One Night

by Allie Everhart

  "I know. And I appreciate that you listened. You're being a gentleman and I respect that."

  "Don't give me too much credit. The part of me that's not a gentleman is thinking very dirty thoughts right now." His eyes lock on mine as his hand moves slowly along the top of my towel, pausing at the part I've folded over to hold it in place. "You could always change your mind."

  I hesitate, thinking how much I want to change my mind. But I can't. We've only been going out a week, and although I've gotten to know him, I want to know more, and I don't want sex clouding my judgment.

  "I think it's best if we don't."

  He takes his hand away. "Go ahead and get dressed. I'll wait here."

  Back in my room, I race to my closet to find something to wear. We need to get out of the apartment before we do something we shouldn't. I hurry and change into black yoga pants, a long sleeve t-shirt, and zip-up hoodie. Then I race to the bathroom, dry my hair, and gather it into a ponytail.

  "Aren't we going to freeze out there?" I ask as I come back to the living room.

  "It's not that cold. It's in the fifties but feels warmer with the sun."

  "Okay, then I'm ready."

  I grab some gloves, just in case my hands get cold, then we go outside and take off toward campus, which is about a mile from my apartment. When we get there, I take him to the path that Kira always runs on. It's a two-mile loop that goes along the perimeter of campus.

  "You doing okay?" Dylan asks.

  "Yeah. How about you?"

  "Good, but why don't we take a break?"

  We stop next to a bench and stretch our legs.

  "For someone who doesn't work out much," he says, "you're in really good shape. I was going pretty fast and you still kept up."

  "I walk a lot on campus and I'm a fast walker. And all of those years of gymnastics paid off. I'm still in good shape from that."

  "Why don't you show me what you can do?"

  "What do you mean?"

  He motions to the lawn behind us. "Show me some of your gymnastics."

  "That was a long time ago. I don't do that stuff anymore."

  "But I'm sure you still know how. Come on. I want to see you do something."

  I check to make sure no one's coming down the path. I go behind the bench, stretch a little, then get a running start and do a series of forward flips, adding a twist in the air for the last one.

  "Holy shit, that's amazing," he says.

  I laugh. "It's really not. That was like gymnastics 101. I can do a lot better than that."

  "Can you show me?"

  "I don't know. The ground is really hard. I don't want to fall and get hurt."

  "Yeah, of course. Sorry, I wasn't thinking about that. Come sit down."

  It would be kind of fun to do a routine for him. I wonder if I could still do it.

  "Hold on. I'm going to try."

  "Amber, no. I don't want you getting hurt."

  "I won't." I get in position, pause a moment to get my mind in the game, then do a routine I used to do for a warmup. It's not my hardest routine but it was always one of my favorites.

  When I'm done I glance over at Dylan and see him staring at me like he can't believe I just did that. He lifts his hands and slowly claps.

  "You liked it?"

  "That was fucking amazing."

  I walk back over to him. "I used to do that routine all the time. I know it so well I could do it in my sleep."

  "I didn't know you were that good. Why the hell you'd stop? You could've gone to the Olympics."

  "Believe me, I'm not that good. But I could've made it to nationals."

  "Then why didn't you?"

  "All the training took up too much time. I didn't have time for anything else." I check my phone. "We should head back. I need to get home and write out invitations."

  "For what?"

  "My entrepreneur club. We're having a holiday party in early December."

  "Can't you just email the invitations?"

  "I could, but it seems nicer to hand write them and send them out."

  "Or." He pulls me into him. "You could forget all that, email them, and spend the rest of the day with me."

  "I also need to organize a luncheon for my Women in Marketing group. I need to call around and get a location and make a reservation and—"

  He stops me with a kiss. And then another. "Spend the day with me."

  "I can't. I have too much to do."

  "Just let it go. The world won't end if you don't do those things."

  "But people are counting on me."

  He pulls back, keeping his arms around my waist. "Do you like doing those things? Belonging to all those groups?"

  I sigh. "I don't know. I think I do."

  "Amber, if you don't like doing that stuff, don't do it."

  "It does get to be a lot sometimes, especially with classes and my job and now this internship."

  "Then stop doing so much. Quit some of your activities."

  "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

  "So how about today? Can I have you for the day?"

  I smile. "How about half a day? We'll run back and then go have lunch."

  "Not good enough. I need the whole day. Next week is Thanksgiving and you'll be gone for four days. Or are you leaving on Wednesday?"

  "I'm not leaving. I'm staying here."

  "You're not going home?"

  "It's too far for just a few days."

  "But Kira's going."

  "Only because she's homesick. She's never been away from home this long."

  "So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

  "I'll catch up on homework, sleep, watch TV."

  He looks at me a moment, then lets me go and takes his phone out.

  "What are you doing?"

  He calls someone and holds the phone to his ear. "Mom. Question. Can I bring a guest to dinner on Thursday?"

  "Dylan, no," I whisper. "I'm not going there."

  "Yeah, okay. Talk to you later." He puts his phone away. "Ready to head back?"

  "I'm not going to your house for Thanksgiving."

  "Did I ask you to?"

