by Stahl, Shey
Sway sighed beside me. “See…” she pointed to Axel who had a flaming marshmallow on a stick swinging it around, “excellent birth control.”
She had that right.
Their entire family was a good time. I enjoyed all of them.
What I wasn’t so enthusiastic about was Dylan’s eyes on Sway. As I said, Sway was cute, mostly beautiful but she had cute down to an art. The way she would giggle, her facial expressions, all of it would attract most men.
Dylan watched Sway walk by, his eyes lingered when she bent down to pick up the younger child when he started eating dirt.
“Monkey, no,” she said brushing the dirt from his mouth. “That’s yucky.”
The boy laughed, an infections giggle like his mothers.
I didn’t focus on that though. No. When I saw Dylan look at her, my mind wandered. Did he find Sway attractive?
Of course he did. Sway was beyond beautiful and had the personality to match it. She had rich dark flowing hair, an amazing curvy figure with cushion in all the right areas. She wasn’t too skinny or too thick and had the best ass I’ve ever seen. Dylan, being an ass man, looked.
My eyes stayed on Dylan, watching, waiting to see what he would do. Loving someone does strange things to you. It’s cumbersome, innocent at times, life changing, goose bump making, to I can’t sleep without you by me. And then, even though the words hadn’t been spoken, a defined relationship set, when you see them look to another for any reason, jealousy induced behavior rears its ugly head. I saw it with Eric a time or two and with Dylan at the nightclub. Now I was experiencing it. The rush, the anxiety, the uneasiness. It was all there.
He eventually averted his eyes, as though he didn’t intend to look or didn’t want to be looking, but when she bent over again setting the child on the ground, Dylan’s eyes lingered on her chest.
My heart was in my throat, my breathing heavy as my gut turned. That’s when Dylan looked at me, maybe trying to figure out why I was looking at him the way I was.
If he was supposedly in love with me, why was he looking at Sway that way?
It hit me then; the jealousy I was feeling was something I had never felt before. It was a reality checking, mad, throat clenching, eye burning, and soul taking.
A noise brought me back; a beer can tossed aside, a movement in the distance.
Jameson noticed and stood from his place on the tailgate, his daunting calloused green eyes on Dylan. Slowly, he walked over to Dylan, grabbed the strings of his hooded sweatshirt and the other took a good handful of the shirt to pull him closer, glaring, silence heavy and threatening. “Don’t even think about it, kid.”
Dylan, young rough trouble himself, kept his composure but you could tell he was a taken back by it. Laughing nervously, he held up his hands, his voice low, “No man, not thinking about it.”
“Good,” Jameson said letting go, his hands smoothed Dylan’s shirt out as he cracked a smile. “She’s taken.”
Letting go of Dylan completely, he pushed away, his face marked with sinister shadows but with a relaxed edge. Jameson seemed to be joking but the threat was there. He was simply giving Dylan his side.
A little shaken, maybe, Dylan took a drag from the cigarette he had in his hand and then tossed the butt in a shallow puddle, shaking his head with a low laugh.
“Dude,” Kyle pushed against Dylan’s shoulder. “Don’t do that again. She’s like the warden’s wife, don’t ask, don’t touch, and don’t look.”
“Noted,” Dylan said, the nervous chuckle returned before he took a drink from his beer.
Spencer, Jameson’s older brother that had been harassing the kids and their flaming marshmallow’s most of the night smiled at Dylan, his eyes wide but laughing silently. “You got that bad boy image packed down but don’t fuck with Jameson, he’s highly unstable.”
Sway laughed curling into Jameson’s side when he put his arm around her. “Knock it off boys.”
Dylan moved to stand next to me again, his arm around my shoulder and for a moment, a brief moment, I didn’t want it. Love was crazy, right? Made you crazy, fucking crazy with crazy thoughts.
He turned to face me, sad maybe, caught yes. “I wasn’t looking because I was interested,” he said in his defense, half-pleading, half-reassuring and low, only for me to hear.
