Waiting for You

A novel by Shey Stahl

This book is a work of fiction. Names, sponsors, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, dead or living, is coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this book are solely those of the.

Warning: This book is not suitable for anyone under the age of seventeen. This books contains explicit and detailed sexual encounters, explicit language and drug and alcohol use between minors. Please be warned.

Waiting for You

Copyright © 2013 by Shey Stahl

Published in the United States of America

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250.000.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of Shey Stahl.

Cover Art: Okay Creations and Sarah Hansen

Interior Design: Shey Stahl Productions

Editing and Proof-reading: Barb Nejman and Linda Knight

http://sheystahl.blogspot.com/

Twitter: @SheyStahl

Facebook: Shey Stahl

Additional novels by Shey Stahl:

Racing on the Edge: Happy Hour, Black Flag, Trading Paint, The Champion and The Legend

Song Lyrics: Brei Betzold (Tease and Fear)

Acknowledgments:

Thank you to my husband who is my biggest fan. You know this, but you are my world. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to follow this dream. You are my best friend, my heart and soul is with you.

Honey girl, all this is for you sweet cheeks. Mommy loves you more than anything. You’re a little jerk sometimes but I love you despite your 3-year-old attitude.

My mom, dad and sister, thank you for your support. It’s the best feeling in the world to know I have your support.

My girls, Callie (You’re fucking amazing!), Erin, Lisa, Michelle, Chris, Melissa and Daina, thank you. I couldn’t write without your help. I know I cancel on plans often, and never answer your text messages, to meet deadlines and live in a fictional world but I love you girls very much. And yes, I never answer my phone or return voicemails but you know I don’t like my phone very much and you still talk to me. Love my girls!

Linda Knight, thank you for always talking me through my deepest fears in writing and giving me great feedback. You mean a lot to me!

Gearheads and the Hooker Hood (aka BookSluts), a group of girls that love me unconditionally and know how truly awesome I am. Any time I need advice or someone to talk to, they are always there! Megan (My girl), Judie (My Judity), Laura (My BFF), Kari (My other BFF), Dianna (My biggest fan), Nikee, Michelle, Jamie, Heather, Danielle, Jenn, Brooke, Kristina, Drita…there are so many more but those are just a few of the frequent flyers in my world.

The bloggers who spread the word, Stick Girl Book Reviews, Maryse’s Book Blog, Totally Booked, Smardy Pants, kindlehooked, The Book Hookers, Shh Mom’s Reading, Mocha’s, Mysteries and More, Sugar and Spice Book Reviews, C & C Book Blok and all the others that constantly pimp me out.

To the authors who are always there for support and questions: Brei Betzold, Megan Smith, Heidi McLaughlin, Rebecca Thein, Alexandra Richland and Alina Stoicia-Man.

The artists who inspired this story: Alice in Chains, Framing Hanley, Theory Of A Deadman, Snow Patrol, Coldplay, Saving Abel, The Rolling Stones, Kings Of Leon and The White Strips. I love my music!

And most importantly, thank you to my readers who stand by me for a good love story with a happy ending. Enjoy the story.

This book is dedicated to Barb Nejman. Without her hard work on this novel it wouldn’t have been finished as quickly as it was. Thank you for your love of reading and helping an author just because you wanted to!

It’s all make believe, isn’t it?

Marilyn Monroe

1.          Perfectly Planned Out – Bailey Gray

As light pierces the dark sky, the feeling crept deeper in my bones, no longer a thought but a burning desire to want more, feel more, love more. Sitting on the edge of my window watching the rising sun, I knew the thoughts I had were twisting, just like the changes in the sky.

Just like the sky, a change, a thought, a feeling, doesn’t happen right away, for me anyway.

You don’t see it at first. It’s nothing but chalky warmth, a glow in the distance, completely humbled to the magnificence of Helios. As the dawn starts to shake the ash from night, revealing the bright red scarlet of morning that ran riot in the sky, a decision is set, but you don’t know it. There’s something refreshing about a sunrise, it’s just as unpredictable what a new day would bring.

There’s a moment, a brief moment, before it harks upon the dark, spilling golden light upon the hills, penetrating even the deepest forest, breaking the deeper shades to lighter.

What would you do for a piece of forever? What would you do to love more, feel more, and live more?

Sighing, I twisted on the windowsill to look over my room scattered with memories of a childhood that wasn’t mine. All of this was a childhood that had been scripted for a girl, but not me.

When you’re eighteen, you know your future is supposed to be unpredictable, unplanned, and open to whatever.

That is unless you’re me, Bailey Gray.

I’d like to say that this is a story about a girl who took the path less chosen and it ended up being the right one but I’d probably be lying. That picture of me on the cover, the one bathed in my favorite light of the day is pretty much the only field of daisy’s this story has. Underneath it, in the shadows of the light, was a darkness that I soon found killed those daisy fields. Hell, if you were to pick a cover, it should have been dark with smoky ice blue.

“Bailey, it’s time to go.”

Taking a deep breath, I tucked my speech away in my book bag. Before leaving my room, I gave my window one last look, the same window I spent every morning, wondering if this morning would be my last one there. I’m not sure why, but that gut feeling, the one I felt deep in my bones told me it would be.

As I turned the corner and stepped down the wooden staircase, the ones I had rushed down so many times before class each morning. I wasn’t rushed now, because the future that was decided for me wasn’t one that I was sure of anymore.

That was the day of my high school graduation.

After spending the last eighteen year’s working toward a goal it was finally here. I had graduated high school with honors. I was the class valedictorian of our 2011 graduating class with, perfect grades, perfect friends, perfect boyfriend, and essentially the perfect life.

I once spent three hours setting up my camera on the beach to photograph the sunset, planning the exact moment when the lighting would be exactly the way I wanted it only to have it turn out blurry.

My life was somewhat similar when you think about it. Perfectly planned and then the photograph you’re left with isn’t remotely what you’d planned for. Maybe it’s worse or maybe it’s better.

The perfection is all in theory though. It’s like looking at a photograph and only seeing what the camera captured. Inside, and maybe a little on the outside, I couldn’t stand my life. That’s an understatement I actually hated my life. Everything was planned out for me since birth. I had to go to a certain pre-school, the perfect grade school, the perfect middle school, and eventually the same high school my parents went to, Tumwater High School. Most days I wanted to scream at how planned-out my life really was.

I wasn’t allowed to shop for my clothes for Christ sakes.

My mother, Kimberly Gray, was head of the PTA, on the city council and blah freaking blah. She made me insane but her mother was even worse. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with either one of them for more than ten minutes without wanting to strangle her. You know the Madagascar movie where the chubby penguin tells the other penguins to smile and wave.

That was me smile and wave. Don’t ask questions, just smile and wave. This theory worked well for me for years.

My dad, Jeff Gray, the Mayor of Tumwater, was tolerable, more than my mother was, but then again in a room with him for more than ten minutes, I wanted to shoot myself, execution style. He had this way of talking at you rather than to you as most politicians did. I absolutely hated that. If he didn’t want to hear what I had to say, why even ask?

He did that with everyone. He would ask my brother how his day was only to have him lose interest and then start talking about his own day. Who does that?

Now I know I seem to have a lot of pent up frustration but if you lived in my house, you would understand.

My little brother, Jeb, was cool but I could see he was a model figure of my father and never stepped out of line. At thirteen, you’d expect the kid to be getting into some sort of shenanigans but no, nothing. Sometimes I wondered if I was even their child and should I have this much resentment?

Surely, it can’t be normal, right?

Growing up my parents picked my friends, certain people were not allowed to be associated with and others, well, they were practically shoved down my throat. Like my so-called best friend Mercedes Grant.

Doesn’t the name say it all?

When I think of a Mercedes Grant, I think of a stuck up bitch who owns daddy’s money, right?

That’s exactly how Mercedes was. She wasn’t a good friend, though I called her my best friend, and on more than one occasion, I’ve caught her eyeing my boyfriend, Eric.

Mercedes, was beautiful with her rich dark brown hair and exotic appearance, she was what most considered sexy and could have any guy she wanted, including my boyfriend, if she desired.

Eric James was another thing that was forced upon me by my father. Eric’s father and mine were best friends and met every Sunday for golf. This meant Eric was pushed upon me whether I wanted it or not.

Once in high school Eric asked me out our freshman year and by high school standards we’ve been dating ever since. He was the football player and I was the high school cheerleader destined to be with him, right?

Eric was nice guy. You could say that and I would agree with you. As the captain of the football team, he was the star quarterback and had the looks to go with it, blondish brown hair, chocolate syrup eyes and a flirty full of life smile.

“Oh Bailey, your hair is messed up.” My mother fussed with me, slightly irritated that my long ginger locks were out of place. I didn’t miss the note of pride in her voice and it annoyed me for reasons I didn’t understand. It was my hair, yet she thought it was hers.

One thing I did love about myself was my thick dark ginger hair. It was beautiful, naturally highlighted, but had a mind of its own which made it unique. If I had to guess, I was pretty by most people’s standards, but I didn’t think I was over the top by any means. Wherever I went, people stared at me, which made me very uncomfortable but I always thought they stared because of my car or clothes that seemed out of place for a small town such as the sleepy northwest rain stricken, Tumwater. An hour south of Seattle, Tumwater didn’t exactly scream money but there were people who had it.

“It’s fine mom,” I said dryly with a smile and trying to be nice, remembering my smile and wave tactics. “Please stop touching me.”

“It looks fine dear. She looks beautiful.” My dad acknowledged as he walked into the kitchen where we were standing. His dark gray suit pressed to perfection complementing his slender form and dark ginger waves that matched my own. “You’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

My dad insisted on being twenty minutes early for everything. He was always this way. Imagine showing up for your first day of kindergarten twenty minutes early. It was incredibly awkward at times trying to be the cool kid that rolled in late. I was never that.

“I’m ready.” I told them with another smile reaching for my cap and gown on the table.

As we pulled out of the driveway in my dad’s BMW, I glanced across the street to see my rebel of a neighbor getting in his piece of shit ‘68 Pontiac GTO. I guess it wasn’t really a piece of shit car, it was a rather nice classic car, but it smelled like alcohol and burned your eyes if you got too close to it.

My dad said it was because he used illegal gas in it but I didn’t know for sure nor did I care for that matter. Dylan Wade, the rebel as I referred to him, never talked to me anymore and wouldn’t even look my direction. I guess I understood why.

Dylan and I were friends when we were younger. He was my first kiss, a kiss that absorbed the suns glow, but when he started rebelling against his dad when his mom died, that was the end of our friendship.

My dad refused to let me associate with him any longer when he set all the mailboxes on our street on fire on Christmas Eve the same year his mom died. It was actually a beautiful sight to see, but the neighbors weren’t too happy. I always thought his pranks were humorous.

Like the time he took clear fishing line and strung it up across the sidewalk. No one could figure out why they kept tripping near his house. He had everyone convinced he cast some kind of spell on them. I laughed. It was funny. I always had a lot of entertainment from Dylan. We had a number of classes together but he rarely showed for any of them these days.

Since Dylan turned eighteen in October, he seemed to have been getting in more trouble after being charged with starting a riot at the school dance that spread to the streets. He also set the school gym on fire―twice―and then, though no one had any proof, nearly destroyed the city hall when he strapped M80’s to John Warner’s car, the Prosecuting Attorney for Thurston County.

No one was hurt but word on the street was that Dylan Wade did that and no one questioned it. It was something Dylan would have done.

Dylan was good at not getting caught. Some would say that if being a criminal were a profession, Dylan Wade would have a career in it.

It broke my heart that we had lost touch with each other but it never stopped me from watching him. In all fairness, I was a tad “stalkerish” when it came to Dylan Wade.

How could I not be? Dylan was Dylan. He was my first love. Even at seven, I knew I loved him. He was my first kiss, the only boy that matter back when watermelon bubble gum and the smells of summer were my only thoughts. Every thought from my childhood had Dylan in it. Every memory had a tie to him in some way.

Once we arrived at Saint Martin’s College where our graduation was being held, Eric found me with his bright smile that made most girls at our school blush. It stopped working on me a few years ago. “Hey babe, you ready for your speech?”

“Aren’t I always?” I replied with a fake smile. I was good at fake smiles. As I spoke, I felt a rush rise in my gut and my cheeks flush with anger, an anger I never understood.

Maybe it had to do with graduation and more to do with what followed graduation. I’m not sure.

“Yes—you’re perfect,” he replied pulling me into a hug. “Are you ready for the lake tonight?”

I kissed his cheek, automatic, controlled movements. “Sure, when do we leave?”

Something happened to me when I kissed his cheek. I felt nothing. I didn’t feel a spark or any type of connection to him.

Wasn’t I supposed to feel something?

“Right after the ceremony,” Eric answered looking over his shoulder at Mercedes walking toward us.

The plan was for us to go to Lake Washington, a place we partied at often, for the weekend with our friends to celebrate graduation. Eric’s dad had a houseboat that he kept there.

After graduation, I was all set to attend Dartmouth in the fall with Mercedes. Eric would be at the University Of Notre Dame some thirteen hours away and part of me was okay with that. I honestly wasn’t sure our relationship would make it past this summer let alone a long distance one.

Kasey Henley, Mercedes’s boyfriend, who I actually adored, was heading to the University of Washington on a football scholarship. Kasey was the most likable guy at our school and had issues like everyone else. I think that’s what made him so real and likeable. You knew he wasn’t perfect.

Our sophomore year Kasey got a DUI when he was driving home from a party and nearly lost his license over it, and, in turn, almost didn’t get the scholarship. Reality set in and Kasey worked hard and proved that he could turn his life around and he did, despite the trouble he got into and was now heading to college with a full ride to play football for UW.

Everyone had college plans, including me but deep down, I didn’t want to go to college. I didn’t understand the pressure to go to college. Was it because that’s what society wanted? Is there something to be said for that diploma as opposed to actual on the job training? What did college offer that experience didn’t?

Even with my thoughts today, it wasn’t long before I found myself being ushered in the gymnasium to give my speech. The only problem was that I threw away the only speech I had prepared. To me it just didn’t seem good enough anymore.

When I approached the podium, I saw my grandparents with their bright smiles. My parents, my brother, Eric, Mercedes, Kasey and the rest of our superficial friends.

In the back of the gym I saw Dylan Wade, my lost childhood friend. I’ve seen Dylan almost every day since we were three-years-old but today I noticed him, really noticed him, smoking a cigarette with smoke billowing from his mouth and nose after each drag.

We were inside Saint Martin’s gym and he was smoking a cigarette. Very Dylan like. His knee was bent, his foot propped against the wall, his head bent forward with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cigarette.

That wasn’t what drew my attention to him. What drew my attention to him were his demeanor and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a gown like the rest of us.

Dylan has always acted a little strange, a bit of a recluse, but today he was standing so calmly, staring at me intently, like he was trying to burn a whole through me. He wasn’t fidgeting like he normally did; he was acting normal for Dylan standards. His brown hair still had its usual untamed waves in the front and his clothes, his usually dark flannels rolled up to his elbows and his vintage band t-shirts, had the same worn appearance that they always had but he was different.

I stared back wondering what he was thinking. We didn’t look at each other much these days. Honestly, I couldn’t help but stare back questioning what he was looking at. Over the years, the most I’ve heard him say was “Fuck off” and that was usually directed at teachers, when he came to class, or other students who tried to talk to him. Dylan didn’t like people to talk to him, never had, even when we were little. He just didn’t talk that much.

So what made today different?

I wasn’t sure, but the day brought me from my thoughts.

Everyone applauded when they announced me as the valedictorian and I wanted to roll my eyes at how ridiculous this all was. How did I get to be valedictorian?

Looking around for an answer, everyone continued to applaud except for Dylan. Head bowed to the floor, he took another drag from his cigarette before shifting his gaze to the door and then back to the stage.

“Thank you everyone.” I smiled and took a deep breath to prepare myself. I had a speech planned out but once I got to the podium, none of it came to mind as I stared at Dylan, still smoking his cigarette.

Looking at him doing what he wanted, when he wanted, I so desperately wanted that. I wanted to feel the freedom he felt, unpredictable freedom. I wanted to be out of control and I wanted to be a rebel. I wanted a sunrise, an opal sun dripping from the sky, with a new day where anything was possible and the sunset was unknown.

Dylan was never predictable, even at a young age I knew that, but lately, he was even more unpredictable but he was also persuasive, he had a vibe to him like that.

I remember being at the  Homecoming dance earlier in the year when that riot broke out all over Dylan getting in a fight with Jensen Williams, another football player. That’s when Dylan started provoking the other students by yelling and shoving. He did it on purpose. I knew that much. Enticing the mob of students and loving every minute of it, I watched him closely that night. Dylan could goad just about anyone, he knew it, and worked it to his advantage most of the time.

My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest as I stood there looking for an answer and then while I took in the admiring gazes of my peers and parents, I snapped, the moment before the dark turned to light, the moment when everything was unpredictable.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t be this person they wanted me to be.

“Everyone expects me to come up here and give a speech about how I got to where I am because of all my hard work and that may be right. I did work hard. But I’m not so sure I did that for myself. I did it because my parents wanted me to. I did it because it was what was expected of me and what I was pushed to do.”

My parent’s eyes went wide and my dad shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room. The hard line of his lips confirmed my thoughts that he was seeing red. Jeff Gray didn’t like surprises.

Though I didn’t want to look at him, I looked to Dylan. Somewhat reserved, he smiled running his hand over the stubble of his defined jaw seeming amused but hiding it well.

After another deep breath, I continued. “I’m not going to stand up here and lecture everyone that, with hard work, you can achieve it too. Well, you can have it if you want. You can have it all. I don’t want any of it.”

If I thought, my parent’s eyes were wide before, they looked like they were both about to have a fucking heart attack now. It was a great feeling.

“The truth is that my entire life has been planned out for me. Did you know I couldn’t even buy my own underwear? My mom does that for me,” I said with a laugh.

My dad, who had shot out of his chair in embarrassment, had reached the stage by then and grabbed my arm. Straining to speak into the microphone, I needed to say one more part that was important.

“Looks like my times up but I just wanted to say one last thing to everyone…fuck off!”

With a bow, I smiled and flipped my hair over my shoulder and flashed my gesture to the crowd.

I looked back into the stunned wide-eyes of the audience and smiled again. My mom was crying large fake tears as my brother watched me curiously as if I had lost my mind. Eric was glaring at me along with Mercedes. Kasey was smiling like he was proud and Dylan was now shaking with laughter in the back of the room, obviously amused by my outburst.

My dad escorted me off stage only to yank me forward trying to shake the nonsense out of me. “What is wrong with you young lady!” he barked walking me behind the stage away from the others. Large curtains draped around us blocking my view of the crowd to the right.

“What?” I tried to play it cool giving my blue eyes a glazed over appearance. It could have worked but the thought that I was trying to play it cool after that had me nearly laughing. A smiled threatened any minute and before he spoke, I was smiling.

“Don’t what me Bailey Ann. You have embarrassed our entire family with that little stunt of yours. What has become of you?”

I jerked my arm away. “Maybe this was me all along!” I shot back, angry that he was making such a big deal out of this. “You have no idea who I am. You know the daughter you want to know.”

“No, that’s not the daughter I raised.” By the reverberation of his voice, I could tell this had nothing to do with the outburst and more to do with the fact that someone had humiliated him. “The daughter I raised would never disrespect her family that way.”

There. He said it. It was once again, about him and not me.

“You don’t know what kind of daughter you raised. You don’t even know me. You know the daughter you want to know. You planned me as though I was some sort of toy for you. Well you know what, I’m tired of this!” I choked, on the verge of tears now. “I won’t be your marionette anymore.”

I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this. I didn’t want this life. They could have their perfect daughter but that was not me and I wouldn’t do it any longer.

I ran toward the parking lot. Eric caught me before I could reach it, his face the same shocked disappointment everyone else had. “What was that? Do you realize how much trouble you’re going to be in!” he too reached for my arm attempting to redirect me back to the school.

“Let go Eric. I’m getting out of here.” Jerking away, I tried to run but he caught up with me.

As I tried to get away, and tried not to trip on the massive stairs leading to the parking lot, I had no idea where I was going but I needed to get out of there and think.

“Bailey, what has gotten into you?” Eric shouted. “This is crazy. Stop and talk to me baby.”

The problem was that he didn’t want to talk and in the ten years I had known Eric, I had never heard him raise his voice.

Taken back, I stared at him, blinking a few times as Mercedes and Kasey rushed to the parking lot as well. They stayed back only because Kasey held Mercedes in place, his arms wrapped around her chest as she fought to get free.

“You know what’s wrong with me Eric?” I asked when I found my voice. “I’m tired of living like this.” I sighed and looked him in the eyes. “I can’t do it. Did you honestly think you could go away to college and this would work between us?” I spoke slowly trying to make him hear me.

The problem was that they weren’t hearing me. I don’t even know why they asked because they weren’t looking for an answer from me. At least not the one I had for them.

“I’m sick of it. So this is me losing it I guess.” I threw my arms in the air. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be that person who just sits back—” I was going to continue but I was cut off by the thunderous roar of Dylan’s engine and the screaming of his father as the car rumbled.

Squinting into the sun the filter through the thick layer of cotton, my eyes found them in the distance in a heated conversation.

His father, Ken Wade, continued yelling at him until Dylan stepped menacingly out of the car and approached his father appearing to have struck a nerve.

“Fuck you!” Dylan screamed. “You don’t know anything about me!”

That’s when they started talking but I couldn’t make out anything they were saying. Whatever it was, Dylan was not agreeing with him and was inches from his face shouting back.

All of a sudden, Ken drew his arm back and punched his son in the face. “You ungrateful little shit!” he shouted standing over him. “I gave you everything you ever needed and that’s how you repay me?”

Dylan didn’t budge. His expression was unreadable but guarded as he stared at his father, his breath even and surprisingly controlled.

I don’t know what possessed me to do this but I ran toward them. If I had to guess, the same urge had me telling everyone who ever helped me succeed to fuck off. Clearly not much of my common sense was present today.

“Don’t hit him!” I shouted pushing against Ken’s chest. My efforts did nothing seeing how he was something like 6-2.

Why I felt the need to get involved is beyond me but I did it anyway. Again, common sense was gone.

“Bailey you need to stay out of this. This is between me and my son and you’ve gotten yourself in enough trouble for one day.” Ken warned grabbing my arm. He too yanked me away.

I had a lot of yanking happening to me. I was about to say something else when Dylan spoke again. “Don’t touch her.” He seethed, creating distance between his dad and me.

Eric reached for me bringing me against his chest, his arms protectively around my waist.

Turning, I looked up at Dylan, surprised by his reaction. This was the first time I’d heard him speak in I don’t know how long, years maybe.

His eyes, frosty blue like winter, found mine and in that moment, I forgot the world around me.

Instead, I saw us playing as kids. I saw us making mud pies, getting dirty, swimming at Black Lake and my first kiss on the train tracks with him and the taste of his watermelon gum. I saw us the way we should have been when nothing else mattered but a dirt road that led to nowhere.

But that wasn’t us anymore. It couldn’t be.

Or could it?

Could it be that there was something else out there for me? Could it be that my sunrise was finally unpredictable?

“Come on Bailey.” Eric jerked me into his chest with a firm grip on my upper arms.

All I could focus on was Dylan’s eyes. He seemed to be just as lost as I was.

In that moment, we were two kids looking for an escape. Two kids wanting that unpredictable sunrise.

Dylan’s eyebrows pulled together as he seemed to consider something and then tipped his head to his idling Pontiac, his expression unreadable.

Did he want me to get it?

Then he made it a little clearer for me when he mouthed, “Come with me.”

That’s when Eric took a firmer hold on me. His eyes searched my face for something, an emotion, an answer that he would never find. “Bailey, let’s go.”

Pushing against his chest, I tried to find my voice. “No, let go of me Eric.”

He didn’t and held tighter. “I won’t let you ruin everything.”

“I believe she asked you to let her go,” Dylan said, anger sparking, as he shoved Eric’s chest once. Eric’s hand slipped from me with the motion. “If you want to keep that million dollar arm, I suggest you let go.”

“Stay out of this Wade.” Eric warned stepping toward Dylan. “This is between me and my girlfriend.”

Near the driver’s door now, Dylan opened the driver’s door, his eyebrows raised, and without thinking, I jumped in, frantically crawling across the bench seat to the passenger side beside his guitar. “Yeah well,” Dylan smiled, “looks like she wants a ride.”

With a casualness that seemed more taunting than threatening, Dylan got inside the car with me.

Eric stepped back knowing Dylan wouldn’t hesitate to run over him.

Once my breathing returned to normal I realized what I’d just done.

I’m insane. This is so insane. This is amazing.

I just got into a strangers car. He wasn’t a stranger. I’d known him almost my entire life but I didn’t really know him anymore. He could have murdered someone and I wouldn’t have known.

Maybe he was going to murder me.

You’ve watched entirely too much Criminal Minds. I told myself trying to relax.

It did nothing.

My eyes darted to Dylan who was staring at the road. With the adrenaline running through me, I felt as if I had just robbed a bank and couldn’t stop from shaking. It was like the time I drank ten Red Bulls to stay up for mid-terms. I didn’t sleep for a week.

How was Dylan so calm?

We were still in town, about a mile from Black Lake. When we crossed the train tracks, he looked over at me, his lip bleeding from where his dad punched him. Visibly angry, he brushed his left hand across his lip, wiping the blood away and then looked back at the road before wiping the blood on his jeans.

Before I knew it, we were sitting in front of my house. Dylan didn’t look over at me as he began to speak his gravelly voice startled me. “You should go inside.”

The sound of him speaking seemed bizarre to me.

“I don’t want to.” I argued.

Maybe he didn’t really want me with him. Maybe he didn’t want to go anywhere with me. I can’t really blame him. Because of my family, I pretty much acted as though he wasn’t alive the last eight years.

“You shouldn’t get into more trouble. Go inside.” He demanded.

“No.”

Dylan sighed. “What are you doing with me?” he asked carefully, shaking his head. “Just go.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” I told him. “I don’t know but I do know I want to get away, anywhere, with you.”

He was quiet for a moment. His eyes searched mine as though he was asking them a question.

His mouth opened and then he paused, as if deciding what he wanted to say. That’s when his expression changed, softened as he spoke quietly. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, roughed up knuckles turned white, and he looked back out the windshield. “Go inside—”

“NO!” I interrupted him.

Dylan’s eyes swept to mine and glared, his face taking on a solemn edge. “Go inside—”

I started to say something again but he silenced me with his fingertips.

“Grab whatever you need but make it quick, pack fugitive style. Your parents will be here soon.”

What in the hell is fugitive style? Should I ask? No, don’t ask just go with it.

I nodded and reached for the door, his hand reached for my arm and tugged lightly. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, hesitantly. “If you leave now―”

“I’m sure, Dylan.” I assured him and ran inside my house before he could tell me no again.

Now what do I pack?

Clothes, underwear…what else? Camera, definitely grab that. I wondered what packing fugitive style was. Tossing all this in my bag, I looked back at my computer.

I knew I didn’t have time to Google it or I would have. Hoping that it meant only necessities, I went with that.

“Only necessities,” I chanted to myself, “Only necessities.”

I packed everything I thought was essential and nothing more. I did grab my phone but left my laptop and iPad on my desk knowing neither one of those items would be fugitive style.

After that, I went for my emergency stash of money that I had hidden away in a stuffed pig I had on my bed from working last summer. That money was the one thing that my parents didn’t know I had.

With my fugitive style packing and my running skills, I was back in Dylan’s car in two minutes flat.

I saw my parent’s car pulling into the development just as we made a right on Black Lake Boulevard. I looked back at them in the side mirror, my mother’s arms waving all around frantically as my father yelled.

I could literally imagine the conversation that was happening in that car right now.

That’s when my mind started to scramble and I wondered if this was the right decision to make? Had I fucked up everything beyond repair?

But did I really want to repair a life I never wanted?

Dylan didn’t say anything until we got to the stop light on Trosper Road. When the light turned green, the car in front of us started moving and Dylan looked over at me as he eased through the intersection. “North or south?” he asked waiting for me to look at him.

What a loaded question that was. The car behind us honked and Dylan smiled waiting for me to answer. Sunrise, sunset, planned, unplanned, predictable, spontaneous, everything had a meaning. Only I didn’t know what that meaning was.

“South,” I replied.

Dylan smirked letting his eyes wander past my face. Naturally, this embarrassed me and my cheeks burned. “South it is brown eyes,” he said making a left onto Interstate 5.

I’m not sure what excited me more right then. The idea of going south with Dylan Wade or him calling me brown eyes, my childhood nickname he gave me when I was three.

2.       The unknown – Bailey Gray

With the windows rolled down and the cool Southwest Washington air blowing through my hair, Dylan and I made a run for it.

As the sun set around us, it seemed, and I didn’t know for sure, both of us were searching for something and neither knowing what that was. In all the scenarios I’ve ever dreamed up about leaving home, I never imagined Dylan would be with me. I always thought that I would leave alone and maybe travel to Seattle.

I couldn’t help but think about what I was doing with Dylan, as I didn’t know him anymore, but Dylan didn’t know me either. We were just two strangers now. But we were two strangers looking for the same thing, sovereignty.

I had no idea what tomorrow would bring or the next ten minutes and for the first time in my life, I was okay with that. I wanted that. I didn’t want to have to answer to anyone. I wanted to make mistakes. I wanted to get into trouble. I wanted to be eighteen.

I couldn’t think of a single reason to turn back now but I could think of a thousand reasons to keep going.

Dylan was quiet for the most part. Occasionally he would switch playlists on his iPod but other than that, he said little. His right hand was on the steering wheel, his left propped against the window twisting his hair in loops.

I wanted to ask him why he asked me to come with him after eight years of no talking. I wanted to ask him why his dad hit him…but I didn’t. There was so much about Dylan that remained a mystery.

I knew enough about Dylan Wade not to ask.

Once when we were Chemistry, Wesley Kennedy, a shy nerdy kid asked him about a tattoo on his arm and Dylan’s response was to punch him in the shoulder and tell him to mind his own fucking business.

Knowing that side of Dylan, no way was I asking anything until he did.

It’d been a while since I looked at Dylan. I remember when we were kids he was always beautiful for boy standards. Both Dylan and his brother, Drew, who left home at sixteen, were the fantasy of most girls around town, because of their mystery.

Now, at eighteen, Dylan’s looks had taken on more of a masculine appearance. His jaw was defined, the deep ocher hues catching the blondish highlights from the summer sun and the reddish tint to the stubble of his jaw. His hair had a shaggy appearance in the front, very James Dean like. He was tall and slender, but muscular. His forearms had tattoos that I couldn’t read as he kept them hidden usually by a flannel most of the time but I knew they were there.

His friend Landon Neel was a tattoo artist and pretty much had Dylan as his canvas.

As I shamelessly eyed his body, his eyes flickered from the road to meet mine.

Christ, could I have been any more obvious?

I figured he was going to say some smart-ass remark but instead, he looked away quickly.

Trying to break the awkwardness, I decided to ask where we were going. “Where we should go?”

He didn’t turn his head but tipped it to the side, his eyes remained on the road. “I think the question is where do you want to go?”

“This isn’t just about me, Dylan.” I said bringing my legs up to wrap my arms around them. “I’m not the only one in the car.”

He was quiet, contemplating, for a few seconds then shifted in the seat resting his arm around the back of the seat angling his body my way.

“City by city then?” He smiled with warmth I found comforting when I nodded. “We’ll go to Medford tonight and decide from there.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Then I thought about my life at home.

Part of me was nervous. How could I not be? For eighteen years, I followed the rules and today, I destroyed any trust my parents had in me. Hell, with that stunt, I’d be lucky if I still had my scholarship to Dartmouth.

“I should probably call my parents when we stop.”

Dylan didn’t say anything and to be honest, I wasn’t expecting him.

After ten minutes, he looked at me, squinting from the sun filtering in through the windshield. “You don’t always have to play by the rules.”

“So you say.” I laughed feeling more secure with my decision to leave. “How many times have you been arrested?”

“I stopped counting a few years ago.” He laughed, finally laughed.

It didn’t surprise me at all that Dylan didn’t know how many times he’d been arrested. For a boy like Dylan, being arrested meant nothing, because he only got caught when he got lazy.

More importantly, it felt good to hear Dylan laugh again. After his mom died when he was younger, a part of Dylan died too. Lauren, his mom who was killed in a car accident a few weeks before Christmas by a drunk driver when he was ten-years-old, was probably the sweetest most mesmerizing woman I had ever met.

I don’t remember much about her, a distant memory that faded each day, but I do remember that she smelled like sugar cookies and I always wanted to take a bite out of her. Dylan had always been close with his mom. So when she was taken, so suddenly, it was hard on him.

Given my parents were pretentious assholes most of the time, I couldn’t begin to comprehend what Dylan went through losing her.

