by Stahl, Shey
“Is that why you asked me to come with you? Because you think I’m easy or something?”
“What,” he balked practically choking on his words. “Easy? I don’t think you’re easy.” I could tell he was getting angry. “For fucks sake, do you really think I’m that much of an asshole? If anyone should be asking intentions here, it should be me. Why did you come with me, Bailey? Was it because you wanted to or was it to piss off the Mayor and your precious football player?”
“I didn’t think you were an asshole until now.” Leaning forward my elbows rested on the table coming closer to him. He did the same appearing just as angry as I was. “And you’re an asshole if you think I did this because of who my father is.”
Most of the restaurant noticed our conversation and kept glancing at us. I wouldn’t say we were shouting at each other but it was close.
“Fine.” He threw his napkin down and finished his beer in one drink before slamming it down. The sound made me jump. “I’ll take you back to your perfect life tonight.” His hand flicked out as he threw his arm up. “Get up, let’s go.”
I looked at him like he was crazy, maybe he was, and he looked at me like he was dead serious.
“Goddamn it, no!” I sat back in defeat. “You’re an asshole, yes, but you’re the first damn asshole that cared about what I wanted and what I had to say. So we are going to continue this,” I motion around us, “whatever it is and keep driving. I’m not going back.”
I sounded like a child and felt even more like one when I looked at him.
He watched me as I tried to steady my breathing. Before I knew it, he was laughing.
“Why are you laughing at me?”
A smile settled over him. “You’re eyes light up with a fire I haven’t seen since we were kids when you’re angry.”
Not that it was overly funny but I started laughing as well. “Sorry I overreacted. You were right, most girls would have put out by now.”
“But I’m glad,” he paused, clearing his throat. “You didn’t, you know, put out for him. I mean, shit, and this is incredibly awkward so I will be shutting up now.” With a chuckle, he stopped talking. It was the only time I’d ever seen him scramble for words.
Until our food came, we continued with our game but moved past accusing and thoughts of leaving.
“Next question, that question counted as two so you have eighteen left, make them count, asshole.”
Dylan tipped his head my direction as if saying he agreed. “Okay, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” he asked.
“Nebraska.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I like Nebraska, corn, farms, what’s not to like?”
Shaking his head with an amused chuckle, he took another drink of his second beer just as our steaming fajitas arrived.
We continued to ask random questions throughout the meal when I got brave and asked about his sexual past that I was dying to know about. Most girls at our school, and I admit I was on that list, had dreamed about Dylan Wade and his rebel ways controlling them.
Naturally, I wanted to know what was true and what wasn’t. I also wanted some visuals for myself. Dylan was sexy. Enough said. I wasn’t the first girl, good or not, to dream of being bent over that GTO and manhandled a little.
“Is it true you had sex with Haven Jennings on Mrs. Drake’s desk in detention?”
His eyes squinted at me, his nose scrunched in what appeared to be disgust. “Nope.”
I was pleased by his response. Haven Jennings, wore a mostly black wardrobe, gothic makeup, was creepy, and had so many piercings in her body she could be a sprinkler. She was one of those girls you expected to start a cult and then sacrifice her body to the higher power she believed in.
“What were your dad and you arguing about before we left?”
Taking a tortilla from the covered red bowl to my left, I scooped the mixture of steak and peppers making a fajita. I took a bite and waited for him to answer.
Dylan licked hot sauce from his thumb as he prepared his own fajita. “Pass.”
“You can’t say pass in twenty questions.” I told him. “I think it’s some sort of rule.”
Another grin tugged at his lips as if he was holding a secret. It reminded me of him being a kid and teasing me. “Yes you can, brown eyes.”
“No, you can’t.” I disagreed dipping my fajita in sour cream and trying not to smile. Savoring the flavor, it’d been way too long since I last had something I enjoyed so much. My diet at home consisted of chicken, vegetables and brown rice. If I never ate brown rice again, it would be too soon. I’m not saying I didn’t have my own stash of chocolate, because I did.
“In my version you can.” By his clipped tone, I understood there would be no arguing this. “Play it my way, or we don’t play it at all.”
Deciding not to push my luck any further, I stopped pushing. After drenching him in beer, my luck tonight was probably running on empty.
I never wanted to admit it, but I had a spoiled brat type of attitude from time to time. Kind of, like right now. I also understood in just the few hours with Dylan Wade that this wouldn’t work for me if I wanted to continue on this trip with him. Dylan didn’t put up with bratty shit.
When being bratty didn’t work, I tried pouting. That didn’t work either.
Dylan chuckled at my poor display and eventually I ended up laughing as well. Dylan had that type of laugh. If you heard it, you laughed too.
We finished our meal, Dylan paid like he insisted he would and we walked back to the hotel. Cars passed and the nightlife around seemed to be in full force.
Couples held hands as they passed while others walked side-by-side as if they were only friends, much like us.