“Okay,” I said not knowing what else to say, laughing snidely.
The activity around us didn’t lend well to a jealous side so I forgot about it, mostly, it didn’t stop the fire in my stomach and wondering why he looked in the first place. Dylan seemed agitated and annoyed, maybe he was upset with himself or maybe he was upset that someone called him out on it.
Sway giggled in the distance, Jameson was whispering something in her ear and Emma was talking to Dylan about Charlie, her son, who had just smacked him with a stick that was more like a log. She was apologizing.
I found it interesting the way Jameson and Sway watched each other and moved as one. It was a refreshing type of relationship and you knew that without knowing, they were together. You didn’t have to be told, you knew.
Everyone relaxed as the crowd around us thickened. We stood around in a circle, drinking, talking, and mostly listening to Jameson and crew mess around.
The younger boys were a little rowdy after a while, bored I assumed and Jameson kept having to grab the older one, Axel, by the hood of his black sweatshirt and tell him to knock it off. He never raised his voice, he didn’t have to. His tongue was sharp and quick on its own.
Dylan wanted to look at the cars so Kyle took him inside the hauler and then leaned over the side of one of the sprint cars pointing out various parts I assumed.
When I looked up, my stare caught Jameson, who was on the other side of the fire from me, and he smiled softly reaching forward to hand me a beer. “You’re twenty-one, right?” he teased.
I wasn’t sure what to say, here this famous race car driver was now talking to me after nearly kicking my friend’s ass for eyeing his wife’s ass. It must have been written all over my innocent face that I had been comparing myself to Sway. I couldn’t help it.
That’s when he surprised me and was far more perceptive than I ever thought he would have been. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re beautiful.” His stare wasn’t on me but on the beer in his hand but the words were meant for me. I knew that much. “Never doubt that,” he said before bumping my shoulder with his and winking at me. “He’s only got eyes for you.”
It was a brief interaction and then the gathering around us caught his attention but after that, I was a fan for life. I could totally see myself being a pit-lizard as Sway called it for that man. I get it now. He had the looks, the personality and one hell of a glare. Dylan knew firsthand that too.
Dylan made his way back over to me, a smile, a flicker in his eye and a beer in his hand, laughing with Kyle.
Jameson glanced over his shoulder at the GTO parked next to his hauler. “So you’re into cars?”
He was making conversation and Dylan knew it, relieved I think. “Yeah,” he nodded paying close attention to the guys in the back of the hauler now shoving each other with a camaraderie rather than anger.
“I got a few classics back home too,” Jameson said wrapping an arm around Sway when she made her way outside the hauler. She’d just rounded up the kids and got them all inside the motor coach that was parked on the other side of hauler near the fence.
“What kind?” Dylan brought his beer to his lips; his other hand patted his pockets looking for his cigarettes. When he found them, he took one out but didn’t light it. Instead, he tucked it behind his ear flipping the lighter around in his hand.
Jameson watched him, curious to his habit of smoking and the lighter he flipped when nervous. “I have a 67’ GTO like yours and a 67’ Shelby GT 500.”
“No shit?” Dylan gasped, coughing, his hand with the light raised to scratch his jaw. “Those are fucking rare.”
“Yeah, they are,” Jameson agreed. “I don’t
collect a lot of cars but I have those.”
“Aside from race cars?” I laughed feeling part of the conversation. Sway noticed and winked at me.
“Yes,” Jameson laughed his smile and eyes bright. “Race cars are my weakness.”
They got into talking about the specifics of the cars, engines size and what not when Jameson noticed the dent in the door and hood.
“While I can understand the dents in the hood,” Jameson paused and gave a knowing smirk to Dylan and I. “What the fuck happened to the door?”
My cheeks were bright red. Dylan chuckled, his right hand slipping into the back pocket of my jeans, leaning into me. “Oh, you know. Crazy road trip.”