It was nearing dusk when we made it to Medford, Oregon. The once blue sky was splatter with purple and pink across the horizon, an ending to another day. The lighting was perfect in the distance so I snuck a few shots out the window knowing they might be blurry but decided to try anyway.

Just like a sunrise, a sunset can create some beautiful colors. My favorite part about a sunset was the way it casted a beautiful golden light on everything else around you. Constantly changing light can make you see and feel what you never saw before.

I don’t like everything being planned. I like the unknown, the unexpected, and the mystery that I don’t know where I’m sleeping tonight or that tomorrow I could be somewhere else.

My eyes were everywhere now, taking in as much detail as I can of where my life is going, where I want it to go and where I hope it’s going, somewhere, anywhere and maybe nowhere. I also couldn’t help the nerves that kept creeping into my bones.

With the windows still down, a chill ran through me. I still had my gown on, for who knows what reason. The thin polyester material wasn’t exactly warm once the temperature dropped.

Dylan noticed and reached for a sweatshirt in the back seat. “Here,” he said handing it to me. “It may stink but at least it’s something.”

As it slipped over my shoulders, the smell of jasmine and lemon with what seemed like oak and cigarettes engulfed me. When I snuck another glance over at Dylan, my skin coming in contact with his hoodie, one side of his mouth pulled up into a half smile as he noticed me burrow into the black sweatshirt.

Examining it, I noticed the Oakley symbol on the front and the frayed sleeves indicating he wore this one often.

We saw a Best Western so Dylan pulled into the parking lot. I was a little hesitant getting out of the car, his black GTO shined under the street lamp that hummed with thousands of bugs flying around it. He didn’t say anything to me as he came around the back of the car where I was waiting.

Opening the trunk, with one hand on the trunk, he reached inside for a black bag that I assumed had his clothes in it. Taking the bag in his left hand, he placed the guitar in the trunk before closing it.

I knew Dylan played and I wanted to ask if he still did but then again, I didn’t. It seemed personal and I wasn’t sure we were that personal yet. Like I said, no words had been spoken in years until today.

We walked beside each other to the entrance, large glass doors opened as a swarm of stale air rushed my senses.

“How many rooms would you like?” the woman behind the counter asked, gawking at Dylan and then me, and then back to Dylan as we squinted at the bright walls behind her.

With me wearing my gown and my hair pulled up into a messy bun, I’m positive we had runaways written all over us.

Dylan smiled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, and looked at me as he spoke. “I think—”

“One room is fine.” I told the woman ignoring Dylan.

So first, I run off with the town rebel and now I start suggesting that we share a hotel room.

If Dylan’s plan was to murder me, it seemed he’d have his chance now. Why mess with the logistics of it. If I was going to die this way, I was going to do it right.

Reaching for my wallet in my bag, I pulled out some cash when Dylan placed his hand on mine. I gave him a strange look because, while he reached for me, he stared for what seemed like five minutes when the lady cleared her throat. “How will you be paying?”

“I’m paying,” he insisted sliding his credit card across the granite counter.

Not wanting to make a scene for him, I didn’t object but I would surely pay him back. There was no way he was paying for this all by himself.

As soon as we got to the elevator, I offered him a hundred dollars. “Here.”

“What’s that for?” he didn’t reach for it and instead, shoved his hands in his pockets.

“The room.” The elevator smelled of stale smoke and dirty laundry. It took everything I could not to gag and I think Dylan knew that when the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “I can’t let you pay for it all by yourself.”

“Yes you can and you will.” Dylan insisted watching the numbers of each floor blink as we passed by them. “I won’t accept your money.”

“Well,” I swallowed trying not to smell anything, which was clearly the wrong move. Once I opened my mouth, it was like I could now taste it, so much worse. “How am I supposed to pay you then?”

He laughed shrugging and looked at his feet. “I’ll accept sexual favors.”

Say what?

It wasn’t until then that we realized we were not the only ones in the elevator. The stale smoke and dirty laundry was an actual person standing behind us complaining about crude teenagers.

Dylan and I managed to hold in our laughter until we get out of the elevator but before the doors even closed, we both burst out laughing.

“Did you see her face?” Dylan gasped between laughs.

It took me a minute to be able to respond as I was laughing so hard my side hurt. “I thought she was going to have a heart attack!” I managed to say after a few deep breaths. “But damn, was that smell her?”

All Dylan could do was nod in between his laughter.

We continued the occasional fits of laughter making our way to the room only to find out it has one bed instead of two. Aside from the one bed, I was thankful it didn’t smell like that lady any longer. The cream walls stood out from the checkered gold and green carpet and the red bed.

We must have stared at that fucking bed for a good five minutes.

I know what you’re thinking. Here is a girl that, on paper, has a scholarship to an Ivy League school, had the perfect life, and now here she was sleeping in hotel rooms with strangers and cussing like a sailor.

The problem is that I’ve always cussed, just never around anyone. And as far as my brains go, that’s all true but talking to me, you wouldn’t know it. I don’t believe in talking above others or trying to use words that no one other than English professor could understand.

Dylan was the first to talk about the bed. “I can sleep on the couch.” He gestured over his shoulder to the corner of the room to a burnt orange couch that looked as if it could maybe fit his legs but not the rest of him.

I waved my hands around. “Don’t be silly.” I told him trying not to let him know how nervous I was. “We can share.”

Again, if he were going to murder me tonight, it would be easy for him.

“If that’s what you want,”

Tossing my bag on the bed, Dylan did the same. We both turned on our cell phones and I was a little amazed to see that I had eighteen voice messages. Nine were from my dad, three from Mercedes, and seven were from Eric. I also had thirteen text messages, ten from Eric, and three from Mercedes.

Where are you? I will come get you. Tell me where you are. - Eric

Did you seriously leave town with Dylan Wade? What were you thinking? I can’t believe you would ditch us like that and for Wade of all people. Thanks for only thinking of you. - Mercedes

Have you lost your mind? I can’t believe you would just leave like that. Does this mean we’re over? It sure seems that way and after four years. This is so childish. - Eric

Maybe I had lost my mind but I was okay with that. Maybe we were over, and I was okay with that too.

Sitting directly in front of me on the burnt orange couch, Dylan laughed scrolling through his own text messages.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked, not looking up from my phone and deleting the text messages, I did not intend to reply to.

“All these messages from Eric.” His hand jetted out handing me his phone. “What a douche bag.”

My first thought was why he had Eric’s number. They weren’t friends. Dylan only ever hung out with a Landon Neel and Danny Wells, his best friend. Aside from them, I’ve never seen him with anyone let alone Eric. As friends, they would have been the most unlikely match ever.

How could you be so stupid about this? – Dad

Nice man. Way to bag the town hottie! Call me. I need details. - Landon

You better not hurt her! - Eric

The last one wasn’t something I expected to see and had me questioning what type of boyfriend Eric James was.

How long have you been sleeping with her? I can’t believe you. - Eric

And then the confirmation came. His phone beeped with another message from Eric.

Did you tell her about Mercedes? Don’t tell her. Please. But I know please means nothing to you. - Eric

I handed his phone back to him but said nothing at first. Confused at my response, he looked at the last message I was clearly not meant to see.

Apprehensive eyes flashed with regret, his mouth opened as if he was going to say something but stopped knowing his response would mean nothing if it wasn’t the truth.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Dylan. I want honest answers.” I demanded. He gave me a nod so I continued. Everything felt like it was happening all at once. My heartbeat was in my ears, my heart in my throat, ready for lies I knew were about to be revealed. “Are you friends with Eric James?”

“No.”

“How did he get your number?”

“I smashed the windows out of his car last year at a party.” He finally looked at me and deep down a fear I knew was always there inside presented itself like the monster it could be. “My dad made me pay for the damages so I gave him my number for the estimate. Believe me, it wasn’t by choice.”

“Why did you do that to his car?”

He swallowed dropping his eyes to the bed. “He’s a fucking douche, that’s why.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Just drop it.” He tried to get up from the bed but I grasped his arm forcing him back down. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“What did he do?”

Glaring at the floor, he shook his head. “I saw something that he didn’t want me to see. It pissed me off so I fucked with his car. End of story.” He said with a shrug as if this wasn’t that big of a deal.

It was a big deal. I could see he was concealing something under the shadows of his stare and deep down, I knew what it was, and I wanted him to say it aloud. I wasn’t naïve but the signs were there. Eric was too controlled and responsible for an eighteen-year-old boy. I knew that he had to have a fault somewhere.

“What did you see? What did Eric do?”

Dylan sat back down on the bed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The arms of his flannel shirt remained rolled up revealing the tattoos again. I wanted to ask what they were but didn’t. “Do you really want to hear this,” tipping his head, he looked at me, “or do you just want to hear this because you want a reason to push yourself away from Eric? I won’t be the reason why you do it.”

I didn’t say anything so he continued.

“Do you love him?” He whispered.

Did I love Eric? The answer was simple. After today, it was evident that I didn’t. I didn’t love him and I don’t think that I ever had. To be honest with you, Dylan had stolen a piece of my heart when we were kids and there was no way I could love another boy the way I did with him. Though life had completely changed and I wasn’t sure I was in love with Dylan anymore, it didn’t change the fact that he held a piece of it, just him.

Eric was just another piece of my planned out life. How could I love something that was forced on me? I didn’t know him. I knew the planned version that was presented to me.

“No.” I said staring at my phone in my hand. My vision blurred with tears, the checkered carpet of the hotel room confused me when the green and gold colors blended. Just like the lies I’d been told, patterns revealed themselves. “I don’t.”

The corners of Dylan’s mouth twisted. “I caught him fucking Mercedes Grant behind the football stadium. I smashed the windows out his car.”

I thought the feeling that washed over me, pricking my skin would be sadness but it wasn’t. The pricking feeling was a rush of emotions I had never felt before. Confused yes but more so when I thought about why Dylan vandalized his car. I was no longer concerned with Eric at all. What concerned me was why a boy that I ignored all these years felt the need to stand up for me.

“Why?” I asked trying not to look at the freaky carpet any longer.

When I looked at his face his eyes said it all, he did it for me.

I didn’t know I was crying until Dylan brushed the tears away for me. A silence had spread throughout the room aside from the hum of the air conditioner that kicked on.

It cycled through a round and thumped as it shut down.

When he spoke, his voice felt forced admitting to something he didn’t want to say. “I was pissed,” He drew a ragged breath and fixing his attention on his hands. “For eight years I’ve waited for you to see what was in front of you. Everyone brainwashed you into thinking Eric James was what was best for you.”

“Dylan, I—”

“Don’t,” Dylan interrupted reaching for my phone I dropped on the floor at his feet. “Forget I said anything. Call your parents.”

“I have one more question.” Dylan gave me a nod to continue. The worry evident in his eyes at what I was going to ask him. “What did you say to Eric about it?”

“Nothing, I’m sure the baseball bat through his windshield gave it away.”

How did Eric think I wouldn’t find out about this? It probably would have taken some time had Dylan not slipped with the text messages but I wasn’t stupid. I’ve known for years that my life wasn’t what it appeared to be. Did I do anything about it? No. Now I was and that’s what I focused on.

The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off. In my mind, I knew this was happening between Eric and Mercedes. The worst part was that Eric and I hadn’t had sex, but yet he was messing around with her, or maybe she wasn’t the first. The thought was revolting to me.

Pissed, I decided to call Eric first and give his cheating ass a piece of my mind.

For some privacy, I stepped onto the balcony and closed the door behind me. Dylan watched me walk out there and then moved to the bathroom with a towel.

It only rang once before he picked up. “Bailey where are you? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Oh give me a break. Don’t act so fucking innocent.” I was actually quite proud of myself. It seemed I had all kinds of courage today. “How’s Mercedes doing?”

Any girl, and I don’t care who you are, has a vindictive side. Being in high school, you find out quickly that they all have them. Mine was starting to show its ugly face.

“What are you talking about?” he honestly sounded alarmed, which just pissed me off even more.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Eric.” Unable to stand still, I started pacing the balcony. “I know about you and Mercedes. Who else have you been with? Let me guess, Jessica too?”

“He’s lying to you.” Eric claimed stumbling over his words. “I never slept with her. He’s saying that shit so you’ll fuck him.”

I laughed bitterly clenching my phone tightly. It felt like I was trying to strangle my phone to make up for not being able to strangle Eric. “You just proved my point right there. I never said what I knew about.”

“I didn’t do anything she didn’t ask for.” Eric’s voice was sharp as if he was pointing out the obvious. “And why don’t you ask Dylan about Mercedes. He’s gotten to know her pretty well too.”

“Wow, so that’s why, because she asked you to?” I asked ignoring his comment about Dylan. “Come on Eric, you’re smarter than that Mr. Excitement.” Over the years of playing football his entire life, Eric had gotten the name Mr. Excitement for his ability on the field. I had always hated the name and never used it.

“It’s not like that, Bailey.” Eric pleaded his words rushing knowing I would hang up on him at any moment. “Just come back and we can talk about this. Don’t just throw away four years over a guy like Dylan Wade.”

“This has absolutely nothing to do with Dylan and you know it. There’s nothing that we need to talk about any more.”

Eric groaned. “So what, you’re just gonna run away with Wade now? This is so childish. Bailey, you can’t―”

“Save your bullshit for someone else.”

I pressed the end button and surprisingly, felt better.

My dad’s greeting wasn’t much better. “You listen here Bailey Ann Gray―you get your ass home right now! Do you realize the situation you have put me in now? Do you understand the heat I’m getting over not being able to control my own daughter? Come back.”

“That will be a little hard to do, dad. I’m in Mexico,” I lied watching an Escalade in the parking lot below try to park in a compact spot.

“What has he talked you into?” I could hear my mom drilling him in the background. “This is just insane. Get back here.”

“He didn’t talk me into anything.” I told him trying to remain adamant that I wasn’t coming back just because daddy said so. “I asked him to go.”

“You come home right now!”

“No dad, I won’t. I’m eighteen and I can make my own decisions.”

He paused for a moment and said the words I never expected him to say. “Fine, have it your way, Bailey. If you are not home by tomorrow morning, don’t bothering coming back. I will not tolerate this type of behavior in my house.”

“You mean to tell me the first time I get into trouble you’ll disown me?” I laughed. “That’s awesome. I date the perfect guy in your mind because he’s what you approve of, well you know what, that perfect guy of yours has been fucking around with my so-called best friend. I picked the school you wanted me to go to because you approved of it, well guess what, I don’t care anymore. I’m not going.”

“If you’re going to run off with the town delinquent Dylan Wade, then yes, I will disown you.” He clarified in a tone I recognized him using with members of the city council. “I will not tolerate this type of behavior from my daughter.”

“Fine, disown me Mayor Gray.” Without another response, I tossed my phone off the balcony under that Escalade that still hadn’t got into the parking spot.

Dylan was finished with his shower and now sitting on the bed, phone in hand, dressed in a pair of jeans and no shirt.

My stare went to the tattoos first on his arms and chest and then the rest of his toned appearance. It was evident that he worked out or he had one heck of a metabolism.

“Hey,” he said, anxious as I closed the sliding glass door behind me.

“So my dad disowned me.” I said this nonchalantly at first like it meant nothing but to me, it meant something. How could it not?

“Figures,” Dylan grumbled pulling a shirt over his head.

I have no idea why but the sound of Dylan’s voice was my breaking point. Like a dam breaking, I burst into tears.

Classic runaway move right there. As soon as the shit hit the fan, I broke down.

Dylan hesitated and then moved to comfort me but he seemed uncomfortable doing so.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing he said to me.

I cried even harder.

All my life I had done things for everyone else and the one time I decided to do something for myself, my family disowned me. The life I thought I knew with Eric was a lie and he had done the most disrespectful act of dishonesty someone could do.

My only thought seemed to be how do I trust anyone now? And that quickly flowed into that I now had nothing to go back to.

Dylan said nothing more and held me until I stopped crying.

Twisting away to look at him, his eyes still held worry scanning my face he brushed the away the hair that stuck to my face from my sticky cheeks. “Do you want me to take you back?” he asked, hesitantly, his eyes searching mine for any indication that I wanted him to. “I will if that’s what you want.”

“I have nothing there I want to go back to.” I wiped my tears off my face attempting to come out of my crying fit. “Did you call your dad?”

He shook his head, the sadness returned. “No.”

“Are you going to?”

He shook his head again. “There’s no point.”

“Did he disown you too?”

Protected by a cautious front, he looked at the floor and said nothing. Rubbing the back of his neck, the frustration eased. “He disowned me long before this.”

I had a feeling there was a deeper meaning to that statement but decided to give him his space and not pry into something I didn’t understand and wasn’t capable of understanding at the time. There was a side to Dylan that I might not ever get to know, the side that kept his fears deep inside.

I reached for my wallet inside my bag to see how much cash I had, knowing damn well my credit cards wouldn’t work now. I counted to myself as Dylan carefully watched what I was doing.

“I have just over nine hundred dollars. How far do you think we can get with that?”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re not funding this adventure, I am.” Although laughing, his tone was set.

“I refuse to let you pay for this entire trip.”

His eyebrows flickered up and I could tell then he was deciding whether to be dirty or not. Not wins out. “There are always those sexual favors, so…”

I punched his shoulder for his lewd suggestions and handed him the money. “I insist on paying for my half of the trip.”

Pushing the money back at me, he shook his head. “I have more than enough money. When I turned eighteen my trust fund kicked in.”

“I’m not taking your trust fund money. That’s yours for college or whatever.”

It wasn’t a secret around town that Dylan and his brother had a hefty trust fund from when his mother died. Yet I refused to let him use that money on this adventure.

“I’m not going to college.” He smirked as if the possibility of him going to college was ridiculous. “Looks like we’re back to those sexual favors.” he suggested and leaned back on the bed and placed his hands behind his head. To make his point more clear, he winked and gestured south lifting his hips slightly.

What a pervert.

It was then that I was no more concerned about being murdered. Deep down he was too goofy to commit a crime as grave as a murder. At least that’s what I was telling myself.

Lying beside him, he looked at me and I confessed about my temper tantrum outside. “We have to use your phone from now on.”

“Where’s yours?”

“Under an Escalade outside.”

“Nice.” He propped himself up on his elbows. His feet dangled off the edge of the bed. “Are you hungry?”

“Actually yes, I’m starving.”

Removing himself from the bed, he pulled on a clean t-shirt from his bag on the floor and then put his flannel back on over the top of it. I noticed all his shirts were neatly settled in his bag where my bag looked as if hurricane Katrina had packed it.

“Get up. I’m taking you to dinner.” He told me walking around the bed and standing near the door. “I suggest you change out of that ridiculous gown though. I’m not going to dinner with the valedictorian.”

“I thought I looked hot in it.” I suggested twirling around trying to remember my ballet moves from when I was younger.

Nice flirting.

Dylan didn’t say anything for a moment so I looked back at him wondering if he even noticed my moves and he smirked keeping his eyes low.

“I agree,” he mumbled softly and turned to the door.

I didn’t wait for him to leave the room before I stripped my gown off. Usually I wouldn’t have done something that bold but I did it to tease him for the sexual favors comments. I stripped down to my bra and underwear. When I snuck a glance in his direction, I noticed he was still standing by the door putting his shoes on.

Clearly, he hadn’t noticed yet so I stalled for a second pretending to rummage through my hurricane mess and then pulled some jean shorts and a t-shirt out of my bag. When I turned around before I put my shirt on, I noticed he was now looking at me but said nothing.

I chuckled walking over to him. “What? You can make suggestions that I perform sexual favors on you but I can’t get undressed in front of you?” I asked, winking at him.

“No, by all means undress,” he said offering his own wink. “It’ll just make those sexual favors easier.”

3.       Naïve – Bailey Gray

As promised, Dylan took me to dinner at a small Mexican restaurant that we found up the street within walking distance. I ordered steak fajitas and he did the same.

Full of commotion, the restaurant provided a good distraction to the world I was now facing. Each time the waiter walked by, I wished that we were old enough to order drinks.

After everything, I could use one. I’d never drank before but I really wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

“I could really use a drink.” I said to Dylan suppressing a sigh when I saw another tray of what looked to be margaritas.

“Did you ever drink before?”

“No.” I admitted ashamed that I had lived such a sheltered life. “Have you?”

“That’s a dumb question.” And if you knew Dylan, that was a dumb question. “You want a beer?”

“We’re only eighteen.” I found it strange that I had to point this out to him. “They’re not going to sell us beer.”

“Sure they will.” He waived a waitress over. Sure enough, with a smile from Dylan she came running. “Hey, can we get two Corona’s?”

“Sure sweetie,” the waitress, too old to be flirting with an eighteen-year-old boy, told him with a smile that he returned with a wink. He was playing her game. “I’ll bring them right out. Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” Dylan smiled again, his usually wintry blue eyes melted and I knew then he knew how to play people when needed, “that’s all.”

“Hardly fair…you played her.”

“Played?” He looked at me as if I had wounded him but cracked a smile regardless.

“When did you have your first beer?” I asked changing the subject slightly.

“Eleven.”

“Jesus, started young huh?”

He shrugged looking out the window.

“Drugs?”

Dylan looked from the window to me and then back to the window. “What about them?”

“Have you done them?”

A nod was all I got, no details, just a nod. It wasn’t like I was expecting details though. I knew enough about Dylan to understand I wouldn’t get any details.

“Whatta ya say we play a little game?” I suggested. The waitress returned with the beers and set them in the middle of the table along with a basket full of warm tortilla chips and a small bowl of salsa.

“Depends, what kind of game it is.” Dylan reached for the chips and salsa placed on the table between us and began eating. I did the same.

“Twenty questions.”

“Only if I can go first,” he clarified chewing slowly. For a moment, I watched his jaw, the clenching of his muscles and the spark in his stare.

I felt comfortable around him.

“Fair enough,” I motioned with my hand, “go ahead.”

He waited for me to take a drink of my beer, smiling as I gave the bitter beer face but choked it down regardless. I wouldn't order this drink again.

When I thought about the game twenty questions, and knowing what my life had been like, I was sure I could guess some of his questions. I also knew a few questions I wanted to ask him.

“What did you ever see in Eric James? I mean seriously Bailey, yeah, he can throw a mean spiral but fuck, and he’s Eric James for Christ sakes.” Dylan looked at me like I had been dating the devil for the past four years.

After today’s turn of events, maybe I had been.

I wasn’t sure how to respond so I told him the truth. “Honestly, I dated him because it was expected of me.”

“That’s bullshit.” Dylan said calmly but his words held meaning. “You always have a choice.”

Given the chance, I would not have chosen someone like Eric James to spend my life with. We were complete opposites in every way and when I looked at him most days, and the life I saw that we would live, had I chosen him, it made me want to scream. I saw us living in suburbia hell with two point five kids, a dog and white picket fence where the wife had dreams and doesn’t pursue them because she’s stuck at home playing the perfect wife. That wasn’t me. I grew up around that and to me that’s a painted hell in my mind.

If I had envisioned the perfect life for me, it would be unpredictable and never planned. I wanted to be late, photograph the world, stay in bed all day, and not brush my hair, where jeans with holes in them and wear black nail polish just because I could.

Dylan shook his head and looked back at the salsa dipping another chip into it. “I can’t believe you fucked him.” He mumbled shoving the chip in his mouth. “I thought you’d have better taste than that.”

Just as he said that, I had taken a drink of my beer.

He was now wearing that drink.

“What did you just say?” I choked out still coughing, beer coming out my nose which then caused me to cough.

Glaring, he proceeded to wipe beer from his shirt. Around then was when I thought to myself that his neatly packed bag might have been some kind of obsessive-compulsive-disorder.

Dylan’s eyes held no shred of amusement when he spoke. “You obviously heard me.”

“What would make you think I was sleeping with him?”

I’ll admit that I was tad bitter.

“You can’t sleep with a guy like Eric James and expect him to keep quiet about popping your cherry, did you?” he replied, irritated and refusing to look at me. Instead, his eyes focused in the distance over my shoulder where a couple in their late twenties sat at the bar, laughing and completely comfortable with each other. The situation was an exact opposite of what was happening with us.

“I didn’t think you were that goddamn naïve.”

That’s when I lost myself right about then in a slur of words but I think I said something similar to this. “I wouldn’t expect a guy like Eric James to keep quiet if that had actually happened!” I yelled, probably too loud for the restaurant. “I never fucked him.” Slumping back in the booth, I muttered a little more to myself but losing steam as I crossed my arms over my chest. “That son of a bitch.”

Now I wished I hadn’t destroyed my phone. I wanted to give Eric a little verbal lashing for this shit. My life may have been planned but I had always been the same type of person. I didn’t like people believing lies about me and not knowing the truth. Maybe this came from my upbringing being the Mayor’s daughter but someone believing a lie about me was crushing.

“You had no idea?” Dylan looked amazed that I didn’t which had me speculating there were more rumors Eric had spread about me or Mercedes for that matter.

How could I have been so naïve about it?

Dylan was right. I was naïve whether I wanted to admit it or not.

“How could you actually believe that?”

He shook his head running his hand through his hair and settling his hand on the back of his neck again, a motion he did often but seemed to ease the frustration he was feeling. “I don’t get why you’re angry with me. You’ve been dating him for the last four years; it’s not so unbelievable that you hadn’t slept with him by now. People do that you know, date and have sex.”

“Is that why you asked me to come with you? Because you think I’m easy or something?”

“What,” he balked practically choking on his words. “Easy? I don’t think you’re easy.” I could tell he was getting angry. “For fucks sake, do you really think I’m that much of an asshole? If anyone should be asking intentions here, it should be me. Why did you come with me, Bailey? Was it because you wanted to or was it to piss off the Mayor and your precious football player?”

“I didn’t think you were an asshole until now.” Leaning forward my elbows rested on the table coming closer to him. He did the same appearing just as angry as I was. “And you’re an asshole if you think I did this because of who my father is.”

Most of the restaurant noticed our conversation and kept glancing at us. I wouldn’t say we were shouting at each other but it was close.

“Fine.” He threw his napkin down and finished his beer in one drink before slamming it down. The sound made me jump. “I’ll take you back to your perfect life tonight.” His hand flicked out as he threw his arm up. “Get up, let’s go.”

I looked at him like he was crazy, maybe he was, and he looked at me like he was dead serious.

“Goddamn it, no!” I sat back in defeat. “You’re an asshole, yes, but you’re the first damn asshole that cared about what I wanted and what I had to say. So we are going to continue this,” I motion around us, “whatever it is and keep driving. I’m not going back.”

I sounded like a child and felt even more like one when I looked at him.

He watched me as I tried to steady my breathing. Before I knew it, he was laughing.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

A smile settled over him. “You’re eyes light up with a fire I haven’t seen since we were kids when you’re angry.”

Not that it was overly funny but I started laughing as well. “Sorry I overreacted. You were right, most girls would have put out by now.”

“But I’m glad,” he paused, clearing his throat. “You didn’t, you know, put out for him. I mean, shit, and this is incredibly awkward so I will be shutting up now.” With a chuckle, he stopped talking. It was the only time I’d ever seen him scramble for words.

Until our food came, we continued with our game but moved past accusing and thoughts of leaving.

“Next question, that question counted as two so you have eighteen left, make them count, asshole.”

Dylan tipped his head my direction as if saying he agreed. “Okay, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” he asked.

“Nebraska.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I like Nebraska, corn, farms, what’s not to like?”

Shaking his head with an amused chuckle, he took another drink of his second beer just as our steaming fajitas arrived.

We continued to ask random questions throughout the meal when I got brave and asked about his sexual past that I was dying to know about. Most girls at our school, and I admit I was on that list, had dreamed about Dylan Wade and his rebel ways controlling them.

Naturally, I wanted to know what was true and what wasn’t. I also wanted some visuals for myself. Dylan was sexy. Enough said. I wasn’t the first girl, good or not, to dream of being bent over that GTO and manhandled a little.

“Is it true you had sex with Haven Jennings on Mrs. Drake’s desk in detention?”

His eyes squinted at me, his nose scrunched in what appeared to be disgust. “Nope.”

I was pleased by his response. Haven Jennings, wore a mostly black wardrobe, gothic makeup, was creepy, and had so many piercings in her body she could be a sprinkler. She was one of those girls you expected to start a cult and then sacrifice her body to the higher power she believed in.

“What were your dad and you arguing about before we left?”

Taking a tortilla from the covered red bowl to my left, I scooped the mixture of steak and peppers making a fajita. I took a bite and waited for him to answer.

Dylan licked hot sauce from his thumb as he prepared his own fajita. “Pass.”

“You can’t say pass in twenty questions.” I told him. “I think it’s some sort of rule.”

Another grin tugged at his lips as if he was holding a secret. It reminded me of him being a kid and teasing me. “Yes you can, brown eyes.”

“No, you can’t.” I disagreed dipping my fajita in sour cream and trying not to smile. Savoring the flavor, it’d been way too long since I last had something I enjoyed so much. My diet at home consisted of chicken, vegetables and brown rice. If I never ate brown rice again, it would be too soon. I’m not saying I didn’t have my own stash of chocolate, because I did.

“In my version you can.” By his clipped tone, I understood there would be no arguing this. “Play it my way, or we don’t play it at all.”

Deciding not to push my luck any further, I stopped pushing. After drenching him in beer, my luck tonight was probably running on empty.

I never wanted to admit it, but I had a spoiled brat type of attitude from time to time. Kind of, like right now. I also understood in just the few hours with Dylan Wade that this wouldn’t work for me if I wanted to continue on this trip with him. Dylan didn’t put up with bratty shit.

When being bratty didn’t work, I tried pouting. That didn’t work either.

Dylan chuckled at my poor display and eventually I ended up laughing as well. Dylan had that type of laugh. If you heard it, you laughed too.

We finished our meal, Dylan paid like he insisted he would and we walked back to the hotel. Cars passed and the nightlife around seemed to be in full force.

Couples held hands as they passed while others walked side-by-side as if they were only friends, much like us.

Were we friends now? I had so many questions going through me but no answers. It was one of those moments when I wanted to blurt out everything I had held in but I also didn’t want to scare him away. I had a tendency to talk too much when I was nervous and word vomit was its evil twin.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I could barely keep my eyes open so we decided to get some sleep and figure out where we wanted to go in the morning. I liked the idea of not knowing where we would be tomorrow or the next day.

When looking at the sleeping arrangement, I wasn’t tired any longer.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offered sensing my level of anxiety as the situation must have sky rocketed as I brushed my teeth next to him in the tiny bathroom. When we stood side by side, you could barely move let alone brush your teeth.

“If you promise not to murder me in my sleep, I don’t mind sleeping next to you.” Not exactly sure why but I really didn’t mind. I felt safe with Dylan. I feel like he would never let anything bad happen to me. Most of all, I felt, with the lies that were now reality for me, alone and Dylan being here with me was my only comfort.

“I don’t plan on murdering you.” Dylan shrugged and put his toothbrush away in its container before wiping the splashed water from the sink.

As I observed his nightly routine, I was even more convinced that he had some sort of OCD behavior. Everything had its place in his bag. I half expected it to be labeled. It wasn’t.

As soon as we got back from the restaurant, he had stripped his beer stained t-shirt off and threw it away, confirming my OCD theory yet again. I wanted to ask him about it but I didn’t want to offend him. My little brother was the same way about cleanliness and organization and I found it somewhat cute how methodical he was about everything―both Dylan and Jeb.

Part of me missed Jeb and hoped that he was doing all right. He was a good kid and I hated to see him take any crap for my decisions. My dad was always hard on him and I think Jeb was perfect because he felt he had to be not because he wanted to be. What thirteen-year-old wanted to do everything their parents told them to do? None that I know.

Once we were in bed, we both seemed to lay there watching the ceiling not looking at each other, as if it were a movie. Breaking the silence, the air conditioner kicked on again drowning out the buzzing neon open sign that lit the room with a green tint.

When it kicked off, Dylan rolled facing me propping himself up on his elbow. “I didn’t get to finish my questions.”

I chuckled a little because I knew how this is going to end. One of us was going to be offended by a question, throw a fit and once again, we wouldn’t finish this silly game.

“Okay but I get to ask mine first.” I said, smiling. Facing him now, our bodies were less than a foot away when I noticed a strange pulse humming between us. I felt an attraction to Dylan, there was that, but something else was present too.

Without shame, Dylan eyed my body. My cheeks flushed grateful for the poor lighting.

“Same rules apply.” He added returning his boyish grin.

“Fine. Who was your last girlfriend?”

Part of me, the schoolgirl inside of me felt ridiculous for even asking that question like we were playing spin the bottle. I also hated that I had resorted to this silly game to get to know a boy I should have never stopped talking to in the first place.

Shadows danced across his cheeks when he blinked, his eyes remained closed. “I’ve had girls that are friends,” his eyes opened, “but never signified any status with them.”

“Never?” I asked surprised thinking that he had dated Sarah Thomas last summer.

He shook his head but didn’t answer.

“What about Sarah?” I asked, still confused. I saw her at his house a few times and at school on more than one occasion. Mercedes even mentioned seeing them kissing in the hall.