Were we friends now? I had so many questions going through me but no answers. It was one of those moments when I wanted to blurt out everything I had held in but I also didn’t want to scare him away. I had a tendency to talk too much when I was nervous and word vomit was its evil twin.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I could barely keep my eyes open so we decided to get some sleep and figure out where we wanted to go in the morning. I liked the idea of not knowing where we would be tomorrow or the next day.
When looking at the sleeping arrangement, I wasn’t tired any longer.
“I can sleep on the floor,” he offered sensing my level of anxiety as the situation must have sky rocketed as I brushed my teeth next to him in the tiny bathroom. When we stood side by side, you could barely move let alone brush your teeth.
“If you promise not to murder me in my sleep, I don’t mind sleeping next to you.” Not exactly sure why but I really didn’t mind. I felt safe with Dylan. I feel like he would never let anything bad happen to me. Most of all, I felt, with the lies that were now reality for me, alone and Dylan being here with me was my only comfort.
“I don’t plan on murdering you.” Dylan shrugged and put his toothbrush away in its container before wiping the splashed water from the sink.
As I observed his nightly routine, I was even more convinced that he had some sort of OCD behavior. Everything had its place in his bag. I half expected it to be labeled. It wasn’t.
As soon as we got back from the restaurant, he had stripped his beer stained t-shirt off and threw it away, confirming my OCD theory yet again. I wanted to ask him about it but I didn’t want to offend him. My little brother was the same way about cleanliness and organization and I found it somewhat cute how methodical he was about everything―both Dylan and Jeb.
Part of me missed Jeb and hoped that he was doing all right. He was a good kid and I hated to see him take any crap for my decisions. My dad was always hard on him and I think Jeb was perfect because he felt he had to be not because he wanted to be. What thirteen-year-old wanted to do everything their parents told them to do? None that I know.
Once we were in bed, we both seemed to lay there watching the ceiling not looking at each other, as if it were a
movie. Breaking the silence, the air conditioner kicked on again drowning out the buzzing neon open sign that lit the room with a green tint.
When it kicked off, Dylan rolled facing me propping himself up on his elbow. “I didn’t get to finish my questions.”
I chuckled a little because I knew how this is going to end. One of us was going to be offended by a question, throw a fit and once again, we wouldn’t finish this silly game.
“Okay but I get to ask mine first.” I said, smiling. Facing him now, our bodies were less than a foot away when I noticed a strange pulse humming between us. I felt an attraction to Dylan, there was that, but something else was present too.
Without shame, Dylan eyed my body. My cheeks flushed grateful for the poor lighting.
“Same rules apply.” He added returning his boyish grin.
“Fine. Who was your last girlfriend?”
Part of me, the schoolgirl inside of me felt ridiculous for even asking that question like we were playing spin the bottle. I also hated that I had resorted to this silly game to get to know a boy I should have never stopped talking to in the first place.
Shadows danced across his cheeks when he blinked, his eyes remained closed. “I’ve had girls that are friends,” his eyes opened, “but never signified any status with them.”
“Never?” I asked surprised thinking that he had dated Sarah Thomas last summer.
He shook his head but didn’t answer.
“What about Sarah?” I asked, still confused. I saw her at his house a few times and at school on more than one occasion. Mercedes even mentioned seeing them kissing in the hall.
Dylan looked up from the blanket he’d been fidgeting with for the last few minutes but didn’t focus on anything in particular. “She wasn’t my girlfriend, just a friend.”
“Did you sleep with her?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
It wasn’t like I didn’t want to know because I had been dying to know. It seemed the two beers I had convinced me to speak my mind. Even though we had lost contact with each other for so long, it didn’t stop me from being curious about his life. If Dylan’s name was mentioned in conversation, I paid attention.
Dylan rolled over so he was on his back gazing at the ceiling again. He brought his hands up to his face, ran them through his hair, and then settled them over his face where they stayed for a moment. He sighed harshly. His eyes burned into mine like they did on graduation day, his voice not much more than a whisper. “Yeah,”
I smiled. “So the rumors are true? What about Haven, and then there was the Jenna and you in the boy’s locker room. Oh, and the one about you and the police chief’s daughter, Lindsey. What about that chick in detention? What was her name? Oh right, Lexi.”
Dylan groaned rolling onto his back pulling the blanket over his head. “Stop already.”
When I couldn’t stop laughing at his sudden mood change, he rolled his eyes dramatically. “I should probably clear some things up, huh?”
“Yes, by all means clear some things up.”
“Sarah, she was just a friend. Her mom had cancer and she was going through a hard time so we hung out a few times. When her mom went into remission, I never saw her again. Then Haven…never touched that. Although I did find her in my room one afternoon.” He shuddered at the memory. “So Jenna, we—” Dylan chuckled lightly at a memory I was sure I didn’t want to know and then continued. “She…uh…tried to give me head but that just ended in me running from her car.”
“How does that happen?” I asked imagining in my head what could have made him run from her.
“She had braces.” He clarified, wincing at the memory. “Worst experience ever.”
“I see, and Lindsey?”
“Yeah.”
“And Lexi?”
He seemed to contemplate this one for a minute and then grinned softly. “Let’s just say I did things to her but she never touched me.”
