I narrow my eyes at Nora. “Why am I dressed like this again?”
“Because you can,” she replies.
I look at myself in the mirror one more time. Nora’s tamed my waves into loose curls and left my hair down, hanging on my shoulders. I usually throw my hair up in a bun or ponytail. I’m made up in neutral makeup, but Nora’s highlighted, outlined, and contoured things I didn’t know existed on my face. I wear the black padded push up bra, not that I have anything to push up, and black lacy underwear which is already creeping to uncomfortable places. Over the bra, I have a sweater that clings to me more than I would like it too and exposes a tiny bit of midriff. I also yanked on a pair of skinny jeggings, and they’re more comfortable than I thought they would be. Nora’s letting me wear a pair of my Converse shoes and my denim jacket. It’s a nice-looking outfit, but way more revealing and fancier than what I usually wear. You’d think I’d be used to exposing skin since I’m a swimmer, but the centimeter of skin at my belly when I shrug my shoulders is a lot for me.
“I’ve got to run.” Nora gathers her things and leaves while Mom continues to hang out in the doorway, watching me.
“What?” I ask, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“You look nice,” Mom says. “Have fun with Dylan.”
“Are you going to give him the third degree? Ask him where we’re going, what we’re doing, tell him to have me back by nine?”
Mom only laughs. “Have fun, Ash.” She starts to walk away.
“Why do you trust him?” I call after her.
“Don’t you?” Mom replies.
ELEVEN
I take my time answering after Dylan rings the doorbell. I was hoping Mom would open the door and give him the third degree, but she’s disappeared. I was also hoping Dylan would forget about our date or have something come up. Or he’d have a date with another girl. But again, I don’t have much luck.
“Hi. Are…” Dylan stops talking when he lays eyes on me after I open the door. I rarely see him with his jaw dropped and he’s doing it now.
“What?” I ask. There’s no reason he should look at me with those wide eyes.
“You look…different.”
I snort. “Different. That’s what every girl wants to hear. But yes, that’s what Nora was going for. Different.” I push Dylan out of the way, and pull the door closed behind me. “Shall we get this started?”
Dylan’s hand runs through his curly hair. I haven’t complimented him on how he looks. Which is nice, very nice. He seems to have put in a little more effort than normal too. I start to walk to Dylan’s car, and he hurries after me, running ahead to hold open the door for me.
“Such a gentleman,” I say.
Dylan was always a gentleman when we were dating or blackmail dating, or whatever it was. Dylan closes the door behind me, a confused look on his face as he walks in front of the car. He gets in on the driver’s side, and twists to look at me.
“What’re you doing?” he asks.
“Going out with you,” I say. “You won our bet.”
“You have a…” Dylan wrinkles his nose. “You have a different bra on?”
I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you the observant one?” Dylan’s seen me in a swimsuit more than clothes, and it’s not hard to tell my chest size has increased.
“You don’t have to do that for me,” Dylan says. He nods his head at my chest. “I like you the way you are.”
“I…” I’m stumped. I want to exclaim something, but I don’t know what to say. It’s typical for me to have nothing to say around other people, but I’m fairly good at saying something to Dylan. Now, I’ve got nothing. Nothing witty, nothing biting, nothing at all. I often feel insecure about my chest size, and have been made fun of, so hearing Dylan say this, I’m shell shocked. I’m also relieved because I hate this bra.
I wiggle out of the denim jacket and stick my hands under the back of my shirt to unhook the bra. One at a time I take my arms out of the sleeves of the sweater, while staying completely covered up. Dylan watches me with a blank face the entire time, right up until I pull the bra out of the bottom of my shirt.
“Umm…” The word is drawn out while Dylan twists his lips. He seems stumped at my action, but then recovers his Dylanie personality and grins. “That was quick. We haven’t even gone anywhere, and I didn’t have to do a thing.”
He’s joking around with me. This used to confuse me because I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me or hitting on me. I shake my head and hit Dylan’s arm with the extremely padded bra.