Dylan looked up from the blanket he’d been fidgeting with for the last few minutes but didn’t focus on anything in particular. “She wasn’t my girlfriend, just a friend.”

“Did you sleep with her?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

It wasn’t like I didn’t want to know because I had been dying to know. It seemed the two beers I had convinced me to speak my mind. Even though we had lost contact with each other for so long, it didn’t stop me from being curious about his life. If Dylan’s name was mentioned in conversation, I paid attention.

Dylan rolled over so he was on his back gazing at the ceiling again. He brought his hands up to his face, ran them through his hair, and then settled them over his face where they stayed for a moment. He sighed harshly. His eyes burned into mine like they did on graduation day, his voice not much more than a whisper. “Yeah,”

I smiled. “So the rumors are true? What about Haven, and then there was the Jenna and you in the boy’s locker room. Oh, and the one about you and the police chief’s daughter, Lindsey. What about that chick in detention? What was her name? Oh right, Lexi.”

Dylan groaned rolling onto his back pulling the blanket over his head. “Stop already.”

When I couldn’t stop laughing at his sudden mood change, he rolled his eyes dramatically. “I should probably clear some things up, huh?”

“Yes, by all means clear some things up.”

“Sarah, she was just a friend. Her mom had cancer and she was going through a hard time so we hung out a few times. When her mom went into remission, I never saw her again. Then Haven…never touched that. Although I did find her in my room one afternoon.” He shuddered at the memory. “So Jenna, we—” Dylan chuckled lightly at a memory I was sure I didn’t want to know and then continued. “She…uh…tried to give me head but that just ended in me running from her car.”

“How does that happen?” I asked imagining in my head what could have made him run from her.

“She had braces.” He clarified, wincing at the memory. “Worst experience ever.”

“I see, and Lindsey?”

“Yeah.”

“And Lexi?”

He seemed to contemplate this one for a minute and then grinned softly. “Let’s just say I did things to her but she never touched me.”

I nodded, taking in everything he just said. Part of me wondered what he would expect from me, if he thought I would sleep with him. I’ll admit the idea had already crossed my mind.

“How many?” I wasn’t surprised that Dylan had slept with a few different girls by now. He had the image that girls swarmed to. They wanted the bad boy.

Dylan’s eyes shifted away. “I don’t know. Four or five I guess.”

“My turn,” he said suddenly. “Did you and Eric do anything besides kiss?”

“No, I’m a virgin. We never got past making out. Apparently not so much with Mercedes,” I took a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t blame him. She’s beautiful but I never expected him to go for her.”

Dylan burst out laughing his eyes squinted in amusement. “You’re kidding right?” he choked sarcastically.

“No, I’m not joking. Mercedes is stuck up, yes…but you can’t deny that she’s pretty and has an amazing body.”

“No, she’s a bitch.” He placed his hand on my cheek. His thumb traced over my lower lip, I gasped at the contact and his eyebrows pulled together. “You’re beautiful and Eric’s a fucking idiot.”

My eyes searched his for an answer in the ice I found. If I looked, close enough they reminded me of a glacier with their beauty. “You don’t have to say that.”

Briefly, with the way, his eyes darted from mine to my lips and then back again, I thought he might kiss me. A good part of me was hoping he would.

He blinked slowly annoyed he had to clarify himself. “It’s true, brown eyes.”

“Regardless,” my stare went to his lips wanting to feel them against mine, “we barely know each other anymore.”

It was the truth and he knew it. The people that we knew when we were younger were gone and had been for a while. I wasn’t that perfect straight-laced ten-year-old that ran around in flower dresses and complained about the politics of our state. Somewhere along the lines I became myself even though shrouded by affiliation, I was still that little girl who thought she would be president someday. Though I didn’t want to be the president, I had that type of determination inside me.

Dylan, he hadn’t changed. So I guess, in a sense, I should still know him, but I didn’t. With that shrouded affiliation, I lost touch with reality and those around me.

His face was composed at first, maybe a practiced indifference that I had seen often over the years. He kept his hand on my cheek and leaned into me. His facial expression nothing I had ever seen before, conflicted and emotional, but there was also a desire burning beneath it that I recognized because I felt it too. He leaned in further, and before I could react, his lips pressed to my forehead. Lingering longer than I expected, he pulled away and found my stare. “You are beautiful.”

Remember when I said that when I was nervous that my talking had an evil twin?

After that kiss, she made an appearance.

“I had the biggest crush on you when we were little.” I blurted out and then covered my mouth, eyes wide. Dylan had been my first kiss when we were seven and I don’t think I ever got over him entirely. “I also stalked you a little in middle school and high school. It was like I was the paparazzi or something. I also had this vision of you manhandling me on the hood of your car.”

What has gotten into me?

That’s when I slapped my hand over my mouth again trying to prevent anymore nonsense. It was the only way to stop myself.

Dylan’s eyes appeared serious for a moment and then he rolled over on his back, groaned and slowly brought the blanket up over his face. “You’re killing me.”

Laughing, I rolled over too and stared at the ceiling.

We ended up talking most of the night but with Dylan there were some topic’s that were off limits. It was hard to have conversations with him. You could literally watch him shut down in a conversation when the subject shifted. It was like a switch for him.

Eventually, my first night on my own, I found sleep next to a boy I never expected to talk to again let alone sleep next to him. If I wanted the unknown and spontaneous, I had it now for sure.

4.      Bucket List – Bailey Gray

I woke up to the morning as the sun peeked into the room through the thin brown curtains. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what I was doing here. Growing up, I was never allowed to sleep in and when I saw the time, I panicked thinking my mother would be pushing through my door any minute with her annoyingly chipper façade.

Only I wasn’t in my room. I wasn’t even in my house.

The memories of yesterday and last night came to mind. I couldn’t believe that I confessed in a moment of sheer stupidity that I had a crush on him when we were kids and secretly had a thing for bad boys.

Stupid of me.

I stretched a little. The bed wasn’t comfortable so my back was aching and stiff.

I noticed I was on the edge of the bed, barely hanging on so I went to shimmy over but was pushed more off the bed as Dylan groaned beside me.

Trying to move away from him and keep my place on the bed, it didn’t work. I landed on the floor, arms flailing, legs kicking as I try to catch myself.

Dylan heard the thump and leaned over the side of the bed. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Jackass,” I replied with a sour edge to my voice as I picked myself off the floor, rubbing my ass.

Dylan swung his legs around the side of the bed and sat there for a moment looking out the window. His head hung and he removed himself from the bed reaching for his cigarettes in his jeans neatly folded on the chair next to the bed and then walked outside on the balcony, chuckling. I watched him closely, admiring the way his back muscles flexed as he walked and the tattoos that I never knew were there on his back. I wasn’t sure what they all were but they were beautiful. None seemed to be overly colorful but instead darker shades of black, gray, red and some with a navy blue. He must have noticed me staring because before he opened the door he turned and smirked.

Embarrassed, I looked down at my feet dangling off the side of the bed, noticing I need to paint my toenails. My mom would have been horrified if she would have seen them. Every Saturday morning my mom, Mercedes and her mother Teresa got together for what they called Spa Saturday at Tuscan Spa Sanctuary in Olympia.

Though they specialized in a Zen-bliss as they called it, it was torture for me and today, being Saturday, I was relieved not to have to attend.

After I regained some composure, I made my way out to the balcony where Dylan was leaning against the railing. Smoke billowing around him as he took a deep drag from his cigarette, his attention captivated by the street below.

His tattooed back and muscles distracted me. His back was to me, so I tried to decipher what the shapes and the writing that surrounded them were. There was one down his spine that appeared to be some sort of scripture in a foreign language.

The moment I opened the slider door, the heat of the morning hit me. It was a nice change from the crisp mornings of the Puget Sound. Though we hadn’t gone far, the climate in southern Oregon was noticeably different.

Dylan looked over his shoulder at me when the slider clicked against the metal frame. His smirk was present when his eyes raked down my body, taking in my black cotton shorts and small tank top.

Since he was examining me, I did the same noticing he wasn’t wearing much other than a pair of navy blue Nike workout shorts with the elastic band of his white boxer briefs peeking through the top.

Sitting in the plastic chair near the door, I drew my legs up to my chest. “Where to today?”

Dylan raised an eyebrow and then put his cigarette out against the railing, tossing it over the edge. “I told you,” he grinned but it wasn’t a grin that held, “city by city,”

“Okay…what city today?”

“San Jose?” He suggested, raising his eyebrows again.

“Okay.” I stood up. “Can I shower first?”

His eyes shined playfully but there was more to the smile than he was leading on. “Can I join you?” He asked, looking completely serious.

“Nope,”

“Such a tease,” he mumbled chuckling when I shook my ass a little at him as I closed the slider.

The flirting and teasing was even more apparent this morning after our confessions but it was also nice. There’s something about flirting with someone you’re comfortable around. It was playfully refreshing. I wasn’t sure where any of this was going to lead between us but it was nice not to know for once. When everything was planned for you, spontaneity and the unknown is something worth living.

I thought about Eric a little and then shook those thoughts aside. Having wasted four years with him, I wasn’t about to waste another moment on him. Even if it was just thinking. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him and Mercedes together. The thought was revolting.

Dylan stayed on the balcony as I took my shower. Once I finished, I dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a Rolling Stones shirt my mother would never approve of me wearing and pinned my wet hair up in a messy bun.

Look at me, wearing my own clothes, flirting, hell, I even thought of asking Dylan for a cigarette to complete my transformation. Smiling in the mirror, I finally felt like my own person who’d cut the strings.

When I opened the door to the bathroom Dylan was waiting on the bed, all his stuff was neatly next to him. I laughed and he glared because he knew then that I was aware of the fact that he was extremely methodical. Part of me wanted to reach over, toss his clothes on the floor, and watch the panic rise.

“Don’t be long sugar.” I said as he pushed past me to enter the bathroom.

He made it a point to make sure his chest brushed mine as he slid past me. Shaking my head, I stared at my feet and of course, he grinned.

“Nice shirt.” Tugging at the hem, his knuckles brushed against my stomach. I felt the touch through my entire body. It was like a tickle ran wild and gave me shivers.

Dylan enjoyed pushing the boundaries and when I pushed back, he smirked and waited for me to weaken. It was the same game he played with everyone else whether it is the police or teachers; he had his own set of restless rules.

Unfortunately, for me, I was playing it with him and if I were any weaker to his rebel ways, I’d be standing at home plate waving him in. The thought of being with him was there before I could stop it. Maybe it was because he was here with me that the temptation was there but it was also because deep down, I knew that if anyone knew the real me or even took the time to know me, it would have been him. Unfortunately, as middle school and high school hierarchy usually dictates, we lost touch.

Throughout Dylan’s shower, I mulled over what situation between us was and what it was already doing.

If we couldn’t stop teasing each other, how was this trip going to work? But was it really a trip? Did I want to go back eventually? Did he? Could we run forever?

Then I thought about me and Dylan together, intimately. We shouldn’t be together, right? I hated that my mind constantly went there imagining him. After Eric, I didn’t want to rush into anything but maybe rushing into it would be what I needed.

A good part of my concern was what this could do to Dylan. Even only being around Dylan a day, it was apparent he had some emotional issues, and me, well I was just looking to rebel, right?

If I wanted to rebel what better way to rebel than to mess around with the town delinquent?

Don’t do that Bailey.

I didn’t want to hurt Dylan. Yes, he was a bad boy but he did have feelings and I wasn’t looking to use him nor was I looking to get hurt myself. This could easily go both ways.

After Dylan’s hour-long shower, he came out dressed and ready to go and smelling of aftershave and cologne. I finished packing up my bag which consisted of me just tossing everything in a vintage bag I made from a quilt my grandmother gave me and a few pairs of jeans my mom never let me wear.

I noticed then that all I had in that bag was a few pairs of shorts, tank tops, a few t-shirts I had bought without my parent’s knowledge, and lotion. I didn’t bring any make-up and took comfort that I at least managed to bring some Love Spell body spray and deodorant.

Making our way down the stairs because I refused to ride in that elevator again, we checked out and I raided the stand next to the counter that had maps and various pamphlets on vacation destinations.

When we got in the car, Dylan noticed all the maps. “Did you rob the chambers of commerce?”

“No.” I pushed a few toward him. “I just thought they’d be handy.”

Eyeing the maps, he picked up the one for San Diego and then tossed it aside placing the keys in the ignition. “Uh-huh,” he didn’t look impressed at all.

He probably thought I was questioning his navigation skills.

Before we got back on the highway, Dylan stopped at the gas station to fill up and check the oil. I tried again to pay for gas but he declined.

Knowing my dad would soon cancel my cards and account, I took the time to get as much money out of my bank account. The clerk made me sign a form for the advance from my saving account and I’ll admit my hand shook slightly thinking that this was my college fund I was withdrawing. Any future I had was tied to this money and here I was not thinking about that future any longer.

I ended up withdrawing all of it thinking if my dad had any connections, which he does, the money would be gone come Monday.

As I signed that paper, another thing occurred to me. This feeling, the reason I left, had been festering for a while. Eventually, it would have come to a head whether it was at college or ten years later. Deep down, I wasn’t happy. I’m not sure when it started, I couldn’t pin point a day but it was sometime after Homecoming this last year. I also knew that throughout the year, the feeling, the gut wrenching agony, got louder and I couldn’t ignore it as easily. After a while, like a loud voice, it was all I heard. Run. Get out.

So I did.

It was a feeling that snuck up on me and sunk into my skin until one day I woke up and realized I didn’t want the life I had. I was sure that I wasn’t the only one that had felt like this before.

After the gas station, we ate some breakfast at a small diner up the street. The waitress flirted with Dylan so blatantly it actually pissed me off.

I was not experienced in flirting but I understood when two people were sitting next to one another this usually meant they were friends and you shouldn’t flirt with them until you understood they weren’t together. I never gave her the impression I wasn’t with Dylan so naturally the teenage girl in me was upset.

Without thinking, I moved to sit closer to him in hopes that this would deter her a little but it didn’t, it only made Dylan look at me like I was some harebrained lunatic. I probably was.

Once we got back on the road, I started thinking about where this could go with us and where it shouldn’t. Judging by the diner, I was obviously attracted to him. I stared at him shamelessly this morning without regard and he knew it. If I had to guess, I would say that he was attracted to me too but I wasn’t positive.

Watching the side of the road, other than flat land, it offered nothing for my questions. I had my legs pulled up to my chest contemplating what I wanted out of this.

I felt Dylan swerve the steering wheel slightly. The rumble strips vibrated my seat and I looked over at him.

He mumbled something I couldn’t hear before shifting uncomfortably and looking to his left out the window.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.” Diverting his eyes, he squinted a few times as if he was trying to adjust his vision.

Glancing down, I realized why he swerved.

My tank top was rather low and while I was hugging my legs, it had created quite the push up result on my boobs.

Classic.

Each city we passed through offered its own appeal to me. I wondered how many people had drove this same path only to stop and make a life for them. I could see myself doing the same thing.

It was incredibly hot driving through northern California that afternoon. With a steady breeze, it helped but the humidity was starting to get to me. Without thinking, I yanked my tank top over my head and tossed it beside me. Not that great of idea considering I only had my bra on but I was sweating and Dylan’s car had no air conditioning. It was my only option.

Dylan looked over at me and then averted his eyes back to the road. There was something about the way he looked at me that made me feel drunk though I had nothing to drink.

Steading the steering wheel with his knee, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it next to him on the seat. It rested next to mine. All I could smell was his rich intoxicating scent of lemon, lilac and oak again. I was seconds away from whimpering when I took in his chiseled form. He looked like a male model, only covered in tattoos.

For being eighteen, Dylan had a nice body and then you add the tattoos covering his upper body, this straight-laced mutineer was intrigued.

Dylan tipped his head to the side, glancing over at me and I could feel his weighted gaze and low voice. “You keep this shit up and we’ll be naked before we hit Sacramento.”

“So be it then.” I smiled back at him. “I’m hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” he mumbled looking to his left away from me.

Nothing was said for about two miles when Dylan groaned, as he ran his right hand down his face, before finding the steering wheel again. “You gotta put your fucking shirt back on.”

I kind of laughed but was more excited that he couldn’t concentrate. “You put yours’ back on or get air conditioning.”

Dylan gave me a look that said not happening on both demands.

“Hey,” I said trying to clarify myself, “you’re nearly naked too and I’m not really comfortable either. In fact, it’s distracting.”

“Just put your shirt on.”

“Put yours on.”

Neither one of us was budging on it so we gave up and settled on ignoring each other.

With the occasional glance at one another, we sat there, both defiantly stubborn, Dylan without his shirt on and me without mine.

After we stopped at a small roadside diner, Roger’s Frosty in Cottonwood, California, we started talking about what we wanted out of this trip.

“I want you to put your shirt back on,” Dylan had said to me and then followed that with, “what do you want to do?”

I knew what he was referring to and it had nothing to do with the shirt. He wanted to know why I came with him and what I wanted out of this trip, if it was even a trip. My mind still hadn’t settled on what this really was between us or where we were heading.

What did I want? I wanted him to keep his shirt off that’s for sure.

More than anything, I wanted to feel alive. I wanted to feel and appreciate a passion for something that I loved. For most of my life, I felt like a puppet on strings and I wanted that feeling gone. I had done what everyone else wanted me to do and now I didn’t know how to act. Like a puppet cut from its strings, I didn’t know how to be on my own but I knew I wanted to feel alive and in just these last two days, Dylan had done that for me. There was something about him, maybe his personality; that told me he had passion for something and a magic that I couldn’t place. In turn, like a sparkling diamond, I was captivated by him.

If you had asked me at three what I wanted to be, I would have said baseball player. I still love sports, especially baseball. But being a three-year-old baseball player didn’t fly with my parents. If you had asked me at five what I wanted to be, I would have said princess. That also didn’t fly with my parents. My dad said that being a princess is an image that’s not worth pursuing. At five, I had absolutely no idea what that meant but decided that I suddenly didn’t want to be a princess any longer.

See a pattern?

If you had asked me at ten what I wanted to be, I would have said the president of the United States. As you can see, that was the time my parents were a deciding factor. I stopped being asked what I wanted and started being told. Or was I ever really asked?

Then again, I never objected. I could have been just as much to blame as they were.

Truth be told, I had been so wrapped up in my life and the things that I thought were important, I had lost touch with many things, myself included. I was if I didn’t know me.

The guidance consoler at the school, Mrs. Wheeler, once asked me what I wanted in my life and I gave her the standard answer that seemed scripted by my parents, college and then of course, a career. But did I want that?

At the time, I thought I wanted that. I also tend to believe that I could put my head in the sand pretty far. I blame myself for that one. And then I would see people going to parties and being teenagers and those thoughts of the perfectly planned life seemed silly and I pulled my head out of the sand a little to check the tide.

The thoughts were still there. I felt that if I didn’t do as planned that I was being disrespectful. When your father is the Jeff Gray, disrespectful is something that is not allowed.

Part of the problem was that soon those moments of wanting to be good became few and far between until I felt like all they saw was what they wanted. No one saw me as a person.

Even Eric. He saw a girlfriend that by many standards was good to him. But something was missing. After a while, I thought maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

In the four years we were dating, we never got past that. Deep down, it wasn’t enough for me and I knew that. I liked to think that I’m an optimistic person but I will say that I’ve been let down a lot too. Eric had let me down.

I thought about all that for a good five minutes before I finally answered Dylan. “I want to make mistakes. I want to get in trouble and feel alive. Like dancing in the rain and being eighteen.”

“And what do eighteen-year-olds do?” he asked, his eyes drawn to a man standing near a picnic table.

“They get into trouble. Lots of trouble―like starting a riot,”

Dylan ignored my riot comment.

“This trouble you want to get into,” he shifted in his seat to look at me—one hand was still on the steering wheel and the other across the back of the seat, “will you regret it?”

I had a feeling that question went deeper than he intended.

“No―I won’t.” I told him honestly. “I want to let loose and do everything that I never had the guts to do back home.” I swallowed preparing myself and said what I wanted. “And I want to lose my virginity.”

There. I said it.

He shifted next to me but surprisingly, kept his cool. When he didn’t say anything, I continued fearing the silence. “I just need to find someone to do it with.” I began chewing on my fingernails in an attempt to distract myself.

Dylan blinked, his eyes dropping to his hands and didn’t miss a beat when he replied with, “What if it was me?”

“I would like that.”

With a bottle of whiskey and barely any clothes, we made out the summer bucket list in the parking lot of Roger’s Frosty of everything we intended to do to feel alive.

“Stripping…put that one there too.”

“Stripping?” he smirked, his eyebrow arched in question. “You’re actually going to strip? Oh right, you already started.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amused as he looked at me.

“Don’t judge me, just write.”

“I wasn’t judging you.” Dylan grinned writing my summer bucket list on the brown paper bag from our food. “Do I get to wa―?”

“I said write,” I motioned with my hand for him to continue, my legs bouncing in the seat with exhilaration at the possibility that right now, this summer, I could do and be anything I wanted, “preferably with a pole.”

“Come again?”

“For stripping, a pole for stripping,” I clarified. “Write that down.”

“Writing.”

“I want to smoke a cigarette and get drunk and maybe steal a car.”

“You’re already working on the drunk part.” He pointed out handing the whiskey back to me. “I’m sure I could find a pole somewhere if you want to just mark that one off now.”

The look he gave me was almost laughable. I say almost because I was too busy trying not to mount the boy. It was a justifiable response in my mind but then again I was trying not to rush into this.

I took the whiskey back looking at the label and wondering why they didn’t put a warning label on the outside of the bottle that said: May induce sexual behavior.

Dylan had ways of getting people do things he wanted and managed to convince a bum on the street to buy us a bottle of whiskey for fifty bucks and a pack of smokes.

Now we were enjoying that whiskey.

I wasn’t a fan of whiskey just like I wasn’t a big fan of the beer last night. Dylan got a good laugh at my first drink and told me his grandpa’s words of wisdom: It’ll put hair on your balls.

“I don’t want hair anywhere.” I told him completely serious and eyeing him like he was crazy for suggesting that I needed hair on my balls. Not that I had them.

“So bare…” Dylan smiled keeping his gaze from mine by taking another shot of whiskey, “huh.”

“I’m not even going to answer that one.”

“I wasn’t asking. I was imagining.”

I took the bottle from him wondering if he was capable of a conversation that he didn’t turn sexual. Probably not.

The whiskey burned and tasted like shit but I enjoyed the feeling it gave me. That tingly warm feeling was giving me the courage to talk about stripping and my virginity.

“I want to get a tattoo.” I paused before looking over at him. My legs rested against the dashboard as he finished writing. “And lose my virginity. Don’t forget to write that down.”

Nodding, his smirk was evident along with the increased breath, but he wrote my virginity at the end of the list and tossed it on the dashboard in front of him. I looked at the bag to see what he wrote and noticed the last one said “innocence” instead of virginity.

“What about you?” I asked glancing over at him. “Aren’t you going to write yours down?”

“I’m gonna do any goddamn thing I want to.” He told me pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before tossing his lighter on the dash over the bag.

I like his lips around the end of a cigarette, and I love the way he squints his eyes when he inhales. When he holds the smoke in his lungs and smiles, I wanted to scream.

“You’re not going to write a list?”

“Nope, I’m going to be spontaneous. Take my list city by city. If I want to piss alongside the road, well then, I’m gonna whip it out.” His blue eyes twinkled mischievously.

I think I fainted with the way he said whip it out and I really wanted to be around when that whip it out took place.

Drinking alcohol does things to people besides flushed cheeks. Now I understood why it did that. It gives you liquid confidence too. Confidence you ordinarily didn’t have, or at least I didn’t ordinarily have it.

Somehow, and I blame this on that whiskey, we started a game of confessions that started with me complaining about my pinky toe that had no toenail. It was weird shaped and I found it cute but annoying because of the way it curved I had no toenail on it. Both feet were that way too.

Dylan smiled. “I have a nipple ring.”

I knew that already, I saw it earlier. “My legs are too long for my body.”

“You’re a woman, that’s impossible. Long legs are awesome.” I took another shot and then he said, “I have a birth mark on my ass that looks like a naked lady. I’m quite proud of it actually.”

“I once tried to give myself a nose ring and ended getting a bloody nose. It was a mess.”

Dylan laughed.

“My ass is too big.”

Dylan smirked. “Also not possible,”

“It is possible to have an ass that’s too big.”

“While I would agree it is possible, yes, yours is perfect,” he laughed dropping his head back against the seat looking up at the headliner. “Ah, my weakness,”

“What?”

“Your ass.” he clarified keeping his eyes on the headliner.

I thought for a moment pushing the bottle of whiskey back at him. Dylan took a drink straight from the bottle just as I had done.

“Tell me about these nipple rings.” My eyes were locked ahead of me refusing to look anywhere else. The darkness around us was again comforting. He couldn’t see my cheeks warming this way. “When did you get them?”

“I got them a few years ago.” Dylan examined the bottle seeming to find the wrapper interesting just as I had done earlier. “I was drunk and let some chick do it. Hurt like hell.”

“Can I see them?” I finally snuck a glance at him. He was staring at me, his eyes glowing.

“Wrap those long legs around me and I’ll show them,” he drawled out slowly, his eyelids heavy and drooping.

Was he drunk? Or maybe he wasn’t…oh…maybe he was turned on?

I’m not sure if it was to tease me or just to be a total guy in that moment but he chuckled shifting again and leaned slightly in my direction. His right hand slipped from the wheel and rested on his stomach and then not so nonchalantly, he lifted his shirt, slipped his hand down the front of his shorts and adjusted himself.

I tried not to look…but I did. It was one of the hottest gestures I’d ever seen.

He did that on purpose. I knew that. And to make matters worse, when he started the car right after that, he changed the playlist on his iPod to All Night Long. Nothing was said until I burst out laughing, my hands over my heated face to hide my embarrassment and blush.

Naturally, he grinned playing the drums with his hand on the steering wheel. Feeling the music, I reached over to the volume and turned it up. Dylan glanced at me but said nothing, he too, feeling the music.

A subwoofer I didn’t know he had thumped vibrating my seat as I settled back into the comfortable black leather.

Tossing the whiskey bottle in the back seat, we drove about a mile down the road to a rest stop where we decided to park for now while we tried to find a nearby hotel. We talked about getting a tent or something for camping as that might make it easier than finding a hotel every night but we had no set plans.

As Dylan looked on his phone for a hotel, I listened to the lyrics and I couldn’t help but think about what this summer would offer me. Then, my eighteen-year-old hormonal body, thought about what all night long would mean.

I didn’t have any experience sexually. None other than kissing and some pent us frustration. Hell, I hadn’t even clicked my own mouse, as Mercedes would put it.

Now, with Dylan teasing me, and the hormones surfacing, touching seemed like a good thing to try. I once watched a YouTube video with Mercedes and another friend Jessica Long of a porno. We talked briefly about it but out of the three of us, I was the only one that hadn’t had sex. In fact, out of most of my friends, I was the only one that was still a virgin.

Mercedes lost hers sophomore year to Kasey, or so she told me, and Jessica, she had lost hers at Homecoming to her boyfriend of the last few years Brian.

I would ask Eric at times why we didn’t want to have sex with me and he would tell me that I was like a treasure to him, something he wanted to keep untouched. To me it seemed stupid and something that Elvis Presley did to his wife Priscilla to keep her to himself. I tried many times to get Eric to do more with me but he always put an end to it early on. I felt him get hard once but that was it. Turns out, he didn’t have the desire to because he was getting it elsewhere. It made me wonder how many times they had been together and how long they had kept it from me. I wondered what Kasey thought of it and if Jessica had known all along. The more my mind played over conversations we all had together the more it made sense to me.

My thoughts twisted to Dylan again and the attraction I was feeling for him. Maybe it was the mystery of him or that we were alone, together, with no one to stop us but the thoughts of him being my first was more than exciting.

While I dreamt of things I shouldn’t have, Dylan switched playlists often never leaving it on one particular genre for long. He seemed to have a vast variety of songs and artists and surprisingly a lot of the same songs I had on my iPod. The thought that we shared interests made me smile and more comfortable with the decision to leave with him.

Dylan said he found a hotel about ten miles away so he waited a few minutes to sober up and then we got back on the Interstate.

The music provided a nice filler too of what didn’t need to be said. Sometimes, most of the time, I think people talk too much. I enjoyed the silence and appreciated it for what it was.

Eric and Mercedes always talked. I couldn’t go anywhere without either of them talking my ear off. After a while I got good at tuning them out but now I understood what I had been missing out on—the silence and not having to tune anyone out.

Before long, and feeling the effects of the few shots of whiskey I had, I fell asleep with my face pressed to the window and Dylan’s sweatshirt as a pillow.

5.       Leaving – Dylan Wade

When I left home, I intended to leave alone. I wasn’t running from anything, but I never planned to stay in Olympia.

I knew I would leave. That much had been planned.

My life there had nothing to offer me other than another trip to jail.

Why I left?

Well, that was a long time coming.

I didn’t have any epiphany or anything. I wasn’t expecting to. After Drew, my older brother, left, I didn’t want to be there any longer and there was nothing holding me there.

It took me some time to decide that I was really leaving as I had a full scholarship to Juilliard for my music but I wasn’t going.

That life wasn’t for me and it pissed me off that Landon’s mom had applied for me.

Graduation day wasn’t exactly the day I had planned to leave either but that morning, seeing my dad drunk again, I decided enough was enough. For a man that watched his wife die at the hands of what that very bottle did, he was a piece of shit with absolutely no self-respect.

I for one wouldn’t stand to be subjected to his constant fucking mood swings and abuse. I’m not saying he was abusive in the sense that I was hit regularly but when he punched me at the school; it wasn’t the first time he’d laid a hand on me. For eight years, I took it. Now, I wouldn’t any longer. I understood why Drew left when he did. I only wished he had taken me with him. But then again there was Bailey, and something about her forced me to stay.

Now that I had left, I would be happy never speaking to my dad again or talking about him. I didn’t have any emotional anger issues that resulted from it nor did I think about it. What I thought about was who blames a ten-year-old for the death of his mother?

Ken Wade did.

Who blames a fourteen-year-old for his brother running away?

Ken Wade did.

It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t driving the car that crossed the center line. But I knew who it was and that didn’t sit well with me at all and essentially was another reason why I left.

I was heartbroken when my mom was taken from me. She was everything to me in my world. She was more than a mother, she was my friend. I had no idea how to react to it but I also wasn’t given a chance to. I was forced to act like it didn’t happen. For that reason, I did what most kids would do at ten. I acted out. I expressed myself in ways that got me in trouble, which in turn caused more tension between me and Ken.

I also wasn’t to blame for Drew leaving. When he nearly overdosed, I found him, yes, but our dad’s reaction was just to ignore it. That was why Drew ended up leaving. He would never get help here and my dad was really hard on him. I can’t say that I agreed with Drew’s way of using but it wasn’t my place.

I think Ken’s deal with us boys was that he never wanted kids. I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for us. I say that because it’s a fact. Drew was an accident and so was I. My mom was seventeen when Drew was born; our dad was twenty-nine. That right there seemed odd to me but again, that wasn’t his fault if you asked him. It was my fault because Drew ruined his good time with his under-aged playmate. Over the years, he blamed us for a lot of things because it was easier than blaming him.

I’d like to tell you that this never had a lasting effect on either of us but I’d probably be lying. Drew turned to drugs; I got into trouble, bad trouble a few times.

Like it or not, the daddy who hated us, caused some unreserved anger at times.

I have never been a violent person for the most part but if provoked, yeah, I reacted like any other person when pushed enough. When it came to douchebags, I reacted. My dad was one of those douchebags. Of all the times Ken had laid a hand on either of us, we never fought back. Drew did once, the day he left. For the most part, we didn’t want him to see that we were affected by him.

With all that came my decision to leave. It happened graduation day. As I watched Bailey, a raging grace of unspoken words, she was finally standing up for herself, something inside me reacted too.

For months, I had a bag in my car, ready to leave at any time but for myself, I would graduate first. Then when I heard her speech, it was decided for me.

I was leaving that day. At the time, I had no idea where that summer would take us and if you had told me what I know now, that day, I wouldn’t have changed anything. Well, maybe a few details but not a lot.

Ken, more than likely still drunk, walked over to my car after the ceremony. I was surprised he even came to watch. Usually he was either at the bar or his office. Why he felt the need to come to his son’s graduation was a mystery to me. “And where do you think you’re going?” he said stumbling to my car.

Part of me, the stubborn eighteen-year-old didn’t want to tell him. The reality of it was that it wasn’t his decision any longer. I had no more ties to him and hadn’t since October when I turned eighteen and discovered that he had lied to me for years.

“I’m leaving,” I said to him preparing for his response and knowing it wouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Why?” He seemed hurt by the decision but I also knew deep down it meant nothing to him. I was simply a tax deduction at this point.

