by Stahl, Shey
I knew he saw everything when I was thrown over his shoulder and tossed in the water. He wasn’t winning this battle.
“Is this like that game where you show me yours,” he laughed, “and I’ll show you mine?”
“Exactly sport, now let’s go but you first.”
His grin was wide as he shoved me playfully. “You’re sometimes a shithead.”
As we made our way wading through the water to the shore, I fell behind on purpose and he knew, walking slowly in front of me.
When he got to waist deep water and his backside was about to be revealed, he looked over his shoulder. “You might want to steady yourself. I have a nice fucking ass.”
I threw my head back and laughed at quite possibly the cutest ass ever. Perfect, round, bite worthy even. If I thought his chest and arms were lean, his ass looked like it’d been carved with a chisel as well. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on him.
Suddenly self-conscious, I covered myself as I stumbled to the shore slipping on the rocks.
My ass was not that nice. In fact, it was probably bigger than his and definitely had some fat on it compared to him. I had always had a dancer’s body with an athletic build but I also carried just a little bit of fat that never seemed to go away. It always made me hide a little more when around others because Mercedes, who I was always around, had the best body in our school that most guys dreamed about including Eric.
Dylan turned once he got to the car. I glanced between my legs and shook my head, dejected.
“It’s not possible.” I told myself, suddenly afraid for my vagina’s life when the time came for what Dylan referred to as my innocence. I knew now that what I felt in the water was not a snake but might as well have been.
He laughed again and walked toward me when I got to the edge of the water, my eyes stayed focused between his legs though he was now wearing his shorts. Pathetic I know, but I seriously could not divert my eyes.
Look away.
Once standing in front of me, inches away, his hand ghosted lightly across my bare collarbone and moved to tilt my head up, a towel in his hand brushed against the side of my body as he wrapped it around me. “Like what you see?”
“Do you?” When I glanced into his eyes wrapping the towel around me, I wished that I had half the confidence in my body that he did in his.
“I’ve always liked what I see.” Dylan clarified, eyes holding mine. “Now answer the question.”
“I’m scared.” I admitted searching his eyes and finding that the teasing smile had returned. “Of that,” my eyes dropped gesturing between his legs.
He let out an anxious laugh, his demeanor abruptly shy. “Why?”
“Uh, cause you’re huge. It’s abnormal or something.”
Another laugh, this time he pulled me closer to the car where my clothes were. “It’s not abnormal,” Standing straight, he winked, “I assure you.”
“So you say…that thing could kill someone.” I gave him my own wink adjusting the towel higher.
Dylan turned around and moved around the other side of the car leaving me to get dressed. Finding my clothes, I heard the gravel crunch beneath Dylan’s feet and I knew he was standing behind me again.
“You wanna find out?” I was suddenly whirled and pressed against the side of his rammed car, praying no ramming of our own was going to take place just yet. I needed time to adjust to this whole size thing and the concept of actually having sex.
Dylan’s burning eyes were glowing with the sunset, his hair flickering in the tawny light.
And then before I could say anything, his hands slid down my sides to my thighs where he lifted and placed me on the front fender. Next thing I knew, he was kissing me passionately but then sighed and backed away holding me at arms-length. “I won’t until you’re ready, and you’re not, yet.” He stepped back completely and pulled his shirt over his head before zipping his shorts. “Get dressed before I do something I’m going to regret.”
I glanced over my shoulder as he gathered my clothes from the hood of his car and handed them to me. Sighing, I got dressed while he kept busy with his iPod and then got inside the car where he was waiting for me.
Not only was I thinking about his penis and its size but I was also aware that Dylan had more tattoos in places I never knew like his lower abs, his legs, his feet, arms, lots of them and I wanted to meticulously survey all of them knowing each one held a private meaning to him. It wasn’t like he was covered in ink but he did have a lot of them. It made me want to get one even more. Like something that would tie me to him, a memory of this time together. Part of me, the girly part, wondered if he would want to get matching tattoos. It was a crazy thought and made me think of some kind of blood brothers sacrifice.
There were these two boys in my freshman English class that were so close that they did everything together and one day near the end of our freshman year they came to school with matching skull tattoos on their necks. A little strange but I envied their friendship.
When we left, I had a feeling that Dylan preferred to express himself through his song selections.
The song that came on once we hit the highway heading south toward Bakersfield, Boys II Men I’ll Make Love To You.
If I wasn’t falling for Dylan Wade before, I was now. I was remembering exactly how the boy in him had stolen my heart when we were kids.
When we made it to Bakersfield, the city was thriving for a Sunday night. Lights lit the buildings and people roamed the streets as we pulled off the highway.
We ended up getting a room at the Travelodge around one in the morning only to find they only had one room left with one bed. It seemed this was becoming a habit. After that kiss in the water, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep to myself. One bed didn't help either, nor was Dylan with his frequent teasing and needing to take his shirt off.
Damn him.
As soon as we entered the room, my eyes were drawn to the window as the tenth floor room with views of the city still bursting with its nightlife. It made me want to walk the streets. But then again I could barely beep my eyes opened so I knew that wasn’t happening.
