by Stahl, Shey
“Dylan,” Drew warned. “Back the fuck up! Don’t do this in my fucking bar man.”
Nate looked back at me. He was smug now and not the smiling boy I had spent most of the night around. “Your boy must have seen.”
Deceitful liars.
When the crowd fell apart, I saw Dylan with Drew, Reece and Eddy shouting in his ear with their hands on his shoulders, but Dylan kept shaking them away. Dylan stepped past Eddy, who grabbed him, moving him aside as his eyes remained locked with mine, deep and dark, and blue smoke that could incinerate you.
Dylan was breathing through his nose, working hard to get his boys off his back. Getting one arm free, he moved forward until Eddy got firm grasp his shirt.
“If you love her, don’t do this,” Drew said low and smooth but I heard. He knew I heard. He quickly followed with. “Don’t do this in my bar man.”
The crowd around us pressured him, yelling, rowdy and ready for what they knew Dylan was about to do. They wanted it.
Nate pushed past me but I was standing between them. Reece grabbed me pulling me into him, his arms holding mine to the side protectively. “Let me go Reece, please.”
“No,” Reece said over my shoulder keeping me wrapped in his embrace, “just stay back Bailey. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“Shut up.”
With me and Reece arguing, Nate and Dylan were now standing facing, breathing heavy, speaking lowly to each other.
Just like the kiss, I watched, unable to move, when Dylan reached for Nate.
Just like the kiss, I watched inflicting pain and enduring pain. Every blow Dylan gave, he took one but what Nate didn’t notice, or anyone else in the bar was the years of anger behind Dylan’s fists. Years of regret, disappointment, waiting, watching, wanting, deciding, anger, hurt, neglect, it was all behind him inflicting pain.
The crowd reacted to each hit, each cut, and each harsh word, cheering, and then silenced by another blow.
What they didn’t notice was the shift in Dylan as the fight turned from a bar brawl to something more, something unstoppable, something deadly if not stopped. They soon noticed and grew quiet, curious as to when the change happened and why.
Eddy looked to Reece, they exchanged a look and then Drew shook his head, he too noticing a difference in Dylan and wondering if now was a good time to step in.
But no one moved. Not even Drew.
Drew knew that once Dylan got like this, nothing could bring him back down. Part of me thought I could but then again, I didn’t know for sure. I was the reason behind this fight.
“Please Reece,” I begged twisting in his embrace to face him, “let me go!”
His eyes shifted from me to Dylan, considering that might be the answer.
Reece struggled but when Drew gave him the nod, he let me go.
Stepping forward, the crowd parted slightly but not nearly enough for me to get to them.
Nate was fighting his way out from beneath Dylan. His eye was bruising, nose and lips bleeding. Raw knuckles and ripped shirt, he fought hard, trying to gain leverage but never fully seeking it. Dylan was all over him, raging as the fight inside sparked.
Dylan would fight until he had nothing left.
Nate got to his feet, pulling his shirt off and throwing it aside, his body hunched and prepared for what Dylan intended on finishing. “Come on, motherfucker,” Nate instigated. “Get up! Come on! You’re not so much of a fucking badass now, are you?”
Dylan stood, using a table to steady himself, his hair bloody and wild just like his eyes. He spit blood to the side, the back of his hand swept over his busted mouth and rushed toward Nate.
They collided, breaking a nearby table, glass shattering around them, and fell to the ground with Nate under Dylan again. Dylan’s punches came quick, each blow could be felt deep in your bones, and hurt deep inside my chest.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before Dylan really hurt him. Eddy saw it. Reece saw it and Drew knew it. There was too much anger in Dylan and it had nothing to do with that kiss, or Nate.
Drew, knowing that, finally decided it was enough when Nate was spitting mouthfuls of blood to the side, as was Dylan. Neither of them were willing to give up.
Dylan thrashed around, struggling against Drew and Eddy, trying to free himself I could see the blood running down his face, mixing with what appeared to be tears. You could see it, the strain to stop and the torment in his eyes to continue the only fight he knew.