I shrugged appearing distracted. I was distracted. I just wanted to get away from him and out of this fucking town for good.

“Tell me why you’re leaving.” He pressed stepping closer. “Is it because of Drew?”

My body tensed naturally knowing his next move when I said. “Because it’s time. You don’t need me here anymore. Now you can have your bottle but I won’t be your excuse any longer.”

“I can’t believe you.” His tone took on a defensive pitch. “You fuck up my life for eighteen years and now you’re just leaving. Just like your mom and brother? Are you going to see Drew?”

Shaking my head, I tried to ignore him. This wasn’t a fight I wanted to have and it was none of his business if I was going to see Drew or not.

“You’re never going to amount to anything with that shit music you play.”

Ken knew the one thing that would set me over the edge. He used it against me frequently. When I was twelve, my uncle Eddy gave me an acoustic guitar for my birthday. When I got into trouble at school, he made me watch as he burned it in the backyard. He did shit like that. He took the one thing you loved and destroyed it.

There was one thing I took pride in and that was my music. Ken knew that. When he wanted a reaction from me, he used that. I wasn’t trying to make a career out of it but it was something I put all of myself into. He knew what it meant.

“Fuck you,” I screamed losing control. “You don’t know anything about me!”

There was more truth to that statement than he would ever understand but he didn’t hear me. He never would.

And as I expected, he hit me.

“You ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything you ever needed and that’s how you repay me?”

To my dad, leaving was disrespectful as he felt, and this was a constant debate between us, that if anyone left him, they were being ungrateful. My mom included. It didn’t matter to him that she was killed in a car accident and that it had nothing to do with him. In his eyes, she left. Same with Drew. It didn’t matter that he nearly overdosed and needed to get clean. To Ken that didn’t mean a goddamn thing.

After all this with my dad that afternoon, I wasn’t expecting was Bailey.

For years I wanted to talk to her, comfort her in a way I didn’t know how to. When my mom died, she comforted me. She held me when I cried. But then, as I got older and started looking for ways to rebel, I never heard from her again. When I turned eighteen, I understood why she was pushed away from me but at the time, it hurt to know I lost the only true friend I had.

All along, I saw through the barrier Bailey had, just as I knew she saw through mine. Sometimes you just know a person. It doesn’t matter if you never talk. You know them. You have a silent connection. We had that through lingering stares and unspoken gestures such a brush of the shoulder in the hall or a smile thrown her way.

I almost talked to her at Homecoming. My only purpose there was to piss people off. That was my first riot charge too, but I got a smile out of her that night.

I watched her that night. Hell, I watched her every day but that night, dressed in a lilac gown, she was beautiful and I desperately wanted to talk to her, tell her how I felt and what I knew about her family that she didn’t.

As I sat in the shadows, before the riot, I watched her in the arms of a guy that knew nothing about her.

I wanted her. Fuck did I want her. Not going to lie here but Bailey Gray was and always had been a fantasy for me. It started around twelve and never let up. You’d be surprised how often I thought of her, more than I cared to admit, and when she wasn’t looking, I dreamed of showing those ways. Most of which were in my bed obviously but I cared for Bailey too.

Not only was I insanely attracted to her, she was like a breath of fresh air for me and she never knew. I saw her at school, didn’t say anything, but I instantly felt reprieve from everything I felt crushing me.

I hated the way everyone around her controlled her. She believed lies because they were the only truth she knew. The truths she didn’t know were devastating. You couldn’t blame her for being naïve. She didn’t know any different just like I didn’t until November.

I’m not sure why I asked her to come, but something inside of me wanted her with me, to make her see the illusions around her. I knew given the chance, I could show her that I wasn’t a bad guy and was something she needed. I only hoped what I couldn’t say, what I didn’t want to say wouldn’t push her away.

Standing in front of my car, seeing her stick up for me, I knew if I ever had a chance to show Bailey I had been waiting on her for eight years, I had to act right then.

“Come with me,” I mouthed to her knowing my voice wouldn’t be heard over my dad. Maybe I should have kept my fucking mouth shut but I didn’t.

When she watched my lips move, I knew she felt something. All I did was smile and I saw that look on her face I saw when we were seven and kissed her after she skinned her knee running from me. I still remember that first kiss like it was yesterday.

I only hoped she wouldn’t run anymore.

I kept my distance all those years. Anything I said to her would have gone unnoticed or ignored. If she was with me, alone, maybe I could make her see there was more to life that living for someone else. I think the reason I felt so much for Bailey was because any moment of content I had growing up had her in it.

I smiled trying to win her over. My mom used to tell me that I was charming and deep down I liked to think that I was. If I had one good quality left from her, I hoped it was that. I had her smile. My mom was a good person and honest, two traits I hoped that I was. Maybe I wasn’t a good person, given I was in trouble a lot, but what really defines a good person anyway?

Maybe I would find the answer, maybe I wouldn’t. Truth be told, I didn’t care to find any answers. I wanted to feel alive again and just an hour into that trip with Bailey, I felt that sitting next to her. Bailey had more to offer than she thought.

Watching her sleep now, her dark ginger hair sprawled across the seat, lips pushed into a pout that I wanted to press my lips to and her thick auburn lashes fluttering ever so slightly, I wasn’t sure if the decision was right for either one of us but I wanted to find out. More than anything, I wanted Bailey to see what had been waiting for her. Me. She needed to see that there was one person out there that would treat her the way she deserved to be treated and wouldn’t lie to her. The shitty part was that though I wasn’t lying, I wasn’t telling her everything I knew. Part of me didn’t want to.

“I’ll take care of you,” I whispered against her forehead. She hummed and curled into my lap finding a more blissful sleep.

My hand draped over her and I knew then that I would take care of her. No matter what, I would take care of her. Even if I were simply a friend, I would be that. My body might have an objection but it wasn’t about that any longer. It was about Bailey and making her feel alive.

There was something powerful between us. Something neither one of us could walk away from.

In the end, I wanted her to have the time of her life.

6.      Shown n’ Tell – Bailey Gray

We were somewhere outside of Pacheco State Park in California the following afternoon because Dylan took a wrong turn and adamantly refused to ask for directions. Not that we really had any idea where we were going anyway but still, we were lost. Now we sat staring at maps trying to find our way back to the highway and eating lunch.

Dylan tipped his head to the side and looked over at me drinking his chocolate milk shake he had to have, tossing the map on the dashboard. “Have you ever been cow tipping?”

I watched his lips closely as he took a long pull from the straw and the indenting of his cheeks. “No. Have you?” I shoved another fry in my mouth enjoying them. I was never allowed to eat fried foods and now that I could, I took advantage of it.

“Yeah, once with Landon.” He took another drink, his eyes drifting to a farm in the distance. “You wanna do it?”

“Could we be arrested?”

“It’s possible. Highly unlikely here but it’s possible.”

“Let’s do it then.”

A few miles after pulling off the side of the road, we found a pasture with cows.

Our plan was to sneak up on them but when I sneezed, the cow kicked Dylan in the shin.

“You…had to…” he fell over clutching his leg in pain. “Fuck…”

“I’m so sorry.” I cringed looking at his now bloody calf. “I’m allergic or something.” I sneezed once more and then let out a nervous giggle when the cow kicked again. Fortunately, Dylan had moved out of the way this time.

“You could have mentioned that before we came out here…” he voice trailed off when we heard noises off to our left. “What was that?”

We could hear a munching noise and I was sure it wasn’t the cow as it was now sitting beside Dylan.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked frantically clinging to his side.

“We need to go.” He told me reaching for my hand. “With our luck it’s the owner of this place.”

“But what is it?” The curious side of me won and I ran off the other direction, toward the noise.

“Bailey!” Dylan shouted but kept his voice somewhat restricted. “Get back here.”

“I just wanna see what that was.”

Dylan caught up with me quickly. “Come on.” His arm looped around mine tugging me the other direction. “Let’s go.”

I had dance skills from cheerleading all those years and spun out of his embrace, running from him, all the while, laughing.

I’m not sure if it was my laughing or what, but somehow, we attracted whatever it was making all that noise while we played grab ass in a field full of cows.

When I saw what was making the noise, I wished I had listened to him.

“Dylan,” Once again, I was clinging to his side, both of us breathing ragged from the exertion and being scared out of our goddamn minds that a bull was not more than twenty feet from us.

Dylan’s head slowly turned toward mine. “Awesome Bailey, just fucking awesome,” he said sarcastically.

“Sorry.” I bit down on my lip trying my best to look like a scared little girl to gain sympathy. I don’t think it worked one bit.

“Don’t even try that.” His grim expression told me he had no pity for me.

“What do we do now?”

“We get back to the car, quickly.”

“The car is like a half mile away, Dylan. What if it attacks us?”

“I suggest you stop talking and start backing.”

Remaining quiet and not making eye contact with the bull, we receded from it. A few feet from the car, and thinking we were safe, we turned and ran only to have the bull charge into the side of his car, on the driver’s side, once we were inside.

I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn’t. Saying sorry seemed like a ridiculous thing to say knowing this car was the only possession Dylan cared about. So sparing myself any paltry response, I stared straight ahead, sensing Dylan was staring me as the bull once again rammed his car, rocking the car from side to side.

We just sat there, him staring at me, me staring straight ahead.

After the third time, I felt the need to interject.

“Really?” I threw my hands up in the air. “We’re just gonna sit here?”

He just shook his head slowly, glaring, his nostrils flaring out in anger. “Next time, listen to me when I tell you it’s time to go.”

With one last look at me, and I’m sure that it was another glare but I refused to look at him, Dylan put the keys in the ignition and we finally drove away. The bull followed for a moment but lost interest when gravel sprayed up at him from Dylan’s burnout.

Nothing more was said until I think fear got the best of him and he had to look at the damage. Along the road, he once again pulled over and assessed the situation. I noticed we were now near a sign that said San Luis Reservoir State Park Recreational Area two miles.

“Oh my god!” he screamed. “Jesus Christ, look at this fucking dent!”

I didn’t have to look. I felt horrible and I couldn't look in his direction because I was nearing tears, knowing that I had caused this.

“It’s not that bad.”

I couldn’t believe I said that, but I did, still staring straight ahead.

“Not that bad, eh?” He slammed the door as he got in. His hand reached up to aggregately scratch the top of his head. He was beyond angry by that point. “You’re unbelievable. Do you know how much that is going to cost me?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“With what?” Dylan snorted clearly not amused. “Daddy’s money? He can’t buy his way out of everything and neither can you.”

I wasn’t sure what that even meant but my mouth had something to say before I had time to process it completely.

“Okay, don’t be a jerk. I said I was sorry, I meant it. Let’s move on. Or in our case, let’s drive on.”

“Being sorry has nothing to do with it. This is a fucking collector’s car, Bailey. Beside a guitar, it’s the only thing that’s actually mine and I bought it myself. Believe it or not people have to buy things on their own sometimes without the help of their parents.”

He was doing this on purpose and while I understand why, it was unnecessary and mean and it was pissing me off with each word.

I said nothing. I wasn’t resorting to childish arguing. I did in fact know that it was my fault and that it was that bad but I didn’t care to admit right then.

Like the typical girl, I started crying.

Say a few mean words to me and the tears flowed.

“Damn it.” His hand dropped to the wheel with force. “Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t say anything as tears constricted me.

His hand reached out to rub my back. “I’m sorry.” His voice told me he was sorry but his eyes said he was still pissed.

“I know.”

I’m not sure if he didn’t want to make matters worse or if he didn’t know what to say but instead of speaking again, he started the car and got back on the road without another word.

It was nearing sunset, my favorite time of day, when Dylan finally spoke to me again after the car disaster.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?” His eyebrows waggled at the end, his tense mood shifting from the bull incident. I learned right about then that Dylan’s moods shifted quickly and usually without much warning. “I need to get my leg cleaned up and San Luis Reservoir is around here,”

I told him I had never been skinny-dipping and that I would love to go. I’m not going to lie. His comment about daddy’s money still stung but I get that he was upset and said what came to mind. Truth be told, everything I did was with daddy’s money so in actuality, he wasn’t lying.

We’d been in the car all day trying to make it to San Jose by sundown. The bull incident set us back a little. Dylan had to spend an hour just trying to get the door to open—now we both had to enter on the passenger’s side. I was not about to complain and was in no position to complain.

I wasn’t sure he was serious about skinny-dipping or if this was just a topic to pass time, but when he pulled down the long dirt road, I was sure he wasn’t joking. I was beginning to understand, Dylan didn’t joke. What he said, he meant, which I found extremely comforting. Most of my life people treaded around me because I was the Mayor’s daughter. I wanted to know the truth and Dylan did that for me. He told me the way it was going to be and I never had to second-guess.

“You said you wanted to go skinny dipping.” Dylan hollered from the water, his clothes in a trail leading to the lake. “Get your ass out of the goddamn car.”

Over his shoulder, the sun was had nearly set, just a sliver remained peeking above the lake like it would be swallowed by the water any second. Watching him, I smiled at here he was trying to get me to try new things and be eighteen like I wanted to be and here I was, fighting it.

While Dylan held no ounce of modesty, I was suffering from extreme stage fright. Having never been naked in front of anyone since I was what like, five, I was beginning to doubt this bucket list already. Shit has changed down there since I was five and stage fright was with me in full force.

What if I didn’t look like he expected me to? What if the other girls he had been with had better bodies? What if their boobs were bigger?

“Fuck Bailey,” his irritation was much more evident with each word, “today sometime.”

“Make me.” I coaxed buying myself some time for good measure.

His eyebrow arched. “You’re really going to challenge me again?”

“Where are your clothes?” I asked as I finally stepped outside the car, dragging my feet in the black pebble rocks attempting to stall. I’m not sure why I asked where his clothes were. I was staring at them in the scattered weeds that broke through the dirt and gravel.

“It’s skinny dipping,” he groaned and threw his arms up as if to say I was taking too much time deciding on this. “You don’t wear clothes.”

“So I have to take all my clothes off?”

“Fuck, have you been living under a goddamn rock? Just take your clothes off and get in, that’s skinny-dipping. It shouldn’t be this complicated.”

“Have you done this before?”

Dylan snorted and ran his fingers through his wet hair as he stood waist deep in water. “Nope, now get out here.”

Slowly, and I do mean slowly, I stripped behind the door of his car. First went my shirt, then my bra followed by my jean shorts and then underwear.

There. I did it. Well almost. Now I had to get in.

“Close your eyes!” I yelled out using the door as a shield. Too bad, I forgot there was a window.

He smiled seeing my boobs through the glass. I could hear the groan from where I stood and watched him turn his back to me in the water, grumbling the entire time. “You need to get over your fears,” he said mostly to himself but I still heard it. “You’re being ridiculous about this. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked girl before.”

Oh, way to make me feel better.

Moving quickly before he had the chance to look, I was up to my shoulders in the water and facing him.

Twisting to face me, his eyes wandered south noticing I was crouching trying not to let my breasts be seen.

“I hope you know how to swim,” he warned.

What happened next was not what I expected. With his hands on my hips, Dylan lifted my bare ass out of the water and threw me over his shoulder to tread into deeper water.

“Dylan!” I shrieked. My ass was in the air and Dylan had now seen me completely naked.

Perfect.

My voice carried throughout the canyon, as did Dylan’s laughter.

I was thoroughly mortified to say the least and screamed bloody murder until he put me down, his eyes tense and for the first time; we were inches from each other and naked, breathing heavy.

He stared at me. I stared back, waiting, watching, daring each other to move.

Looking down at me, my hands rested on his shoulders over the ink I so desperately wanted to explore and understand the meaning behind each one.

His stare, so serious, but relaxed, searched mine. When I closed my eyes, his hand that was on my waist moved to cradle my face.

“Brown eyes,” he said, so quietly that I almost didn’t hear it. I heard him swallow and when he pulled me closer, his heart was pounding in his chest, or maybe it was mine but I thought it was both of ours.

Hearing that was all the courage that I needed because for once in my life, I was taking the risk first. I wanted that kiss. Since I had admitted to him that I had a crush on him when we were younger and he laughed, I wanted to kiss him and show him what I meant by that.

Now was that chance.

Standing on my tiptoes, I wrapped my arms around his neck threading my hands in his hair to pull him down to me. His mouth found my jaw first, kissing along it until he met my lips.

When his mouth found mine, he took my bottom lip between his lips, soft and hesitant like he was trying me out.

With a jerked motion, his fingers dove into my hair, winding in the wet stands and he inhaled deeply. Our lips parted together and he slid one hand around my waist pressing me flush against his chest. I felt his heart pounding in beat with mine, calling to him. When I felt his tongue for the first time, I was thankful that he was holding onto me because I melted, knees weakening.  As pathetic and trite as that sounded, I felt it.

Dylan shifted his hold on me, his hands finding my hips again.

No one had ever kissed me like that, like he wanted to devour me but he was holding back, like he was memorizing my mouth and the curve of me against him. It felt good to have someone treat me like this. It felt good to feel like someone couldn’t get enough of me.

I’d never felt like that before, so alive with sensations that burst throughout me. I felt it deep in my bones like a shock wave.

When we finally pulled apart, needing to breathe, he leaned his forehead against mine, out of breath.

Dylan swallowed, his eyes remained on mine blinking slowly. My tongue danced behind my lips savoring the taste of him on me.

“We should probably get goin’.” Dylan suggested, still staring at me. It was like he was waiting for me to react or push him away.

“You know,” I began trying to catch my breath and not focus on his hard on I could feel in the water and hoping to god it wasn’t a fucking snake. “You got to see my girly bits…it’s your turn.”

He laughed just as I thought, running his hand across the back of his neck and stepping away from me. “Well I’m pretty sure you just felt mine so I think we might be even.”

“No, we’re not.” I stepped back about a foot making sure I was covered in the water again. “My boobs were pressed against your chest. That’s the same thing.”

“No,” he shook his head still smiling. “It’s not the same at all.”

I knew he saw everything when I was thrown over his shoulder and tossed in the water. He wasn’t winning this battle.

“Is this like that game where you show me yours,” he laughed, “and I’ll show you mine?”

“Exactly sport, now let’s go but you first.”

His grin was wide as he shoved me playfully. “You’re sometimes a shithead.”

As we made our way wading through the water to the shore, I fell behind on purpose and he knew, walking slowly in front of me.

When he got to waist deep water and his backside was about to be revealed, he looked over his shoulder.  “You might want to steady yourself. I have a nice fucking ass.”

I threw my head back and laughed at quite possibly the cutest ass ever. Perfect, round, bite worthy even. If I thought his chest and arms were lean, his ass looked like it’d been carved with a chisel as well. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on him.

Suddenly self-conscious, I covered myself as I stumbled to the shore slipping on the rocks.

My ass was not that nice. In fact, it was probably bigger than his and definitely had some fat on it compared to him. I had always had a dancer’s body with an athletic build but I also carried just a little bit of fat that never seemed to go away. It always made me hide a little more when around others because Mercedes, who I was always around, had the best body in our school that most guys dreamed about including Eric.

Dylan turned once he got to the car. I glanced between my legs and shook my head, dejected.

“It’s not possible.” I told myself, suddenly afraid for my vagina’s life when the time came for what Dylan referred to as my innocence. I knew now that what I felt in the water was not a snake but might as well have been.

He laughed again and walked toward me when I got to the edge of the water, my eyes stayed focused between his legs though he was now wearing his shorts. Pathetic I know, but I seriously could not divert my eyes.

Look away.

Once standing in front of me, inches away, his hand ghosted lightly across my bare collarbone and moved to tilt my head up, a towel in his hand brushed against the side of my body as he wrapped it around me. “Like what you see?”

“Do you?” When I glanced into his eyes wrapping the towel around me, I wished that I had half the confidence in my body that he did in his.

“I’ve always liked what I see.” Dylan clarified, eyes holding mine. “Now answer the question.”

“I’m scared.” I admitted searching his eyes and finding that the teasing smile had returned. “Of that,” my eyes dropped gesturing between his legs.

He let out an anxious laugh, his demeanor abruptly shy. “Why?”

“Uh, cause you’re huge. It’s abnormal or something.”

Another laugh, this time he pulled me closer to the car where my clothes were. “It’s not abnormal,” Standing straight, he winked, “I assure you.”

“So you say…that thing could kill someone.” I gave him my own wink adjusting the towel higher.

Dylan turned around and moved around the other side of the car leaving me to get dressed. Finding my clothes, I heard the gravel crunch beneath Dylan’s feet and I knew he was standing behind me again.

“You wanna find out?” I was suddenly whirled and pressed against the side of his rammed car, praying no ramming of our own was going to take place just yet. I needed time to adjust to this whole size thing and the concept of actually having sex.

Dylan’s burning eyes were glowing with the sunset, his hair flickering in the tawny light.

And then before I could say anything, his hands slid down my sides to my thighs where he lifted and placed me on the front fender. Next thing I knew, he was kissing me passionately but then sighed and backed away holding me at arms-length. “I won’t until you’re ready, and you’re not, yet.” He stepped back completely and pulled his shirt over his head before zipping his shorts. “Get dressed before I do something I’m going to regret.”

I glanced over my shoulder as he gathered my clothes from the hood of his car and handed them to me. Sighing, I got dressed while he kept busy with his iPod and then got inside the car where he was waiting for me.

Not only was I thinking about his penis and its size but I was also aware that Dylan had more tattoos in places I never knew like his lower abs, his legs, his feet, arms, lots of them and I wanted to meticulously survey all of them knowing each one held a private meaning to him. It wasn’t like he was covered in ink but he did have a lot of them. It made me want to get one even more. Like something that would tie me to him, a memory of this time together. Part of me, the girly part, wondered if he would want to get matching tattoos. It was a crazy thought and made me think of some kind of blood brothers sacrifice.

There were these two boys in my freshman English class that were so close that they did everything together and one day near the end of our freshman year they came to school with matching skull tattoos on their necks. A little strange but I envied their friendship.

When we left, I had a feeling that Dylan preferred to express himself through his song selections.

The song that came on once we hit the highway heading south toward Bakersfield, Boys II Men I’ll Make Love To You.

If I wasn’t falling for Dylan Wade before, I was now. I was remembering exactly how the boy in him had stolen my heart when we were kids.

When we made it to Bakersfield, the city was thriving for a Sunday night. Lights lit the buildings and people roamed the streets as we pulled off the highway.

We ended up getting a room at the Travelodge around one in the morning only to find they only had one room left with one bed. It seemed this was becoming a habit. After that kiss in the water, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep to myself. One bed didn't help either, nor was Dylan with his frequent teasing and needing to take his shirt off.

Damn him.

As soon as we entered the room, my eyes were drawn to the window as the tenth floor room with views of the city still bursting with its nightlife. It made me want to walk the streets. But then again I could barely beep my eyes opened so I knew that wasn’t happening.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Dylan asked kicking the door shut with his foot as he balanced his guitar next to the wall to set down his bag on the bed. He refused to leave his guitar in the car after the bull incident. He thought for sure, even in a secured parking garage, someone was going to steal it.

Silently I was hoping this meant he might play for me tonight. I hadn’t seen him play since he was nine and I was sure he was better now. Even at nine-years-old, he had talent. The word around school was that he had a full scholarship to Juilliard for that talent but I hadn’t asked him about it yet. Jessica had heard from Landon that he got in because Landon’s mom had applied for him. When Dylan found out they offered him a scholarship, he wasn’t pleased and turned it down. But that could have been all rumors for all I knew.

“Bailey?” Dylan called out when I didn’t answer his question about the shower.

“Sorry, no, I’ll just take one in the morning.” I sat down on the bed kicking off my flip-flops before laying back. “I’m too tired.”

“I’m gonna take one.” He whispered slipping inside the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on and that’s the last thing I remembered.

The next thing I remembered was waking up, under the covers still clothed staring at those fucking tattoos on Dylan’s back again. It was like they were taunting me.

It didn’t take me long and I was examining them as he slept. The morning light filtering inside the room provided just enough light. His back moved lightly with his breathing so I stole my chance.

There appeared to be a dragon that started on his chest and then moved over his right shoulder and down his back. It was massive in length and took up most of his shoulders and upper back.

On his left shoulder was more detail of stars and what looked to be a cross with a name written in the middle of it and a chain wrapped around it. When I looked closer, it was his mother’s name surrounded by sparrows, three of them to be exact.

Dylan’s arm was tucked under his pillow so I got a good look at the ones on his left arm too. I couldn’t make out much just that there was a lot of detail in each one. I wondered how long it took him to get all of these.

I remember in school when I first noticed a tattoo on him. It was our sophomore year in PE when he came in wearing shorts and a t-shirt and his forearms had tattoos on them. He wasn’t the only kid in school to have them. Nowadays it was deemed abnormal not to have them. I was in that group. The extent of my body art was pierced ears and that wasn’t even considered art.

I’m not sure why but one particular tattoo on his right wrist was interesting to me and I thought, stupid me, that if he was sleeping that I could get a closer look.

If you had a camera on me in that instant, you would have laughed because there I was, on all fours, peeking over Dylan’s shoulder as he slept trying to decipher what kind of bird was on his wrist and the writing that surrounded it.

Turns out, I was not clever and Dylan wasn’t sleeping.

“All you have to do is ask me what it is,” he said scaring the living shit right out of me as he rolled onto his back.

With that roll, I was basically hovering over him.

Dylan closed his eyes; his right arm rose and rested against his forehead, the inside of his wrist facing me for a clear view.

That’s when I noticed a humming bird.

I had always had a fascination with humming birds for as long as I could remember. Dylan knew that too because for my eighth birthday he gave me a stuffed humming bird to which I still had.

There, on Dylan’s wrist, was a small humming bird about the size of a quarter wrapped in a chain. Around it was a scripture that appeared to be in a foreign language.

“Why is it wrapped in chains?”

“Why is anything wrapped in chains?”

“Because it’s confined?”

“Answer’s your questions, doesn’t it?” His voice was calm, even, and you could feel the tension rolling through him.

“What does it say?”

His eyes remained closed as he spoke, his voice rough with sleep. “Humming birds are said to have supernatural powers.” Then his eyes opened, and he blinked a few times focusing on my anxious stare, waiting, deciding. “The words around it say ‘She holds the power to which she will never know’.”

7.       Out of my head – Bailey Gray

I had no idea what to say when I realized what Dylan’s tattoo meant―the magnitude of it at least.

Did his tattoo have something to do with me?

Dylan didn’t want questions asked, that much was evident when he pushed me back and headed to his jeans that were beside the bed to find his cigarettes.

I watched him move with ease to the balcony dressed in those Nike shorts from the other day that hung so low on his hips. Not only was I thinking about his tattoos, I also couldn’t forget that kiss last night in the water and his casualness surrounding it this morning and last night. For me is was the best kiss I’d ever had, for him, it was probably just another kiss.

Outside, Dylan hunched over the wooden railing, his elbows rested against the peeled red paint. Drawing his hand to his mouth, smoke billowed around him mixing with the clouds in the sky, gently, drifting, calming the mind, clouds crossed the sky in droves.

I knew Dylan had an emotional barrier around him. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to break-through it but I wanted to try. This wasn’t one of those situations where the girl tries to save the broken boy. That wasn’t this at all. All I wanted to do is be there for him since I hadn’t been growing up. Maybe that’s all he needed anyway.

“You wanna get some breakfast?” Dylan asked coming back inside the room after I showered.

The wind blew as the door closed bringing with it the stench of his cigarettes. He noticed my response to the odor. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” I said turning to my bag next to me removing my lotion and then looking for gum. “Let’s get some food.”

As I applied some lotion to my face, Dylan nodded and moved to the floor where his guitar was and picked it up setting it on the bed beside me and then gathered his clothes. His stare found his guitar, contemplative, deciding, and then back to me, appearing curious as to why I was watching him.

“Will you play for me?”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, his expression was lost as if he was in deep thought. The ice blue hardened, he didn’t want to. “Someday.”

“When was the last time you played?”

Once again, his expression appeared lost. “The morning we left.”

“You don’t want to play around me?” I deduced finding my hands very interesting.

“No,” Dylan replied right away, his voice even and soft, assuring me my assumptions were wrong. “That has nothing to do with it.”

We didn’t say much else that morning as we checked out and walked across the parking lot to Coco’s for breakfast.

When I ordered a cinnamon roll, Dylan laughed. “You sure do have a sweet tooth, brown eyes.”

I rolled my eyes licking frosting from my lip. “You have no idea,” I moaned around the sweetness. “My mom never let me have this kind of thing. She was anti sweets.”

“That’s lame.” Dylan took a bite of his scrambled eggs and chewed slowly.

The waitress came by, filled Dylan’s coffee cup, and winked at him. He smiled up at her with a boyish grin and did the same to her. I kind of hated that he winked at someone other than me.

“You like coffee?” I asked trying not to blurt out the question my girl brain wanted to ask which was, “Do you think she’s pretty?”

“I spent most of my time in Seattle.” He said this as if I should have known.

“What did you do in Seattle?”

Dylan gave a shrug moving from his eggs to his toast. “Music mostly,” he answered, his eyes on his plate. “Landon had some friends up there we hung out with. Eddy was up there too at times.”

Eddy was Dylan’s uncle, his mom’s older brother who used to be in a band but walked away when they were on tour.

“Is that where you spent most of your weekends?”

“Yeah.”

Just as easily as the conversation had begun, my mention of his music was off limits.

“So what are you going to do about school?” Dylan asked eventually. “Still plan on going?”

We had yet to talk about where this was all going. The thought of going to school was no longer on my mind. What was on my mind was this summer and seeing where that took me. At this point, I wouldn’t care if we ever went back.

“No, I’m not planning on going to school.”

Dylan smiled around his coffee cup, his eyes curious again and he looked up at me. “Me either.”

“You had a scholarship, right?”

He nodded. “As did you,”

“Things change.” I said with my own smile around my own cup of coffee.

“Yeah.” He leaned back relaxing in the booth, his weight settled to one side as he rubbed his left hand over the stubble of his jaw. “Life has a way of changing.”

“So what’s our plan then?”

The waitress came by again, stopping briefly to fill our coffee and then scrambled to the next table. It seemed their Monday morning was a busy one. But here we were, not rushing and deciding things like our future.

“My brother is in Birmingham,” Dylan said in a conversationally tone. “We could head there and see him for a few weeks.”

“Have you talked to him recently?”

“Yeah, we’ve talked a few times.” I could tell Dylan wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about it, shifting his weight and the way he started fidgeting with the handle of his coffee mug confirmed my theory.

“All right, so we go to Birmingham and see what happens from there?”

Dylan nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

We paid for our meal and walked to the parking lot in silence. When we got back in the car and pulled out of the parking lot, I thought about how this reminded me of a movie. “It’s like Thelma and Louise.”

“That’s a bad example.” Dylan gave me a sideway scowl. “They died in the end.”

“Oh, right.”

There was a comfortable silence until we stopped for gas and food in Riverside. Dylan had refused to stop in Los Angeles even though I begged. He justified this by saying I wasn’t California material and we needed to get out of the state as fast as we could. Turns out his GTO and its twelve miles per gallon wouldn’t allow that.

“Did you plan on moving to Birmingham to be closer to Drew?” I was trying any angle I could to learn more about why Dylan had left home and at some point I realized it wasn’t going to happen, but I still tried. I felt like I wanted to get to know Dylan and not the ten-year-old that I barely knew anymore. So much about our lives had changed.

“I never planned on staying in Birmingham.” He said strolling through his playlist on his iPod and balancing the wheel on his knees.

“If you could live anywhere, where would you live?” Dylan asked placing his iPod on the seat.

“A trailer park.”

Dylan gave me that side-eyed look that he was so good at. “Sounds like fun.”

“Where would you live Mr. Rebel-Without-A-Cause?” Kicking my shoes off again, my bare feet rested on the dashboard. “Let me guess, Detroit?”

Another side-eye judge came my way but with an eye roll this time. “Seattle.”

“Really? Why Seattle?”

Dylan shrugged, the motion relaxed, thought out and suggestive to his demeanor surrounding the subject. “It’s just a city, brown eyes.”

He went on to explain that he always enjoyed his time there with his uncle and Landon had moved up there too. He also explained that he wasn’t making any decisions this summer about his future. To him, this was a time not to make decisions, take what came his way.

As the sun began to set, a time when I did most of my thinking, I contemplated what Dylan meant. Colors smeared over the southern California desert blending into the dark of the night. My stare caught Dylan occasionally but like I said before, he was quiet and it was something I enjoyed very much.

We were outside Phoenix looking for a hotel when searched my bag on the floor for gum.

“Yuck, get rid of that gum.” Dylan gagged when he could apparently smell the gum. “I mean it, get rid of it.”

“Why?” I must have given him the “What the fuck?” look because he nearly laughed.

I laughed at his face and that’s when he made a face shaking his head at the sudden wave of nausea and grabbed his stomach when my breath moved his direction. “I once got so fucked up on Fireball that I puked for twelve hours straight. I haven’t touched that shit since.”