I nodded, taking in everything he just said. Part of me wondered what he would expect from me, if he thought I would sleep with him. I’ll admit the idea had already crossed my mind.
“How many?” I wasn’t surprised that Dylan had slept with a few different girls by now. He had the image that girls swarmed to. They wanted the bad boy.
Dylan’s eyes shifted away. “I don’t know. Four or five I guess.”
“My turn,” he said suddenly. “Did you and Eric do anything besides kiss?”
“No, I’m a virgin. We never got past making out. Apparently not so much with Mercedes,” I took a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t blame him. She’s beautiful but I never expected him to go for her.”
Dylan burst out laughing his eyes squinted in amusement. “You’re kidding right?” he choked sarcastically.
“No, I’m not joking. Mercedes is stuck up, yes…but you can’t deny that she’s pretty and has an amazing body.”
“No, she’s a bitch.” He placed his hand on my cheek. His thumb traced over my lower lip, I gasped at the contact and his eyebrows pulled together. “You’re beautiful and Eric’s a fucking idiot.”
My eyes searched his for an answer in the ice I found. If I looked, close enough they reminded me of a glacier with their beauty. “You don’t have to say that.”
Briefly, with the way, his eyes darted from mine to my lips and then back again, I thought he might kiss me. A good part of me was hoping he would.
He blinked slowly annoyed he had to clarify himself. “It’s true, brown eyes.”
“Regardless,” my stare went to his lips wanting to feel them against mine, “we barely know each other anymore.”
It was the truth and he knew it. The people that we knew when we were younger were gone and had been for a while. I wasn’t that perfect straight-laced ten-year-old that ran around in flower dresses and complained about the politics of our state. Somewhere along the lines I became myself even though shrouded by affiliation, I was still that little girl who thought she would be president someday. Though I didn’t want to be the president, I had that type of determination inside me.
Dylan, he hadn’t changed. So I guess, in a sense, I should still know him, but I didn’t. With that shrouded affiliation, I lost touch with reality and those around me.
His face was composed at first, maybe a practiced indifference that I had seen often over the years. He kept his hand on my cheek and leaned into me. His facial expression nothing I had ever seen before, conflicted and emotional, but there was also a desire burning beneath it that I recognized because I felt it too. He leaned in further, and before I could react, his lips pressed to my forehead. Lingering longer than I expected, he pulled away and found my stare. “You are beautiful.”
Remember when I said that when I was nervous that my talking had an evil twin?
After that kiss, she made an appearance.
“I had the biggest crush on you when we were little.” I blurted out and then covered my mouth, eyes wide. Dylan had been my first kiss when we were seven and I don’t think I ever got over him entirely. “I also stalked you a little in middle school and high school. It was like I was the paparazzi or something. I also had this vision of you manhandling me on the hood of your car.”
What has gotten into me?
That’s when I slapped my hand over my mouth again trying to prevent anymore nonsense. It was the only way to stop myself.
Dylan’s eyes appeared serious for a moment and then he rolled over on his back, groaned and slowly brought the blanket up over his face. “You’re killing me.”
Laughing, I rolled over too and stared at the ceiling.
We ended up talking most of the night but with Dylan there were some topic’s that were off limits. It was hard to have conversations with him. You could literally watch him shut down in a conversation when the subject shifted. It was like a switch for him.
Eventually, my first night on my own, I found sleep next to a boy I never expected to talk to again let alone sleep next to him. If I wanted the unknown and spont
aneous, I had it now for sure.
4. Bucket List – Bailey Gray
I woke up to the morning as the sun peeked into the room through the thin brown curtains. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what I was doing here. Growing up, I was never allowed to sleep in and when I saw the time, I panicked thinking my mother would be pushing through my door any minute with her annoyingly chipper façade.
Only I wasn’t in my room. I wasn’t even in my house.
The memories of yesterday and last night came to mind. I couldn’t believe that I confessed in a moment of sheer stupidity that I had a crush on him when we were kids and secretly had a thing for bad boys.
Stupid of me.
I stretched a little. The bed wasn’t comfortable so my back was aching and stiff.
I noticed I was on the edge of the bed, barely hanging on so I went to shimmy over but was pushed more off the bed as Dylan groaned beside me.
Trying to move away from him and keep my place on the bed, it didn’t work. I landed on the floor, arms flailing, legs kicking as I try to catch myself.
Dylan heard the thump and leaned over the side of the bed. “Why are you on the floor?”
“Jackass,” I replied with a sour edge to my voice as I picked myself off the floor, rubbing my ass.
Dylan swung his legs around the side of the bed and sat there for a moment looking out the window. His head hung and he removed himself from the bed reaching for his cigarettes in his jeans neatly folded on the chair next to the bed and then walked outside on the balcony, chuckling. I watched him closely, admiring the way his back muscles flexed as he walked and the tattoos that I never knew were there on his back. I wasn’t sure what they all were but they were beautiful. None seemed to be overly colorful but instead darker shades of black, gray, red and some with a navy blue. He must have noticed me staring because before he opened the door he turned and smirked.