I knew then he wasn’t going to tell anyone what that dent was from. It wasn’t from embarrassment either. He meant it when he said we would be the only ones with these memories. They were ours.
Nothing more was said for a little while until Kyle came back over with a guy on his back and two of the boys that were supposed to be sleeping. I recognized one as Axel, Jameson and Sway’s oldest. The other I hadn’t seen yet with dusty blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
That’s when the guy that was on Kyle’s back jumped off and pummeled Jameson.
“Who is that?” I asked Dylan.
Jameson groaned picking himself up from the dirt. “My fucking brother.”
Laughter broke out as the boys finished a playful round of wrestling. That Spencer guy was a trip. Imagine this overly large guy, baby blue eyes, booming laughter and rowdy play tossing around water balloons and wrestling his younger brother. It was hard to imagine but it was entertaining.
About the time we were leaving, Kyle took Dylan aside to try to give him some money. Naturally, he refused. So far, on our trip Dylan had funded the entire thing aside from a few meals where he was distracted and I managed to slip the money sooner. I had no idea how much money Dylan had, and he refused to talk about anything related to his trust fund, but I knew he had plenty.
I still wasn’t comfortable with him paying for everything but I let him to save myself the argument.
Kyle nudged Dylan’s shoulder. “Your dad isn’t a bad guy, Dylan. He’s just Ken. That’s all I can say.”
Dylan’s stance was I-don’t-give-a-shit. If that didn’t give it away, his eye roll and words did. “I’m done with it.”
Kyle seemed to understand. “Why do you think I haven’t seen him in six years?”
Through Kyle that night, I learned a lot about the Wade family and that they kept in touch with Drew. Kyle had paid for him to go to rehab and a place to stay until he got on his feet and eventually helped him find a steady job. Turns out it was at a bar, and if you knew Drew that wasn’t exactly the best idea, but he did good and eventually bought the bar from the owner.
Knowing what Drew had gone through, it was good to see him doing well.
Dylan hugged his uncles, shook hands with Jameson and gave Sway a brief hug when she forced him to, all the while keeping his eyes on Jameson as he glared playfully.
Sway and I hugged too and she asked for my number which I thought was pretty cool but unfortunately, I hadn’t replaced my phone yet and had no plans of doing so any time soon. I loved their family, they were cool people and honestly, I wanted them to adopt me.
“That was fun,” I said to Dylan when we got back in his car around three that morning.
He gave me a nod but nothing else when he opened the door for me.
Before he started the car, he looked over at me, carefully considering his words before his voice is low. “You have my heart,” he said, a strange calm demeanor settled. “You have nothing to worry about with me.”
I nodded, my cheeks reddened slightly at his admission and the fact that I haven’t said anything remotely heartfelt as he has to me. Now I’m afraid if I do it won’t mean anything. “Why did you look?”
“Habit I guess.” He shrugged starting the car. The rumble vibrated the seat as he revved the engine a few times but didn’t put the car in gear.
Why do men do that? I can’t say that I haven’t seen women do it too, I just see it more with men. Jealousy. Damn that monster.
My voice was stuck, caught in my throat. That painful ache of jealousy was back, killing me softly. “Do you find her attractive?” Shit. I sounded pathetic.
Dylan chuckled, softly, and grabbed my arm to scoot me closer to him, his arm wrapped around me resting against the seat over my shoulder. His cheek pressed to the side of my face, warm, comforting. “She’s attractive, yes, but she’s not my brown eyes,” he whispered. His lips touched my temple as he spoke, “nothing will ever compare to you.” He groaned into my neck, carefully nibbling on my skin, “I knew I was fucked from that first kiss at seven.” Turning in the seat, his skin abnormally warm, his nose coasted along my throat, hot kisses against my jaw. “I’m fucked. Without you, I’m fucked.”
What did that mean? I didn’t say anything, my words caught in my throat again.
Dylan didn’t wait for me to answer, he kept one hand around me but put the car in gear and headed back to the hotel. His hand twirled a piece of my hair between his fingers.