“So why the connection with cinnamon gum?” I pointed to a sign on the side of the freeway for a Holiday Inn. Dylan immediately shot across three lanes of traffic to the exit on the right.

“It smells the same.” He looked at me again. “I will never kiss you again if you don’t spit that shit out right now.”

Immediately I rolled down the window and spit that gum out.

He said nothing but smirked, slightly and the though the light was dim, it was noticeable.

“What else don’t you like?” I asked about the time we made our way into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn.

“Lemons.” He answered turning the car off and gathering his phone, iPod, and wallet on the dash. “I hate them and cardboard. I don’t like cardboard.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, again, another shrug, as he opened the door to get out. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Just don’t. What about you?”

“I don’t like socks.” I said catching up with him as we walked through the dark parking lot toward the office. “Actually, I don’t like anything on my feet at all.”

Dylan looked down and noticed my bare feet as I held my flip-flops in my hand. “I’ve noticed.”

When we finished getting the room, and after a long day in the car, sleep was easy. This time we managed to get two beds, which I found comforting. Not that I didn’t want to sleep next to Dylan, because there was that, but I was afraid of what “sleeping me” would do to him.

After smoking a cigarette, Dylan made his way to his bed near the sliding glass door and was asleep before I had the chance to ask any more questions.

Though I was tired, sleep hung over me as I thought about what I was doing. I gave up everything I knew and now here I was lying in a hotel room some two thousand miles from home.

Rolling over, I tucked my left arm under the pillow and stared at Dylan’s back again until I could sleep.

The following morning we got up early intending on making it to Oklahoma City that night.

“You know what every road trip needs?” Dylan asked as we passed through Holbrook, a landscape that offered nothing but tumbleweed and the occasional dead animal alongside the road.

I laughed handing him his water bottle that had slide toward me when he jerked the steering wheel to avoid yet another dead animal. “A portable shower and a tent?”

“Both good ideas but I was thinking more for entertainment.”

“What?” I gave him a curious smile.

“A CB radio.”

The idea seemed good to me so we stopped at a sporting goods store Dylan noticed off the highway and purchased a tent, sleeping bags, a cooler, a lantern, flares, the CB radio, flashlights and some first aid supplies.

After putting all the supplies in the trunk, Dylan hooked up the radio.

For one hundred miles, we switched from station to station looking for something entertaining. That’s when we settled on channel two.

There were these crazy lunatics on the station, Chaz and Reeper.

Dylan was thoroughly entertained by them. I’d never seen him laugh that much. He went on to tell me that if we were going to travel, we needed to hear shit like this.

“Breaker breaker, one ninety…” the radio cracked before we heard, “Shit man, we’re talking about a female that weighs two-ninety-five and solid as a fucking rock.”

“Damn, that’s a huge bitch.” Reeper said.

“She’s next to me son, watch your fucking mouth.”

“Where ya at, I wanna see her?”

“You just wanna wrap your ball sack on her lot lizard chin.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth?”

Every station was like this but Reeper and Chaz were by far the most descriptive.

“Damn, this is turning me on,” I said sarcastically fanning myself.

“Fuck…” Dylan groaned shifting in weight more toward the door, right hand draped over the steering wheel. “What a bunch of raunchy motherfuckers.”

Strolling through the stations, the next station was the same but Dylan made me turn it back to Chaz and Reeper. I think he was beginning to get attached to them. “She’s the fuckin’ whore of B-city.”

“One of her nipples faced south,” Chaz cackled in a really creeper manner, “the other north.”

This went on for probably another hundred miles and I was beginning to wonder about Dylan when he wouldn’t turn the station from those two creepo’s.

Along the highway near Amarillo, we stopped for food and it happened to be a truck stop. Dylan joked that he wanted to find this Chaz guy and see what he looked like. Naturally, he strolled the parking lot once looking for anyone he thought might resemble him. I hated to inform him that this Chaz, his trucker hero, was probably not here but I didn’t want to squash his dreams.

After trolling the parking lot once, Dylan gave up and we sat across a row of about fifteen log trucks.

We were in the middle of discussing that movie Joy Ride when a trashy woman wearing red peep toe high heels, fish net stockings, a leopard skinned mini skirt and what appeared to be a gold bra, no shirt. Dylan eyed her appearance, a little taken back by her forwardness of approaching his car and gave her a small smile, his weight shifted slightly toward me.

“Hey baby doll, come stick your shifter in my tranny.”

Dylan whipped his head around. “What the fuck?” he mouthed with panic-stricken eyes setting his milkshake on the dash.

My eyes were just as wide. I’d never seen anything like this before.

The lot lizard, as the radio had called these type of girls, wasn’t taking no as an answer.

“I’ll suck your dick sweetie,” she said, eyes scanning the two of us, moving closer trying to hang inside the window, her whorish hand rubbing Dylan’s shoulder.

Dylan looked at me, his eyes pinched together as if he didn’t hear her correctly. Then he laughed once, briefly looking her direction, and then mine. “Is she fucking serious?”

“I’m sure she is if you’re willing,” I said through my own laughs.

The woman looked to me and winked popping her gum. “I’ll lick your pussy too.”

“Roll your fucking window up Dylan!” I shouted frantically trying to get my hands on the knob for the window on my side.

“Oh so it’s suddenly an emergency now?” he said between nervous laughs.

At least he rolled up the window.

She must have sat outside his car for about five minutes before she got the hint and moved on.

That chick went from car to car, then truck to truck, trolling her lot-lizard ass all over the place.

“You throw that CB radio away.” I said to him when we stopped to find a hotel in Amarillo. After the chick at the truck stop, he didn’t hesitate and dumped it.

We later found out from a group of guys at a gas station that the truck stop we were at was a well-known area for prostitution. Honestly though, they should put that shit on maps to save people the trouble. A lot less murders and rapes would take place if there was a map that said, “Hey, stay away from here for your own safety.”

After we settled into another hotel for the night, Dylan wanted to get something to eat, so we did and then decided it was time for a little entertainment, aside from CB radios.

“There’s a bar over there, let’s go there,” Dylan said, gesturing to a bar across the street from the steak house we were eating at.

“Are you sure we can get it?”

Dylan shrugged once we were crossing the street. “We’ll see.”

He stepped into the street, I hesitated and Dylan looked back at me and lifted his hand for me to take it.

Maybe it was something about being in the south but when we walked in, they never asked for ID, hell, they hardly even acknowledged us.

Up until now, I had never been inside of a bar yet Dylan appeared comfortable. It didn’t surprise me one bit, this was his thing.

Glasses knocked together, conversations blended and bodies swayed to the beats of rock music. I was surprised how crowded the place was for a Tuesday night.

When we got to the bar, Dylan ordered us two beers and a shot. Again, they never asked for ID and handed over the liquor. Taking that time to look around, nobody paid any attention and acted as if we belonged. Green, yellow, red and orange neon beer signs scattered the wall. The bar itself was glass and underneath it was framed photos of patrons that sat here night after night.

“You wanna dance?” Handing me a beer and pushing a shot my direction, Dylan tipped his head to the dance floor near the stage noticing the way it held my attention.

I’ve danced before at school dances but this was completely different. It reminded me of something you would have seen on Dirty Dancing. This wasn’t a high school dance that’s for sure.

His hand found the sliver of skin between where my tank top met my jean shorts, his finger ran along the band stopping near my belly button. The touch made me squirm and want to dance like these people.

I would have agreed to anything if it meant his hands would be on me, and my hips, I was down for it. Since our kiss in the lake, he hadn’t touched me. Part of me wondered if he regretted it but the other part didn’t care. I wasn’t going to act like one of those girls that constantly debated the guy’s feelings or lack thereof. That’d never been me and I wasn’t about to start with that shit.

Dylan tossed a shot back, handed me one and I did the same. The fire burned and before I knew it, Dylan’s mouth was adding to it. Maybe he was feeling what I was feeling. The hum, the burn to touch him again was something I couldn’t stop thinking about. I could stop myself from overanalyzing his feeling yes, but I couldn’t stop that desire.

Frantically, I twisted in his arms wanting the contact, needing that contact. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking but it took all I could do not to attack him completely and wrap my body around his.

His tongue was soft and hesitant but his touch was firm as he walked me backwards to the dance floor. “Dance with me,” he said against my lips and then laughed when the song changed. “I haven’t heard this in years.”

“Dylan, I can’t dance like that.” I said turning in his arms to face the dance floor and referring to the girls moving with ease against the guys. They moved so naturally I was jealous.

“You were a cheerleader,” he said as if this should have come naturally to me. “I saw you shake your ass every Friday night. You know how to move.” Dylan looked at the couple next to us, grinding against each other. “Don’t worry, I can dance like that and I plan on showing you.” He pushed his hips into my ass and I could tell he was just as turned on as I was. He groaned, the sound barely audible over the thump of the base pulsating through our bodies.

Turning me around, his eyes stayed low between our bodies. With his right leg between my legs and one hand around my waist, his other hand held his beer loose against his side.

Then he moved.

And I forgot about not being able to dance like this.

As it turns out, I could dance like that when Dylan was my partner. His breath on my neck was distracting but his movements and his fingers digging into my hips were far more distracting.

At some point, between the movements and the beat of the music, I got into it and Dylan noticed.

Pressing forward, his mouth kissed along my jaw until he found my neck and the spot right below my ear. “You are so fucking sexy right now,” he moaned pressing forward more to show me how sexy he thought I was. “I can’t help but want you right now, in front of everyone.”

Cool, so he did feel the same way. I wanted to say take me but I didn’t.

The beat playing mixed with another song I recognized as Ying Yang Twins but didn’t know the name of the song. It didn't matter either way, Dylan didn’t let go of me and we danced our dirty dancing hearts out. My legs burned so bad they were trembling but I couldn’t remember the last time I had that much fun.

Dylan knew how to move too. His touches, his hips, all of it had me panting against him and wishing he would take me in front of everyone like he wanted.

We took a break from dancing to get another beer and I pushed my way to the bathroom. I made friends with a girl in line that was there with her boyfriend.

I lost Dylan for a few minutes and began to worry that maybe I had actually lost him.

Two songs later, I found him glossy eyed and flushed cheeks. He said he was doing shots at the bar. By then his shirt was off by then and I had no complaints.

Sweating, panting words, touches that lingered longer than necessary and hips that found a comfortable rhythm, we danced. There was something relaxing about dancing to me, especially like this. I have always enjoyed dancing since I was little, part of the reason that I was a cheerleader. You don’t have to try you just move, feel the music, and react. If only everything was that simple but right now, here, that’s exactly what I was doing.

Dylan’s eyes remained down often, watching my hips move against his, the friction of our jeans rubbing together felt so good, and I knew he felt it too.

We stayed like that when Dylan drew back, gasping. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because if you keep moving like this,” he gestured south to my hips that were still moving against him. “I’m going to bend you over the nearest table.

“Then do it,” I moaned hitching my leg up his hip wrapping my arms around his neck, sliding over his shoulders with the sweat.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Dylan whispered against my skin, his throaty tone rumbled in his chest.

“At this point, Dylan,” my eyes slowly closed and then found his lips, “I don’t think I would object.”

Bringing his beer that was in his left hand to his mouth, he smiled into the neck. He took a drink before letting it hang to the side of him, I was still moving against him. “Let’s go then.”

The dance floor was extremely crowded and any time I moved, I was rubbing against another guy. So this time when I pushed back from Dylan, the guy behind me wrapped his hands around my hips and drew me into him grinding against me. I laughed trying to play it off but Dylan thought otherwise.

“Get your hands off her,” Dylan seethed calmly pushing against the guy that kept dancing against me.

The guy didn’t listen. “We’re just dancin’ man, calm down.” He yelled over the music at Dylan. I looked over my shoulder at the guy wondering if he even stood a chance against Dylan.

He didn’t.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Dylan growled stepping forward.

“What are you going to do to stop me?” The guy in the red hat spit back at him, his grasp on my hips tightened. “We’re dancing’ man, relax. I’m not looking to bone her,” he smiled. “Though she’s fucking hot,”

Yeah, that’s going to help.

“I think you should stop while you’re ahead buddy.” I urged trying to shove the guy back and diffuse Dylan a little. I could already see the storm brewing in his eyes and the grasp he had on my wrist was the warning.

The security guards got wind of the shoving and stepped in thankfully. “Time to go guys,” he said placing a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and red hat guy.

“Next time don’t do that.” Dylan said as we stumbled across the street and headed back to our hotel. The street lights and passing cars swayed with each step and I had to use Dylan to walk.

“I wasn’t looking for trouble, Dylan.” I pointed out. “I was dancing, with you.”

He sniffed giving me a slight nod, his head down as we walked to the door, his hand securely around my wrist.

Though I had never been a drinker until a few days ago, it was then that I realized that when I drank, I got brave and said what I wanted to. “Jesus, don’t act like this. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Frustration was evident when he kicked the door shut with his foot, tossed his wet shirt on the floor of the bathroom and then slammed the door to the bathroom.

Confused, I sat on the bed and stared out the sliding glass door to another balcony. Every room we’ve had recently had a balcony. Every hotel we had looked and felt the same.

Trying to count the bars on the railing, I heard the door to the bathroom open and the sounds of Dylan behind me. Then he stood in front of me at the edge of the king sized bed with the creepy red comforter that kept attracting my drunk stare.

Glossy eyed, my eyes traveled up from his waist, to his stomach, and then his eyes. Ice blue gazed back, apologetic, compassionate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kneeling down, brushing his nose along my jaw. He closed his eyes, shaking his head with a smirk. “It’s hard not to be jealous when I haven’t had you and so many guys are lining up for the opportunity.”

He seemed sorry but I wasn’t upset about anything that happened. It was definitely the alcohol relaxing me. Do you ever have those times when thoughts pass through your head like memories, drifting, but nothing sticks?

That was me when I drank.

“I think I need some fresh air,” I said standing, wobbling, swaying and then stumbling.

I think Dylan was afraid I would fall off the edge so he followed.

As the swaying and spinning began to ease, my thoughts were more focused on what I felt in the bar. Smiling at the memory of his skin against mine, I looked up at Dylan to find him looking over the edge of the balcony at the pool below. “Wanna check out the hot tub?” he asked.

It sounded appealing but then I remembered I didn’t have a bathing suit. “Yeah, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Dylan shrugged taking one last drag from his cigarette. “So?” Smoke filtered through his mouth and nose as he spoke. “Wear your bra and underwear, or go naked, I don’t care.” He tossed the bud over the balcony and headed for the slider.

“Yes you do,” I sighed following him into the room.

“You’re right.” He winked. “I want you naked.”

Both remaining quiet, Dylan dropped his shorts letting it fall to the floor. Since he didn’t have a shirt on, he didn’t have to bother with that. Finding me staring at him, he smirked letting his eyes wander south, predictable when he was provoking me. “You coming?”

“Is it even open?” I yawned looking from the bed that was calling my name back to the boy, I wished was calling my name right now. “It’s like two in the morning.”

“Who cares?”

Clearly, he did not.

With a little hesitation, I stripped down to my black bra and underwear and stood in front of him, my arms wrapped around my stomach, insecure, nervous. My stomach flip-flopped waiting for him to say something, anything, nothing.

Shifting his weight from his right to left foot, contemplating, cocky, he winked running his hand down his jaw. “Sexy,” he whispered, eyes dropping lower to my thighs.

Even with my relaxed state, a rush of fear pricked my skin that he would find something he didn’t like.

He knew.

“Stop over analyzing it. Let’s go.” When he got to the door, he reached inside the bathroom for a few towels and tossed one my direction and one over his shoulder.

Through two gates and two sets of stairs, we made our way down to the oval pool and palm tree landscaping straight from the cover of that Hotel California CD.

While Dylan was completely comfortable walking around in his underwear, I wasn’t so confident in myself and kept adjusting the towel.

He noticed, of course he noticed. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to burn that fucking towel.”

Fearing he would, I stopped.

Reaching the edge of the pool, my black painted toes shined under the lights around the pool and the glow from the aqua blue below.

I looked down and realized a half a second too late that standing this close to the edge of the pool was a very stupid mistake. I forgot who I came down here with.

Walking past me, he kept his head down. “Looks cold.”

With a quick push from behind, I could attest to how cold that water was.

Yep. It was fucking cold. “Whatever happened to heated pools?” I shrieked treading water for warmth, gasping, trembling and pissed.

Dylan flashed a relaxed smile my way. “In a hurry to get wet?” he took a seat in a lounge chair a few feet from me. “I could help with that, yes?”

“You’re such a smug bastard when you want to be.”

Shrugging, he leaned back with his hands behind his head.

Though it was cold, the water felt good on my heated skin. After a while, and two cigarettes later, Dylan was in the water with me.

There was another part to feeling the liquid courage I had, confessions. It seemed I said what I felt or regretted.

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you.”

Dylan nodded his eyes on the water.

“My parents wouldn’t let—”

“Don’t.” He closed his eyes. Breathing, calming, ice blue met mine. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t have a choice? You always have a choice.”

“You’re right,” I agreed moving closer to him. When I got close enough, I rested my hands on his chest over his dragon tattoo. “I’m not giving you any excuses here. I listened to them. I did. That’s my problem. I did what they wanted.”

“What about what you want?”

I thought for a moment and realized I had absolutely no idea what I wanted.

That’s when Dylan snuck his hands around my waist under the water. “It doesn’t make you any less of a person to have the time of your life.”

“Where were you four years ago?” I joked, kind of. Part of me was serious. After finding out the relationship I had with Eric was built on lies, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I’d missed what was right in front of me. Just four days into my time with Dylan had me feeling things I’d never felt before.

“I’ve always been here, brown eyes.” His head dipped forward and kissed me once, the taste of beer and cigarettes stayed. “You just never noticed.”

My reply was quiet but the sentiment was not. “No, I noticed you before.”

“Oh right,” he laughed creating distance. “You had a crush on the bad boy. You know that’s just some imagine people see. They never knew him but they saw trouble.”

Just as I was about to say something else, a couple walked inside the gate and took up residence in the hot tub. Not shitting you here but he was so hairy it looked like he was sporting a fur sweater and she was so dark in skin appeared to be leather and she was a white girl.

Dylan looked at me, amused. “What do you think they’re saying?” he asked grinning. “I bet it’s dirty.”

The couple spoke quietly to each other, hands exploring, mouths touching. By the looks of their display, it was evident it was dirty. Probably not anywhere, near as dirty as Chaz and Reeper were.

“He’s probably saying, ‘Oh baby, I love threading my fingers through your hair’.”

I did the same to Dylan grabbing a hold of him and tugging on his hair.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his hands around my ass holding me against him, his fingers dangerously close to my goods.

“Don’t fuck with me, brown eyes.” Dylan whispered against my skin, kissing my neck. His throaty tone made me wild and the rumble in his chest made me moan. “I just got calmed down from the bar.”

“Why not fuck with you?” I hedged drawing closer, my legs tightened around his waist. “I want to Dylan.”

Taking his hands from around my ass, he framed my face, his eyes on mine, serious, soul deep connection trying to be made. “You just got out of a relationship. A long relationship where the guy used you. I’m not going to take something from you like that just because I want you.”

“So you do want to…?” I felt silly for asking but I did. I didn’t want to be one of those girls that constantly needed reassurance but at times, I did.

Walking forward, he pushed me against the edge of the concrete, my back scrapped against the rough stucco. His hips shifted against mine, the hardness between my legs confirmed he wanted me. “Does that answer your question?” he whispered into my neck before kissing me deeply.

His kisses never failed to touch me to my very center. It was always something where I felt anchored to him. Whenever I kissed Eric, it felt like a robotic motion. With Dylan, it felt natural.

Before it could get heated more than it was, Dylan pulled away. “Come on brown eyes, let’s get some sleep.”

Damn it. With a heavy sigh, I followed. I understood his hesitation, I did. But I also hated it. I had emotions and feelings better jarred inside me and no way for them to be released.

When we got back to the room, Dylan immediately headed for the bathroom.

Laying on the bed, I tried to sleep but something inside me, that jarred part, was restless from the night. It was near three in the morning, the light coming in through the room was softening from the navy blue to lighter tones.

That’s when I heard a thump from the bathroom and thought that maybe Dylan had passed out in there. Concerned, I stepped closer to the bathroom door and found that it was cracked. Naturally, I peeked but I couldn’t see anything with the steam.

Standing there, nervous, my legs tingled ready to run away at the first indication that he might have noticed me standing outside the door.

I pushed a little but the door resisted. Looking down, I noticed the towel he used at the pool and his underwear on the floor wedged under the door. I stuck my head through the door and squinted to see through the steam, still nothing I could make out so I closed the door and sat outside it to listen.

Who wouldn’t?

With the noises, I was sure that he was doing something other than just your average shower. After all the teasing, I knew he had to have been touching himself.

That’s when I flipped over on my stomach and pushed the door open a little more despite the wedged clothes. Sure enough, there he was, arm bent at the elbow, forearm resting against the tile with his right hand trained in front of him. His chest shook as if he was crying, his muscles contracting and flexing, but I knew when his head dipped forward and he moaned that he was touching himself.

Fuck you steam, clear out of my way! Blinking rapidly, I tried to get a better view but he was like looking through a frosted window and all I could see was his silhouette which honestly made it that much more erotic.

Look at me. Just a week with those boy and I was using words like sexy and erotic.

“Fuck,” Dylan’s voice came out in a growl. Squinting again, I noticed his movements sped.

I felt the heat rush between my legs, jarred sensations spread like wildfire, I started to tremble, and my cheeks burned. My heart was hammering but I couldn’t move from my army crawl position. I listened as his moans rose above of the water, and suddenly he slammed his palm against the tile. “Goddamn it.”

Thinking he noticed me, in full panic mode, I scrambled to the bed. Panting, rapidly watching the door, I put my arms behind my head tried to compose myself.

As I waited, the heat between my legs was there, calling to me and remembering what Dylan’s touch felt like at the bar and in the pool earlier, and then my brain filled away those images of him in the shower and I was definitely not tired anymore.

As if it was on its own mission, my hand traveled south.

I heard the water cut off and the glass door banging open. When he made his way back into the room, his expression was tense. My hand shot up from under the blanket and it was obvious what I had been doing, but guess what, he was still a little hard. It was definitely outlined under that towel he had around his waist. I could see it. It was right there.

When he laid down on the bed beside me, I noticed he had put underwear on as the towel slipped aside.

Once under the blanket with me, our legs touched and his face relaxed and he inhaled deeply before grabbing me roughly and crushing my body to his. Welcoming this, I buried my face in his chest and clung to him as my fingers dug into his back and my leg rising around his waist.

He kissed my chest above my heart; his nose nudged the straps of my tank top and pried my hands from his back.

The slow need between us was building and we couldn’t deny it any longer. We both knew it. Something had to be done but I don’t think he was willing to let anything happen. His hips shifted and I felt him there, between my legs and moaned.

“Were you really touching yourself?” he asked his tone rough and needy against mine.

I nodded. “I was but I’ve never done that before.” I kissed him again and raised my hips slightly searching for that same friction I felt when we had been dancing. Only now, only the thin fabric of our underwear separated us. “I don’t really know how.”

Part of me, the extremely curious and hormonal part was praying he took the hint.

I pressed against him, grabbing his face in my hands and forcing his lips to part.

“Were you touching yourself in the shower?” I asked finding his mouth again.

Nodding, he moved his lips to my neck. “I tried, but, I want you. I want you so bad I can’t…fuck…” his mouth was back to my lips, his fingers digging into my hips and his pushed forward again.

Pressing back just as fiercely as my hips were pushing up, my legs parted to accommodate his hips and he ran his hands from my knees to my shoulders; roughly grasping me and making me writhe with need.

He grunted and I could feel him harder than before, we both stopped kissing for second and he looked at me.

His mouth moved to my ear, his fingers dug into my hip. “Is this okay?” he whispered still moving above me.

There was no way for me to form words at that point much less complete a sentence to respond.

Abruptly, he stopped and rolled over gasping. “We can’t brown eyes. I’m about to rip your fucking clothes off and make you scream my goddamn name,” he groaned in a rumble, “…but you’re not ready.”

I was about ready to rape him. I was. But I also knew absolutely nothing about sex or the ramifications it caused for a relationship, or whatever we had. Dylan was way more experienced in that so I left that alone.

Don’t get me wrong, I was extremely confused.

Dylan turned over to face away from me, his breathing harsh and labored.

“Why?”

He knew what I meant without elaborating and turned back to face me. He swallowed attempting to control what he couldn’t. “I don’t want to ruin anything that we could have together just because I can’t get your body out of my head,” he whispered watching my reaction. “You mean more to me than that, brown eyes.”

“But I want it to be you…” Again, he knew exactly what I was referring to.

“And I will be.” He gave me a nod still watching me. “But there’s no need to rush.”

I had some arguments about us stopping but I wasn’t going to push him.

Unfortunately, for me, sleeping me had some other ideas.

Sometime that morning before the sun had come up; I woke up feeling Dylan’s leg between my legs, and a rather nice tingling sensation down there. Looking around the room, the only light was the gray seeping in through the dark curtains.

My eyes grew wide in fear of being caught, like he would have woken up if he knew what was happening or heard the moan that escaped my lips when our position shifted slightly. His response was to lift his leg higher and my eyes rolled back. The friction was what I wanted so badly and he was asleep, or appeared to be.

I’ll be honest with you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered this by now but I’ve never had an orgasm. And if I did, I didn’t recognize it was that. After conversations with Mercedes and Jessica, I was sure I’ve never because as they described that earth shattering high that made you feel like goo, I never remembered feeling that other than the time I took pain killers when I broke my ankle at cheer camp freshman year.

Given my lack of experience in this, and the feelings Dylan was stirring up down there, more importantly, the last few hours, had me wanting one badly and the mere idea of Dylan giving me one when he’s not even aware of actually giving me one, was far more tempting than it should be.

Testing him, I tried to twist in his arms. My eyes caught the clock and saw that it was now six thirty in the morning.

His left arm was draped over me so I picked it up and then let it fall about three inches. Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself and tried not to focus on the fact that his leg moved again. Just when I was about to stop and push him away, he had other ideas and held onto me tighter, his thigh shifting again. So, while I was trying to be noble and not molest him in his sleep, sleeping Dylan had other ideas. Sleeping Dylan wanted to play…and well shit…I wanted to play too. I wanted that earth shattering high everyone talked about and I didn’t want the broken ankle to go with it this time.

“Shit,” I breathed softly as a sleeping Dylan moved again. I threw my head back due to the sensation of his warm skin against mine.

Sleeping Dylan’s hand that was across my stomach moved and traveled up my ribs, under my tank top and to my breast. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so guess who that was now touching my boob.

Sleeping Dylan.

Checking again to make sure he was still sleeping, I examined his face carefully, to make sure that he wasn’t awake. His head was forward, against my shoulder, his breath on my neck, slow and deep.

I nearly swallowed my tongue in excitement when his thigh moved again and his body shift just enough that half his body was on mine with his hips pressing into my left thigh.

Peering at him again, his eyes were closed. He was definitely asleep, because even though his breathing was turning labored and his lips were slightly parted, his face was calm.

Part of me understood I should move but then the other part wanted this so bad.

For a second, I almost felt bad for allowing this to happen and not doing anything to reciprocate.

Then I felt it, his hips bucked against my thigh.

He was hard. Sleeping Dylan was hard.

Awake, Bailey was wet, really wet.

Sleep Dylan moaned and that was like a switch for me. I couldn’t stop myself.

His movements were perfect. Without intending to, I allowed my hips to move with Dylan’s in order to increase the pressure between my thighs. This earned me a desperate whimper from Dylan and my eyes immediately flicked to his to ensure that he was still asleep.

Please be asleep…please be asleep. I knew if he were awake, he wouldn’t allow this. He would push me away and tell me some bullshit line that I wasn’t ready. Damn it, I was ready, I was!

After a thorough exam, Dylan was still asleep, much to my own relief. I clenched my eyes shut, fighting to pull away but also struggling to stay put in order to grab hold of that sensation…the one I haven’t felt before…the one that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time. So Cosmo says.

If sleeping Dylan was willing to oblige, who was I to refuse him?

That’s when his hand started to move.

Fuck me. My eyes popped open as I slightly bent my head forward in order to watch the progression of his hand, that was on my breast only a moment ago and now moving toward my panties.

That could change everything.

Humping his leg was one thing, actual hands on, that was something completely different. I considered pushing his hand away as I watched its decent with my lust filled eyes. But I was too far gone now, right? I was so close, and all I needed was that one last push, that touch that will drive me over the edge. That’s just in my head though, I’d never actually had one to know what it took to get there. But I felt something.

I was practically panting as his fingers ever so slowly dip below the waistband of my panties, just a few more inches. In the meantime, Dylan was still making steady strokes against my thigh, the movement of his hips becoming aggressive and desperate. I knew how he felt, or should feel if he was awake. That urge just cling to whatever force was driving us toward blissful release was so strong I could hardly imagine how I lived without it for so long.

Dylan’s hand didn’t move any further south but his thigh moved again, as did mine and that’s all it took for me.

“Oh shit.” I squealed through clenched lips and closed eyes as tide after tide of pure ecstasy ripped through my body. The movement of my hips became irregular as I rode out the ripples consuming me.

I had been missing out on so much!

“Oh my,” I released in a long breath I’d been holding through my mind blowing rapture as every part of my body relaxed into a lazy, limp state. That was…there are no words to describe how that was.

“Brown eyes?” A breathy voice left my body rigid in fear.

Dylan sat up on his elbow and looked down at me; his messy hair tussled by sleep, staring at me questioningly. He frowned in confusion taking in my appearance, my cheeks burning at an intensity it never knew before.

His lips were split by an enormous yawn as he stretched his arms above his head, his defined chest heaving lungs full of oxygen. “Hey,” he offered with a small smile and watched me warily.

“Hi.” I squeaked in dread wiping my hair that stuck to my forehead due to the sweaty exertion.

Oh please tell me you didn’t wake up…during… Please tell me you don’t know. Please, please, please. I internally beseeched, sounding much the same as a few moments earlier when I didn’t want him to stop.

The memory made the blush on my cheeks spread rapidly to my neck and chest. My lips even felt hot.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a small frown pulling between his eyebrows.

I watched him suspiciously, looking for any signs that would indicate that he knew what I just did. The fear of being caught was smothering my throat and my blood was coursing through my veins causing a dull ringing noise in my ears.

He shrugged lazily and rubbed his abs absentmindedly with one hand. My eyes followed the movement watching his body. The same body I used for my own pleasure a second ago. I felt my mouth turn dry in guilt. Unwillingly my eyes moved lower and saw that he was still excited. I quickly looked up to find another confused frown on his face before he lowered his eyes.

Dylan chuckled lifting the blanket higher to cover him.

He said nothing but stared at the ceiling and then looked at the clock. Part of me was starting to believe he had truly been asleep through all that and I relaxed slightly settling back into the bed.

Dylan sighed dramatically and rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure.” I watched him watching me with glassy eyes, staring at me pensively.

He frowned deeply in response and this time I couldn’t help the giggle escaping my mouth. Turning to face me, he never broke eye contact.

There was a stampede of butterfly wings in my stomach as I stared at him dumbstruck. Cupping my face, his thumb slowly moved over my cheek and stroked gently.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled thoughtfully as his eyes scanned my face and stopped at my bottom lip, which I was biting unintentionally. He moved his thumb to my mouth and gently pried my lip from between my teeth slowly running his thumb over my bottom lip in a caress.

“You do that when you’re nervous, did you know that?” He asked gently as he lifted his eyes to mine. “Do I make you nervous, brown eyes?” I swallowed thickly as his eyes seemingly darkened and the intensity of his stare multiplied. He was looking at me, unblinking, and my whole body was buzzing with a feeling of exhilaration I had never felt before with the heat of his stare. Everything about Dylan was drawing me in, making me push further and further to see what would happen.

“No, you don’t make me nervous,” I said holding his stare.

What I really wanted to say was, “Yes you make me nervous. I just dry humped your leg!”

I didn’t say that of course. My voice was gone.

Dylan dropped his hand from my face and rolled onto his back.

Staring at the ceiling blankly, I realized how Dylan had no idea how much power he was starting to have over me. It excited and frustrated the hell out of me. I left home to see who I was but now, I was so fucking wrapped up in Dylan it was infuriating.

“Brown eyes,” Dylan whispered.

I turned to look at him with a start and found his head turned in my direction. Swinging his arm heavily over my torso, my breath caught at his unexpected movement and I immediately turned rigid in his grip. He slowly moved his head to my shoulder and rested it there, breathing heavily into my neck. “I was awake,” he whispered so softly in my ear that I needed to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said,” he drawled, causing a shiver to run up my spine as his soft lips grazed the shell of my ear, “I was awake.”

My heart was hammering in my chest as I considered his words.