“Do you want to take a shower?” Dylan asked kicking the door shut with his foot as he balanced his guitar next to the wall to set down his bag on the bed. He refused to leave his guitar in the car after the bull incident. He thought for sure, even in a secured parking garage, someone was going to steal it.
Silently I was hoping this meant he might play for me tonight. I hadn’t seen him play since he was nine and I was sure he was better now. Even at nine-years-old, he had talent. The word around school was that he had a full scholarship to Juilliard for that talent but I hadn’t asked him about it yet. Jessica had heard from Landon that he got in because Landon’s mom had applied for him. When Dylan found out they offered him a scholarship, he wasn’t pleased and turned it down. But that could have been all rumors for all I knew.
“Bailey?” Dylan called out when I didn’t answer his question about the shower.
“Sorry, no, I’ll just take one in the morning.” I sat down on the bed kicking off my flip-flops before laying back. “I’m too tired.”
“I’m gonna take one.” He whispered slipping inside the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on and that’s the last thing I remembered.
The next thing I remembered was waking up, under the covers still clothed staring at those fucking tattoos on Dylan’s back again. It was like they were taunting me.
It didn’t take me long and I was examining them as he slept. The morning light filtering inside the room provided just enough light. His back moved lightly with his breathing so I stole my chance.
There appeared to be a dragon that started on his chest and then moved over his right shoulder and down his back. It was massive in length and took up most of his shoulders and upper back.
On his left shoulder was more detail of stars and what looked to be a cross with a name written in the middle of it and a chain wrapped around it. W
hen I looked closer, it was his mother’s name surrounded by sparrows, three of them to be exact.
Dylan’s arm was tucked under his pillow so I got a good look at the ones on his left arm too. I couldn’t make out much just that there was a lot of detail in each one. I wondered how long it took him to get all of these.
I remember in school when I first noticed a tattoo on him. It was our sophomore year in PE when he came in wearing shorts and a t-shirt and his forearms had tattoos on them. He wasn’t the only kid in school to have them. Nowadays it was deemed abnormal not to have them. I was in that group. The extent of my body art was pierced ears and that wasn’t even considered art.
I’m not sure why but one particular tattoo on his right wrist was interesting to me and I thought, stupid me, that if he was sleeping that I could get a closer look.
If you had a camera on me in that instant, you would have laughed because there I was, on all fours, peeking over Dylan’s shoulder as he slept trying to decipher what kind of bird was on his wrist and the writing that surrounded it.
Turns out, I was not clever and Dylan wasn’t sleeping.
“All you have to do is ask me what it is,” he said scaring the living shit right out of me as he rolled onto his back.
With that roll, I was basically hovering over him.
Dylan closed his eyes; his right arm rose and rested against his forehead, the inside of his wrist facing me for a clear view.
That’s when I noticed a humming bird.
I had always had a fascination with humming birds for as long as I could remember. Dylan knew that too because for my eighth birthday he gave me a stuffed humming bird to which I still had.
There, on Dylan’s wrist, was a small humming bird about the size of a quarter wrapped in a chain. Around it was a scripture that appeared to be in a foreign language.
“Why is it wrapped in chains?”
“Why is anything wrapped in chains?”
“Because it’s confined?”
“Answer’s your questions, doesn’t it?” His voice was calm, even, and you could feel the tension rolling through him.
“What does it say?”
His eyes remained closed as he spoke, his voice rough with sleep. “Humming birds are said to have supernatural powers.” Then his eyes opened, and he blinked a few times focusing on my anxious stare, waiting, deciding. “The words around it say ‘She holds the power to which she will never know’.”
7. Out of my head – Bailey Gray
I had no idea what to say when I realized what Dylan’s tattoo meant―the magnitude of it at least.
Did his tattoo have something to do with me?
Dylan didn’t want questions asked, that much was evident when he pushed me back and headed to his jeans that were beside the bed to find his cigarettes.
I watched him move with ease to the balcony dressed in those Nike shorts from the other day that hung so low on his hips. Not only was I thinking about his tattoos, I also couldn’t forget that kiss last night in the water and his casualness surrounding it this morning and last night. For me is was the best kiss I’d ever had, for him, it was probably just another kiss.
Outside, Dylan hunched over the wooden railing, his elbows rested against the peeled red paint. Drawing his hand to his mouth, smoke billowed around him mixing with the clouds in the sky, gently, drifting, calming the mind, clouds crossed the sky in droves.
I knew Dylan had an emotional barrier around him. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to break-through it but I wanted to try. This wasn’t one of those situations where the girl tries to save the broken boy. That wasn’t this at all. All I wanted to do is be there for him since I hadn’t been growing up. Maybe that’s all he needed anyway.
“You wanna get some breakfast?” Dylan asked coming back inside the room after I showered.
The wind blew as the door closed bringing with it the stench of his cigarettes. He noticed my response to the odor. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” I said turning to my bag next to me removing my lotion and then looking for gum. “Let’s get some food.”
