“Are you sure?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“You’ll be okay,” Dylan says, putting his hands in my lap and taking my hands in his, “I promise.”
Before I can protest, before I can say I am sure I either do or don’t want to get off the ride, I hear the clicking of the chain carrying us up the steep incline ahead of us. The car jerks forward suddenly and I let out a big laugh in spite of myself.
“Something funny, princess?” Dylan asks, squeezing my hand.
“Oh god. No. I don’t know why I laughed.”
I shut my eyes tight as I feel my heart pounding nearly out of my chest.
“Now do you remember whether you’ve ever been on a roller coaster?”
“Yeah, I remember that I definitely haven’t,” I reply. “If I was ever on one before, I’d remember it. I’m gonna have to call my dad and yell at him.”
“Aw, don’t yell at your dad. A little prank never hurt anyone,” Dylan says casually as we ascend the wooden and steel hill. “He seems like a fun, funny guy. Plus, would you want your kid yelling at you?”
My heart jumps and I look over at Dylan.
“My kid?”
“Yeah, when you start having kids. Or do you not want any?”
“Oh, right. No, I do. And I’d be okay with my kid yelling at me if he knew I was spreading rumors about him riding on some death trap ride,” I reply. A little pang of guilt hits me in the gut because I am kind of lying by omission right now, but this is certainly not a good time to tell Dylan about Jacob.
“Cut your dad some slack. I think it’s funny. It’s a good story, and five minutes ago you thought it was a good story, too.”
“Okay, whatever. I don’t know,” I shrug. My heart is still beating a million miles a second, but the cranking of the metal chain pulling the roller coaster car up the track is strangely calming. Its tempo is slow and steady, and even though it sounds somewhat like I’d imagine a medieval torture device to sound, it is steadying my nerves a little bit.
Or maybe that’s Dylan’s thumb caressing my palm.
“Relax,” he says, leaning over to put a kiss on the corner of my mouth. I exhale shakily, all of the air sucked out of my lungs with his surprising, disarming, sweet kiss. “I’ve got you.”
I turn to look at him as we approach the crest of the track. He is positively beaming, flashing me the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, but there is sadness behind his eyes. I didn’t see it before, but it’s there.
“You sure nothing’s gonna happen to me?” I ask, my body softening. The initial discomfort with the ride has begun to wear off, and even though I’m still nervous, of course, I know everything will be fine. My rational brain knows everything is going to be okay, at least for tonight.
“I can’t make any promises,” Dylan replies, “I can’t guarantee the sun will rise tomorrow. But I can say with certainty that if anything happens to you, I will be there. I can’t promise everything will be perfect, but I can promise that I’ve got you.”
Dylan puts his strong hand on my cheek and runs his thumb from the corner of my lip, where he kissed me, down to my neck. I feel myself melting under the softness of his touch, under the piercing of his eyes, under the glimmering lights of our surroundings bathing us in bright, bold colors.
The clicking beneath us slows down and Dylan leans in to kiss me. His lips come to mine softly and he wraps his fingers around the back of my neck, pulling me into him. But he doesn’t have to pull hard. No, I am right there to respond to his touch, his lips, his kiss, and I open my mouth to meet his tongue and his lips. I haven’t kissed anyone in a year and nine months - I haven’t kissed anyone since him - and it’s not because I was saving myself on the insane hope that I would meet him again.
I just knew nothing would ever compare to him again, so it wasn’t worth trying.
And this is what I was waiting for. This is what I wanted all along. All the dreams and the small, salty tears I wiped away before they even had a chance to fall down my cheeks, they were all building up to this.
I am lost in his kiss. God, he is so good at this. Beneath me, I feel like gravity’s let go of us. I don’t feel tethered to anything at all. Not to the earth, that’s for sure. I’m up somewhere in the clouds.
That’s when Dylan pulls away from me.
“What’s the matter?” I breathe, searching for a reason why he stopped. His face is painted with luscious amusement as he takes my hands and places them firmly on the lap bar in front of us.
“It’s just not possible to kiss while on a moving roller coaster. And anyway, for your first time, you’re gonna want to hold on.”
I realize the clicking beneath us has stopped, and that’s when I turn to look down.
Below us is a drop - a bigger drop than it seemed when we were down on solid ground, or solid boardwalk, as the case may be - and the cars in front of us, he was right, are obscuring our view of the track.
I want to ask if it’s supposed to look so damn scary, but I can’t get the words out before we begin to fall.
And as we begin to freefall, I feel like my insides are flying up into my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight.
“No, princess,” Dylan says, “open your eyes.”
“Ugh, I don’t know if I can!” I yell as we descend, the track roaring and vibrating beneath us.
“You can,” Dylan shouts.
We hit the first valley of the track, and all rational thought has left my mind, so I open my eyes.
“Isn’t that better?” he shouts, laughing.
“Yes!” I reply. The car races up its first incline, banking to the right, throwing me against Dylan.
I laugh, my heart suddenly giddy, and I try to drag myself away from him by grabbing the lap bar.
“Don’t fight it,” Dylan says, laughing, putting his arm around me, “just go along for the ride.”