“This morning,” he breathed huskily into my ear, and to emphasize his confession, he slowly moved the hand he had draped over me and placed it gently between the juncture of my legs. My hips automatically moved against his hand partly in recognition of the want boiling inside me and partly in shock. I gasped audibly, blood coursing through my ears and filling the silence of the room with a faint hum.

“Damn it.” I breathed in absolute mortification and pleasure as Dylan decided to move his hand once, before lifting his hand back to my side.

“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded and lifted his head slightly just as his hand grabbed the back of my neck firmly, turning my face toward him. I stared at him in silence unable to form a coherent thought not to mention defend myself for my slutty actions. He licked his lips slowly, his eyes hooded for the same reason I found myself panting beneath his stare. Here it was, that spark between us that we couldn’t ignore. It didn’t matter how hard we tried, it was there and unavoidable.

“You owe me,” he murmured before he crashed his lips to mine. His lips were harsh and yet incredibly soft as he smothered me with his passion. He pulled back before I had a chance to kiss him back, or push him away. And then he was swinging his legs around the side of the bed and smirking over his shoulder. “Let’s eat.”

I pulled a Dylan move bringing the blanket over my head and groaned.

8.      Tell me a secret – Bailey Gray

After that morning and my dry humping sleeping Dylan, he spent most of the day teasing me as we made it to Oklahoma City to stay the night. I started off being embarrassed by it but Dylan had a way of making me feel comfortable about it, despite the teasing, by whispering all the dirty things he was thinking with his eyes closed. That morning, cuddled up against him in the seat, you would have never known that just a few days ago we were still in high school, not talking, living separate lives. Now, we were here, somewhere between Oklahoma City and Wichita telling each other things I never dreamed of.

Two wrong turns later and a heated conversation about which Chevelle song was better, we agreed to disagree.

When we found a hotel, he seemed worked up. After dinner, and my own teasing, Dylan needed something I knew that much. He said it took all he could do not to throw me on the hood of his car and make my fantasy come true.

“Brown eyes, I want to touch you,” he murmured covering my body with his as soon as we were inside the room. “And I want my eyes open this time.”

“Please,” I said arching back into him, feeling how much he wanted it, too.

We kissed, slow and deep and then sometimes faster, sloppy-good kissing that I loved with him. We laughed when our teeth knock together, but there was nothing funny about how he reacted to me. I didn’t feel like he was racing for the finish line, like he just wanted to get off. He was touching me like he was exploring, taking in every curve and sensitive spot. I was beginning to understand what he meant when he told me that anything we did together wasn’t, in his mind, a one-time thing.

His fingers traced the curve of my side until they were at the waistband of my jeans. We both stopped, just for a second. I was already aching. His mouth went to my ear; his fingers traced the skin above my jeans, making me shiver.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

I nodded taking his hand and we unbuttoned and then unzipped my jeans together. His breath got shorter watching what we were doing.

“I think you should just take these off,” he said, his heart thumping heavily against my back.

I laughed a little, looking over my shoulder. He was right there, smiling, sure of himself, and I took his bottom lip between mine, just to taste, before shimmying out of my jeans. Dylan helped, skimming one broad palm down the side of my thigh, until I can kicked them the rest of the way off.

“So fucking sexy...” he trailed off, his voice thick.

He looked down at me with this intensity, but his smile was playful. “Has anyone ever touched you like this?”

“No,” I squeaked out.

“Could you ever let someone else touch you like this, right here?”

Shaking my head, I watched his eyes drink in every inch of me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I kissed him instead. Eric was always so quiet when we were together and outside of kissing and the occasional moan of pleasure, I never had any indication that he enjoyed our kissing or innocent touches. We never talked like this. He was fast, too. He touched, but he never teased like Dylan was doing now, with his hand moving back up my thigh, fingers circling my hipbone and then moving down to trace the edge of my underwear. I never made the kind of noises with Eric that came out of my mouth when Dylan touched me.

And I never, ever, took Eric’s hand and guided it to where I needed it to be, but I was doing that now with Dylan because I needed him to touch me or I was going to die. Dramatic, I know but it was the truth, or so I thought it was at the time.

“It was so fucking hard to keep my eyes closed last night,” he said against my neck, rough, needing.

We watched together, his palm sliding down my stomach, his fingers disappearing beneath black lace until he found me, so ready for him. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed and I knew you’d never had one before.”

I only saw his face for a second before my eyes closed right then, but I’ll remember it forever. He was looking at me like he was getting as much pleasure out of this as I was, although I don’t know how that was possible. He was looking at me like I was the most beautiful girl, like I was something he had never seen before, and that was why Dylan Wade had so much power over me. It didn’t matter that he was the type of guy that I could forget about myself with because he treated me better than I would have treated myself.

“Jesus,” he whispered, almost to himself, as his fingers slipped further down and inside and my knees opened to let him touch me more. He was so good at this and I imagined how many girls he has done this with. Probably more than I cared to know about.

My thighs started shaking, tense with how nervous I was that he was awake and looking at me now. Dylan noticed and hesitated. “Are you—?”

“Don’t stop,” I didn’t even recognize my own voice. I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me, his lips parted, his eyes darkened.

He didn’t stop. He kept talking, murmuring how beautiful I was and how good I felt and if I liked this? And all I could do was remember to breathe and say his name and when I was so, so close, I told him and his mouth crashed against mine. He was rubbing and stroking with his talented fingers and then I was panting and crying out into his mouth. And then, then I was silent because I was falling apart and it was too intense for words. My fingers curled into his hair and his fingers curled into me holding me close, slowing his pace to ride wave after wave with me until I was nothing but a shaking, and gasping mess in his arms. We stayed that way for a few minutes while I waited for my breath to get normal again, for my heart to slow down.

“So much better seeing it firsthand this time,” he said finally, his voice soft.

Instead of replying right away, I climbed on top of him, straddling his body with my legs, kissing him. “Thank you.” The words are on my lips, on his lips, as I whispered them between kisses and in the middle of them.

He pressed his head back into the pillow, looking at me through half-closed lids. “Anytime,” he replied, trying to sound jokingly nonchalant, but his voice is strained. I could tell he would be okay ending things right now but he didn’t want to. He didn’t expect more, didn’t push and I was thankful for that.

I could feel his want, his need as he pressed against my thigh. Every time I moved, his hips involuntarily sought to follow that movement.

Scooting backward, I made my way down his body. The muscles in his abdomen contracted as he braced himself on his arms and my hands traced the lines of those muscles.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked watching me.

I leaned back so that my ass rested on his thighs. My fingers moved to the waistband of his jeans. “Is this okay?”

Dylan’s eyes were dark but he didn’t respond. I could hear the rain outside the hotel room growing more intense as I unbuttoned his jeans. He raised his hips off the bed, assisting me as I pulled them and his boxers down and off his legs. They fell to the floor at the foot of my bed and all I could hear was the sound of his breath and mine and the thud of my heart that was surely expanded in my chest after he had made me feel so good, made me want him even more than I ever thought possible.

Watching me, still, his arms propping him up on his elbows I glanced at him one more time before I touched him there, for the first time, with my hand.

Relaxing against the bed, Dylan sighed when my hand stroked him once. Nothing was said, he needed relief and I knew that only I had no idea how to do it. “Is this what I do?” I asked with my head buried against his chest and shoulder not watching his reaction in fear.

Dylan moaned slightly lifting his hips to meet my strokes. “So good, fuck, I needed this so bad.” His hand that was around my shoulder held me close, the other one stayed resting on the bed at his side, gripping the sheets.

When I finally looked, I watched the movement of my hand on him and the way his body was flexing and contracting, wanting and needing. It felt good to be giving him the same pleasure he gave me, reciprocating those amazing sensations I had just felt. More than anything, it felt good that he wasn’t pushing me away and that finally, we were doing something we wanted and not stopping just because he thought we needed to.

The noises he made mirrored the ones that I made not long ago and I knew I was doing something right. The corners of my lips pull upward with that knowledge. I had absolutely no experience in this but you’d be amazed what you can find on YouTube.

His hands stayed gripped on the sheets next to him, but he said my name repeatedly and it felt like he was touching me all over. I loved that I was making him feel this way.

It wasn’t long after I started that his body tensed. He said nothing but I felt his body become rigid, his breath gasping and then all of a sudden his hips jerked a few times and then I felt a warm sensation on my hands.

Dylan laughed shaking his head; my eyes were wide judging his reaction and hoping I did that right. “You didn’t have to do that.” His hand that was on the bed ran down the front of his face before resting on his stomach. “I’m glad you did though, I was going crazy.”

Dylan got in the shower after that and I joined him which was slightly weird but we made it quick because he said if he wasn’t careful I’d be pressed against the shower wall with my legs around waist.

I didn’t argue.

Afterward we stayed in bed, wrapped and tangled, and mostly quiet, as the room got darker and darker and the rain settled into a steady patter. The silence was welcomed.

Shortly before we decided to sleep, I was so thirsty I decided to sneak to the vending machines down the hall but couldn’t find my shirt so I reached for Dylan’s flannel beside the bed. It was too big but I loved the way it made me feel when it draped over my shoulders.

“You look good wearing that.” His hand shot out from the blanket and rubbed my leg below the edge of the flannel.

I giggled squirming as it tickled. “I look like a lumberjack’s wife.”

Dylan chuckled, the sound deep and groggy before he rolled back over and pulled the blanket back over his head.

I don’t know how many different ways it was possible to want and need someone, but however many there are, I wanted and needed Dylan in all of them. At the vending machine, I got two bottles of water and a Pepsi along with a Hershey’s candy bar I knew Dylan had a slight obsession.

When I got back to the room, Dylan was still on the bed, the blanket draped over his lower half, his chest revealed. My eyes found his tattoos, examining their beauty.

When I sat back on the bed, I handed him a bottle of water and his candy bar. He smiled a crooked alluring smile and reached for both. Settling the bottle on the bed and the candy bar in his lap, his hand rose to touch my cheek, thoughtful, deciding, and speaking words he wanted to know. “Why did you come with me?”

Ah yes, the magic question. The question I’d wanted to ask him since we left four days ago.

Why? Why did you ask me, why did I come, what are we doing, what are you doing?

All questions I had.

“Because you asked,” I said leaning into his palm. Dylan smiled and pulled me forward to lay on his chest. The sound of his steady beating heart relaxed me enough to say, “Why did you ask?”

For a moment, a brief deciding moment of decisions and regrets, he thought.

“Sometimes it’s easy to imagine your life can be different. That it could be…” he paused, voice-softening type of pause where the moment changes, light to dark, lies to truth, bared truth. “I wanted you to see there was more to life than what you had.”

The more Dylan talked, the more I listened to his words and the underlying meaning of them. Dylan wasn’t running from anything when he left. It was me, I was the one running.

The following morning, Dylan had been talking on his phone on the balcony when I woke up, the sheets tangled around me as I wore nothing but my underwear and Dylan’s flannel. I noticed he only had his shorts on, no shirt, and his underwear was peeking from the waistband. Why I found it sexy, seeing his underwear was weird, but I did.

I watched him closely, wondering what he was thinking out there and if he regretted anything, we did last night. I doubted he did. Last night had been my first sexual experience. Although we didn’t have sex, it was the closest I had ever been, aside from making out with Eric. So many thought ran through my head, none in focus, drifting thoughts and memories of his touch.

When Dylan came inside scratching his bare stomach with casualness, he smiled a beaming smile I hadn’t seen in a while, boyish even. “That was my uncle Eddy,” he said holding his phone up. “He’s in Wichita tomorrow night, not far from here.”

“That’s cool. Are we going to meet up with him?”

“If you want to,” Dylan took a seat on the bed beside me rubbing my leg over the blanket. “He’s doing a show there at some bar. He said he could get us in.”

I nodded thinking a little about last night and a little about what this summer would bring for us. We hadn’t had sex but I felt closer to Dylan after last night, like we’d shared something special between the two of us.

He laid there for a minute rubbing his stomach before he sat up.

“Come on, we need some exercise.”

“Exercise?” I flipped his words over in my head wondering what kind of exercise he had in mind.

“We’ve been in a car all day for the last week, we need exercise,” he said tossing my shoes toward me and putting on his own. When he stood, he ran his hand down his stomach that screamed fitness. “You didn’t think I got this body by accident, did you?”

Dressed in a pair of his shorts and no shirt, he headed for the door.

“Like right now you want to run?”

“Yes, like right now.”

I decided to wear my jean shorts, which I was positive I would regret, and my sports bra, which I was positive Dylan would regret.

I was never much of a runner, it just didn’t appeal to me. Now that Dylan was beside me, suddenly running had some appeal.

We did a few stretches in the parking lot and then walked for about a half mile when Dylan gave me a nod to run, so I did.

As we fell into a comfortable jog, my lungs told me they were very upset with my new hobby and my legs threatened me every other step with giving way to my ass and those donuts.

At some point, my breathing went from gasping from full on choking. I was glad that I was so dry-mouthed from dehydration or I would have choked on my own spit at the way I was motor boating.

When we slowed to a comfortable walk around two miles later, I thanked the heavens above because I was moments away from passing out and we were finally back in front of the hotel.

“I’m impressed,” Dylan said keeping his eyes on me, he tipped his head back. Before taking a drink, he pulled the bottle back. “You’ve got endurance.”

The last part came out seductive, as it was meant to be, judging by the wink.

I had no reply. But I couldn’t breathe so how could I have replied?

Sitting down in the grass, Dylan noticed that I wasn’t exactly doing so hot with all my panting and side grabbing.

“Come on,” he motioned with his hand for me to sit down in the grass beside him, “stretch out those freakishly long legs.”

When I could talk again, and in between stretches, I asked. “Did you run a lot in high school?”

“Yeah,” he gave a thoughtful shrug, “sometimes it’s nice to just shut your mind off.”

That I could relate to. It’s why I enjoyed photography so much. Dylan, knowing me, brought that up. “Kind of like you and your photography.”

I smiled that Dylan took notice that I found something relaxing about photography. Since we’d left home, I had to buy a new memory card with the amount of pictures I had taken and Dylan didn’t miss the fact that I enjoyed it.

As we sat there stretching, my eyes scrolled over his tattoos again.

“Why did you get a tattoo of a dragon?” I asked focusing on the dragon on his shoulder and back.

“Landon told me it means power and wisdom.” Dylan rolled his eyes stretching out his arms, his left one crossed over his chest. “I think he’s full of shit but mostly because my mom liked dragons. Thought it’d be a nice gesture.”

“It is.” Then blurted out, “why did you get a humming bird on your wrist?”

Dylan’s eyebrows pinched together and then he looked at the inside of his wrist. “It was for you.”

“Why though?”

He shrugged, “because I wanted to.”

Standing, he held out his hand to me, which I took. “Come on, let’s eat and then head to Wichita.” His arm slung around my shoulders.

There’s something about a road trip that’s relaxing to me. The silence, the unknown, the sunsets, the perfectly planned songs with the hidden meanings, but that wasn’t every road trip.

That’s what a road trip with Dylan Wade was like.

We were somewhere along Interstate 35 when a girl walking on the side of the highway caught my attention.

“She looks like she might need a ride,” I said looking out the window when the traffic slowed for what appeared to be a wreck ahead.

“You don’t pick up hitchhikers,” Dylan said adjusting his rearview mirror to look back at her too.  “That’s a dumb idea.” Since traffic had slowed, he used that time to take a drink of his water that was lying next to him.

“You’ve had worse.” I felt the need to add taking a drink of my own water and opening the chips I had got at the gas station in Perry.

Dylan knew damn well I was referring to the lot lizards. He glared swerving to the side of the road. “Point taken.”

“Hey!” she chirped bouncing into the backseat of the GTO. Dylan looked over at me as he slouched to the side looking annoyed. “I’m Teri.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said shaking her energetic hand. Energetic was putting it lightly. She was a trip.

In the thirty minutes we were in stop and go traffic, I learned more about Teri than I cared to and felt more confident in myself in that thirty minutes.

The girl had so much fucking energy it was exhausting to listen to her talk.

“She’s fucking bent,” Dylan said when the girl had her head stuck out the window. She claimed that it made her feel like she was flying.

“How do know?” I asked trying to keep myself from punching the girl in the stomach as she leaned over me to hang out the window. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with my face pressed to the dash.

“Uh, maybe because her fucking eyes are black and she’s a blonde?”

“Oh.”

Dylan laughed sarcastically, “Oh she says.”

“Hey,” I pushed back against the seat with a brackish laugh. “I was trying to be nice.”

“We gotta ditch this girl,” he said noticing my irritation with her.

She was completely fucking crazy but I tried to play it off for entertainment value. My glare toward her must have given it away. “She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? She asked me if she could suck my dick.” He gave his own brackish laugh watching the girl hang out the right side of the car. “I can’t believe you’re okay with that.”

“I like watching you squirm.”

“Don’t fuck with me brown eyes,” Dylan’s eyes drifted from the girl to me arching his eyebrow, “or I’ll ditch both your asses.”

“I wonder how many times you’re going to get offered to get your dick sucked?”

Dylan glanced at me as if he didn’t quite hear me and then it made sense. “You offering too?”

“Maybe.”

He let out a huff and reached for his cigarettes on the dash.

Crack head finally got back in the car when Dylan, by swerving, tried to make her fall from the car as she hung out the window. When that didn’t work, he sped up, close to ninety, hoping maybe she’d suffocate or something.

Eventually she fell asleep, or passed out as Dylan said, against his guitar so we stopped at a gas station and propped her ass against a payphone and left.

Never looked back.

We weren’t far from Wichita when the sun began to set behind to the left of us. I watched taking a few snapshots here and there, mostly of Dylan and the way the lighting in the background mixed with this hair and eyes. His eyes always seemed more like glaciers when the smudged colors of the sky melded with him.

Watching him now, his stare on the road, I felt something more than I had in the past few days. Something stirring deep inside my gut, only it was different from all the other times I watched a sunrise or sunset. This time I was content, relaxed, comfortable, not knowing anything. It didn’t matter that I was running because now, regardless of the unknown, I felt at ease.

Have you ever been in love? It’s a question you’re asked a lot as a kid from your friends, adults, anyone. They’re curious. How do you know you’re in love? Is there a distinct feeling you get and you automatically associate that with love? Do we even really know what love means? It’s just a word to define a feeling.

To me, love was like the colors of the sun bleeding and spilling over to the best parts of you and him together and highlighting what needed to be. Love doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s a word, a phrase given to someone that bleeds the same colors you bleed, feels those same lines.

I wasn’t sure if I loved Dylan the way I was supposed to. I knew I didn’t want this to end. I know that anytime I thought of him, something tugged at those lines and forced me to consider that I might bleed to the same colors he bled.

My thoughts of bleeding colors and lines I couldn’t define ended when we made it to Wichita and Dylan was on the phone with Eddy trying to find a bar called The Brickyard.

We found it hidden away on a side street and as we approached, Dylan reached for my hand. It was a nice gesture, colors bleeding, relaxing, falling, that was me.

Smiling, I took his hand and walked in step with him around the side of the car noticing he reached inside for his guitar. “Are you going to play tonight?”

His eyebrows pinched together, smiling, coy, shy maybe. “Not sure, maybe.”

The bar was cleaner than the one we were in the other night, a long brick hallway led us outside to a bar open to an alley with an outdoor covered stage. In front of it were tables with cream plastic chairs filled with swaying bodies as they listened to a live band. I recognized Eddy right away. The only other time I had met him was when I was nine. Eddy wasn’t the type of guy you forgot though. He had a lasting impression.

Dressed in a flannel, similar to Dylan, he wore faded jeans that in true rocker style hung low with ripped edges and worn boots to match. His hair was a little longer than I remembered and his tattered appearance revealed his years of living life in the fast lane.

His voice, a deep rasp was perfectly belting out the lyrics to a song I recognized as a Nine Inch Nails cover.

Dylan smiled when he saw Eddy, a memory flashing in his eyes as he laughed lightly leading me around the side of the stage to sit in a quieter part of the alley, watching his uncle.

With his guitar beside him, we sat in silence listening to the music, Dylan’s head bobbed to the slow beat, feeling it.

When the song ended, Eddy came over to the side and Dylan approached the stage keeping his hand around mine. Dylan whispered in Eddy’s car when they hugged, words I couldn’t hear over the hum in the alley.

Eddy smiled my direction, the same smile Dylan had. They looked a lot alike, same eyes and smile that was.

Dylan gave Eddy a nod reaching for his guitar and then leaned into me. “Stay with Eddy.” His lips brushed my cheek slightly, a fire rose and I shivered at the contact and the excitement that I might be able to hear him sing again.

Eddy moved closer to me and sat at the same table Dylan and I had just been sitting at, I did the same. Pulling out a cigarette, Eddy lit it and then tossed his lighter on the table. “How are you doing sweetheart?” His voice sounded different now, the thick baritone he had to his singing voice was marred by years of smoking.

“I’m good. Ran away from home,” I said, as if this was no big deal, relaxing into the plastic chair watching Dylan talk with the other guys in the band. “I’m on the run now. I’m kind of an outlaw right now.”

“It’s the only way to be, sweetheart,” Eddy said with a laugh, he too watching Dylan. Leaning back in the chair, his legs kicked out in front of him slouching to one side. “You ready for this?”

I gestured to Dylan with a tip of my head when Eddy pushed a beer my way. I sighed taking it. I didn’t really like beer but I was acquiring a taste for it since it was all Dylan drank. “You mean hearing him play the guitar?”

“No.” Eddy took a long drag from his cigarette letting the smoke drift slowly out his nose. “I mean sing.”

My eyes went wide shifting from Eddy to Dylan on the stage, beer in hand. “I’ve never heard him sing before, can he?”

“No one has heard him sing aside from his mom and me,” Eddy said shifting his weight to lean into the table tapping his cigarette against the edge.

I couldn’t believe that I didn’t realize that he sang. Of course he would, given he played the guitar. I guess I always thought he just played rather than sang.

The thought of hearing Dylan sing had my tummy knotting wondering what his voice sounded like. If it was anything like it was when he was turned on, I could picture myself crawling on that stage and clinging to his leg again.

Eddy smiled and pointed to the stage, amused. “You might want to listen.”

My head whipped around when the amp chirped and Dylan tapped the microphone once. A taller man with darker hair and ripped jeans strummed his guitar once catching the crowd’s attention, a slow beat thumped as if preparing for the set.

“I’m Dylan Wade, Eddy’s nephew…go easy on me,” he laughed giving a wink to the crowd when they cheered holding their drinks up. “Uh…this song goes out to brown eyes.” Dylan spoke into the microphone drawn close to his lips, his eyes trained on the guitar in his lap. “I hear everything you’ve ever said to me. Just…hear me now.”

Shock was my only answer, lip-parting shock.

Eddy laughed. “Watch the drool there sweetheart.”

Dylan looked at me for a brief moment knowing my reaction. His smile, crooked and powerful, made it hard not to spill my heart on the ground before him.

While Dylan played the first riff of that Framing Hanley song, his eyes stayed casted down. When he looked up, my breath caught.

When his voice rose above the crowd, both hands clutched the microphone, pouring out words that came from deep in his soul, I gasped at the intensity having never seen this side of Dylan before.

I swear to god…

Holy shit! I knew he could play the guitar but didn’t know he was hiding that voice in there. When the part in the song called for his voice to go higher, my jaw dropped.

My favorite part, if I really had to choose, was when the music would stop and all I heard was his voice echo through the bar.

There was something about watching someone sing and witnessing them pour their emotions into words. This, playing music, it was easy to see this was a passion for him. I always knew that as I saw it when we were younger and he’d play the guitar.

Eddy noticed and handed me another drink, this time it wasn’t a beer but some fruity drink that tasted like strawberry. “You know why he sounds like that?”

“Like what?”

“That raspy drawl that nobody has and tries so hard to get when they sing―the shit record labels dream about signing,”

“Why?”

“That little fucker cried for eight months straight when he was a baby,” Eddy snorted lighting another cigarette. “I blame that.”

Nodding, I smiled thinking about a baby Dylan. When I met Dylan, we were three-years-old and he’d just moved from Alabama to Washington when his dad took a job there with an accounting firm. I couldn’t tell you a lot about that time as we were both very young but I remember some things. Most of which included an adorable icy eyed boy that captured my heart by calling me brown eyes and kissing my skinned knees.

So as I sat there with Eddy and dreamed about Dylan as a child, that one drink became two and then three, others were added for good measure and before I knew it, I was dancing on tables and screaming like a groupie as Dylan not only played that one song, but ten others with Eddy and his band. My favorite was Icky Thump. They played that song perfectly and I was right there, front and center rocking out.

Every night with Dylan I didn’t think I could have more fun than I was having and every night I did.

By the time they were done playing, I couldn’t even stand up on my own. I had met a girl, Lanny, dancing next to me, she was a good support system, for my body anyway.

Dylan approached me, his shirt off and tucked into the back of his khaki shorts. “Look at you all rosy cheeked and adorable.”

I grinned, spinning, falling, smiling more than I ever had before. “That was…” I jerked my hand in the air, with a drink still in it. “AMAZING!” I shouted. Laughing broke out around me, thumping in my ears, blurred vision, I could faintly make out Dylan, full on cheesy grin. “I had no idea you could sing like that! Have you always had that in you? I mean Jesus Dylan, you’ve got talent!”

“You’re drunk, brown eyes,” he said reaching for me. “Adorable, but very drunk.”

I can’t argue with that.

That’s the last thing I remember aside from waves of memories like puking in the parking lot, swearing off strawberries and doing my own guitar solo on the hood of Dylan’s car as he tried to help me down.

“You want me to get up there with you?” he asked running his hands up my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the hood.

I nodded but he didn’t comply.

“You’re drunk.” His arm gave way and he settled his weight on me, all of it, every hard line. I felt the cool metal against my back and my bare legs, and ass. I wondered where my shorts had disappeared to but that was the last of my worries. Dylan was on top of me, on his hood, just like my fantasy.

Then he pulled away again. Sitting up on his knees, he gave me a smile. “Let me inform you of something,” he said in a low strained voice. “I can’t when you’re drunk. I won’t. You need to remember it.”

Feeling the spins, I flopped one leg over the side of the car staring up at the starry night. Dylan laid beside me, his hands rested on his chest staring at the same sky.

The parking lot was empty now, or maybe I just didn’t notice anyone else but what I saw, or thought I saw, was a clear night and lights sparkling above me, hopeful wishing stars that told me I could have anything I ever wanted.

“Tell me a secret Dylan, something you’ve never told anyone else,” I said keeping my eyes on the stars.

He didn’t say anything, his breathing light, body relaxed.

Sighing, his breath tickled my skin when he whispered in my ear, “I love you.”

9.      You don’t know anything – Bailey Gray

“Tell me a secret Dylan, something you’ve never told anyone else.” I said keeping my eyes on the stars.

He didn’t say anything, he breathing light, body relaxed. Sighing, his breath tickled my skin when he whispered in my ear, “I love you.”

Was I dreaming last night or did that happen? My head told me I wasn’t dreaming about last night. My stomach wished I was dreaming and my body confirmed I most definitely was not dreaming.

Dylan groaned and pulled out his standard move of pulling the blanket over his head, his arms thrown over his head.

“My mouth tastes like bad decisions,” I said peering over at Dylan.

Removing the blanket from his face, his eyebrow arched, the corner of his mouth twisted slightly into a half smile. “You look like you made a few bad decisions last night.”

“Nice,” I groaned knowing I had.

I couldn’t however get those words I love you out of my head.

I looked at Dylan again; he’d returned the blanket over his head so I ripped it off. “Do you remember anything last night?”

Jerking the blanket from my hands, he glared, bloodshot eyes drooping shut as he pulled the blanket back over his head. “I remember you throwing up on me and all over my car.”

Okay, so maybe that was good. Part of me, the part that was sobering up, regretted drinking all those drinks last night and the other part was depressed that he didn’t remember.

My headache told me to stop thinking all together.

So I did and fell back asleep.

It was around three in the afternoon when Dylan’s cell phone started ringing. The sounds woke us both up. Dylan rolled, landed on the floor, and then answered it, his voice strained from singing last night.

“Yeah, what time?” Dylan said rolling onto his back. I peeked my head over the side, smiling as I peered down at his star tattoos on his stomach, knowing where they led to, an area I was dying to get to know again. Above the stars, was another tattoo under his belly button that started on his right hipbone, spread across his hips to the left side, and read: Ride Hard – Give it Hard.

I laughed. So far, it was my favorite one that he had.

Dylan knew by my smirk what I was thinking, squinted and covered himself with a pillow, but smiled, as he curled into a ball on the floor holding his phone to his ear. “I’ll be there around eight.”

Without another word, he let the phone fall to the floor.

When he didn’t say anything for a few minutes, I tossed a pillow at him. “Where are we going tonight?”

With a huff, he rolled onto his back pushing the pillows aside. “To meet Eddy and the Brickyard again. It’s thirsty Thursday, apparently.”

“Oh no,” I groaned shaking my head. “Not participating in Thirsty Thursday. Wasted Wednesday was enough for me.”

Dylan laughed, the sound comforting but annoying given my headache. “Just be thankful it’s not Mystery Monday or Tanked Tuesday.” His hand raked through his hair and down the front of his face. “I always hated both.”

“Oh yeah,” I teased trying to find some sort of resemblance to myself. I smelled horrible and I’m sure I looked even worse. “You got a lot of experience in Mystery Mondays?”

“More than you know…” he said walking to the bathroom. “My friends back home were good at luring me to the dark side of alcoholism and liver failure.”

After a shower and three cups of coffee, I felt among the living again but still looked like hell shit on me.

As we got ready to go, I threw on another band shirt I had collected last night, somehow, and my jean shorts. It was apparent I needed to do laundry at some point, as the ones I was wearing were my last clean pair.

Watching us was entertaining, at how we were so comfortable around one another and here we were, getting dressed around each other and talking like we weren’t both half-naked. Next thing we knew we’d be peeing with the door open.

“Have you always been able to sing like that?” I asked him as he was slipping a black t-shirt over his shoulders and buttoned his khaki shorts.

He shrugged, always shrugging. “I guess.”

“Was that the first time you’ve sang in public?”

“No, I did a handful of times in Seattle too.”

“Oh.” Reaching for my bag on the bed, I tossed a bottle of water in it from the fridge and the pack of gum I had on the nightstand along with my wallet. “Eddy said only him and your mom had heard you sing before.”

Dylan laughed opening the door; his head tipped motioning for me to go outside when he grabbed the card key from the table next to the door. “Eddy’s brain is fucking fried. Don’t believe anything he tells you.”

“So you didn’t cry for eight months straight when you were a baby?”

His eyebrows arched as he checked the door making sure it was locked by slamming his hip into it. “I did cry a lot as a baby. At least that’s what they tell me.” He smiled, throwing his arm over my shoulder; his other held the handle to his guitar. “Apparently I came out crying and didn’t stop until I started to crawl.”

“I bet you were adorable despite the noise.” I gushed sinking into his arm.

In a sweet gesture, his lips brushed my temple. “I’m still pretty adorable.”

Against my objections, we went back to that bar but I swore off any alcohol.

That night the crowd was rowdy and ready for more of Eddy’s band but Dylan was who most of them kept requesting. “Bring up the kid!” they would shout each time they finished a song.

I meant up with Lanny again, she was sweet, and I also met Eddy’s girlfriend Cheryl, who helped me stay away from thirsty Thursdays drink specials. Apparently, I threw up on her too.

“Was there anyone I didn’t throw up on last night?”

“Me, you didn’t throw up on me.” A guy standing next to Lanny said, leaning against the stage, he smiled at me and winked.

Dylan shook his head in amusement throwing his arm around my shoulder. He kissed my temple and then my ear, softly, my eyes closed briefly.

Lanny pushed against the guy, he stumbled right into me.

“That’s ‘because you were on the drums all night,” Lanny said to him. “Those of us next to her weren’t so lucky.”

I was mortified that I’d thrown up on so many people.

Standing around talking between sets, Eddy tried to convince Dylan to go back on stage. He didn’t say yes but he also didn’t say no. I had a feeling he enjoyed the rush; I remember seeing it in his eyes last night. He loved being up there.

With a shy glance, Dylan gave a dismissive shrug to Eddy’s questions.

“So Bailey, you into drummers?” Reece smiled giving his sticks a suggestive rub moving his hips in a rotated motion. “Drummers hit hard and have sick rhythm.”

Reece was cute, really cute. He reminded me of a boy, a very flirty boy with a soft face, dusty blonde hair that outlined his chocolate eyes. He was the type of guy that you knew never took anything serious, aside from music and even then I questioned his attention to it.

Dylan shook his head with a deep chuckle that shook his chest.  “Bailey, meet Reece Kinney, the best drummer in the mid-west.”

“Uh,” Reece smacked the back of Dylan’s head with the stick in his hand, “best in the world.”

“Fine.” Dylan rolled his eyes stepping to the side of Eddy toward the stage. His hand brushed my ass as he did so. “Best in the world.” Dylan flicked the back of his head with his index finger. “Hands off.”