I thought a lot about what Sway had said to me on the drive back to the hotel. “Love with everything you have.” That was her relationship advice. And if I was honest with you, it was the best advice anyone had ever given me on relationships.
Her other advice that she offered: “Don’t have regrets or second thoughts she told me. Love. Love with all your heart, every piece of it. Love anything as much as you can.”
Sway was wise beyond her years and seemed to understand a lot about my deal with Dylan without me needing to explain anything to her.
When I thought about what was happening between me and Dylan, it scared me a little but made me feel more alive than anything.
Back home, when anyone would ever talk to me about loving a boy, they would say, you’re young and have all the time in the world.
We were young.
I was just a girl, so they say.
And he’s just a boy, so they say. But what if we’re not?
What if we were two old souls destined to find each other? A missing piece brought together by fate. And what if we don’t have all the time in the world? Life is short, really fucking short when you think about it. People die at my age all the time, and younger than me all the time. We don’t have all the time in the world.
When you’re eighteen, no one is more aware of your age than you. They’re quick to remind you that you don’t know anything, you’re only eighteen.
You can’t drink, you’re only eighteen. You can’t rent a car, you’re only eighteen.
With all that can’t, how come they allow you to vote, cast your selection on the next president and political matters? You’re old enough for that but not drinking?
You’re old enough to let the world know your political stance, but not drink?
Like I said, you’re constantly reminded that there’s so much you don’t know and can’t do. I don’t know why age mattered so much. It’s a number. Just a number. It measured years not what I knew or how I felt about someone.
I should be able to decide for myself what I wanted and how I felt.
A number shouldn’t.
Some say you’ll never find love so young. And when you do, just like your age, they’re quick to remind you that you’re young. Don’t count on it being there forever. The same person that said don’t rush tells you that it might not last too.
Some people who believe eighteen is young are the same people who think true love doesn’t happen that young.
They don’t believe there’s a love strong enough to last through tragedy.
I think Jameson and Sway were proof of that. From what I learned in one night with that family was that they were proof that anything could happen. Sway had been through hell and back with her mom and then her dad. But there she was, living for the moment, loving with everything she had.
I believe wi
th all my heart there’s a love that could be strong enough to withstand anything it’s tested against. There’s a love out there that words, feelings, hell, its breath is imprinted into every vessel. Its beat is the only real indication you felt it at all.
Age wasn’t anything but a number. And what I was feeling, now, with Dylan, was a good deal. It was our deal. It was a breath imprinted into every vessel and the beat kept it alive.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Dylan but the feeling was coming to me, it couldn’t be ignored because for one, it was that beat again. Something made us leave together that day and I believed it was fate.
It was our deal.
12. Tattoos and Boxes – Bailey Gray
Our next stop after Dodge City was Memphis. I wanted to see Graceland. We decided to head to Tulsa first and make a few stops along the way.
The early part of the drive was quiet, neither one of us were very energetic in the morning and Dylan seemed distracted with his phone so I looked through the photos on my camera that I took last night and the ones from the night at the Brickyard that I didn’t remember taking. Most were of Dylan singing and Eddy’s band. There were a few with Lanny and me. I missed my bad decision partner already and wished I would have kept my phone so I could have kept in touch with girls like her and Sway.
“Was your scholarship for photography?” Dylan asked before we stopped in Tulsa. He noticed one of the pictures on the camera, one of me after the pole dance that Lanny had taken with my camera. “Shit, I looked ridiculously uncomfortable.”
“I think you were,” I said scooting closer to him and buckling myself in the center seat to be near him. “I did provide quite the dance. I’m pretty sure that I’m show girl material.”
“I would have to agree,” he said, his hand finding my inner thigh, his fingers rubbing circles over my skin just under the frayed edge of my jean shorts. Thankfully, we found a Target this morning and I was able to get some clothes and more underwear. Dylan said we’d find a laundry mat tonight to clean up our other clothes. A week on the run and you’ll run out of just about everything.