The coaster whips suddenly down a hidden dip, and I feel myself bounce off the seat against the lap bar.
“So this thing does work,” I laugh.
The feeling of being on this ride - my first one, I’ve come to realize - is exhilarating. Every peak and valley hits me in a new, exciting way, bringing my body and mind on a crazy ride that alternates between thrusting me into giddy uncertainty and a false sense of comfort.
And the whole time, Dylan is right here beside me, his arm around my shoulder, like he is my guide.
He is my rock, my constant, and he reassures me without saying a single word.
He doesn’t have to say anything at all, even though I know he would if I voiced any concerns at all - or if I screamed in terror. I flash a glance over to him a few times and he looks at me in return, smiling contently like he’s got all the damn answers, a cool customer, slightly aloof, big and strong with his arm around me.
He’s my rock right now.
My anchor.
“I have to tell you something,” I say as we reach a series of small, tame dips and hills in the track.
“Can’t it wait another minute?” he smirks over at me.
I feel emboldened, almost like I’m a little tipsy. The adrenaline coursing through my veins must be doing the same thing alcohol did to me on the night I met Dylan.
“I don’t know if it can wait,” I reply, shouting over the gleeful laughs of our fellow riders and the roaring of the train as it hits another incline.
“If it’s important enough to say right now, it will still be important in forty-five seconds,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.
He’s right. This is something I am going to have to tell him - a confession, really, even though I still have to take a test to confirm everything - and even though I am not going to tell him everything, I do need to tell him that I have a son.
And that news is certainly still going to be important in forty-five seconds.
Or forty-four seconds. Of forty-three.
It’s always going to be important, no matter when I tell h
im.
14
Dylan
The roller coaster car glides into home and hisses, lurching to a stop.
I can still taste her lips on mine, as though she never left. But that’s the last thing on my mind right now, even as I look over at her, her hair tousled and messy and so damn pretty.
“Well?” I ask as we exit the ride.
“Well what?” she asks me sheepishly.
We step off the metal ramp leading down from the ride and onto the boardwalk, covered with a soft, thin, patchy dusting of sand. I remember from being a kid to never wear closed shoes out here on the boardwalk, not this close to the sand, so that’s why I’m wearing flip-flops tonight. Back by the hotels it’s okay, and I know the beauty queens don’t want to get sand in their pumps, and as long as they don’t come closer to the beach they’d be okay. I wonder, though, if Mandy is grosses out by my crooked toes.
“Well,” I repeat, clasping my hands together softly behind my back, “what did you think of the ride?”
“I liked it,” she says slowly, “and yeah, like I said, I definitely do not think I’ve been on one of those before.”
“I’ve got to take you to Coney Island some time,” I say, “the Cyclone is world-famous.”
“I should be taking you there,” she says, “I’m the one who’s from New York. When you’re dating someone, don’t you show them around your own town?”
Mandy clasps a hand over her mouth and looks up at me sheepishly. She’s so damn cute, and she just made my day.
“Dating?” I ask quizzically, a smile forcing itself onto my lips. “Who made you the boss in this relationship?”
“I...um…”
“Don’t sweat it,” I say. We’re making our way down the boardwalk now, and the sand underfoot that’s blown onto the old wood is thinning out more. I always thought that part was bittersweet. Back on solid ground, that’s a good thing I guess, but it means I’m just that much farther away from the ocean. “I won’t tell anyone we’re dating. I understand if you want to keep your options open.”
“Stop that!” Mandy says, speeding up her steps to get out in front of me. She turns to face me, her milky skin the perfect canvas for the moonlight.
“So you want to date me or something?” I ask. I step toward her. It feels so fucking natural when I wrap my fingers around her upper arms and her eyes, wide and clear, meet mine.
“Or something,” she breathes, the words slipping out between her lips into the air between us.
I take another step forward, slip my arm around her waist, and pull her close to me.
“I can give you something,” I say.
Her lips turn up at the corners as she casts her eyes down.
“You’re beautiful, princess,” I say, “and I missed you.”
Her eyes flash up to mine and I crush my lips to hers.
She tastes so sweet, like cane sugar soda, memories of the shore, and strawberry bubblegum. She is my dream girl - she’s literally the stuff my dreams are made of. Since I met her, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head, whether I’m awake or sleeping.
And I know she tastes sweet everywhere. I want to press my face between her thighs and trace her clit with my tongue, make her feel so damn good and taken care of that she will do anything to get my cock inside her.
“Oh god,” she moans into my mouth, her hands holding my neck. She pulls me deeper into her. I’m so hard that I could damn near explode right now.
A little whimper comes out of her lips and she tenses up.
“What’s the matter?” I say, taking her face in my hands.
“I think I just felt my phone vibrate,” she says. “I’m sorry. I have to get this.”
She steps back and goes into her purse, fumbling around for her phone as I watch. She finally retrieves it and brings it to her ear, turning away from me, but from the brief glimpse I caught of her face, I could see the concern in her eyes.
