by Gia Riley
Dylan’s never run away from me before, and already, I worry this roommate thing will be our demise.
We need to stop having these pointless conversations about my love life.
I can’t lose my best friend.
Zoe
The next morning, I crawl out of bed and grab the box on my dresser. Two tickets to the lecture I’ve wanted to go to sit nestled inside, the unexpected present from Dylan. If I want to make the presentation, I’ll have to leave by noon, but with the way Dylan ran away from me last night, I don’t know how to ask him if he still wants to go.
I try glancing in his bedroom, but the door’s shut tight, not even a sliver of light passes through. Knocking would be logical. That would require a conversation I’m not sure how to begin, so I kneel in front of the door, sliding a ticket underneath.
At first nothing happens, so I sit Indian style and wait. Maybe he’s still asleep. In case he is, I tap my knuckles on the door, light enough not to wake him if he is, but loud enough that if he’s lying in bed awake, he’ll hear me.
Nothing.
Now that I’ve lost a ticket, I have no way to get it back unless I open the door. Turning the knob, I wait for the latch to click and open it far enough to peer inside.
The bed’s empty.
Before I get into any trouble, I close the door and sit back down. A few seconds later, the ticket reappears in front of me, a sign he doesn’t want to go. But why would he give me two tickets if he wanted me to go alone?
Because he’s mad at you, Zoe.
As I’m tucking the ticket back in the box, the door opens and Dylan’s standing in front of me, dressed in only his boxers. “What are you doing down there?”
“Waiting for you.”
He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You could have knocked.”
“I did.”
“How hard?”
He knows me so well, I blush. “Not very.”
Instead of helping me up, he sits down facing me, mirroring my position. I should have knocked harder. At least then he wouldn’t be studying my face this early in the morning, before I’ve showered or brushed my hair and teeth. I didn’t think this through.
“So what’s up, Zo?”
“Well, um.” I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s Dylan. But he’s acting like last night didn’t happen, and I felt the air between us shift the second he told me he sees me. Something happened. Again. “I have the tickets for tonight. The ones you gave me.”
“And,” he says.
He’s going to make me ask him out. “And, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the lecture with me.”
I’m staring at the carpet, that little line where the fibers from the hallway meet the ones that go into the bedroom. Oddly enough, we’re both sitting on opposite sides. I’m hallway carpet and he’s bedroom carpet. While I analyze the significance of that, he’s smirking at me, waiting to give me his answer. “I’d love to go with you, Zo. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re sure? Because you don’t have to.”
“Well, if I don’t have to.”
“Stop it! You already said you’d go.”
We sit staring at each other for a few more minutes before my butt falls asleep and my stomach growls. If I don’t get up, we’ll sit here all day and miss out on the lecture. But I can’t seem to get up, and Dylan doesn’t move either.
More waiting.
More watching.
More smiling.
Eventually, he stands and helps me off the floor and we both shower. Separately, of course. And when we’re both ready to go, we climb in his car and without asking for directions, he drives us to the lecture.
It’s everything I expect it to be, but all I can think about is the way Dylan’s thigh is resting against my knee. That one point of contact is enough to send chills from one side of my body to the other. And once those are absorbed, a new wave follows. Whether he knows what he’s doing or not, he doesn’t budge, just listens attentively like he’s interested in being here.
By the time we’re finished, I’m covered in goose bumps. Dylan waits for me to give him my thoughts on what the professor was saying, but I have nothing. He was there. He already heard it all. Truth be told, I missed a lot of the details, only soaking up the key points. Why? Because Dylan was touching me and his words from last night were still so fresh in my mind. I kept connecting the dots together until all that was left was a sign.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it, or if I know how to respond, but I got Dylan’s message. We haven’t talked about the couch, and we probably won’t. I’ll just keep collecting these little moments and special touches until I figure out what to do with them.
Zoe
My alarm is wailing, and I yell at myself for making it so loud.
It was a long night with little sleep. I tried reading the book Dylan gave me. I came close to finishing a chapter, but no closer to figuring him out. Defeated, I left it sitting on the desk, and climbed in to bed. Since our date three weeks ago, he’s been as confusing as ever.
Coming and going as he pleases, I don’t think he’s been on any dates or anything like that, though something’s different. He’s sweet and caring as ever, but he’s slowly driving me crazy. All those little glances and stares keep adding up. Sometimes there’s even a touch or two to my arm or my shoulder. He’ll tuck a piece of hair behind my ear just because. It’s maddening.
Just before bed last night, he winked at me. One stupid wink made falling asleep next to impossible. Dylan was on the other side of the wall, doing god knows what and talking to god knows who.
He flirts yet makes no attempt at more. That gets me thinking. Overthinking. What if he’s decided I’m too risky and he’s interested in someone else?
Dylan has years of experience. Why would he want to waste his time on me? There’s no way he’d complicate things on the first day of living together.
“You up, Zoe?” Dylan asks from the hallway outside my door. He’s been in my room at home a bunch of times, so I don’t get why he’s lingering near the doorway, but something tells me it has everything to do with last night’s quick exit.
“Zoe?”