Jody, another bartender pulled Nate away too as Eddy pinned Dylan down giving Nate a chance to get up. The fight was over but no one, including me, knew how to react to it.
And though he was trapped behind Eddy’s arms of steel, Dylan remained rampant and convulsive, fighting against them to get away.
Standing there, afraid to make a move, I stared in disbelief at what I saw.
“Eddy,” Dylan groaned his voice thick with tears. “Get back.”
Struggling to keep Dylan away, Drew stepped in when he noticed Nate still standing, shitless no less than three feet from Dylan, raging. He paced, back and forth, waiting for another chance. The security, now making themselves known, stood between them making sure it was done.
“Come on fucker,” Nate shouted. “You wanted a piece, come get it!”
He tried, though.
Nate shoved a few guys to the side, only to be held back by another.
The crowd parted more and I was able to get closer to Dylan. His face was red, his mouth and hands bleeding, eyes swelling and a busted lip. Blood drenched the front of his shirt but his eyes, those eyes said something else. I hurt him. Deeply.
“Let him go,” I said pushing against Eddy’s back.
“Someone get her out of here!” Eddy yelled, trying to push me back. “I mean it Bailey, leave!”
The problem was that none of these people in this bar would touch me now, not after that. No one fucked with what appeared to be Dylan’s girl. He made that message clear just now. In the way Nate was spitting blood and his eyes swelled, the message was clear.
When I got close enough and Dylan could see me, he fought harder to get loose but didn’t and Nate pushed forward again, not willing to give up either. Neither wanted the fight to be over.
Dylan’s eyes found mine, hurting, pleading. “I saw you, with him, brown eyes. I saw you,” he said, raspy and desperate. “I fucking saw you.”
Never in my life had words hurt as bad as they did right then. Not even when he said he slept with Mercedes. I did this to him. I pushed like I had been for the last few weeks and tested him. It was stupid, so incredibly stupid. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid.
Drew let go and Dylan shook Eddy away leaving him to stand less than a foot from me. He didn’t wipe the blood away but stared at me, waiting for my response, hollow, restless eyes pleading again begging me to tell him he didn’t see what he saw.
He turned his head to Nate. “You want to kiss someone, Nate?” Dylan asked, taking a few steps in his direction. Shrugging his shoulders, Dylan circled his neck and spit another mouthful of blood before squaring up, ready for more. “Answer me, do you?”
I held up my hands pushing against Dylan’s chest asking him to stop. With a glare, he walked right through me to Nate, wanting more.
“If you want to kiss someone, kiss me motherfucker.” Dylan smirked, taunting, reaching for Nate. “Come on, kiss me!”
Nate tried to rush past Reece, who was standing between them, unafraid and still ready to scrap. His eyes were wild and his fists ready for more, a fight I’m sure he had never experienced before.
As Dylan brushed by me, I gripped onto what was left of his shirt and closed my eyes, hoping that he would stop.
He did stop, and I held on until my knuckles turned white, begging.
With his hand circled around my mine, he forced my fingers away. He held my arm up, glaring at me.
“Please don’t do his right now,” I said, almost like a whisper. I wasn’t just thinking of mys
elf here either. I was thinking of Drew and his bar and the mess Dylan was causing.
Dylan cracked a sarcastic smile, his fingers tightening. “Yeah?” he asked, drawing my stare to his eyes, still wild. “What did you expect to happen? How did you expect me to react?”
I stood straighter, almost touching his chest with my own as I tried to get him to look me in the eye. “Please.”
Dylan’s eyes fell from mine, to my nose, to my lips—lips that were kissed by another―and then fell to the floor.
He tilted his head in Nate’s direction. “You don’t want him?”
“No,” I say without a thought. “You know that I don’t.”
He laughed but the sound is off. Dylan let go of my wrist and took a step away. “Yeah, well, you fooled me, brown eyes.”
He turned, and I yelled, “Dylan!”
