The Moments We Share

by Barbara C. Doyle

  He waves it off. “I knew you weren’t going to do that.”

  My eyes narrow. “How?”

  “Because you wouldn’t do something that could risk hurting your chances with Ashton. You can piss on her all you want to claim your territory, but touching somebody she’s willing to protect would leave you permanently in the dog house.”

  My jaw ticks knowing he’s right.

  “Go get the girl, man,” he commands, shoving me out the opening of the curtain.

  My movements are calculated as I make my way to Ash, her eyes following me like they used to before. When I’m situated beside her, I can’t help but rile the crowd, giving them what they want.

  “I think they want us to make beautiful music together, Ash.”

  The look she gives me says she’s not interested, but she pretends she is for their sake.

  Which means I have some major recon to do.

  After our song is finished and the guys all came back out on the stage to say good-bye to the fans, we all walked into the back. Bash and Ben go off into our dressing room right across from Ash’s, and Ian gives me a nod as if to say, Get your girl.

  But Ash is already walking off into her dressing room, a fire clearly burning in her eyes and no intention of looking my way if she can help it.

  I chase after her, something I never thought I’d do over any woman.

  “Go away, Dylan.”

  “So she speaks.”

  Her eyes cut to mine. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I got here. Not to mention you’ve made it abundantly clear you haven’t been interested in talking since the day you left.”

  She wants to play that game?

  “You have my number,” I point out. “It takes two to tango, sweetheart. If you wanted to hear from me, you damn well could have picked up the phone!”

  She sits down in a huff knowing I’m right. Normally I wouldn’t care about taking all the blame, but not when she has just as much of it. If I’m going down, she’s going down with me.

  She takes a wipe from a package at her makeup table and starts running it over her face, removing what little makeup she’s wearing. Her focus stays solely on the task at hand, her eyes not even meeting mine in the reflection.

  “Maybe it’s because we both know you were right,” she finally admits, shrugging. She works on removing the lipstick. “You said we’d be a disaster together, and we would be. We’re too different to work.”

  “Are we?” I doubt, walking over and kneeling next to her. “I’m not saying I’m wrong often, but what if I was about that? We don’t know we’d be a disaster because we never tried.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “We fucked,” I correct her slowly. Memory blazing in the past. “While that certainly takes effort, it isn’t the same kind of trying I’m talking about.”

  Her naked cheeks redden again. “You like living your life different than how I live mine. I didn’t argue when you left, or tell you that I wanted anything more. We had a silent agreement.”

  “Oh, Ash,” I chuckle, brushing my hand against her cheek. Her eyes flutter before finally looking at me. “If there’s one thing about me that hasn’t changed, it’s that I’m willing to break an agreement when it’s worth it.”

  I can see her swallow, eyes widening just a fraction at the statement. It’s more of a promise than anything, and I think she knows that based on the way she looks at me like it’s just her and I in the room.

  “There were pictures of you leaving parties over the past month, Dylan. Some of them making it very clear that you had female company when you left.”

  The hurt in her tone is evident, and I want nothing more than to wash it away. But she’s right, and lying to her won’t help me if she ever finds out the truth.

  I sigh, rubbing my neck. “There were girls at the few parties I went to, and yes I left with some. But if it’s any consolation, I couldn’t sleep with them despite their best efforts.”

  She cringes.

  “I could bullshit you,” I remind her. “I’m not saying you should give me a trophy or some shit, but consider the fact I’m being honest with you instead of trying to cover up what I’ve done. Or, in this case, haven’t done. Because yeah, I had plenty of girls who were determined to get me out of the funk I was in. When I left Nashville, I left a part of me with you that I didn’t think I could give away. Yet you had it, right there with you when I rolled out of your bed, got dressed, and walked out that door.

  “It wasn’t as easy as it used to be for me, sleeping with somebody and then leaving them. You’re not like the other girls, and at risk of sounding like some cliché chick flick, it helped me realize that there wasn’t going to be another person who made me feel the way you do. So even though those girls tried coming home with me, I never let them into my space. Never let them put their hands on me.”

  She listens in silence, eyes trying to look away but not knowing how. There seems to be some relief at my admission, which in turn eases my own worry that she won’t at least give me a chance. Give us a chance.

  Truth be told, I don’t know if we’ll work. For all I know, we could crash and burn in the end, but how would we know if we don’t set aside our differences just to make something work?

  God, now I’m sounding like Dr. Phil.

  “Ian invited Rhys here to make me jealous,” I admit, when she makes no effort to say anything. “And damned if it didn’t work. I imagine I feel the same way about you and other guys being together as you feel about me and any girl.”

  She bites her lip, nodding once. “It’s not a good feeling, is it?”

  “Fuck no.”

  She rolls her eyes at my language, but she doesn’t seem surprised over it. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we got attached so quickly? It seemed more like a game to you when we first started.”

  I wince. She may be right, again, but it never stayed a game. And while Ashton was the type of prize anybody would love to win, she was worth so much more than that.

