon, exhausted.
“Okay, I’ll set my alarm for nine-thirty.” He sat down on the edge of his bed and pushed the buttons on the screen. Once he finished, he looked over at me, his eyes full of worry and sorrow.
My own filled with tears again, so I closed them. Dylan leaned over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table. The room was quiet except for the sound of his sheets as he settled into his bed. He sighed deep in his chest.
The futon wasn’t very comfortable, but little by little my body relaxed. Against my will, my thoughts returned to the events leading up to calling Dylan and him picking me up.
Marshall.
How could I have been so wrong? How could I have misjudged the situation so fully? I physically ached with disappointment, hurt, and horror of what had happened. This was not at all how I imagined things going when I first set out to find a boyfriend this year. Now, all I could think was that I never wanted a boyfriend again.
A sob built up in my throat. I tried to hold it in, but it was too strong. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks and my body shook with emotion. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I did now would ever make it go away. I couldn’t take back what had happened tonight. Marshall hadn’t forced me, but I didn’t have a plan. I had no idea how to get myself out of that situation once I
was in it. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t fight him off, but I didn’t really want it to happen, either. So, I just let him. I never thought things would go like that and now it was done.
And it hurt. In every way possible, it hurt. I felt used. And dirty. And so, so alone.
Until-
In the midst of my pain, there was Dylan. His strong arms wrapped around me and cradled me close to his chest. Blanket and all, he carried me to his bed. Gently, he set me down and then curled himself around me.
“Dylan, I’m sorry-” I didn’t know what I was sorry for. Keeping him awake. Calling him when there was no one else to call. Not listening to him when he tried to warn me. Pretty much I was sorry for everything.
“Shhh,” he murmured in my ear.
I was cold. So cold. The blanket wrapped around me separated us and Dylan covered us both with the sheet and comforter on his bed. My head lay pillowed on his arm and I snuggled into his warmth.
Over and over he whispered he was sorry. He told me he wished he could take the pain away. He told me I was beautiful, and he told me he loved me.
And somewhere in the haze between sleep and pain, I realized I didn’t hate Dylan Coulter at all. In fact, I never had.
Chapter 15
Dylan
I woke to the sun streaming through the high basement window in my room and pins and needles dancing all through my arm. Strands of long black hair clung to my lips and a soft body curved around mine.
Eden.
Closing my eyes, I instructed my body not to react. This girl was sixteen years old. Sixteen! Besides that, she was Josh’s little sister. Her family, her parents and her brother, trusted me.
And she’d been through hell. I’d never seen Eden like she was last night. She was completely destroyed. Well, not completely. Eden was strong. She wouldn’t let this get her down for long. But, man, it was all I could do to not get up and hunt Marshall down. And I still might.
Not wanting to wake her, but needing to move my arm, it was so devoid of blood flow, I inched out from under her silken head, watching closely for signs she was waking up. Breathing a sigh of relief when she remained asleep, I rolled from my side to my back, rubbing my hand over my face when I realized my legs were entwined with hers.
I had to get out of this bed.
Rolling inch by inch, I disentangled myself from the sheets and Eden. Standing beside the bed, I watched her sleep for just a moment. She looked so perfect with her cheek pillowed against her black hair, her hand curled under her chin, her body wrapped in my clothes and my bed.
I had to get out of this room.
Pulling aside the curtain over my window, I checked to see if her parents were home. Glancing down the street, I saw Eden’s mom’s car was still at her house, but her dad’s BMW was gone. The clock on my nightstand said it was almost nine. I had time to take a quick- cold- shower before waking Eden up. The need to rid myself of my raging hormones was overwhelming.
Eden
“Ed.” The whispered word tried to force its way passed my sleepy brain.
“Ed,” the voice said again. Ed. Only one person called me Ed and there was no reason for that person to be in my room trying to wake me up. I was probably dreaming. I had more Dylan dreams than I allowed myself to think about. Although, in my dreams he always called me Eden.
“Ed, come on. You have to wake up. I just saw your mom leave for the gym.” A gentle shake accompanied the demand this time.
When I opened my eyes, my senses were overwhelmed. First, with the clean scent of Dylan’s body wash. Then, the soft and comforting feel of his t-shirt and sheets. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and revel in the sensation of home I felt laying there surrounded by all things Dylan. All that was missing was Dylan himself. Had he slept beside me last night?
My gaze collided with his.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks.
Oh, my hell!
Groaning, I lifted the sheet over my head. I slept in Dylan’s bed last night! He told me I was beautiful. He told me he loved me. A flood of emotions assaulted me. Embarrassment. Contentment. Worry. Gratitude. Pain. Longing.
Longing.
No.
I shook myself from that train of thought. Dylan had been nothing but a gentleman last night. He’d taken care of me when he had absolutely no obligation to do so. He’d put himself on the chopping block bringing me here and letting me stay. He’d comforted me when I’d felt so alone.