Reece smiled and stepped toward me when Dylan walked to the stage near the speakers, but then he stopped and faced Reece again. “Don’t even think about it Reece,” Dylan warned. “She’s coming home with me.”

Making his way on stage whistles and shouts broke out in the crowd but Dylan didn’t look up, his guitar in hand. Reece was up there now, as was Eddy, standing behind Dylan as he took a seat on a wooden stool propping the guitar on his knees, never looking up, he placed the guitar in his mouth talking over it. “Thank you everyone,” Dylan said into the microphone, still not looking up, removing his guitar pick from his mouth, he gave a soft smile. “This song is one of mine, hope you like it.”

A slow drum kicked and then Dylan began to play his guitar, eyes down, closed, feeling the beat as his left foot tapped against the stool.

As the opening notes drifted, he leaned into the microphone and started singing. Immediately, I was drawn in, held in place, listening to something Dylan created.

When the song reached a crescendo and he leaned his head back, singing with passion, he let out a moan I felt deep in my chest,

When Dylan sang, he was alive and raw, in the middle of his own storm.

The left side of his body was shadowed, the right side lit up and real, vulnerable to those who found the need to judge him. Under the light, his eyes had never been so blue, his voice, never so bare, his words, never so honest.

Hide you from the fear

You find deep inside

His head bowed to his guitar, a trail of cords broke the silence, his right hand thumbed against the guitar as his voice carried through the bar to the very edges, bleeding hearts, pensive silence spoke for those of that were watching.

You know you can’t comply

To the desires you can’t deny

Do you see it?

Do you hear it?

Can you feel it?

So deep inside of you, do you fear it?

He was pouring out words with need and words that spoke truth, the bare fucking truth for everyone to see, to feel, to judge. His walls were down, demanding, needing answers.

And then, the vulnerability was gone just as easily as it came, the storm moved through, destruction in its wake.

His eyes found mine again but now, here, right now, they told a different story from the one I knew. One that split my chest and bared my own soul for him to see the hope, adoration, happiness, trust, belonging, softness, love, forgiving. I knew his secret, in turn, he felt mine.

Sometimes I feel like we’re pulling a rope but neither one of us are pulling the rope at the same time.

Sometimes I think that loving someone is doing what’s right. Loving like there’s nothing else. Feeling and believing there’s nothing else.

Looking at Dylan now was too hard. It was all there, in every word being spoken. It’s the guilt behind his eyes and the purple below them. It explained the way he won’t give into me and the way he’s not running from anything. It’s in the way he holds his smile at bay when he’s teasing. It’s in his tattoos that he claims hold no meaning. It’s in how he always knows what to say to me even when he doesn’t say anything. It’s in the way he touches me at night when he thinks that I’m sleeping. It’s in the secrets he tells me. It’s in the life he threw away for me. It’s in his uncertain future. It’s in the way his heart is beating for me.

Lanny stood beside me, her arms wrapped around my shoulder, holding me close with the way the crowd swarmed around the stage. “He’s singing for you.” She whispered watching, knowing.

I nodded when Dylan’s voice broke, his head hung in silence.

Do you see it?

Do you hear it?

Can you feel it?

“You into him?” Lanny asked in my ear attempting to keep the conversation private. “He’s into you.”

A smile appeared though I tried for it not to. I never expected this. When I got in that car, it wasn’t a thought out decision. The decision to want something more from my life was but Dylan, what was happening now, that wasn’t planned.  To me that was the best part of it though, the unexpected, the dark gray morning when the sun suddenly crept through the cracks in the window, broken and disheveled, revealing sparkling honeyed rays that weren’t there before. Just like that sunset that highlighted hills you never saw the beauty in, I saw beauty in this.

Watching him, comforted me and made me feel whole, but it also made it hard to breathe, ready to fall to my knees, and swear my heart to him.

Leaning into Lanny, I whispered, my eyes on Dylan when he threw his head back again belting out another moan, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m not sure how much more I could be into him without crawling inside him.”

When the song finished, you could barely see Dylan anymore and it took nearly forty minutes before I was able to see him again. When I did, we sat in a booth with Reece and Eddy. We weren’t there very long, the guys throwing insults and rowdy shoves Dylan’s way when a man walked up to the booth, beer in hand.

“Hey, I’m Sam Young.” Dylan gave him a nod but didn’t shake his hand. Sam took this as his opportunity to approach Dylan.

Sliding across the booth next to Dylan on the other side of me, he grabbed him by the back of his neck. “You ready for the big time kid?”

“No,” Dylan said immediately turning his head to take a drink of the beer in his hand. “I don’t play to make a living, it’s just a hobby.”

Knowing Dylan wasn’t in the mood, Eddy managed to distract this Sam guy and Dylan thankfully turned his attention to me, where I wanted it.

With his left hand resting on my thigh, I pushed it higher in the junction between my thighs knowing with the dark lighting in the alley, no one would know. Suddenly his eyes darted to mine and I was caught in his gaze for a short second, tethered by that crazy electricity between us. It moved through me even as I looked away which was immediately.

There’s something about watching someone sing, pour there heart into something that’s a huge turn on. I now fully understood groupies.

It must have been written all over my face that I wanted him. Dylan flashed a smile at me fully aware of his charm.

Did he feel what I was feeling right then? That gut deep butterfly, that all-consuming thirst for more.

There was a good part of me that thought he might. It was a quieter part that was taken over when he threw a smile my way and every lingering glance my way over the years, and now, since we’d left home a week ago. It was the same part that saw the way his smile dimmed, just a little, when he would see me with Eric in the halls. It was also the same part that noticed his reaction when that red hat guy danced with me.

He felt it. After all, he said it too.

Eddy supplied the beer and other drinks and once again, that bad decision I tasted in my mouth earlier returned and I gave into the delicious strawberry drinks.

That’s when Lanny, my bad decision partner, went over my bucket list I hadn’t thought about. Dylan and I explained to her and Reece how we came up with the summer bucket list and she decided to help me knock one off tonight.

Pole dancing.

Lanny wasn’t a good influence for me. Confident wise she was but I got too comfortable around her and found myself doing things like pole dancing.

Dylan was all for it and watched carefully as I did a pole dance with street lamp.

I was so nervous that my palms were sweating and I kept slipping from the metal and my laughing and shaking did nothing either.

Dylan said nothing, slouched to one side as he sat backwards in a chair, beer hanging in front of him, watching, contemplating, hooded lust filled eyes that spoke for him.

Keeping my eyes on him was my only option.

When the song ended, Dylan’s head tipped to the side, bloodshot eyes met mine. He held his hand up and motioned for me to come over to him sitting in a chair in the shadow with one finger.

“That was sexy,” he whispered when I was close enough. “Though I kind of hoped when I wrote it down that you would have been naked while doing it. What happened to the stripping part?”

“I could be,” I teased taking a drink of water, yes water, for once tonight. Then I reached for the hem of my black t-shirt.

Warm hands caught mine and then I was being pulled closer. “No, that’s for me only.” Moving his hands lower, he twisted me around by my hips.

I took advantage of the obscurity and the fact that everyone else was busy at the bar or on stage with Eddy and his band.

I straddled Dylan, my ass securely in his lap over his erection and his hands gripped my hips when I moved against him. “Jesus brown eyes stop. Please stop. I’m so fucking worked up right now watching that,” he moaned trying to hold me in place, his arms and chest shaking. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You couldn’t wipe the smile from my face as I turned around to face him, still straddling him only the other direction this time. “Then take me back to the hotel so I can.”

When he didn’t say anything, I begged for more.

“Touch me,” I pleaded shifting my weight forward into him. His breath on my skin remained steady unlike mine.

“I can’t. I told you, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread right now…but…I gotta say brown eyes,” he smirked into my neck but kept his voice low. “This side of you is fucking sexy.”

“What side?” I giggled. “The side that’s drinking and pole dancing?”

“No.” His lips found my heated skin marking me with his kiss. “The side that knows what she wants and what makes her feel alive. That’s sexy.”

“So you like this side?” I was trying to push him over the edge, trying for more, begging for his touch, his words, his love.

“It’s you,” he whispered pushing his hips into mine once more. “What wouldn’t I like about it?”

Lanny and Reece came over, holding hands, and eyed our seating arrangement. “You guys heading out tomorrow?”

Dylan nodded rubbing my back lightly to keep me seated in his lap. “Yeah, we’re gonna meet up with my uncle Kyle in Dodge City Saturday night.”

“You never told me that.” I said lifting my head to look at Dylan.

“He sent me a text tonight.” His head dipped once to the pole I just got to know. “I was going to tell you but we got sidetracked.”

Shrugging, I looked back at Lanny and Reece as they moved closer. Lanny reached out, her hand on my shoulder. “Well.” Untangling myself from Dylan as she spoke, I stood beside her when she pulled me into a hug. “It was nice meeting you Bailey.”

We said goodbyes so everyone, Dylan and Eddy spoke for a few moments but Dylan was, in fact, worked up and it was evident he wanted to get back to the hotel room.

His hands were all over me on the way back, on my legs, between them, constantly touching, his breathing heavy, thick with desire. I was the same. During the two-mile drive back to the hotel, my lips never left his skin as he whispered all the things he wanted to do to me.

It was exactly what I wanted. Of all my more intimate times with Eric, it was never like this. Right now, I felt as if Dylan wanted me, truly wanted me.

Dylan carried me from the car to the door of the hotel; thankfully, his hands never left my skin, lips attached to mine. To open the door, he had to look in order to get the card key in the door but other than that, we were back at it once the door was closed. Without his touch, my skin burned. Without his kiss, I was panting but with it, I was gasping.

Dylan seemed to be on the same page. When I landed on the bed, his hardness confirmed it.

“I couldn’t slow down if I wanted to, brown eyes,” he moaned pressing me into the mattress answering my unspoken question. “I need to feel you against my skin, hear you in the worst way.”

I was sure we were finally going to have sex and would have bet money on it.

Sitting up on his knees, he ripped his shirt over his head. His stare was between my legs watching my fingers work on the button of my shorts. My shirt was already off, lying next to me, when Dylan pressed forward, once gaining some friction. His eyes closed at the sensation, as did mine.

Then his shorts were off leaving us both in our underwear and looking like this would be the night, the moment by innocence was taken. Reaching inside his underwear, my hand found him.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his head fell forward, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he hovered over me. “I really want you brown eyes.”

“Then take me.” I whispered, my voice trembling, he knew I was nervous. How could I not be?

He sighed and looked over my face, shaking his head. “We can’t…”

“Why?” You couldn’t miss the annoyance in my tone that he was turning me down, again.

“We’re drunk...” he said this as if I should have known. Then his head dipped forward. “…but we can do other things.” Steading himself, his hands on either side of my face, he gave me his full weight.

“Why won’t you Dylan? Don’t you want me, that way?”

He said nothing. And that frustrated me. Not only was he denying me what I so desperately wanted, he wouldn’t tell me why other than we couldn’t.

“Jesus, enough already, what’s your deal? Why won’t you?” I threw my hands up beside me, they landed back on the bed with a thud, waiting for an answer but got nothing but a blank stare. “I’m practically begging you. And you’ve had sex before, what’s the big deal?”

“I’m not that guy,” he sighed, frustrated and confused just like me, his eyes searching mine. “You think you know but you don’t.”

I learned just how true that statement was. Through smoke filled ice blue, I learned what he meant. I learned what he was singing about.

Do you see it?

Do you hear it?

Can you feel it?

“I won’t do it while we’re drunk and I’ve never been with a virgin before,” he sighed shifting his weight to lean to one side, most of his weight supported by his elbows. His fingertips made a slow path from my lips, to my collarbone and down the valley between my breasts. “What’s the rush? It’s only been a week.”

“I know…” I said feeling silly for rushing into this.

I felt his grin against my neck. “Right here?” He asked low-pitched and short of breath, rubbing his length harder against my tingle-aching need. “Just like this? You like that, right?”

I nodded quickly, holding on while he made the room spin. He rocked harder and I could feel him so well and kept thinking to myself so this is dry humping. I remembered the girls in school talking about dry humping and how enjoyable it was. I could definitely see why.

“I’ve wanted you all day,” he whispered, lips brushing my lips as he moved. “I woke up thinking about you all day and night while I was on stage and then that fucking pole...” his voice trailed off at the end and drifted into a growl. It reminded me of that moan he did on stage tonight, the one that sent shivers from my head to my toes.

My eyelids clenched shut tighter and I felt my stomach tingle as Dylan whispered lower and forced more pressure right where I needed him most.

“I thought about you on your knees, brown eyes,” he told me almost softly. “I thought about you holding onto that pole while I made you scream.”

I clutched onto his shoulders desperately as the wetness between my legs began to seep through my underwear, coating him as he glided back and forth. He felt it and growled against my lips. I come in shiver-shaking waves as Dylan helped me ride it out.

But he didn’t stop moving against me, no, he was breathing heavier than before chasing that same earth shattering feeling I was reveling in.

“You know how fucking insane you make me?” he growled.

I smiled knowing, feeling, sliding my hands up his neck, into his hair. “Maybe,” I breathed out, shy and hopeful that it was the truth. “Maybe...”

“Maybe?” He echoed pulling back, watching my eyes, his left brow raised curiously.

I dragged my right hand from the back of his head down his chest, reaching between us. “Show me,” I whispered.

Dylan chuckled, shaking his head and catching my hand and putting it over my head to rest against the pillows. His hand gripped my wrist firmly while the other one stayed on my ass.

“Show me,” I said, more than a whisper this time, pulling against his grip to reach for him again.

He laughed but it was darker, menacing undertones and more threatening than warning. “Don’t push me, brown eyes.”

But I did because it was the only way I know right now. With him, like this, beneath him, I pushed.

I pushed, and he pinned, easily keeping my hands from him and overpowering.

My heart roared in my chest and I could feel my face contorted in anger. Why did he have to hold back with me when he’s done this before? Why me?

“If I was like the other girls, you would,” I taunted. “You wouldn’t even fucking hesitate to fuck―”

“Watch your mouth, Bailey,” Dylan replied, steady and too calm. So dangerously comfortable in this position that it made me nervous. There was a lot of things that made me nervous about Dylan, this being the one at the top of the list. His confidence.

But it wasn’t enough to discourage or dissuade my resentment for this situation. I wanted him and I was throwing myself at him every night only to have him stop me.

“Show me!” I demand again, my voice straining. “Show me you want me like I want you―”

I was cut off by Dylan letting my hands go, his body pressed possessively against me. “Stop it. You don’t have any idea.”

“You don’t have any idea,” I shouted back, pushing at both of his hands, trying to twist free from his arms.

He jerked my body more firmly to his and held me tighter.

I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. My fight wasn’t wholehearted, because part of me wanted this. So much of me craving this kind of invincibility. Dylan moved his hips again; I felt his want between my legs, hard, possessive, controlling.

“Have you thought about it?” he asked his voice is hot under my left ear, his pitch restrained. “Have you imagined what it’s going to be like, brown eyes?” His hips moved faster, harder, his grunts and groans showed me what I wasn’t seeing. “How it’s going to feel?”

Do you see it?

Do you hear it?

Can you feel it?

I couldn’t answer because yes, I have thought of it, long before we left and now, I couldn’t stop. There was a conviction in his voice I have never felt before, never saw, heard, or felt.

And then it made sense, that song was about this, us, me, him.

“Have you thought about what it’s going to be like when I’m right here?” He asked, drawing a slow circle with his hips. He moved at his own pace, holding me tight, dropping his voice as his body rocked against me. “Do you know how it’s going to feel when you wrap your arms around me the first time I’m inside you, brown eyes?”

“Dylan.”

I couldn’t take it. I was ready and willingly to do whatever he asked as long as this feeling and his touch never left.

But Dylan wasn’t letting up that easy and pushed against me harder, deeper, practically inside me but he wasn’t, only fabric separating us.

His voice, like on stage, came from deep within. “Have you thought about how good it’s going to be when I’m so fucking deep in you and there’s nothing separating us?”

“Jesus…” I gasped trying to catch my breath, my legs and entire body began to shutter, tremble and literally seize at his words and movements. I felt like I did when we were running, like any minute I was going to pass out.

“Have you thought about how amazing it’s going to feel the first time you come on my dick?”

His words, his touch, his kisses were everywhere, showing me exactly what I had been missing.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much I want you?” His body tensed, eyebrows squeezed together, evident of how much he wanted me by the movement of his hips. “Do you know?” He gave a sharp grunt and pushed forward sharply. “Do you fucking know?”

“Please,” I huffed, needed and I pleaded, all breath and no air.

“Please what?” Dylan grunted. The force of his hips pushing into me moved my body slowly up the bed until I my head was now hitting the headboard.

“Show me,” I whimpered, feeling my body start to shake. “Show me how bad you want me.”

The sounds he was making were coming from his chest and I felt it resonating throughout me. He pushed harder, faster, leaning his forehead against my cheek, his hair falling in my eyes.

“I want to be inside you. I want you so fucking bad...” His breathing felt as shallow as my own. He was past being so in control, to every bit as defenseless, and dependent as me. “I want to rip your fucking underwear off and have my way with you,” he groaned again as he buried his face in my neck and made me scream as his body shook above mine, moaning, curving into me as his knees spread my legs further and his hips jerked forward. I could feel him harden, still grunting in my ear as he trembled, wetness now seeping into me from him. “Fuck…” he moaned that same moan from earlier tonight on stage.

“Dylan…” I breathed kissing his neck.

“Kiss me,” he whispered, long lashes lowered, gasping for breath. “Kiss me, brown eyes...”

I felt the tip of his tongue and his lips open more, and I kissed him deeper.

Handling me with care as my breathing slowed and my shivers started to calm, Dylan blew a long breath out and eased his body from mine. He lied down on his back next to me and curved his right hand with my left. “Do you believe me now?”

Other than a nod, I couldn’t form a word.

What just happened?

After showering, we were lying in the bed deciding what time we would head for Dodge City when his phone kept ringing. It wasn’t the first time that it went off in one of these ringing fits but it was also too early for it to be ringing.

Dylan leaned over the side of the bed to reach for it. Annoyed at the name that flashed again, he picked it up and whispered-yelled, “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Before he threw it across the room.

“Who was it, Dylan?” I asked, leaning my back against his chest.

“Your dad,” he answered quickly, his arms circling around me again.

“Why?”

Dylan groaned, sitting up straight. I sat up; he pulled me back against him. “Why what, Bailey?”

“Why is he calling you at four in the morning? Why is he calling you at all?”

He didn’t answer me.

I turned in his arms, up on my knees, in front of him. Dylan wouldn’t look at me and I was wondering why. I leaned back on my calves. Dylan touched my bare knee. “Let’s just close our eyes. We should get a little more sleep before we head out.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Why is he calling you?”

Dylan’s jaw clenched, his eyes squinted. “You didn’t think he would let his only daughter leave with me that easily, did you?” He laughed, but it was a venomous and spiteful laugh.

“I guess not.”

He gripped my hips tighter and turned his face back to my neck when I relaxed against him.

I felt him breathing through his nose. I heard my own, the rain outside, and his phone, muffled against his jeans on the floor, but I heard his phone, and it pulled me out of my haze.

What did my dad want? Why did reality have to come crashing back? Why couldn’t we just stay in a bubble of bucket lists, crazy hitchhikers and bars? Why did I have to think of my life back home and what was happening without me?

What if something was wrong with Jeb? What if something happened to him and I wasn’t there? Honestly, I missed him, I did.

“Has he left any messages?” My stomach twisted in thoughts.

Dylan kissed my skin with his tongue and teeth, ignoring the sound of his phone and my question until it stopped. Then it started again, and I hated it. It made my heart feel pinched and hurt and bothered, because behind my smeared sunrises and cracks in the curtains, was a revealed truth. Reality. We left home with no plan and not a care in the world. But we couldn’t ignore the reality of it. The ringing phone was evidence of that.

I pushed Dylan’s shoulders. “Stop,” I told him. “Your phone’s ringing, stop. You should see what he wants.”

He didn’t stop. He kissed up from my neck, around my jaw again, continuing to ignore the sound of a third call.

“Dylan, stop,” I said again, stronger this time.

Pulling away abruptly, Dylan stood beside the bed reaching for his phone and when he found it, he practically jerked the battery out, and tossed both pieces across the room. “You stop,” he warned, meeting my eyes. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t raise his voice, but he was serious. He grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. “None of that shit matters, brown eyes. Be with me…here.”

I swallowed holding onto his hands, feeling him hold onto me. My thoughts, my feelings, the ice blue mixed with the gray in the room, shadows and smoke, everything swirled at his touch.

“Okay,” I nodded. “Okay.”

He swallowed too and leaned back down, pressing his lips to my lips again. His kisses were heavier this time, his bites on my skin harder. His hands glided down my thighs and gripped, and squeezed, alternating between tight and gentle. His attention soothed just as it started to thrill again.

I tried not to think, to feel, to do anything but be with Dylan the way I wanted, feeling the magic between us, feeling it the way he wanted me to. We may not have been having sex but there was a passion between us, a spark that wasn’t going to be put out easily.

“I’m here, brown eyes,” Dylan said against my skin. He spoke low and soft, sure words, but he sounded tortured underneath his careful tone. “Be here with me.”

“I am here,” I told him, trying to make myself be, even as my heart was telling me there was something in his words that I might have been missing. “I’m here,” I said again, trying so hard.

“Then fucking be here,” he quietly scolded knowing, hushed and threatening, gripping tighter and pulling me closer. Moving down my body, pushing the sheets and his flannel I was wearing aside to reveal bare skin, he brought my right hip right under his lips and closed them over me. I cried out at the roughness of his kiss. Groaning, he sucked and bit, digging his teeth in. I could feel my blood rushing from my heart to under his lips.

He hummed and groaned, and breathed hot over his mark, playing my body as well as he did the crowd the other night. His hands and lips softened and I let go of my hesitance and let the adrenaline he lit in my veins run its course. Tugging on his shoulders gently, my brain and heart spun into emotions I’d never felt before, hurt and surrendered, and needing, too many different feelings.

I just wanted him.

“Dylan?” I whispered so quietly I barely heard myself. I blinked and my eyelashes felt wet. I didn’t mean to cry. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t.

“Shhhh, don’t cry.” His voice was strong. “Don’t cry.” His voice was soft at the same time and he moved up my stomach, kissing me as he made a slow path. “Don’t cry over this. It’s not worth it.”

I nodded, not crying, holding his eyes with mine as he settled between my legs and covers my body with his just like I needed and didn’t even know. He warmed me. He melted me. Through icy blue, dark storms, he calmed me just by being so near in the eye of our storm.

“I love you, brown eyes,” he told me whispering words that felt like raindrops and wet trees. “Do you know that?”

I nodded, because even though it felt impossible, that after a week together, he would feel an emotion no one truly knows the meaning to, I do know. I know it better than I know anything else. I know it because it’s what my bones are made of. It’s what we are made of. The occasional brush in the halls at school, the hidden smiles, the stolen glances, we had always loved each other from opposite sides of our own storms. Only now, the two fronts had collided, one force.

“I know,” I promised, holding onto him so tight. Logic and apprehension didn’t register then, didn’t want to registered. All it wanted was to see this, the calm, the wet trees and raindrops that had the power to awaken a soul and fight for what we wanted. It wants what is simple and true.

We stared at each other in silence for long moments, lost in a moment neither one of us try to surface from. We’re okay drowning; we’re okay, lost at sea.

“I’m not Eric, Bailey.” His words were spoken softly, holding my eyes with his. “I’m here for you and you only.”

I jumped slightly when his hands touched my exposed knees, pulling them apart until his torso is nestled between them. The heat from his skin radiated through his body and into me, a slow fire burned. The words from his lips left me burning and bare.

“I would never betray you like that.” His hands emphasized his statement as they slowly trailed up my thighs, pushing the soft material of his flannel.

I gasped as he reached behind my knees and pulled me closer, until my innocence as he put it, is right there for him. His hands moved back to my thighs and pushed my underwear until it bunched around my hips, leaving me exposed to him.

His thumbs trailed confident circles on my hipbones, right above the waistband of my panties.

“I only want you,” he stated forcefully, pleading with his eyes for me to believe him.

And then, his mouth was on me, a place no one had ever been.

His eyes closed, he moaned, I moaned, and then we both sort of checked out. His tongue, wet and warm, was soft, caring, and showing me that he only wanted me in a way that no one ever had before.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything, not with Dylan Wade’s head between my legs and his mouth on my vagina. No, hell no. Concentration was not there. I will tell you what was there, heavy breathing, gasping, wiggling, squirming, a little embarrassment, growling, more panting, hair pulling, laughing, a few giggles, and finally, bliss. Pure fucking bliss.

Dylan grabbed my hips tighter, his hands working with his tongue to send me over the edge, but what did it was his moan he let out at my reaction, writhing in his hands, screaming his name loud enough for the entire hotel to hear and then going limp in his arms.

It took just a second; he scrambled up my body, hovered over me, and then reached below to grasp himself. Just as I had done the other night, and last night, his hand brought him to the edge I was just on, before he spilled onto my stomach, his face buried in my neck.

Most of what I focused on was that he said he loved me. And I said nothing. Did I love him? A good part of me always had since that first kiss on the train tracks. I was scared to love someone as intense as Dylan, especially when I didn’t even know myself. I couldn’t even tell him why I got in his car let alone that I loved him.

10.    Wide Awake – Bailey Gray

I noticed this with my friends in school, most the hookers on the cheerleading squad who spread their legs for anything on the football team that hurled insults their way, that once you start getting sexually active with someone, it’s usually all you want to do. What is it about hormones that can’t be denied? Why once they’re activated is it all you think about?

This doesn’t just go for guys either, girls are just bad. When Mercedes and Kasey starting having sex, they’d skip class just to do it in the parking lot. Same deal with Jessica and Brian. Another friend, Halie, her and her boyfriend Clayton used to do it under the bleachers during our pep rallies. No lie, it was like crack. Once they got a taste of it that’s all they did.

I completely understood that feeling now. It wasn’t like we were having sex, yet the anticipation of it and what we might try next, was exciting.

“That shit stinks, what is it?” Dylan asked looking over at me with my feet on the dash and the wind blowing through the car, both windows down.

“Nail polish.” I said raising the bottle slightly but trying to keep my hand steady. “I’m painting my toes black because my mom hates that color.” When I finished my right foot, I looked over at him with a sucker in his mouth. It was very distracting. “What me to do yours too?”

“No.” He pulled the cherry sucker between his lips and then out smacking his lips together. “I’m not much of a painted nails kind of guy.” Putting the sucker back in his mouth, he moved it to his cheek and talked with it still in his mouth. I watched carefully. “Are you going to start wearing black lipstick too and piercing those circle things in your ears?”

“Circle things? You mean earrings?”

That remark earned me a glare. “No, I mean those earrings with the big holes in them, like Haven wore.”

“Oh, those.” I felt somewhat stupid for not knowing what he was talking about. “No.”

Dylan gave a nod, his eyes back on the road.

“So you never slept with Haven.” I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth at my own question but I really wanted to know who he’d slept with. For some reason I must have thought that was a good icebreaker. Stupid.

He blinked, slowly, and then looked over at me, his head lulled, eyes arched. “No, I didn’t have sex with Haven.”

“Who?”

“You seriously want to know?”

Of course I did. I was the typical eighteen-year-old girl right then and wanted to know everyone he’d been with so I could compare myself to them.

The problem was that Dylan knew that.

“Fine, you want to know I’ll tell you,” he said shifting his weight to lean closer to me, his arm thrown over the back of the seat as we headed to Dodge City. “Sarah, Lindsey, Jessie, and the other two…I don’t know…just girls.” His expression changed slightly, a practiced triviality settled.

“So five?”

“Yeah.”

“And none were virgins?”

“No,” he laughed lightly, “definitely not virgins,”

Putting my nail polish away, I scooted closer tangling my hand in his hair, lightly scraping against his scalp and I felt his right hand find my left thigh, snaking its way underneath the edge of my shorts to caress the skin. It was one of his signature moves that I was becoming accustomed to when we were in the car. He liked touching skin, my skin. I loved it when he held me this way. The way he gripped me felt so possessive and protective and something I never knew I wanted, or needed, until I got in his GTO.

Here’s where those hormones came in. I wanted more of that tingling all over feeling that he was so good at giving me.

“Have you ever went down on any of them?” I was getting bolder by the moment and loved it.

Dylan laughed lightly shaking us both. His head tipped to kiss the side of my face. “Yes,”

“Is there anything you haven’t done?”

Dylan was quiet again, his breathing slightly heavier than before. “I’ve never finished here before.” His right hand that had moved to my thigh, raised to touch my lips lightly, his voice grating and strong as his rushed though me. His fingers lingered there for a moment, calloused roughness scraping against soft.

I tugged at the collar of his flannel shirt so that I could kiss the divot between his collarbones as the idea of Dylan in my mouth overwhelmed me. I’d never done anything like that before but I was sure that I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

Dylan moaned quietly and his head dropped to the back of the seat again. “You really know how to get me going, don’t you?”

I grinned and scooted closer, breathing heavy. There was some sound of vague disappoint, but he was too far gone to make any proper complaint.

My guess was that all of Dylan’s we-can’t-have-sex proclamations were wavering slightly.

My fingers trailed down his shirt and gripped at his belt. “How about you do finish?”

Dylan’s head shot up, eyes wide as he took in my new position, kneeling, hands pulling at his belt in the front seat of his GTO.

“Bailey.” He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as I slowly undid his zipper. “I didn’t say that so you would do―”

“Dylan,” I cut him off sharply. “If you tell me I don’t have to do what I’m very obviously about to do, I will actually stop.”

“Okay, then,” he smirked.  “Just ignore me.”

So I did and finished unzipping his shorts. It wasn’t that easy, I heard a few honks along the way since my ass was in the air and it was obvious what I was doing. I don’t think Dylan cared about any of that.

Soon his hands were fisting in my hair and I was internally praising myself for the sounds he was making. He was obviously trying to restrain himself. Though I had never done this before, YouTube was very informational, and Dylan’s car was filled with quiet moans and the chanting of my name. His hips began lifting from the seat to meet my mouth and I couldn’t hold back my own moan. I could smell that natural oak heady smell he had, the soft sensitive skin, it was just as enjoyable for me as it was for him. Well, maybe not that much but I did enjoy it. I only wished I could have seen his face.

Having never done it before, I was trying to concentrate on technique and not making a fool of myself and he seemed to enjoy it too. It was similar to sucking on a sucker, if I had to compare it.

He made a lot of noises, soft grunts, and groans, with on hand tangled in my hair guiding me or encouraging. It felt like support and I needed it.

It wasn’t long and Dylan’s hips shuddered and I glanced up out of the corner of my eye to see him biting his fist to keep from crying out but a little grunt escaped him when I felt his legs tense and a warm liquid seeping into my mouth and hardened in my mouth.

I resisted the urge to gag, not that I found it repulsive or anything but it was different from what I thought it would be.

“Jesus, I was doing one ten…” I felt his leg rise to ease off the gas trying to adjust himself. “Thank god there weren’t any cops around here.”

I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as delicately as I could. With his shorts still unbuttoned, Dylan’s head fell forward into the steering wheel, eyes closed for a moment, and his arms hung limply over the wheel, drifting from the right lane to the left and back again on purpose.

As he used his knee to balance the steering wheel, he got himself situated.

Looking at his flushed cheeks, I was quite proud of myself that there wasn’t a hint of tension anywhere in his body. I snickered a bit at the sated expression on his face and Dylan opened one eye to look at me.

“Something funny, there, brown eyes?”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nope.”

He reached for my hand and pulled me back up next to him, settling into a comfortable speed that wouldn’t get us pulled over; dropping his head to my shoulder once I was there. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

I was about to say something in reply when a log truck that had been keeping pace with us honked. We both glanced to the right to see the guy hanging his arm out his window. Since my window was down, we heard exactly what he was saying. “Fuck yeah honey! Suck mine next!”

Dylan was not amused by that. He leaned over the top of me, one hand on the wheel and the other giving a gesture to the trucker. “Suck this asshole!”

The driver of the truck wasn’t exactly thrilled with Dylan and shouted back, “Pull over and I will motherfucker!”

Dylan and I both looked at each other and his speed slowed. “As much as I want to kick this guy’s ass, I don’t have the energy and he looks like he could kick mine without trying.”

I gave him a nod wrinkling my nose with a giggle. “Probably a good idea.”

Thankfully, the truck driver wasn’t looking for a fight, leaving us alone.

The drive from Wichita to Dodge City offered nothing but flat land, occasionally a dead animal or two and the occasional trucker honking. It might have had something to do with my legs hanging out the window but I liked the breeze it offered. I’d lay with my butt against the door, my back flat against the seat, my head in Dylan’s lap and my legs out the window.

