Leah pales slightly. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, think about it.”
I kick Dylan under the table and he glares at me.
“Leah, you can stay as long as you see fit,” I say to her. “You can stay with me, if worst comes to worst.”Dylan shifts uncomfortably. “This isn’t your decision, Katie.”“Leah is my friend, if she needs a place to stay, she can stay with me.”“Leah isn’t your friend.”
“Yes, she is. If you don’t like it, tough shit.”
Dylan glares at me and Leah has a look of humor mixed with discomfort on her face.
“I’m done eating,” Dylan snaps, standing abruptly and walking to the kitchen with his plate in hand.
We wash the dishes in silence and after everything is put away I go back to my apartment. I can’t understand why Dylan is so cold to Leah when she is trying so hard to mend their relationship. It must be hurting him in some way, and I’m only trying to help.
I spend the night alone for the first time in days, the mattress seeming cold and empty without Dylan’s body next to me. A large part of me wants to sneak into his apartment and slide into bed with him, but I remain stationary in my own, empty bed.
Dylan and I don’t speak the next two days, although I have no idea why. We didn’t even really fight. It hurts, and I want to speak to him and fix things, but I haven’t found the time.
The party is three days away, and everyone is highly strung. I bought my dress the other afternoon, hoping to drag Dylan along to get his opinion, but I never ended up calling him.
Abigail has made multiples appearances in our office complex, her pumps clicking on the marble as she talks to Caitlin. I’m still wary of her, and I don’t think anything with change that.
On Wednesday night, I’m doing laundry downstairs when I hear music.
Not just any music—piano music.
I have noticed a couple times that there is a piano in the lobby, but most of the time it’s little children that play on it, and no one really serious. But this music is something else.
I step out of the laundry room and peer at the black piano, and there is Dylan, his hands moving across the ivory keys.
I recognize the song and am in awe at the complexity of it; his large, soft hands moving up and down the keyboard rapidly.
His expression is grave, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched as he plays on, the piece not ending until three minutes later.
When he finishes, he brings his hands to his lap, taking a breath.
“Wow,” I say from behind him and he turns around to look at me. “Chopin.”“You know that piece?”
“Yes, actually. Winter Wind Etude.” Dylan looks impressed and nods.
I shift my weight. “I didn’t know you played.”
He shrugs. “Not much anymore, but my mother made me play it when I was younger.”“Well, I happen to know a bit of Chopin myself,” I say, sitting beside him on the bench and reaching out to the keys.
I start the piece and become lost in it, as always. Dylan watches, his green eyes wide.
My fingers glide over the keys, my foot pushing down the damper pedal under the piano. My piece comes to a close shortly and I lean back, resting my hands on the back of the piano bench.
“Wow,” Dylan says.
“Do you recognize the piece?”
“Yes,” he says smugly. “Nocturne in C sharp minor.”
“Very good, Mr. Wilson,” I tease.
“And you, Miss Harris,” he replies, a small smile crossing his face.
“How long have you been playing?” I ask him.
“Since I was eight,” he says. “Almost sixteen years, then.”I smirk. “I have you beat.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I started when I was four.”
He rolls his eyes and I lean on his shoulder, laughing.
His arm snakes around my waist and we sit like that for a while, staring at the piano.
“I’m sorry for being so pushy about Leah,” I blurt.
“It’s alright, you were right, in the end,” he sighs. “She’s staying with me as long as she needs.”“I hated spending these days without talking to you,” I admit.
“So did I,” he agrees. “It was pure hell.”
I smile at him and he kisses my lips sweetly.
“Besides, we need to be united for the party,” he says, once we pull away.
I sigh. “I’m so nervous.”
“I know, I am too.”
There’s a short pause.
“I don’t suppose you know any Mozart?”
“Of course I know Mozart, Dylan,” I scoff.
“Prove it.”
“Alright, what should I play?”
“Turkish March.”
“As you wish.”
And for the rest of the night, we alternate playing pieces, sometimes making up random pieces together, until Mr. Wu steps out of the elevator and complains about us.
“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Wu,” Dylan says and Mr. Wu grumbles.
“Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that my wife left me,” he says in his choppy accent and Dylan gives him an odd look before I pull him into the elevator and we burst into laughter.
We watch the Big Bang Theory with Leah again before falling asleep tangled with one another, Dylan mumbling sleepily that he loves me before we both black out.
“Katie-posie, pudding and pie.”
I open my eyes to see Dylan leaning over me, smirking widely.
“Kicked the boys and made them cry,” he continues his nursery rhyme.
“That’s not even how the rhyme goes,” I say to him groggily.
“I know, I changed it so I could say it to you.”
“Shut up,” I groan, turning over and hugging a pillow.
“It’s time for work.”
I make a noise that certainly doesn’t sound human and Dylan laughs.
“Do I have to drag you out of bed?”
“If you touch me I will hit you in the nuts so hard you’ll vomit.”“Harsh.”
“Well.”
“Come on, let me see those beautiful dog shit colored eyes of yours.”I giggle. “No.”
“Katie, Katie.” Dylan climbs over me and digs his fingers into my sides, making me squeal loudly.
“Stop it, Dylan!”
“See, now you’re awake!”
“I’m not afraid to hit you in the—”
Within seconds he’s off me, standing up next to the bed.
“That sure made you move fast,” I giggle, sitting up in bed.
“Got to protect the baby maker, you know.”
“God, gross, Dylan. It’s too early for penis jokes.”
“It’s never too early for penis jokes.”
I roll my eyes and get out of bed, grabbing my key and making my way back to my apartment.
“I’ll be over in twenty!” Dylan calls to me as I shut the door after bidding good morning to Leah.
Work passes as usual, Dylan procrastinating and me attempting to focus. For some reason, I can’t get my nightmares out of my mind, and I think about the party constantly.