“Shut up,” I say and pinch my lips to hide a grin.
Dylan still eyes me like he’s not positive he has the right person in his car. “Better,” he says and juts his chin out at me.
I look at Dylan with a puzzled expression. I’m not quite sure if he’s telling me I’m better or asking if I’m better. “Do I look okay?” I glance down at my chest making sure I’m not showing off what girls I do have. They may be bitty, but I still like to keep them covered. I slide back into my jacket.
“Umm…” Dylan’s stumped again. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me in a shirt without a bra before. I’m always in a swimsuit when we work together, and the sweater and jacket provide far more coverage. Plus, asking Dylan feels like I’m asking Nora. He’ll tell me the truth. “You look fine, but if you’re trying to give me easy access…” A mischievous grin coats Dylan’s face.
The recovery of his Dylanie personality earns him another bra slap. “Stop it,” I say.
“I think I need to tell you to stop it,” Dylan says, a grin still on his face and the dimple visible on his right cheek. “You’re not being a tease?”
“I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.” I squeeze the bra clasped in my hand. The foam padding acts like a stress relief squishy toy.
“I thought I was rubbing off on you,” Dylan says.
I open the glove compartment and shove the bra deep into it. “We’re going to need some ground rules for this so-called date,” I say.
“Says the girl who just put a bra in my glove compartment.” Dylan’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and disappear under some of his curls.
I snicker, which I don’t want to do because I’m not happy he’s won our bet, but it involuntarily leaves me. “I’m pretty sure it’s not the first one that’s been in there.”
“How do you know?” Dylan asks. “Maybe it is.”
“Okay.” I’m going to ignore asking about his reputation and past. Been there, done that. I didn’t want to know then, and I don’t want to know now. “First rule… no touching.”
“So, pretty much like when we were actually dating.”
I roll my eyes. “We held hands and stuff then,” I say, blushing at the thought. I didn’t let him get far. “But no touching now, including hand holding, arms around shoulders or waist. Just no touching of any kind. We’re friends.”
“Friends touch,” Dylan says.
“No touching of any kind tonight.”
“Unless you initiate.” Dylan grins at me and earns himself another eye roll. “You might need another hug,” he says.
“Fine,” I relent. “But absolutely no kissing.”
“Unless you initiate it.” Dylan continues to grin, and I can’t help noticing his dimple.
“Basically, hands off.” I bite my lip to keep from grinning back at him.
“Unless you initiate it. I mean, you already bra slapped me.”
I bite my lip harder to keep from smiling. I want to be miserable, I want to not enjoy this, and here Dylan is able to get a smile to force itself from my mouth. “Let’s just get this started,” I say.
“Whatever you want.” Dylan buckles up, starts the ignition, and pulls out of the driveway.
“You look nice,” I say in a low voice.
Dylan smiles, the one where his dim
ple emerges. “We’ll see if you can keep your hands off me.”
“You’re wearing more clothes than usual, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dylan laughs. “I’m glad to see you’re making a comeback.”
“We’ll see,” I say.
I might be on the road to recovery because it feels nice to joke with Dylan. Except a few minutes later, I realize I’m not making a comeback. I can be up for a moment, but then my heart feels like it’s breaking again when I remember why I’m on this date. I’m out with Dylan because Paul broke up with me.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
Dylan turns out of my neighborhood. “Since you’ve already gone to second base without me and there’s the no touching rule, I guess we’ll go somewhere to eat.”
I try to mimic Dylan’s joking voice. “Now that you’ve won the bet, you’re free to go out with any girl you want and get to second base or whatever base.” I have no idea what the bases are. My tame dating experience is limited to Dylan and Paul.
“Just not you?” Dylan’s voice is low, not the teasing one he’s been using.
“My boyfriend just broke up with me.” My voice is no longer joking.
“You started going out with Paul not long after you broke up with me.”
“I broke up with you because you weren’t really dating me. That’s different.”