  “Maybe at first.” She frowns. “But I also let random girls feel me up and suck me off when we first met, so I’d say plenty has changed. That is, unless you’d be willing—”

  “Finish that sentence and I stab you in the eye with a makeup brush,” she threatens.

  I snicker, holding my hands up. “Fine. What I’m trying to get at is that I liked getting a reaction out of you. The way your nose scrunches up lets me know that I effect you in some way, even if it wasn’t the best emotion I invoked.”

  “Considering it was usually disgust …”

  I grin. “I’d like to think the negative feelings are the most powerful. That was one of the things I loved about us—our time together.”

  She seems confused. “What?”

  I lean forward, invading her space. “I loved the way you hated me.”

  Her eyes fixate on mine, the colors hooded as they soak in the rawness of our reality.

  “I think it says more about how much effort we put into distancing ourselves, to believing we hate somebody so thoroughly, that shows our true feelings toward them. We try so hard to fool ourselves into believing that loving them isn’t worth it, yet they’re all we think about. All we feel. They consume us. Every reaction I got from you fueled what I didn’t think I was capable of.”

  “Dylan …” she whispers, reaching out to touch my face.

  I put my hand over hers, pressing her palm into me, feeling her warmth. I smile, my chest thawing as I take in the way she looks at me. How she feels my words—hears the truth.

  “Go out with me.”

  She blinks. “Like a date? We tried that before. It didn’t end well.”

  I chuckle. “Like a date,” I confirm. “You know, dinner, talking, mild groping. And it didn’t end well because that guy was an asshole who didn’t want to try—didn’t want to change.”

  That causes her lips to waver like she’s fighting off a smile. “You actually want to do this again, don’t you?” />
  “I think we’ve both been running from something that has been in front of us the whole time,” I answer casually. “Me especially. And it’s time we actually explore it. Face it head on.”

  She shakes her head in amazement, dropping her hand from my face. “Dylan Hilton has a soft side after all.”

  “You knew that all along.”

  She grins. “Yeah, but it’s nice seeing you be able to show it without kicking yourself for it.”

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” I state. “But I think you can help me with that. Show me that it isn’t so bad being the guy people like rather than like to hate.”

  “Does that mean we get to do more Abba karaoke?”

  I glare at her. “Not in public.”

  She giggles. “I owe you anyway for what you did with Rhys. Even if it was to save yourself from what Conner was doing, you helped me more than you think. I was able to stand up for myself and figure out the truth. And, in a way, you helped Rhys, too.”

  His name sours my stomach. “Don’t bring that douche up.”

  “He’s—”

  “Always going to be a douche to me,” I inform her matter-of-factly. “But I guess I should thank the guy. He was stupid enough to screw things up with you. That’s worth something.”

  There’s a snort from the doorway, causing both of us to turn. And there’s Rhys, hands in his pockets, shoulder against the door. He looks between us, studying our closeness, analyzing the situation.

  But he’s not an idiot, not like I want him to be for the sake of feeling better.

  “I never would have expected you two to be a thing,” he admits, staying where he is. “But it was pretty obvious after that video went live. Nobody can fake that kind of chemistry, and seeing it live definitely confirmed it.”

  I stand up, crossing my arms on my chest. “I hope you’re not too disappointed, Cowboy.”

  “Dylan,” Ash warms quietly.

  “I’m not,” Rhys answers. “Ash and I agreed that we weren’t meant for each other. I knew what I came here to do, Ian made that clear when he called. Just do me a favor?”

  Not that I owe him one, I nod, curious as to what he had to say.

  “Don’t fuck it up.” I bark out a laugh. “I put her through hell over the years, and she deserves to know what it’s like to feel loved with everything you’ve got.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Ash smile.

  I focus directly on Rhys. “I will.”

  He nods once, backing out. “And Dylan?”

  I tilt my head. “Yes?”

  He grins. “You’re welcome.” Winking, he disappears, leaving Ash and I alone again.

  I take a minute to digest what just happened before turning to Ash, who now has all of her makeup off. My fingers trail against her soft skin, mesmerized by the natural beauty she has that so many of the girls in my past could only dream of.

  It’s sad that it took me this long to see that it isn’t just about the looks. Ash is beautiful in every way it counts.

  I walk over to my jacket draped across the couch, pulling out my notebook. Turning to her, I look down at the years of memories in my hands.

  “Dylan?” she says softly.

  I walk over to her, holding out the notebook in offering. “I want you to have this—read this.”

  She stares at it, her hands slowly wrapping around the edges. She doesn’t hold it though, merely touching the cover like she can’t believe I’m offering it.

  “I’m not taking that,” she finally informs me.

  My eyes widen. “I want you to.”

  She pushes it away, a smile on her face. “Just knowing that you do means a lot. You’re offering me a piece of you that you never would have before. I don’t need to read what you wrote, because if this works—if we work—then you’ll show that part of you in time.”

  My lips part to say something, then close. Shaking my head, I let out a short breath. Putting my notebook under my arm, I brush her hand with mine.

  “You should still hang onto it.”

  She tilts her head. “Why?”