Dylan senses this as we stop for lunch at Panera.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks me as he slips out of his coat, putting it across the back of his chair.
“The party,” I sigh, sitting down.
Dylan dips his spoon into his soup and stirs thoughtfully.
I sigh and break off a piece of my bread.
“Everything will turn out, don’t worry,” he says.
I shake my head. “I can’t stop thinking of...thinking of the gun.”Dylan exhales slowly. “I should have never brought you into this,” he says, putting down his spoon and putting his head in his hands.
“I brought myself into it, remember? I’m the one that followed you like a fucking idiot.”“You’re not an idiot, you’re just—”
“Curious,” we say at the same time.
We eat in silence for a bit, spoons clin
king against soup bowls sounding in the air.
“We’ll get through this,” Dylan says all of a sudden. “We’ll get through this, together. You and I.”I smile a bit. “You think so?”
“Yes. I do.” He smiles back. “Because it’s either both of us or neither of us, right?”I reach across the table and intertwine our hands. “Right.”
Chapter Sixty Eight
The rest of the week has passed by too fast for my liking and it is Saturday.
Otherwise known as the day of the big party.
I hardly slept last night, and from the way Dylan kept tossing and turning next to me, I can tell he didn’t either. It’s just past seven in the morning now, and I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
So much could go wrong tonight, and so much is on the line. We have gone over the plan these past couple days numerous times, and it feels like things should go right, but my nightmares keep resurfacing in my mind.
Dylan lays on his side next to me, his back turned to me. I watch his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes steadily, his heavy sighs the only sound in the room.
Breathe, my mind speaks. Everything will go smoothly, and you will be out of this mess by tomorrow.
Dylan shifts onto his back, turning his head to look at me.
“You’re awake too, hmm?”
I nod, sighing.
“How much sleep did you get?”
“Not much.”
“Same with me.”
I turn on my side to face him. “What do you think of my nightmares?” I ask.
Dylan’s silent for a minute as he thinks. “I think they worry the hell out of me,” he finally says. “But, they’re only dreams, part of your subconscious. Don’t think too much about them.”I nod, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm surrounds my waist and he kisses my forehead.
There’s a soft knock at the bedroom door and we both sit up as Leah enters.
“Morning, Leah,” I greet her, smiling.
“Morning,” she returns kindly. She shifts her weight. “It is to my understanding that you are going to a party tonight.”“Yeah, so?” Dylan asks.
“Are you in danger?”
“No,” Dylan answers immediately.
“Alright, now tell me the truth.”
Leah and Dylan are so alike in that they don’t put up with shit of any kind, and that is apparent as they stare at each other now.
“What does it matter?” Dylan finally says.
“I’m a black belt in taekwondo, I might be able to help you out.” Leah smirks.
“What the hell? When did you get a black belt?”
“When I was in Korea, actually. Thought I should learn some self defense.”
I look at Dylan, eyebrows raised. “We might need help kicking ass.”
“Leah can’t kick ass, she’s like one hundred pounds.” He rolls his eyes.
“Would you like me to prove it, Dylan, because I’d be glad to flip you onto your very own ass,” Leah says.
“Please do,” I say.
Dylan glares at me and I smirk.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “You can come with us.”
She grins widely. “Lovely. Oh, and if you’d ever like to be beaten to a pulp, let me know.” She turns and exits the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
I look over at Dylan who is shaking his head, a small smile visible on his lips.
“My sister can probably fight better than me, I have failed at life,” he says and I laugh.
“And I can play piano better than you, so you really have,” I point out and he laughs loudly.
“That’s not true, I’m just as good as you!”
“When you’re dreaming.”
He digs his fingers into my sides and I squeal, pushing him away quickly. My head rests on his shoulder as we both sigh, knowing this is one of the few playful, peaceful moments we will find today.
We finally get out of bed and Dylan makes breakfast as I explain to Leah what Dylan is involved with quietly. I talk about Lyone and James, and she nods, her brow furrowed thoughtfully.
We eat, talking about everything other than the party it seems. Leah tells Dylan more on how she managed to find him and he nods, his eyes cast on his food. Apparently, she traced him to Edinburgh via his phone number provided from their neighbors in Holmes Chapel, saying she knew he worked at Chronicle Publishing from the same people.
I learn a lot about Dylan and Leah’s life in England from this short conversation. They talk of their old neighborhood, exchanging memories of people from their old schools. Even though I have no idea who or what the hell they’re talking about, I’m so glad to see Dylan is warming back up to Leah, and I can tell she is, too.
We stay in our pajamas until two o’clock, watching TV and avoiding the topic of the party looming ahead. Dylan and I go to the lobby and play the piano while Leah gets dressed for the party.
I watch Dylan’s hands as he plays a rapidly fast piece, the sound of it nervous and rushed. He brings the song to a close, the ending chord loud and echoing.
“Nice,” I say.
He nods. “You’re up, kid.”
I laugh lightly, putting my hands to the keys and beginning to play.
The piece is slow and peaceful, and before I know what’s happening, Dylan has put his hands back to the piano. He improvises along with me in the lower register, and the sound is so beautiful I could cry.
Eventually, I improvise along with him, pushing down and releasing the damper pedal as we go. The sound of Dylan and I playing piano together is almost as beautiful as the sound of our laughs together, and I feel warm and happy inside as we finally finish playing, the ending notes ringing out in the empty lobby.
“That was beautiful,” I breathe, looking over at him.
“Yeah, it was,” he agrees and smiles at me, his sweet dimples showing.
I lean in and kiss him slowly, his tongue making its way into my mouth. His arms pull me closer by the waist and I take a long breath of his spearmint scent that I have grown to love so much.
We pull away and he leans his forehead against mine.
He Looked Back Page 44