He stopped again, and when he turned, it wasn’t the same. He finally wiped his open lip on the back of his hand, and he moved blood-caked hair away from his face. Everyone was standing back, waiting for Dylan to move, including me. “Don’t you think you should have thought of my reaction before you broke my fucking heart?” he asked. “Or did you? Was that your plan?”
“Dylan, please let’s just leave.”
His lips curved and he gestured to the crowd. “Nah, look around. It’s a fucking party, princess.”
There was that fucking word again. Princess. I wanted to punch him when he said that word and he knew it. It’s why he said it.
My eyes shifted away from him for a half-second looking for Drew.
Eddy lurked in the far back against the wall, because he knew this was coming. Nate was staring right at me, watching silently and Drew was there, watching too. Everybody was watching, waiting to see what Dylan would do next.
When I turned back to Dylan, his eyes were on mine, his smile was bitter.
“Let’s just please leave,” I said with my heart in my throat, shaky hands and wet cheeks. “Please.”
Dylan rubbed his face in his hands, and when he dropped them, he was no longer smiling and the seriousness of his face gave me a head rush.
I couldn’t feel him, the warmth, his touch, his love, it was gone right now.
Dylan spit more blood on the floor and faced Nate. “Go near my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”
I couldn’t believe how out of control he could just off someone touching me, or in this case, kissing me.
Nate didn’t reply, and no one else said anything. They knew, just as well as I did, it would only ignite him further.
Drew reached for him as he walked by but Dylan laced his fingers behind his head and walked away outside. I kept my eyes on him, uninterested in looking at anyone else, until he pushed open the back door to the bar.
I ran after Dylan, through the side door, into the alley behind the bar. A few people talking in a small circle, surrounded by a cloud of smoke, stared once I was in sight. I spotted Dylan right away, walking to the GTO at the end of the street. I called his name, but he didn’t turn around.
Ignoring whispers, I ran toward him.
I wiped my eyes on my forearm and yelled for him again, “Dylan!”
Beside his GTO, Dylan finally turned. I stopped running, struggling to breathe between gasps and sobs. Patting his pockets to find his cigarettes in his back pocket, he found it and lit up a smoke before chucking the lighter. It hit someone’s car before landing in the street.
He watched me the entire time I was walking toward him as he smoked a cigarette with an unstable hand. The closer I stepped, the better look I got of his face. Swollen and wounded, black-and-blue, cuts scattered across his flushed cheeks. His knuckles were raw, and his eyes were bleak, with no trace of Dylan behind them at all.
“Were you going to leave without me?” I asked reaching for him.
Dylan blew smoke into salty air before flicking the rest of his cigarette into the alley. Half of his face was lit by the street lamp and the other half was darkened by the night. It made me want to laugh. It was the perfect metaphorical glimpse into his personality.
“I don’t know.” His voice was dark just like his eyes. “You looked pretty comfortable with Nate to me.”
Turning from me again, he walked to his car. He looked as he unlocked the passenger’s side door, scrutinizing me, taunting me with a smug smirk and a condescending wink.
When Dylan opened the door and got it, I thought for a moment he might actually leave me.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
He started the engine and pressed on the gas, shattering silence with the rumble of his engine. Flipping the lights on, he motioned for me to get in. When I hesitated, he swung open the door. “Get the fuck in the car, Bailey,” he said, righting his position. “Now.”
Scared he would do something stupid, I did. The emotion, the fear, the hatred for myself and my actions got to me and I sobbed into my hands.
“What the fuck are you crying for?” he asked never looking at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, filling my palms with sadness. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Put your fucking seat belt on!” he yelled, his car roaring through a red light.
I didn’t. I cried.
Frustrated, Dylan reached over and pulled on the belt. Deciding not to push anymore, I grabbed it and strapped myself in fearing I would instigate him further.
Heading back to Drew’s house, Dylan’s cell phone started ringing as soon as we pulled onto the highway. He ignored it, driving with both hands on the steering wheel. The GTO’s headlights filled the route in front of us, lighting up the passing billboards for each exit. I watched the dashed yellow lines between the lanes, counting them as a way to think of anything but what Dylan was thinking.