  “Because I know it’ll be safe with you,” I reply, shrugging. “Because I trust you with it—with every part of me. And that’s not easy for me to do, but you believe in me.”

  Her lips waver, like she’s trying not to cry.

  “You don’t have to look at it now,” I conclude, giving her a small smile. “But someday you might want to understand me when I’m being … stubborn.”

  She laughs. “Stubborn? You?”

  I roll my eyes. “Asshole-ish. Better?”

  She just grins.

  I put the notebook down in front of her, and she brushes her fingers against it.

  “Say you’ll go out with me again,” I say.

  “We’re leaving New York early tomorrow morning,” she reminds me, standing up.

  I grab her hand, tugging her into me, wrapping my arms around her waist. She looks up at me with a small smile on her face.

  “So let’s have our first official do-over date when we arrive in Nashville tomorrow. And we can have our second one in Georgia, our third one in Califo—”

  “Are you saying you want to date me in every state?” she muses, kissing my chest, just over my beating heart.

  I tip her chin up to meet my heated eyes. “I want to be with you everywhere and in any way, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

  Her face warms, eyes lighting up, and I tweak her bottom lip with my thumb. “You just have to say the magic word.”

  She breathes, “Yes.”

  Ashton

  Three dates in three states.

  Each one taking me by surprise because I get to see Dylan put himself in it one hundred percent. In Nashville, he rented out an entire theater where we watched Mama Mia. I laughed when I saw the movie choice, knowing Abba was the main band on the soundtrack. He paid for dinner at a Chinese restaurant because the first time we watched a movie together I ordered takeout that he said was terrible. We still agree to disagree.

  The second date was in Georgia. When he blindfolded me and guided me to the taxi he got us, I had no idea what to expect. And when he took my blindfold off after what seemed like the longest drive ever, tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the candlelight dinner he set up on a blanket on the ground. He admitted he had to order the food for the basket because he couldn’t cook, but the sentiment still overwhelmed me in the best possible way. We spent the night talking, took a walk around the small pond, where he promptly pushed me in, and then laughed as we drove back to the hotel soaking wet. After all, I couldn’t just let him walk away without getting dunked in the water too.

  California’s date was a karaoke bar he found. He rented the whole place out so only Ian, Bash, and Ben could come in. We all sang, horribly, at songs we challenged each other at. Abba was played much to Dylan’s dismay, and his friends got to see a side of him that I don’t think they saw in quite a while based on how they smiled at him.

  Each date replayed in my mind, even as I sit on the bench my grandpa carved. Suddenly, the memories that surrounded me here didn’t seem so bad when I had new ones to make.

  I walk over to the couch, tucking my feet under me as I grab Dylan’s notebook from the coffee table.

  “Read it when you miss me,” he told me before he watched me get on my flight.

  It’s only been two days since we’ve seen each other, and despite the few phone calls we’ve had, I miss him being around. Three dates shouldn’t dictate how my much my heart yearns for him, or how much of me he’s claimed. But it does, and it is scares me.

  Relentless has more songs to record for their next album, which has already created serious buzz with sales making it top preorder the charts. They have their own careers they need to worry about, just like I have mine. So I know being separated is something we’ll have to work on if we want to make this work.

  My fingers twitch on the notebook cover.

  I miss you, Dylan.
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br />   Closing my eyes, I open to a random page. My finger slides down the paper, my eyes skimming the lines it lands on.

  I’m fed up, ready to break

  Calling out, but you don’t hear my plea

  Wanting it over, needing an end

  Seeing a smile with the power to mend

  My heart tightens in my chest reading over the lyrics, seeing how badly he wanted somebody to hear, but knowing that nobody could understand.

  I do, Dylan.

  Maybe not on the same level, but I know what it’s like to think somebody broke you. How hard it is to let people help you mend.

  I flip through a few more pages, eyes roaming over the words etched into the worn paper. I can see his heart, his soul, immortalized on the pages.

  My eyes halt when I see three lines sketched in the middle of the page, causing my heart to go into overdrive. According to the date, he wrote this two days ago.

  She ended me with a single look,

  Revived me with a subtle touch,

  And saved me with her burning love.

  Love.

  I try swallowing, but my mouth is dry. I used to have this feeling consume me in the early years of my relationship with Rhys, where my heart hurt from how large is swelled in my chest and how fast it beat.

  Could I love Dylan?

  Deep down, I know the answer.

  I look at my lit-up phone screen where it sits next to me, confused when I see Ian’s name pop up. They’re all in New York visiting their families, a tradition after each of their tours no matter how long.

  Closing the notebook and setting it on the table, I pick up my phone. “Hey, Ian,” I greet, pressing the screen to my ear.

  “Hey …” His voice is quiet, his end breaking up in static. “Need … explain … Dylan.”

  “What?” I stand up, trying to move around to hear him better, resting my hip against the window.

  “Dylan … story …” I cover my ear, trying to focus on the words that are coming through. “It isn’t … but … hospital.”

  My eyes widen. “You’re breaking up, Ian!” My voice is frantic as I try making out what he’s telling me. “Who is in the hospital?”