  "No," I say, confused. "But then why'd you call your mom just now?"

  "I had to get her okay."

  "Okay for what?"

  "Let's head back. I need to go home and shower and then I'll pick you up for lunch."

  "Wait, I didn't agree to spend the day with you."

  "But you agreed to lunch. So we'll start there and see how it goes. You're still coming to hear us tonight, right?"

  "I'm not sure." I look over at some guys as they jog past us. They're really slow, barely moving.

  "Why aren't you sure?" Dylan asks. "Don't you want to hear the band?"

  When I look back at him, I see the hurt look on his face. "Of course I do. I just...I don't really want to see girls hanging all over you."

  "They won't be hanging all over me. Sometimes they ask me to sign something but that's it."

  "Dylan, I've seen your concerts online. Girls are practically throwing themselves at you. They throw themselves at you wherever we go. Kira says I'll get used to it but I don't know if I will. I know it upsets her when girls do that to Austin. She just doesn't tell him how much it bothers her."

  He brings me to the bench to sit down. "Okay, first of all, I don't get near the attention that Austin does. And when I do, I make it clear I'm not interested. I told you, I don't date band groupies."

  "Still, it's hard to watch them pawing you while you're on stage."

  "Amber you know I'd never do anything with them. Or any girl. I have a girlfriend, and she's the only one I'm interested in." He smiles. "And I want to spend the day with her. If I have to, I'll even help her write those damn invitations so she won't have an excuse not to see me."

  "I wouldn't make you do that." I stand up. "Let's go. Maybe on the way back, you'll talk me into emailing the invitations."

  And he does. By the time we get back to my apartme
nt, he's got me agreeing to set aside my to-do list for the day and hang out with him instead. He goes home to clean up, then we go to lunch, then a movie, then have an early dinner. At six, he leaves to go back to his place.

  ***

  "You ready?" Kira yells from her room. It's Saturday night and we're getting ready to go to the bar where Vandyl is playing.

  "I just need to grab my phone." I run to the kitchen where I have it plugged in.

  "What's this?" Kira appears, holding an envelope. I can see the writing on the front. It's in Dylan's handwriting.

  "Where'd you get that?" I ask, taking it from her.

  "It was on the floor. It must've fallen off the table. Is it from Dylan?"

  "Yeah, but I didn't see him leave it."

  "He must've set it down when you weren't looking."

  I take the letter to the living room and plop down on the couch.

  "Amber we have to go," I hear Kira say. "We're already late."

  "It'll just take a minute."

  "You read his letters like ten times. It'll take more than a minute."

  "I won't read it ten times."

  As I open the envelope I wonder when Dylan even had time to write this. I was with him all day. He must've written it when he went home to shower before lunch. This past week, we've only exchanged letters once. I was starting to think maybe he'd given up writing them.

  My Dearest Amber, he writes.

  It's now been a week since you sent me the letter that reignited our relationship but it seems like much longer than that. Maybe because I've thought about you every single day since that night last May. For whatever reason, I had a feeling that wasn't the end for us. And it wasn't. It was only the beginning.

  I know you didn't want us to see each other this past week but fate brought us together once again and I'm grateful it did. We already had our time apart. Six very long months. Now it's time to be together. Get to know each other. Become friends. And eventually more than that.

  I'm in no rush to get to that point, the place we were at the night we met. There are parts of me that vehemently disagree with that, one part in particular, but he'll just have to wait.

  I want this to work. I want it to be more than just a casual relationship that ends in a few weeks or a month. So if taking things slow will help us do that, then I'm all for it. But I can't go without seeing you. I'll still write the letters because I know how much you like them, but they can't replace my time with you. I hope you feel the same.

  Love, Dylan.

  I do feel the same. Now that I've had a week with Dylan, going without seeing him seems impossible. He's right. The letters aren't enough. I love them, and I love reading them over and over again, but I also want to see him.

  "What'd he say?" Kira asks, her coat on, indicating she's in a hurry to leave.

  "I can't tell you. I'll be right back." I run to my room, deposit the letter in my drawer and meet Kira at the front door.

  "Why can't you tell me?" She hands me my coat.

  "He asked me not to." I laugh as I shrug my coat on. "He said he'd lose his man card if I ever told anyone what's in those letters."

  "So he writes you lovey dovey stuff." We go out in the hall and she locks the door.

  "Well, yeah, they're love letters. They're supposed to be romantic."

  "I can't imagine Dylan writing that. He doesn't seem like the romantic type."

  "He is. He just tries to hide it."

  I think that side of him only comes out when he's with me. At least I hope that's true. I don't want to think about him being that way with someone else.

  As we're driving to the bar, Kira asks, "You going to be okay tonight?"

  "No." I keep my eyes on the road. "But there's nothing I can do about it. He's the lead singer. He's hot. And girls love him."

  "But you know he'd never do anything with them, right?"

  "He said he wouldn't, but I've only known him a week so I guess I can't really be sure about that."

  "He wouldn't cheat on you. He's so crazy about you, I can't imagine him even looking at another girl."

  "Is this it?" I point to the bar.

  "Yeah, that's it."

  "It doesn't even have a sign."