“I’m just saying…”
“Don’t. Please.” I breathe the words out and shake my head. “We’re friends. Let’s not do this. I can’t do this now.”
Dylan glances at me quick before returning his eyes to the road. I look forward, hoping the pain I feel doesn’t intensify more. “I’m sorry, Ashley. I just want you to be happy,” Dylan says.
I’m not sure what it will take to make me happy without Paul. Dylan should get to be happy, but I can’t give him what he wants. Maybe with our bet over, he can now find a girl or something to please him, since his life has changed as drastically as mine.
“Where are we going?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. It’s starting to stay light in the evening now, and it’s not dark yet.
“It’s a surprise,” Dylan answers, his eyes on the road.
“At least there’s no blindfold this time,” I say.
“That could be arranged,” Dylan says. “Or you can cover your eyes with the bra concealed in my glove compartment.”
TWELVE
“You’re kidding!” I exclaim. Out the windshield a familiar restaurant looms in front of us. Dylan only grins and puts his car in park. “I don’t have my swimsuit, so we can’t be having a repeat of our first date.” It feels funny to say that. First date. Did Dylan and I even have a first date if he was blackmailed to date me? Does it count?
“It’s not a repeat,” Dylan says. “But you know how I love the pizzas here.”
I smack Dylan’s shoulder with the back of my hand for how he says I love, like he’s saying olive. I’ll admit, it’s a little funny. “We’re not getting that pizza, are we?”
Dylan wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Maybe.”
“It won’t be free this time,” I say. The first time we came to this pizza place, a waitress accidentally brought us a heart-shaped pizza with olives. She pronounced olive as I love. It was cheesy, and by cheesy, I mean ridiculous. We did get the pizza free of charge. I start to unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Wait here,” Dylan says. “I’ll run in. I ordered it to go.”
I settle back in the seat again. “Why’d you do that?”
“I knew you might not be ready to fully go out in public,” Dylan says and unbuckles. “Plus, we’re supposed to be doing something with Taylor and it’d look suspicious if we’re not with her.”
“Okay,” I say before Dylan gets out. I watch him walk in, marveling at how thoughtful he is. He’s been a far better friend to me than I’ve been to him.
When he walks out the restaurant’s door, holding two pizza boxes, an overwhelming feeling hits me. Dylan’s turquoise eyes shine and with his curly hair reflecting the sun, Dylan nearly glows like he’s a Greek god. Here I am, a nobody, a basic and average girl sitting in his car. How many beautiful girls have been in this seat before me? Dylan’s left his past behind because of me and I don’t deserve it. Others would say he doesn’t deserve my forgiveness for what he did to me, but I think there’s more to it. It overwhelms me because I know something has changed, but I can’t figure out the big picture, other than Dylan’s a closer friend to me than I thought.
“You okay?” Dylan’s car door is open, and he holds the pizza boxes out to me.
I take them from him and set the warm boxes on my lap. “Yeah,” I reply. “Just thinking.”
“You do that too much sometimes.” Dylan glances at me out of the corner of his eye while he starts the car. “Maybe we need a conversation where you don’t think so much.”
“I don’t want to talk about swimmers peeing in the pool,” I say with a shudder, remembering our conversation the first time we went out. Why am I having memories about the night he went out with me because he was blackmailed?
“How about bunnies?” Dylan asks and pulls his car out of the parking space. “We can talk about bunnies.”
I snort. “No. I can imagine the course the conversation will take if you’re talking about rabbits.”
“I never said a thing.” Dylan smirks. “You’re the one thinking of rabbits.”
“You’re horrible,” I say, with a slight smile on my face. “You could tell me what happened between you and Paul before high school.”
The silence elapsing is long and not typical for Dylan. His face is solid, like granite, and his dimple hides in the depths of his right cheek. “He didn’t tell you?” Dylan asks.
Dylan and Paul rarely speak each other’s names to me. “No. And I didn’t ask him.”
“Why are you asking me?”