Dylan didn’t talk, and I didn’t expect him to.
Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I let them close.
I didn’t open them again until Dylan stopped the car.
When I open them, Dylan’s hand was on my knee, his gentle touch soothing.
I opened my thighs, hoping he would touch me higher. But he didn’t. With tired eyes, I sat up and looked around to see that we were back at Drew’s house only his Mustang wasn’t in the driveway.
“Wake up,” Dylan said lowly, sitting back in his seat, looking straight ahead with his hands on the steering wheel again.
I rubbed my eyes, taking in my surroundings l looked over at Dylan. He was crying, slowly, quietly.
“Dylan?” I questioned reaching out for him and clutching his flannel. I’d never seen him cry before. I wasn’t sure he could.
He took control of my wrists holding them in his hands looking at me with red-rimmed eyes and a quivering chin. “Brown eyes,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
I sat up on my knees and moved closer but said nothing. Keeping his grip on me, he turned his face away. “Don’t.”
Taking in his appearance, his eyes were swollen, his left one worse than the right, bruised and bleeding from a small gash above his eyebrow.
Biting his lip nervously, the tears mixed with the blood.
Desperation moved me, and I forced myself on his lap. Kissing the side of his face, he kept his grip on my wrists trying not to let me too close. Then I kissed him, open bleeding lip and all, I kissed him. I kissed him until he moaned and let his grip loose.
When he gave in, I felt it everywhere. His shoulders sunk and his breathing sped up, body molding to mine, connecting completely as if there was no space between us.
His lips pressed into the side of my neck, whispering, “I’m sorry.” Kissing the side of my throat and the corner of my mouth, he than angled my face to kiss under my chin and my throat again. “I’m sorry,” he cried against my lips. Bloody and raw fingers touched my face and kissed each freckle. It didn’t feel like a sorry. It felt like he was saying goodbye, trying to let me go. “I’m constantly fucking up.”
“I’m sorry Dylan, it didn’t mean anything,” I cried against his shoulder.
> Unable to stop myself, I cried harder as tears started to build and spill again. Desperate to keep him near me, I pushed myself closer to where I wanted to be.
No mattered how much he was hurting right now, he couldn’t keep his body from reacting to mine in the ways it always did. He was right when he said he couldn’t take it anymore and he wanted me. Breathing uneven breaths right below my ear, I felt his body react, respond and want me in all the ways he had earlier today.
Dylan tried to still my hips moving against his own, but didn’t try hard enough.
Pulling me forward until our chests were touching, I felt it when he gave in completely.
Closing his eyes, I closed mine too, slightly reassuring myself this was what I wanted.
Our mouths moved, messy and hard, and my hands found his hair. Dylan circled my hips this time instead of trying to push me away, the hardness between my legs pushed my breath out on contact and I moaned around his tongue. He repeated the motion, this time lifting his hips at the contact searching for the friction.
Eventually we broke apart, gasping for breath but Dylan, eager for me, moved his mouth down my throat, his arms around me keeping me securely on his lap, they clung to me tighter straining me down on his erection as he shifted his hips to meet mine again.
“Not in here,” he said pressing his face into my skin, his cheek stung against my cool skin, fire and ice, just like I knew him to be.
His hands slipped under my dress though, an indication he didn’t want to stop, his palms slipping further until they reached my underwear and yanked hard as they ripped from my body.
Dylan didn’t stop touching me, he knew that we needed it like this. It was time. The teasing, the provoking, the jealousy, it was time. We couldn’t take it any longer.
“Stop,” he begged his voice just as rough as his breathing. “Don’t do this in my car. Let’s go inside.”
I didn’t move or say a word, instead, I kept moving against him until he grabbed my hips firmly but with gentleness he always had when touching me.
“Please brown eyes,” he begged helplessly, “not like this.”
Pulling my hair to the side, he used his teeth against my neck, barely brushing but enough to make me moan, his lips hovering over my ear. “Please let me do this right, for once in my fucking life, let me do something right.” It was then that I noticed he was crying again, silently, begging, loving, but it didn’t matter.