“Hello?” she says, putting one finger over the ear not pressed against the phone. I take a step back to lean against the railing flanking the long boardwalk to give her some privacy.
My insides lurch when she starts to walk away. I can tell by her body language that something is very, very wrong on the other end of the phone. It’s not just something wrong on the other end of the phone - something’s very wrong on this side, too. Whatever the person on the other end of the phone is telling her affects her directly.
Mandy nods frantically as though the caller will be able to see her through the phone. I cross my arms in front of my chest, and all I can do is wait.
“How long?” I hear Mandy say into the phone. She isn’t moving much, and she nods again. “Okay. No, just wait. I’ll be there soon.”
I clear my throat and stand up straight, balancing myself against the railing as Mandy starts over to me again.
“What’s the matter? I ask.
“I’m sorry,” she says, giving me a small, tight smile, “but I’m going to have to cut our date short.”
“So it is a date?” I try. She doesn’t seem very distraught, and I use this small comment as an attempt to bring humor to what seems like, for her, at worst small inconvenience she’s just learned about.
“I...I’m sorry,” she repeats, “it’s just something at home.”
She bites her lip and looks down at her phone, swiping the glass.
“I’ll call a cab,” she says, “you don’t have to drive me back. It would be crazy for me to ask you to drive me back just so you can turn right back around and drive home.”
“Then don’t ask,” I say, “but I’m driving you home. That’s what I was planning on anyway. I mean, unless you’d planned to stay at my place…”
Mandy sighs deeply and lets out a small laugh. I like it when she laughs. I have to remember to make her laugh more often, because I love the way her smiles brightens up her face when she does it.
“Thank you, Dylan,” she says meaningfully. “I’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” I say, taking her by the hand. We start the opposite way back down the boardwalk toward my shop. “I hope everything’s alright.”
“It’ll be fine,” she says, her voice colored with exasperation. “It’s just a little family emergency. It’s not a big deal, I don’t think, but I just have to go take care of it.”
“I understand,” I reply. “Say no more. Family comes first always.”
I don’t ask any more questions, because I don’t want to pry. I’m disappointed our date has to end early, but emergencies pop up.
Breathing deeply, I go around to the passenger side of my car with her, an old, beat-up pickup truck that I’ve been trying to get around to restoring. I open the door for her, even though I know she’s perfectly capable of doing it herself. I don’t do it out of some sense of duty and obligation to her, or some old-fashioned, sexist sense of putting her on a pedestal. She’s a princess, alright, but I’m doing it simply because I care about her and because she seems nervous right now. Plus, the damn thing jams if you don’t pull the handle just right.
“Thanks,” she says as she’s about to get inside. She stops and grabs the doorframe, turning to me with a smile. “You’re a really sweet guy sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” I test her, looking down over a slightly turned-up chin. “And the other times?”
“You know what you’re like the other times.”
She turns to get into the car, settling in, but not before arching her sexy back to give me a look at her ass.
I shake my head and close the door behind her gently. After getting in and starting the car up, I realize we never finished our conversation from the roller coaster.
“Hey,” I say, pulling out of the parking space, “wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me back there?”
“Oh,” she says, “no, it was nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I really liked the ride.”
“I’m glad I was able to show you something new,” I reply, flash
ing a smile over at her. But she’s looking down at her phone again. “I’ll get you home as fast as possible while breaking as few traffic laws as possible.”
“You don’t have to break any traffic laws on my account,” she says distantly.
“Okay then, I will get you home as fast as possible while obeying all rules of the road.”
“Sounds like a good compromise,” she says.
“Don’t worry about what’s going on at home,” I say, “I know that’s easier said than done, but there’s nothing you can do right now. You want to listen to some music? Play a silly road trip game?”
“Yeah, how about the radio?” she says. “I’m sorry, I’m not really in the mood for a game.”
“Of course,” I reply, “that was a stupid idea.”
“No,” she says, “it was very sweet. You want to get my mind off things. But I just don’t think I feel like it right now. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” I say as we pull onto the turnpike. “I’ll have you home before you know it anyway.”
I punch the dial on my radio and tune to the classic rock station. I remember Mandy singing a Led Zeppelin song in the shower last time I saw her, so I figure the classic rock station is a good bet.
The ride hums along in silence and I stay five miles per hour over the speed limit the entire way to her place. I look over at Mandy every so often, and she’s either looking out the window with her hands fiddling in her lap, or she’s looking at her phone, the blue light bathing her face in an other-worldly glow.
I realize I don’t have any idea what her home situation is, and even though I know everything will be okay if she said it will be, my heart tugs with curiosity.
“Mandy, is there anywhere else you’d like me to take you besides your apartment?” I ask when we’re about a mile out from her exit.
“Oh, no,” she says, “my place is fine.”
“I just thought that maybe if you had an emergency I could bring you someplace else. Like a family member’s house? You said you had a family emergency. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“Oh,” she says cautiously, “no, my place is fine. Right, I see what you mean. It’s actually just a thing with my cat.”
Bad Boy's Baby: A Second Chance Secret Baby Romance (Boardwalk Bad Boys Book 1) Page 10