Why am I? The fast-food place where Paul and I stopped for our homecoming dinner is out my window. My body involuntarily flinches at the sight of it. “Because you’re my friend,” I say. Paul isn’t, even if he says we’re friends. Right now, he’s only my ex-boyfriend and I can’t talk to him in the same way I can talk to Dylan.
Dylan exhales and I hear the air release from his tight chest. “I promise I’ll tell you, but not tonight.” His voice is soft, almost sad sounding.
The lights are on in the kitchen when we walk in Dylan’s house.
“Mom.” Dylan sounds surprised, with an edge of concern. “Is everything alright? Are you okay?”
Mrs. Arnold sits in a chair at the round table in the breakfast nook. Her head is in her hands, and a phone and glass of water sit in front of her. Dylan looks at me quick. I’ve met his mom once before, but he wasn’t present.
Mrs. Arnold lifts her head and smiles when she spots Dylan and me standing in the kitchen. “I’m fine,” she says with a heavy breath. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Hi, Mrs. Arnold.” I set the pizza box I carry on the expansive island. “How are you doing?”
“Hi, Ash.” Mrs. Arnold stands and walks to me. “It’s good to see you.” She puts an arm around me in a side hug. “And you can call me Maureen.”
Dylan watches his mom, a queer look on his face. I have a feeling Mrs. Arnold isn’t much of a hugger and getting one from her is like winning the lottery. “I thought you had a business dinner with Dad,” Dylan says, concern washing over his face. “Are you feeling alright? Need anything?” He heads over to a cabinet and starts to pull out some plates.
“I’m fine. I had a headache and sent Andrea instead.” Mrs. Arnold’s fingers rub her temple.
Dylan looks over his shoulder and smirks at his mom. “I bet she loved that.”
“She was happy to help,” Mrs. Arnold says.
I open the pizza boxes and bristle at the mention of Andrea. “Do you want so
me pizza?” I ask. “We have plenty.”
Mrs. Arnold looks at the pizzas and her eyes linger on the heart-shaped one. “I should probably leave you two alone.”
“No, it’s fine.” Dylan hands her a plate. “You should eat.”
Mrs. Arnold hesitates, the plate in her hand, and her eyes still on the heart-shaped pizza. It sure looks like we’re on a date.
“Why’d you get this one?” I point to the memory inducing pizza.
“Because you love olives.” Dylan smirks at me, while his mom’s eyes bounce back and forth between us.
“Cheesy,” I say and set a piece of the olive pizza on the plate Dylan hands me. Dylan grabs us some sodas from the refrigerator and I turn my attention to Mrs. Arnold. “You have a beautiful home,” I say.
“Thank you,” she replies. There are little furrow lines between her eyes, like she’s still trying to figure something out. “Didn’t you two…oh, never mind.” Mrs. Arnold grabs a piece of the pepperoni pizza.
“I bet you’re real proud of Dylan for getting a water polo scholarship to the State University,” I say. “It must be nice to know he’s going to be close by so you can easily go to some of his matches.”
Mrs. Arnold nods and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “It is. It’ll be nice to have one of my boys nearby. I’ve had to travel so much lately, and it’s been hard on all of us.” A look passes between Dylan and his mom.
“Ashley was offered a water polo scholarship too,” Dylan says.
“Really?” Mrs. Arnold turns to me with a huge smile on her face. Dylan has her smile, just with an added dimple. “Are you going to State also?”
“No, I’ve decided to go to Eastern,” I say. “They offered me a full-ride academic.”
“You didn’t tell me you got a scholarship!” Dylan’s eyes are wide with joy. “That’s great! Congratulations!”
A shy smile spreads across my face. “Thanks.” Not many people know yet.
“Congratulations,” Mrs. Arnold adds. She nods and glances back at Dylan. “Eastern’s not too far away from State. It’s an easy enough drive.”
Cycling Downhill: A Sweet Young Adult Romance (Love is a Triathlon Book 3) Page 6