I don’t answer him on purpose, hoping he’ll come inside and see if I’m awake.
As I’d hoped, the door creaks open and my heart flip flops. I can’t see him, but I feel him moving closer to the edge of the bed. “Zoe?”
I smile into my pillow. Just as he leans over me, I roll over to scare him. Only he’s closer than expected and his forehead connects with my face.
“Mother fucker,” he yells, grabbing his head in pain. “What was that about?”
When he lets go of his head, his eyes widen. “Shit!” He scrambles for the bath towel hanging on my door. Holding it over my nose, he applies just enough pressure to make me yelp with pain.
“Dylan, I’m about to throw up.”
With his fingers still pinching my nose, he lurches for the trash can next to my desk, holding it near my mouth. “Are you okay? Talk, Zo.”
My entire face screams with pain as the blood gushes from my nose. For a doctor in the making, blood shouldn’t make me this squeamish. Maybe it’s that it’s mine and not someone else’s, but it trickles down the back of my throat, and I hurl into the can.
Most guys would run away from a situation like this—a girl with shit coming out of two orifices but Dylan catches all of it like a true gentleman.
Once I’ve got it all out of my system, he sits down next to me, finding a clean spot on the towel to wipe my face. “You know, I was scared to come in your room this morning.”
“You must be petrified now.”
He shakes his head. “No, just sorry. I think I broke your nose.”
Considering I can’t touch it without another round of nausea ravaging my stomach, he could be right. “Will you get my phone? I need to get a doctor’s appointment after class.”
Dylan does as I ask but stops short of handing m
e the phone. “You can’t go anywhere with a busted nose.”
“I can. Perfect attendance is at stake.”
“Everyone has perfect attendance on the first day of classes.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I tell him. “I’ve never missed a day of college.”
His eyes soften when he says, “That’s a great accomplishment and shows you’re a reliable person, but you’re seeing the doctor. You could have a concussion, too.”
I snatch the phone out of his hand, scrolling through until I find the number I’m looking for. “It might not matter to you or anyone else, but it matters to me. The last time I missed school, I was in fifth grade. Ty Davis knocked my front tooth out playing kickball. The only appointment was for the following morning. And it screwed up the streak I had going.”
He dips his head, trying to peek inside my mouth. “You have a fake tooth?”
I open far enough to tap the tooth with the tip of my nail. “I wore a retainer with an artificial tooth cemented on it until they gave me this implant.”
“You’d be injury free if it weren’t for guys like Ty and me.”
“And I’d have perfect attendance.”
“Forget about class, Zoe. I’m taking you to the doctor.”
As much as I want to keep my record blemish free, Dylan’s right. My nose is too bad to sit through four hours’ worth of lectures. “Fine, let me change my clothes.”
“Do you need help?” he asks before realizing what he’s offered. Once he does, his eyes widen, and he backs up toward the door.
“Are you going to puke?”
“No, it’s cool,” he says. “I’ll help you if you need me to.”
“I can manage. Just go warm up the car, please.”
“The car. Right.”
We couldn’t be more awkward if we tried. Crossing the imaginary line we’ve created might not be as easy as I thought. Stacks of mile high cinderblocks constructed from embarrassment and nerves keep us where we belong.
Once I’m changed, Dylan helps me into the car. As soon as he buckles his seatbelt, he glances at me, his eyes lingering a little too long for him to be thinking about nothing. I want to ask what’s on his mind, especially after the way we ended things last night, but I’m nervous.
“What’s wrong?” I take a deep breath and wince. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”
“And I’m sorry I busted your face.”
“It was an accident.”
At the red light, he closes his eyes and looks pained. When they open, he licks his lips and says, “I didn’t sleep last night. All I could think about was you.”
“Me?” I question.
“Yeah, you. Let me help you.”
“Dylan, you already are. We’re going to the doctor.”
Shaking his head, he says, “No, with the other thing.”
“The other thing?” I must have a concussion because I didn’t know I had a thing.
His hands grip the steering wheel at ten and two, like the driver’s education teacher taught us. Only Dylan never drives like that. He always has one hand on the wheel and the other against the window. If it’s open, his fingers dangle over the edge.
He’s still vague when he adds, “I want to point your curiosity in the right direction.”
Curious is my middle name. If I’m not questioning why the earth is round, I’m trying to figure out its rotation. That applies to every aspect of life. “What are you saying?”
He eases his grip on the wheel so the blood flows back to his knuckles. “I’m not sure you’ll like this, but after you went to bed last night, I called Keely.”
“You did what?” He hasn’t called Keely since he informed her we were moving in together. For him to dial her number, he must have been worked up. Or he has something else planned.
“I guess part of me wanted to find out if Chaz’s friend was interested in you for the right reasons or not. If he wasn’t, I was going to tell him to leave you alone. And if this was all Keely’s doing, I was going to tell her to stop hooking you up with guys who aren’t any good for you.”
His response is honest, so honest it scares me. I never thought he’d go out of his way to keep me from a guy. Lord knows I’ve had strong opinions about some of the girls he’s shown interest in, but it was never my place to interfere. I hoped he’d show me the same courtesy.