  "You came in on the back side. The sign is in the front. Just drive around."

  The front of the bar is packed with cars, some lined up by the door, letting people off, and the rest parked in the lot.

  "There's no place to park," I tell Kira as we circle the lot. "Is it always like this when they play?"

  "Usually. You know how popular they are."

  "Yeah, but I didn't think it'd be standing room only."

  "They'll save us some seats. Just park in back. If we tell the owner we're with the band, he'll let us park there."

  "You sure?"

  "It's a perk of dating guys in the band," she says as I park next to Austin's truck.

  Getting out of the car, I spot someone coming out of the bar. It's Austin.

  "Hey." He smiles and waves us over. "Just come in this way."

  Kira runs up to him and kisses him. "Packed house again."

  "Yeah, it's great. The bar owner has already booked us again for next month." He looks at me. "Hey, Amber. Dylan's in the back room if you want to go say hi." He chuckles. "He's kind of nervous having you here tonight."

  "Why would he be nervous?"

  "He's never played for you before, except for that time last August, but he didn't know you were in the audience back then."

  "He doesn't need to be nervous."

  "Go see him and calm him down."

  Austin holds the door open and Kira and I go inside. There's a room off to the left, which I assume is where Austin told me to go. I can't ask him because he took off with Kira.

  I go in the room and see Dylan pacing the floor, taking deep breaths.

  "You all right?"

  He smiles. "Hey. What are you doing back here?"

  "There wasn't any parking out front so I parked in the back and ran into Austin. He said you were nervous about tonight?"

  "A little."

  "Because of me?"

  He comes up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I want you to like it."

  "You know I'll like it. I've heard you play before and I told you how good you guys sound."

  "You heard a recording online. You haven't heard us play live."

  "It'll be even better live. So stop worrying."

  He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. "I'm already feeling more relaxed. Let's just keep doing this until I have to go."

  "I need to go get my seat."

  "We already saved you seats. You can wait back here until we start."

  "But don't you need to practice before you go on?"

  "No. I need to do this." He presses his lips to mine.

  "Dylan!" some girl yells.

  I turn my head and see the girl stomping up to Dylan, her hands on her hips. She's gorgeous. Tall and thin with bright blond hair and blue eyes. She's wearing a short red dress and spiked heels and her skin is a perfect golden brown, like she has a standing appointment at the tanning salon.

  "What the hell are you doing?" the girl shouts at Dylan. "We have one argument and now you're cheating on me?"

  This must be Allison, his ex-girlfriend. Or by the way she's acting, his crazy ex-girlfriend.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dylan

  Just what I need. Allison barging in while I'm trying to be alone with Amber. And right before I have to go on stage. Allison always had horrible timing.

  "I'm not cheating on you," I tell Allison. "You and I broke up over a week ago. And actually, you were the one cheating on me. You admitted it, remember?"

  She huffs. "Only because I was mad at you for trying to break up with me. I didn't actually cheat."

  "That's not the rumor on campus."

  "There IS no rumor."

  "Several people have confirmed you were with Tyrone."

  "We kissed. One tim
e. But only because we were drunk after a football game."

  Tyrone is a running back and has had his eyes on Allison for months. He even asked me once at a party if I'd mind sharing. I almost punched him but he's lot a bigger than me and I didn't feel like ending up in the hospital over it. Now if he'd asked me if I'd share Amber, I would've punched him without even the slightest hesitation.

  "Kissing counts as cheating," I tell her. "Allison, I'm not going to stand here and debate this with you. I have to go on in like five minutes and I'd like to spend that time with my girlfriend."

  Allison whips her head back and glares at Amber. "HER? She's not your girlfriend. I am!"

  "No. You're not. You never were. You were just a girl I—" I don't finish the statement, knowing how bad it sounds. There's no denying it. I used Allison just like she used me. I'm not proud of it and it's not something I normally do, but I was at a bad place when I met her. I still wanted Amber. She was all I could think about, but I couldn't find her and I assumed I never would.

  Allison points to Amber. "Get her out of here so we can talk."

  "There's nothing to talk about. We're done. We've both moved on. I'm with Amber and you're with Tyrone."

  "I am NOT with Tyrone. I'm with YOU, and if you don't admit it, I'll go out there on stage right now and announce that you cheated on me. You think your fans will like that?"

  One of the bouncers appears at the door. "Everything okay in here?"

  He must've heard Allison screaming. Her shrill tone could probably be heard all the way to the front of the bar.

  "I want her to leave," I say, pointing to Allison. "But she refuses."

  He walks over to her and takes her arm. "Come on. Let's go."

  She yanks her arm back. "I'm not going anywhere!"

  "I don't want her here," I say to the bouncer. "Not just in this room, but in the bar."

  "No problem," the bouncer says. "Miss, you need to leave."

  "I have every right to be here," she spits out. "Dylan is my boyfriend. We're just having a fight."

  "She's lying," I tell him. "She's not my girlfriend. My girlfriend's right over there." I motion to Amber, whose standing off to the side, looking uncomfortable.

  "You leave on your own," the bouncer says to Allison, "or I'll be carrying you out."