As I applied some lotion to my face, Dylan nodded and moved to the floor where his guitar was and picked it up setting it on the bed beside me and then gathered his clothes. His stare found his guitar, contemplative, deciding, and then back to me, appearing curious as to why I was watching him.
“Will you play for me?”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, his expression was lost as if he was in deep thought. The ice blue hardened, he didn’t want to. “Someday.”
“When was the last time you played?”
Once again, his expression appeared lost. “The morning we left.”
“You don’t want to play around me?” I deduced finding my hands very interesting.
“No,” Dylan replied right away, his voice even and soft, assuring me my assumptions were wrong. “That has nothing to do with it.”
We didn’t say much else that morning as we checked out and walked across the parking lot to Coco’s for breakfast.
When I ordered a cinnamon roll, Dylan laughed. “You sure do have a sweet tooth, brown eyes.”
I rolled my eyes licking frosting from my lip. “You have no idea,” I moaned around the sweetness. “My mom never let me have this kind of thing. She was anti sweets.”
“That’s lame.” Dylan took a bite of his scrambled eggs and chewed slowly.
The waitress came by, filled Dylan’s coffee cup, and winked at him. He smiled up at her with a boyish grin and did the same to her. I kind of hated that he winked at someone other than me.
“You like coffee?” I asked trying not to blurt out the question my girl brain wanted to ask which was, “Do you think she’s pretty?”
“I spent most of my time in Seattle.” He said this as if I should have known.
“What did you do in Seattle?”
Dylan gave a shrug moving from his eggs to his toast. “Music mostly,” he answered, his eyes on his plate. “Landon had some friends up there we hung out with. Eddy was up there too at times.”
Eddy was Dylan’s uncle, his mom’s older brother who used to be in a band but walked away when they were on tour.
“Is that where you spent most of your weekends?”
“Yeah.”
Just as easily as the conversation had begun, my mention of his music was off limits.
“So what are you going to do about school?” Dylan asked eventually. “Still plan on going?”
We had yet to talk about where this was all going. The thought of going to school was no longer on my mind. What was on my mind was this summer and seeing where that took me. At this point, I wouldn’t care if we ever went back.
“No, I’m not planning on going to school.”
Dylan smiled around his coffee cup, his eyes curious again and he looked up at me. “Me either.”
“You had a scholarship, right?”
He nodded. “As did you,”
“Things change.” I said with my own smile around my own cup of coffee.
“Yeah.” He leaned back relaxing in the booth, his weight settled to one side as he rubbed his left hand over the stubble of his jaw. “Life has a way of changing.”
“So what’s our plan then?”
The waitress came by again, stopping briefly to fill our coffee and then scrambled to the next table. It seemed their Monday morning was a busy one. But here we were, not rushing and deciding things like our future.
“My brother is in Birmingham,” Dylan said in a conversationally tone. “We could head there and see him for a few weeks.”
“Have you talked to him recently?”
“Yeah, we’ve talked a few times.” I could tell Dylan wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about it, shifting his weight and the way he started fidgeting with the handle of his coffee mug confirmed my theory.
“All right, so we go to Birmingham and see what happens from there?”
Dylan nodded. “Sounds good to me.”<
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We paid for our meal and walked to the parking lot in silence. When we got back in the car and pulled out of the parking lot, I thought about how this reminded me of a movie. “It’s like Thelma and Louise.”
“That’s a bad example.” Dylan gave me a sideway scowl. “They died in the end.”
“Oh, right.”
There was a comfortable silence until we stopped for gas and food in Riverside. Dylan had refused to stop in Los Angeles even though I begged. He justified this by saying I wasn’t California material and we needed to get out of the state as fast as we could. Turns out his GTO and its twelve miles per gallon wouldn’t allow that.
“Did you plan on moving to Birmingham to be closer to Drew?” I was trying any angle I could to learn more about why Dylan had left home and at some point I realized it wasn’t going to happen, but I still tried. I felt like I wanted to get to know Dylan and not the ten-year-old that I barely knew anymore. So much about our lives had changed.
“I never planned on staying in Birmingham.” He said strolling through his playlist on his iPod and balancing the wheel on his knees.
“If you could live anywhere, where would you live?” Dylan asked placing his iPod on the seat.
“A trailer park.”
Dylan gave me that side-eyed look that he was so good at. “Sounds like fun.”
“Where would you live Mr. Rebel-Without-A-Cause?” Kicking my shoes off again, my bare feet rested on the dashboard. “Let me guess, Detroit?”
Another side-eye judge came my way but with an eye roll this time. “Seattle.”
“Really? Why Seattle?”
Dylan shrugged, the motion relaxed, thought out and suggestive to his demeanor surrounding the subject. “It’s just a city, brown eyes.”
He went on to explain that he always enjoyed his time there with his uncle and Landon had moved up there too. He also explained that he wasn’t making any decisions this summer about his future. To him, this was a time not to make decisions, take what came his way.
As the sun began to set, a time when I did most of my thinking, I contemplated what Dylan meant. Colors smeared over the southern California desert blending into the dark of the night. My stare caught Dylan occasionally but like I said before, he was quiet and it was something I enjoyed very much.