What do I do with this information? It won’t fit into any of our usual friendship compartments and I’m left with one piece of paper, floating around between us, not understanding what to do with it. “Can we listen to some music?”
He reaches forward and presses the button for my favorite country station. Waiting for one song to end and another to begin, he tries again. “Zoe, I need you to know I’d still want to do this whether you had someone interested in you or not. I guess I need you to understand that I’m not offering because there might be some other guy. I’m offering because it’s you.”
I breathe through my mouth in the most unattractive way, scrounging up the nerve to continue the conversation. I’m sure my hands are shaking from fear instead of the pain. “You’ll do what, exactly?”
“I want to do you.” Like he told me he wants pizza for lunch or that it’s supposed to rain tonight, the words tumble out of his mouth while I’m dying inside.
“You did not just say that,” I mumble as I adjust the seatbelt against my shoulder.
“That came out wrong,” he admits. “I’m nervous, Zo. I’ve never felt like this before. I walked away from you last night because of my feelings. If I made a move, and you freaked out, I’d mess everything up. I still run that risk by having this conversation, but I needed to say something before you found someone else and I lost you.”
“Lost me?” He never had me. Oh, but he did. He always has.
“I’m still fucking this up, aren’t I? Shit, Zoe. I called your sister for information and in some roundabout way, I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t get mad if I tried something. Because when I dated her, it was for you. I wanted to be with you.”
I’m so confused. He dated Keely for me? “Dylan, maybe it’s my splitting headache, but I’m having a hard time with this conversation.”
“Please, Zo,” he begs. “I know you better than anyone. Even better than your own twin.”
“You do. I’m not denying that. But tissues are stuck up my nose, and I’m breathing like a dog in heat.”
With a nervous smile, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry. I realize my timing sucks, but it’s been bothering me for so long. Every time I close my eyes, I picture you with some asshole that isn’t good enough for you. You can’t get in bed with the wrong guy. So, I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.”
“You will?”
“Yes. I want you to use me, Zoe.”
I turn my head away from him, staring at the passing buildings. The closer we get to the doctor’s office, the dirtier the sidewalks become and the busier the streets are.
Despite Dylan meaning well, with all of his intentions focused on helping me and not hurting me, I’m disappointed and offended by his offer. I don’t want to use my best friend. He has that status because he’s never done stupid things that hurt me. If he had, I’d lump him in a category with assholes like Chaz.
“Let me get this straight. You don’t want to date me, but you’re willing to take one for the team? So nobody else has to suffer.”
He’s quiet until we pull into the parking lot. After cutting the engine, neither of us moves. I’m waiting for an answer and he’s still trying to come up with something that won’t further offend me. But with each second that comes and goes, nothing changes. He doesn’t clarify, and I feel worse about myself.
Dylan senses I’m struggling and gets out of the car. When I still make no effort to get out, he opens my door and unbuckles my seatbelt for me. Holding out his hand, he says, “Come on. You’ll be late.”
I pull myself out of the car on my own. He lets me go, h
anging back as I walk down the path toward the office. My favorite guy in the world made me feel unworthy. Like I’m not good enough to be his girlfriend the way I am.
He’s not my favorite anymore.
Inside, the receptionist gives me a sympathetic smile. I understand why after a glimpse of my reflection in the glass. I’m swollen, puffy, and wearing dried blood for blush.
Dylan waits until the receptionist excuses me before taking my elbow and guiding me toward two open chairs in the waiting room.
The older man sitting across from us takes one look at my face and scoffs. His eyes narrow as they land on Dylan and I pray the man’s cane stays resting on his knee.
“He thinks I beat you up,” he whispers in my ear.
“You did,” I remind him.
The old man has one hell of a hearing aid because he raises his newspaper in disgust. Dylan doesn’t say another word until we’re in the exam room waiting for the doctor to fix my face.
It’s only when I’m sitting on the table, waiting for the doctor, that I realize I’m wearing two different shoes. “You could’ve told me,” I mumble. “I look ridiculous.”
Dylan places his palms on either side of my thighs. Inches from my face he says, “Every time I open my mouth, the wrong thing comes out, and you get mad at me.”
“I was just . . .” He silences me with a finger pressed against my lips and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess to sit still.
“It’s time for you to listen, Zoe. I called your sister because I wanted to make sure Chaz and his friend didn’t come within three feet of you.”
“I don’t care about the pact. It doesn’t matter anymore.” It’s a lie, but I say it anyway because my face is throbbing, I’m frustrated, and Dylan is dangerously close to my mouth.
“You’re lying, Zo. It matters. Thing is, I don’t trust either of them. Not even your sister.”
“I’m not like Keely. But I don’t want anyone else anyway. I’m fine on my own. I’ve gotten this far, even if I am hideous with this broken nose and black eyes.”
He raises my chin with his finger, forcing me to look him square in the eyes. They’re a little lighter than I remember them being yesterday. Then again, I’ve never been quite this close to Dylan. “There’s nothing unpleasant about you. My offer made you uncomfortable because it came out wrong.”