“Eden.” He didn’t want to alarm me, but I heard the urgency in his voice.
I needed to leave. Josh. My parents. Dylan’s parents. The explanations wouldn’t be worth it. I didn’t want to put either of us through that. Dylan didn’t deserve the scrutiny he’d be under for what happened here last night.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and tried to memorize this moment. I wanted to stay there forever. But I couldn’t. Finally, I threw back the covers.
Dylan smiled. “Goodness, you’re adorable.” His smile faded like he hadn’t meant to say that. He probably hadn’t. The circumstances were unusual. I’ve never even been in Dylan’s room before this, let alone had a sleepover in his bed.
Smiling, I scooted to the edge of the bed, knowing I couldn’t let myself think anything more of this situation than what it was. Dylan rescuing me and Dylan protecting me. I was his best friend’s sister. Nothing more.
“Dylan-”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted me. He had a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look about him. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a gray sweatshirt with the word ARMY across it in large black letters. “Here,” he said tossing it to me.
I pulled it over my head.
“My clothes-” I felt rash now for throwing them in the trash can. But I still didn’t want them.
“I took them out to the dumpster. Don’t worry about it.” His eyes were full of sympathy. I fought the tears filling mine, pushing my emotions down as far as they would go. I needed to leave.
“I should go.” I felt embarrassed again.
Sneaking out of Dylan’s house. Hurrying across the street in his clothes. Sneaking into my house. I vowed to never put myself in this position ever again.
“I’m going to the gym. I know your house is close but come hop in the truck.” He turned to leave the room, stopping short of the door to pick something up. My sandals.
“I didn’t know how you felt about the shoes.” He smiled and held them out.
I didn’t know, either, but reached for them anyway. “Thanks.” I’d figure that out later.
Dylan nodded and led the way up the stairs to the side entrance we’d used last night. It was Saturday morning and the street was quiet but the last thing either of us needed was the rumor mill getting back to my parents that I spent the night at Dylan’s.
Seconds later, Dylan pulled his truck into our driveway. There was an awkward silence.
“Thank you, Dylan, for coming to get me. I didn’t know who else to call. And for...everything.” All that came out in one breath.
“You’re welcome. I meant what I told you. You can call me anytime. If I’m here, I’ll be there. Always.” He was sincere. I saw it in his eyes and I knew Dylan had changed in mine. He’d gone from being the annoying guy who ate my chips and stole the remote to the tv and became someone who was my friend, too, not just Josh’s.
Reaching for the handle, I opened the door. Before I could get out, Dylan stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“You gonna be okay, Ed?”
Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them back. My mouth opened to answer, but the words would never make it past the lump in my throat, so I nodded. I would be okay. Eventually.
“I’ll see you later.” He moved his hand from my arm and I hurried to get out of his truck before I fell apart and he would feel like he had to pick up the pieces.
Dylan sat in the driveway until I closed the door to my house behind me. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and never leave it, but I reeked of Dylan’s sce
nt and as comforting as it was, there was no way my parents wouldn’t notice me smelling like a guy when I usually smelled like strawberries and vanilla. Making my way up to the bathroom, gratitude for Dylan filled me. I had a feeling the memories of what happened with Marshall would live on forever, but those memories would be tempered with the sincere emotion of care and comfort and affection I felt from Dylan. And I would never forget that either.
Chapter 16
Eden
Saturday was a complete bust. I spent most of the day in my room sleeping, only emerging for a granola bar when my stomach threatened to revolt if I didn’t feed it and to go to the bathroom. Mom and Dad left me alone for the most part and I ignored texts and calls from everyone but Dylan. He deserved that at the very least.
All I got from Marshall was radio silence.
It took until about eight o’clock Sunday evening for me to get sick of my room. I bundled up a blanket and a few pillows and made my way down to the rec room, making sure to stop in the kitchen for a diet soda and a bag of chips.
“I’m gonna go watch a movie or something downstairs,” I told my mom. She sat at the kitchen table in front of her laptop. Stacks of papers covered the entire surface as usual. I couldn’t remember the last time it was clear enough to actually eat a meal at.
“Okay, honey.” She didn’t even glance up.
Downstairs, I scrolled through Netflix for a solid half hour as I contemplated what the fallout would be from Marshall. Would he tell everyone what happened? Was my reputation ruined forever? I was beginning to realize I might not care what everyone thought about me, but the last thing I wanted was a bunch of attention if Marshall started spreading it around that I was easy. Because contrary to what happened on Friday night at Jared’s party, I wasn’t easy. At least, I wasn’t going to be ever again.
I needed a distraction, I couldn’t stop thinking about Marshall and the way his body-
How it made me feel so- powerless.