Turning up the music, the sounds of Groove Armada hummed through the car. The wind, the cow shit smell, and the music was relaxing but Dylan’s soft touches were the calming part. He’d start by running his fingertips over my collarbone, then the side of my neck, behind my ear, and then he would run his fingers through my hair. All the while, I stared out the side window watching cars and clouds pass through my toes.

At some point during the song, Dylan’s hand rested on my chest over my heart, his fingers tapping to the beat as he sang along. My favorite part was when he would hum and his voice would adapt that gritty rasp he had that reminded me of that moan he did on stage.

Taking his hand from my chest, I rested it in both of mine exploring every detail behind the talent these hands held. Long fingers, muscular palms with calloused edges, he held a lot in these hands, including my heart now.

I wondered what he would do with it, as no one else had ever held it before.

“Wanna take a detour?” Dylan whispered bringing my hand that was still tucked in his to his lips kissing my knuckles.

“Sure.” I looked up at him and he smiled down at me and winked.

Clouds had rolled in, the Kansas sky peppered with blue and gray undertones as a light mist of rain fell highlighting the overgrown weeds that lined a country road.

The rain picked up but we kept the windows down as the breeze and smell of fresh rain was exactly what we wanted on that red dirt road. When we got to the lake, the sun could just barely be seen through the clouds. Dylan used his flannel to shield the camera so I could get a few good shots in. Sighing, I peeked at them; Dylan glanced over my shoulder, his chin rested against me.

His lips at my ear, he kissed me once before reaching inside the car to turn up the stereo when a song came on that he liked.

A moment later, with the rain still falling, we were laying on the hood of his car. “Drew and I used to lay in the grass and see how long we could keep our eyes open.”

“Who would win?”

“We never found out,” he laughed lightly. “We always gave in and enjoyed the feeling of the rain on our face when we closed our eyes. We could imagine we were anywhere but where we were, for a moment.”

Right now, we could be anywhere but here, but why would I want that. “I like where I’m at.”

Dylan inhaled a deep breath. “Me too…”

A cool breeze past, a mist of rain coated my face and I smiled. I completely understood why he would have done this as a child. I used to sit at my window when it would rain and photograph the water as it surged down the drain.

Dylan didn’t care that we were laying on the hood of his car or that it was raining. He was in the moment, something he was teaching me to do and enjoying the greater importance than some meaningless materialism, something my childhood had lacked greatly. Maybe there’s something to that way of thinking. I smiled at the thought. The thought that creeps in me knowing Dylan is having an effect on me more than just sexually.

Dylan rolled to his side, looking down at me. “You cold?”

“Nope.”

He nodded, thoughtful for a moment, drops of water beaded under his chin. In the distance, but closer than I would have liked, thunder cracked lighting the sky behind us. Dylan looked around and then winked. “You scared?”

“A little.” I admitted. “We are in tornado country.”

“Good.” He licked his lips and shook water from his eyes. His hand rose to wipe drops that formed on my nose. “It means you’re doing something wrong the right way.”

“Your logic is sometimes scary.”

He gave me a playful nod. “My logic is what got you here, with me, in the rain, on the hood of my car.” Slowly he leaned forward, hovering over me, and went in as if he was going to kiss me but stopped just as his lips were at mine, barely touching, his breath blew across my face as he spoke. “Dance with me…in the rain.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” He pulled back, his eyes sparkling as the rain sprinkled drops on his lashes as he gave a lazy nod. “Here”

Sitting up on my elbows, I slid my feet up the hood so my knees were bent, my heels touching my butt.

Dylan stood on the hood, the metal protested with a thump at his weight. He reached his hand out lifting me up. “Dance with me.”

“Are you sure? It’ll dent the hood.”

“Who gives a shit?” he gestured to the left side of the car. “It’s smashed already.”

“I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Shut up,” he said placing my hands around his neck and his on my hips. “We won’t. We’re making memories here, enjoy the moment, be here.” He placed his hand over my heart again, his eyes focused surely on mine and blinked slowly. “Be with me right here, in the rain.” I did, I was in the moment and wrapped myself around him, my bare feet squeaking against the metal. “Every time I look at this hood, I’ll think of this moment and you. And I’ll know that we’re the only two people who will know what these dents mean because we were in a moment.”

You know those moments, whether you’re in them or not, you feel something more than what you intended to feel, what you wanted to feel. That was right now. It was like watching a sunset, one that I expected to be an average sunset and knowing what the colors would be and the specific settings I would use, but then, with so much as a shift in the clouds, a sunset you never expected is revealed. It’s a stolen heart in the rain, sprinkled rays of light that kiss your skin and dance in the rain to the sounds of thunder and rolling growls.

It’s being in the moment and giving yourself whether you intended to or not.

It’s a passionate love held in place by ice blue.

A good part of me was scared to love Dylan. But there was also a part, that child within me that had always been in love with Dylan since that first kiss. The other part was nervous to love someone like Dylan when I didn’t know myself. I knew that with Dylan, you could easily fall in love with him.

“Sometimes I wonder where on earth a boy like you came from,” I said my head laid gently on his chest, his breathing light as the mist on us.

Dylan gave that light chuckle I found so reassuring. “I think her name was Lauren…”

My smile tugged at the side of my face, a slow creeping smile that memories molded. “And she smelled like sugar cookies.”

Swaying side to side, he twirled me once before reclaiming my hips.

We slipped as the water beaded down the hood and landed on our asses after that.

Dylan looked at me. “I didn’t take into account how slippery it would be.”

Trying to keep from slipping more, I steadied myself but then lost it in a fit of giggles when I saw that Dylan’s foot had cracked his windshield when we fell. Instead of getting mad, he sighed shaking his head and sprawled out on the hood. “See, what’d I tell you…memories. I’ll look at that windshield now and say, damn, that was a dumb idea.”

I couldn’t stop from laughing and leaned sprawled out like he’d just done.

He looked over at me, taking a pull from the cigarette he just lit. “You’re so fucking pretty when you smile like that.” His left index finger tapped my nose. “Makes these freckles light up.”

Silence fell over us. Dylan scanned his eyes over mine as the tips of his fingers traced along my cheek until he cupped the side of my face. “If someone asked you what color the sky is, what would you say?”

“I would ask what time of day.”

“Why?” Dylan looked slightly perplexed by my answer as if I’d thrown him off guard. His hand dropped from my face as he leaned against the window, his left leg bent at the knee relaxing on the hood of dents and a busted windshield.

I looked up at the sky, it was a light gray but shadowed in part by the sun and soon it would set behind the blanket of clouds. The rain finally stopped and the smell of wet trees and dirt surrounded us. “Because sometimes it’s blue or gray or white.”

Dylan took a slow drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke into the sky. “Fuck that, those colors are bland. Look beyond that. Imagine what could be. There’s gold and pink and purple and orange, there’s so much beyond the eye that most don’t see, don’t want to see or can’t imagine.” He kept an eye on me and nodded to the one sliver of clouds that had broken apart to reveal the sunset over my shoulder. “Thinking that way will not only suck the life right out of you but you won’t see what’s right in front of you, in the moment. You’re stuck seeing what you’ve always seen. Don’t be that. Be alive, be wide awake, be anything.”

Childhood to adulthood has a way of fading and making you feel this way, a way Dylan believed and never lost sight of. Deep down he was that little mischievous boy he once was; maybe he had a tougher shell these days. But watching him sing, hearing him say things like this, made me believe he was still in there and childhood hadn’t faded away, life had gotten in the way.

It also made me believe there was hope, even though we had no idea what our future would bring right now, we could do and be whatever we dreamed of being.

Silence settled like the rain, no words needed to be spoken, blue eyes that wouldn’t let the child in me get lost, make my head throb and my heartbeat. His eyes held mine, heavy weights in place and the most imaginable colors behind him.

“Are you glad we ran away?” I asked my lashes sprinkle water on my cheeks.

He looked at my lips and then my eyes before clearing his throat softly. “It’s our deal. It’s what we were supposed to do. So yeah, I am,” he sighed pressing his lips to mine, “now, let’s bucket list this shit and kiss me in the fucking rain.”

Our deal?

I wasn’t sure what he meant by our deal but a kiss in the rain was enough to erase any thoughts I may have had.

Memories flashed against my closed lids, memories we created when we were kids and now consumed me, made me feel those bleeding colors.

11.     Dirt Tracks – Bailey Gray

Dylan and I made it to Dodge City around midnight after our kiss in the rain turned into more than a kiss.

We were trying to find a hotel but as it turned out, there was a race in town and all the hotels seemed to be booked. Dylan’s uncle Kyle, his dad’s younger brother, called and got us a room at the Best Western where a bunch of their crew was staying.

Now we were trying to find the Best Western.

“I’m starving,” he groaned into my hair, his lips brushing my ear as we drove around. “I’m so hungry right now I could eat your elbow,” he laughed slightly, his chest shaking me as his hand slipped around my shoulder, pulling me into him. His hand kept its journey lower and ran down my arm. “Matter of fact,” Dylan stopped and pulled my arm near his mouth, “give it here, I’ll nibble a little.”

I giggled twisting away from him with laughter. The last few hours had been nothing but laughter, lingering touches, tickling and wet clothes on the floorboards. We were both in our underwear and the heater on full-blast trying to dry them.

“What did you mean when you said our deal earlier?” I asked snuggling closer to his side.

Dylan was quiet for a minute, one hand rested on the steering wheel, the other on my upper thigh. “It’s not complicated brown eyes.” His lips pressed to my temple. “It’s just…our deal.”

“We have a deal?” I turned my head to look up at him. His eyes were on the road.

“Everyone has a deal,” he said. “An unspoken understanding…we were meant to be and you know it.”

“There’s a Taco Bell.” I pointed across his chest to the left side of the street at a strip mall. “Let’s go there.”

Just like that, the conversation twisted.

Dylan loved tacos so that was where we ended up. We took the food back to the hotel and ate there. There was nothing better than going through a Taco Bell drive-thru at midnight in your bra and underwear.

It screams inappropriate.

When we got to the hotel, we both crashed not long after eating.

The next afternoon was when it got interesting. Unlike Eddy, I’d never met anyone from the Wade side of the family other than Ken, Dylan’s dad. And after knowing Ken, I wasn’t sure what to expect of Kyle.

We met for breakfast not far from the racetrack in Dodge City. He brought with him his younger brother, the youngest of the Wade brothers, Gentry. He was nice and closer in age to us. I found out that Ken was the oldest, then Kyle and Gentry. From what Dylan told me, all three were very different. Ken was serious and kind of an asshole. That much I knew first hand.

Then there was Kyle, the more determined of the three brothers and heavily involved in racing. The youngest was Gentry, the goofball of the family. I could see that too.

He flirted with me that morning and Dylan had to set him straight right off the bat. “No dude, she’s taken.”

Gentry had fun with it like all uncles would have. It was in good humor and kept light.

After breakfast, we headed to the track to meet the rest of their crew and the NASCAR driver that Kyle was the crew chief for. Apparently it was a bi-weekend and he was back to racing the cars that he grew up racing.

I’d never been to a dirt track and I couldn’t exactly see the appeal. That was until I watched my first race. I completely understood the appeal. The rush, the adrenaline, the fans, beer, all of it was part of the experience.

Kyle had gotten us passes to go in and out of the pits but once the racing started, I found myself drawn in and not wanting to miss anything. Dylan was the same way.

“So what’s this driver like?” I gestured to the black number nine sprint car that was on the track qualifying.

The number board in the middle of the track flashed with the words fast time and Kyle smiled shaking his head with a laugh as he leaned back against the bench behind him. “He never loses that.”

Gentry, who was sitting in front of me, glanced over his shoulder at me. “The driver is an asshole. Just remember that and you’ll be fine.” He turned back around to drink his beer like nothing happened.

Kyle nodded. “He is an asshole but he means well. Just don’t be offended if he doesn’t talk much when he comes up here.”

I’d never met a race car driver before and I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect once they said he was an asshole.

Dylan put his hand on my thigh but laughed and raised it to my face when he looked over at me and brushed what I assumed was more dirt from my nose. “Are you having fun?”

I nodded my eyes giving me away and Dylan cracked a smile, his eyes drifting back to the track as the next car came out. One by one, cars made their way onto the track and made what Kyle said, a qualifying lap. Jameson Riley, the driver of that black number nine car held onto that fast time.

“So this driver, Jameson Riley,” I motioned to where he was standing in the middle of the track with a group of guys surrounding him as they talked to the announcer, “is he really good?”

Dylan nodded, his arm circled around my shoulders. “Yeah, he’s won the championship for NASCAR something like eight times now and he’s only thirty-one.”

“Wow!” I had no idea what any of that meant but it seemed impressive.

As the nights activities moved along, the wooden bleachers we sat in overlooking the clay track filled with families and enthused race fans. A burst of lights above made the cars and the wings shine with glimmer I found captivating right along with the sound. The sound reminded me of Dylan’s car, that sharp distinct growl of horsepower.

Dylan’s attention was mostly on the racing but he usually kept one hand on me at all times, feeling, remembering, making memories, our deal.

A few of the other drivers lingered in the stands prior to what they called the heat races began, none were Jameson but a few were said to be drivers that raced for him.

I don’t know why but I wanted to meet this Jameson guy that everyone, including Dylan, talked so highly of.

“He’ll probably come up here after the heats, maybe,” Gentry had said to us after he managed to get us beer. “But don’t get bent if he doesn’t.”

Kyle snorted, the noise in between humor and annoyance. “Just know that the only reason he’ll even talk to us is because he’s here, at a dirt track.”

That seemed a bit rude to me. Why wouldn’t you talk to people who came out to support you?

Dylan seemed to notice my questions shifting through my head and leaned in bumping my shoulder. “He’s not a bad guy.” He rubbed his forehead with his right hand before adjusting his hat. “He’s just the type that’s single -minded when he’s racing.”

“So you’ve met him before?” I said into his shoulder shielding my eyes from the sun as it peeked over his left shoulder.

He noticed and moved forward to block the light, his eyes squinting at the brightness before he moved his shades that were on his head down. “Yeah, once at a track back home. He’s from Washington.”

“Oh.” The thought that he was from Washington made me cheer a little harder for him.

Before the main events came on another group of people came into the stands. They were introduced to me as Jameson’s wife and two boys, Axel and Casten. They had a little girl too, Arie, but she was at the merchandise trailer, whatever that was.

In a matter of two hours, I had learned a whole new language that I never knew. The racing world.

Sway, Jameson’s wife, sat next to me when Dylan went down to the pits with Kyle and Gentry to look at the car.

“I’m Sway, Jameson’s wife,” she said patting my knee. “Those little hoodlums are Axel and Casten.” She tapped the tops of their heads as she introduced them but neither turned around. Instead, they sat quietly eating hot dogs. Sway laughed when they didn’t turn around. “Don’t let the rapt attention on the track fool you, they’re never this quiet. I had to beat them in the truck for throwing dirt at me. They’re only acting this way in fear I’ll tell their dad, which I will.”

“That’s a cool name,” I said smiling and feeling comfortable around her already. I had a hard time getting to know people back home because usually they were afraid of me―being the mayor’s daughter and all. Now, no one knew that side of me.

“Yeah.” Sway tossed a sweatshirt over her bare legs when the wind picked up slightly. “My parent’s named me after a Rolling Stones song.”

We made small talk for a moment, I told her about leaving home right after graduation. She thought it was funny and understood why. Finally, someone didn’t give me a look of what-the-hell-were-you-thinking.

Sway was easy to talk to and I found myself engrossed in everything she had to say. It was like I had some kind of girl-crush on her. She was adorable and I wanted to kiss her. Not really but she was cute.

“How long have you been married?” I asked taking a drink of the beer Gentry handed me and trying to get over my girl crush on this woman.

Sway glared at Gentry shoving his shoulder, her diamond ring shined with the movement. “She’s eighteen dude, not cool.”

“Whatever.” Gentry flipped his hand up with a smile and sat down next to the boys in front of us.

“We’ve been married almost eight years,” she said. “We got married when I was eight months pregnant with that one.” Leaning forward she tapped the top of the older boys head. He gave her a nod but paid no attention to her when a string of five sprint cars came onto the track for what they called a trophy dash.

These weren’t your average NASCAR car either. They were about half the size in length with large back tires, open wheels and a wing on the top. They were adorable.

Then we started to talk about the situation Dylan and I had now found ourselves in, confused, lost, running from something we didn’t understand.

I felt bad pouring my heart out to her but Sway had that type of personality that I started spilling my guts to her and forgot all about the race.

Sway smiled. “We were eighteen once. I don’t think Jameson and I could get anything right at that age and it was like we had to do everything wrong before we did anything right.”

“But you were together eventually.”

“Well yeah,” she motioned to the two little boys sitting quietly on the bench in front of us both wearing black racing hats and sweatshirts that matched their dad’s number and sponsor. “But we broke each other’s hearts before we ever got to the point where we were actually together.”

“Would you have done anything different?”

The older of the two kids looked up when he saw his dad approach, his racing suit tied around his waist with a swarm of fans following him, mostly women. The idolizing smile was undeniable when his dad grabbed the two boys into a hug hauling them over his shoulders.

Sway laughed lightly, “No,” she looked at the older boy with a smile, “I wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Jameson didn’t stay long, said nothing in acknowledgment to me, kissed his wife and then took off in the other direction with two other drivers, his head down, hat drew low to avoid eye contact with anyone.

The night progressed and I spent more time talking to Sway and her sister in-law, Emma, than I did Dylan. He didn’t care, he was in heaven surrounded by fast cars.

Emma was something else. Other than that crack head we picked up in Oklahoma City, I’d never met someone with that much energy and she had two kids wrapped around her. These women were amazing.

Jameson ended up winning the main event, which seemed to put his family in a good mood. His sister Emma invited us back to their pit to hang out.

Jameson came back into the stands after receiving the trophy. He looked up at Dylan and me but said nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd. He seemed uncomfortable surrounded by them and appeared to be focused on getting away.

“Come back to the pit,” Emma said holding one of her sons by the hood of his sweatshirt so he couldn’t escape, the other one was held by who appeared to be their dad. “We’re going to cook some burgers.”

Dylan was all about food and Emma wasn’t taking no for an answer.

When we got to their pit near the back of the large dust field, it was scattered with cars, a large black and grey bus, three large haulers that stored the sprint cars and a handful of ATV’s and dirt bikes. There wasn’t any shortage of toys either. Inside the haulers, you could tell this whole thing was a family affair and they were all very close. I felt a little out of place but Emma and Sway were good at making us comfortable.

Food was everywhere too and so was the beer. Dylan’s favorite.

Sure enough, I looked over at him, standing next to the black and red hauler beside Kyle and another guy I hadn’t met yet, drinking a Coors Light.

Jameson was standoffish, kept his distance for the most part but after two beers, he began to open up and started joking around with his team. You can tell they feed off him. He’s full of attitude, much like Dylan, and set’s the mood around him. If he was quiet, they were quiet. When his mood lightened, they started in.

Aside from all this, Jameson never lingered far from his wife. They were always within a foot of one another whether they meant to be or not.

Sway was kept busy with the kids but every once in a while she would stop and talk to me.

The kids were entertaining to watch. I still hadn’t seen the girls they said were around but the boys, who stood near the fire after we ate hamburgers, all throwing sticks and rocks in it. They alternated between throwing stuff in the fire and riding around on a mini-dirt bike they had.

Sway sighed beside me. “See…” she pointed to Axel who had a flaming marshmallow on a stick swinging it around, “excellent birth control.”

She had that right.

Their entire family was a good time. I enjoyed all of them.

What I wasn’t so enthusiastic about was Dylan’s eyes on Sway. As I said, Sway was cute, mostly beautiful but she had cute down to an art. The way she would giggle, her facial expressions, all of it would attract most men.

Dylan watched Sway walk by, his eyes lingered when she bent down to pick up the younger child when he started eating dirt.

“Monkey, no,” she said brushing the dirt from his mouth. “That’s yucky.”

The boy laughed, an infections giggle like his mothers.

I didn’t focus on that though. No. When I saw Dylan look at her, my mind wandered. Did he find Sway attractive?

Of course he did. Sway was beyond beautiful and had the personality to match it. She had rich dark flowing hair, an amazing curvy figure with cushion in all the right areas. She wasn’t too skinny or too thick and had the best ass I’ve ever seen. Dylan, being an ass man, looked.

My eyes stayed on Dylan, watching, waiting to see what he would do. Loving someone does strange things to you. It’s cumbersome, innocent at times, life changing, goose bump making, to I can’t sleep without you by me. And then, even though the words hadn’t been spoken, a defined relationship set, when you see them look to another for any reason, jealousy induced behavior rears its ugly head. I saw it with Eric a time or two and with Dylan at the nightclub. Now I was experiencing it. The rush, the anxiety, the uneasiness. It was all there.

He eventually averted his eyes, as though he didn’t intend to look or didn’t want to be looking, but when she bent over again setting the child on the ground, Dylan’s eyes lingered on her chest.

My heart was in my throat, my breathing heavy as my gut turned. That’s when Dylan looked at me, maybe trying to figure out why I was looking at him the way I was.

If he was supposedly in love with me, why was he looking at Sway that way?

It hit me then; the jealousy I was feeling was something I had never felt before. It was a reality checking, mad, throat clenching, eye burning, and soul taking.

A noise brought me back; a beer can tossed aside, a movement in the distance.

Jameson noticed and stood from his place on the tailgate, his daunting calloused green eyes on Dylan. Slowly, he walked over to Dylan, grabbed the strings of his hooded sweatshirt and the other took a good handful of the shirt to pull him closer, glaring, silence heavy and threatening. “Don’t even think about it, kid.”

Dylan, young rough trouble himself, kept his composure but you could tell he was a taken back by it. Laughing nervously, he held up his hands, his voice low, “No man, not thinking about it.”

“Good,” Jameson said letting go, his hands smoothed Dylan’s shirt out as he cracked a smile. “She’s taken.”

Letting go of Dylan completely, he pushed away, his face marked with sinister shadows but with a relaxed edge. Jameson seemed to be joking but the threat was there. He was simply giving Dylan his side.

A little shaken, maybe, Dylan took a drag from the cigarette he had in his hand and then tossed the butt in a shallow puddle, shaking his head with a low laugh.

“Dude,” Kyle pushed against Dylan’s shoulder. “Don’t do that again. She’s like the warden’s wife, don’t ask, don’t touch, and don’t look.”

“Noted,” Dylan said, the nervous chuckle returned before he took a drink from his beer.

Spencer, Jameson’s older brother that had been harassing the kids and their flaming marshmallow’s most of the night smiled at Dylan, his eyes wide but laughing silently. “You got that bad boy image packed down but don’t fuck with Jameson, he’s highly unstable.”

Sway laughed curling into Jameson’s side when he put his arm around her. “Knock it off boys.”

Dylan moved to stand next to me again, his arm around my shoulder and for a moment, a brief moment, I didn’t want it. Love was crazy, right? Made you crazy, fucking crazy with crazy thoughts.

He turned to face me, sad maybe, caught yes. “I wasn’t looking because I was interested,” he said in his defense, half-pleading, half-reassuring and low, only for me to hear.

“Okay,” I said not knowing what else to say, laughing snidely.

The activity around us didn’t lend well to a jealous side so I forgot about it, mostly, it didn’t stop the fire in my stomach and wondering why he looked in the first place. Dylan seemed agitated and annoyed, maybe he was upset with himself or maybe he was upset that someone called him out on it.

Sway giggled in the distance, Jameson was whispering something in her ear and Emma was talking to Dylan about Charlie, her son, who had just smacked him with a stick that was more like a log. She was apologizing.

I found it interesting the way Jameson and Sway watched each other and moved as one. It was a refreshing type of relationship and you knew that without knowing, they were together. You didn’t have to be told, you knew.

Everyone relaxed as the crowd around us thickened. We stood around in a circle, drinking, talking, and mostly listening to Jameson and crew mess around.

The younger boys were a little rowdy after a while, bored I assumed and Jameson kept having to grab the older one, Axel, by the hood of his black sweatshirt and tell him to knock it off. He never raised his voice, he didn’t have to. His tongue was sharp and quick on its own.

Dylan wanted to look at the cars so Kyle took him inside the hauler and then leaned over the side of one of the sprint cars pointing out various parts I assumed.

When I looked up, my stare caught Jameson, who was on the other side of the fire from me, and he smiled softly reaching forward to hand me a beer. “You’re twenty-one, right?” he teased.

I wasn’t sure what to say, here this famous race car driver was now talking to me after nearly kicking my friend’s ass for eyeing his wife’s ass. It must have been written all over my innocent face that I had been comparing myself to Sway. I couldn’t help it.

That’s when he surprised me and was far more perceptive than I ever thought he would have been. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re beautiful.” His stare wasn’t on me but on the beer in his hand but the words were meant for me. I knew that much. “Never doubt that,” he said before bumping my shoulder with his and winking at me. “He’s only got eyes for you.”

It was a brief interaction and then the gathering around us caught his attention but after that, I was a fan for life. I could totally see myself being a pit-lizard as Sway called it for that man. I get it now. He had the looks, the personality and one hell of a glare. Dylan knew firsthand that too.

Dylan made his way back over to me, a smile, a flicker in his eye and a beer in his hand, laughing with Kyle.

Jameson glanced over his shoulder at the GTO parked next to his hauler. “So you’re into cars?”

He was making conversation and Dylan knew it, relieved I think. “Yeah,” he nodded paying close attention to the guys in the back of the hauler now shoving each other with a camaraderie rather than anger.

“I got a few classics back home too,” Jameson said wrapping an arm around Sway when she made her way outside the hauler. She’d just rounded up the kids and got them all inside the motor coach that was parked on the other side of hauler near the fence.

“What kind?” Dylan brought his beer to his lips; his other hand patted his pockets looking for his cigarettes. When he found them, he took one out but didn’t light it. Instead, he tucked it behind his ear flipping the lighter around in his hand.

Jameson watched him, curious to his habit of smoking and the lighter he flipped when nervous. “I have a 67’ GTO like yours and a 67’ Shelby GT 500.”

“No shit?” Dylan gasped, coughing, his hand with the light raised to scratch his jaw. “Those are fucking rare.”

“Yeah, they are,” Jameson agreed. “I don’t collect a lot of cars but I have those.”

“Aside from race cars?” I laughed feeling part of the conversation. Sway noticed and winked at me.

“Yes,” Jameson laughed his smile and eyes bright. “Race cars are my weakness.”

They got into talking about the specifics of the cars, engines size and what not when Jameson noticed the dent in the door and hood.

“While I can understand the dents in the hood,” Jameson paused and gave a knowing smirk to Dylan and I. “What the fuck happened to the door?”

My cheeks were bright red. Dylan chuckled, his right hand slipping into the back pocket of my jeans, leaning into me. “Oh, you know. Crazy road trip.”

I knew then he wasn’t going to tell anyone what that dent was from. It wasn’t from embarrassment either. He meant it when he said we would be the only ones with these memories. They were ours.

Nothing more was said for a little while until Kyle came back over with a guy on his back and two of the boys that were supposed to be sleeping. I recognized one as Axel, Jameson and Sway’s oldest. The other I hadn’t seen yet with dusty blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

That’s when the guy that was on Kyle’s back jumped off and pummeled Jameson.

“Who is that?” I asked Dylan.

Jameson groaned picking himself up from the dirt. “My fucking brother.”

Laughter broke out as the boys finished a playful round of wrestling. That Spencer guy was a trip. Imagine this overly large guy, baby blue eyes, booming laughter and rowdy play tossing around water balloons and wrestling his younger brother. It was hard to imagine but it was entertaining.

About the time we were leaving, Kyle took Dylan aside to try to give him some money. Naturally, he refused. So far, on our trip Dylan had funded the entire thing aside from a few meals where he was distracted and I managed to slip the money sooner. I had no idea how much money Dylan had, and he refused to talk about anything related to his trust fund, but I knew he had plenty.

I still wasn’t comfortable with him paying for everything but I let him to save myself the argument.

Kyle nudged Dylan’s shoulder. “Your dad isn’t a bad guy, Dylan. He’s just Ken. That’s all I can say.”

Dylan’s stance was I-don’t-give-a-shit. If that didn’t give it away, his eye roll and words did. “I’m done with it.”

Kyle seemed to understand. “Why do you think I haven’t seen him in six years?”

Through Kyle that night, I learned a lot about the Wade family and that they kept in touch with Drew. Kyle had paid for him to go to rehab and a place to stay until he got on his feet and eventually helped him find a steady job. Turns out it was at a bar, and if you knew Drew that wasn’t exactly the best idea, but he did good and eventually bought the bar from the owner.

Knowing what Drew had gone through, it was good to see him doing well.

Dylan hugged his uncles, shook hands with Jameson and gave Sway a brief hug when she forced him to, all the while keeping his eyes on Jameson as he glared playfully.

Sway and I hugged too and she asked for my number which I thought was pretty cool but unfortunately, I hadn’t replaced my phone yet and had no plans of doing so any time soon. I loved their family, they were cool people and honestly, I wanted them to adopt me.

“That was fun,” I said to Dylan when we got back in his car around three that morning.

He gave me a nod but nothing else when he opened the door for me.

Before he started the car, he looked over at me, carefully considering his words before his voice is low. “You have my heart,” he said, a strange calm demeanor settled. “You have nothing to worry about with me.”

I nodded, my cheeks reddened slightly at his admission and the fact that I haven’t said anything remotely heartfelt as he has to me. Now I’m afraid if I do it won’t mean anything. “Why did you look?”

“Habit I guess.” He shrugged starting the car. The rumble vibrated the seat as he revved the engine a few times but didn’t put the car in gear.

Why do men do that? I can’t say that I haven’t seen women do it too, I just see it more with men. Jealousy. Damn that monster.

My voice was stuck, caught in my throat. That painful ache of jealousy was back, killing me softly. “Do you find her attractive?” Shit. I sounded pathetic.

Dylan chuckled, softly, and grabbed my arm to scoot me closer to him, his arm wrapped around me resting against the seat over my shoulder. His cheek pressed to the side of my face, warm, comforting. “She’s attractive, yes, but she’s not my brown eyes,” he whispered. His lips touched my temple as he spoke, “nothing will ever compare to you.” He groaned into my neck, carefully nibbling on my skin, “I knew I was fucked from that first kiss at seven.” Turning in the seat, his skin abnormally warm, his nose coasted along my throat, hot kisses against my jaw. “I’m fucked. Without you, I’m fucked.”

What did that mean? I didn’t say anything, my words caught in my throat again.

Dylan didn’t wait for me to answer, he kept one hand around me but put the car in gear and headed back to the hotel. His hand twirled a piece of my hair between his fingers.

I thought a lot about what Sway had said to me on the drive back to the hotel. “Love with everything you have.” That was her relationship advice. And if I was honest with you, it was the best advice anyone had ever given me on relationships.

Her other advice that she offered: “Don’t have regrets or second thoughts she told me. Love. Love with all your heart, every piece of it. Love anything as much as you can.”

Sway was wise beyond her years and seemed to understand a lot about my deal with Dylan without me needing to explain anything to her.

When I thought about what was happening between me and Dylan, it scared me a little but made me feel more alive than anything.

Back home, when anyone would ever talk to me about loving a boy, they would say, you’re young and have all the time in the world.

We were young.

I was just a girl, so they say.

And he’s just a boy, so they say. But what if we’re not?

What if we were two old souls destined to find each other? A missing piece brought together by fate. And what if we don’t have all the time in the world? Life is short, really fucking short when you think about it. People die at my age all the time, and younger than me all the time. We don’t have all the time in the world.

When you’re eighteen, no one is more aware of your age than you. They’re quick to remind you that you don’t know anything, you’re only eighteen.

You can’t drink, you’re only eighteen. You can’t rent a car, you’re only eighteen.

With all that can’t, how come they allow you to vote, cast your selection on the next president and political matters? You’re old enough for that but not drinking?

You’re old enough to let the world know your political stance, but not drink?

Like I said, you’re constantly reminded that there’s so much you don’t know and can’t do. I don’t know why age mattered so much. It’s a number. Just a number. It measured years not what I knew or how I felt about someone.

I should be able to decide for myself what I wanted and how I felt.

A number shouldn’t.

Some say you’ll never find love so young. And when you do, just like your age, they’re quick to remind you that you’re young. Don’t count on it being there forever. The same person that said don’t rush tells you that it might not last too.

Some people who believe eighteen is young are the same people who think true love doesn’t happen that young.

They don’t believe there’s a love strong enough to last through tragedy.

I think Jameson and Sway were proof of that. From what I learned in one night with that family was that they were proof that anything could happen. Sway had been through hell and back with her mom and then her dad. But there she was, living for the moment, loving with everything she had.

I believe with all my heart there’s a love that could be strong enough to withstand anything it’s tested against. There’s a love out there that words, feelings, hell, its breath is imprinted into every vessel. Its beat is the only real indication you felt it at all.

Age wasn’t anything but a number. And what I was feeling, now, with Dylan, was a good deal. It was our deal. It was a breath imprinted into every vessel and the beat kept it alive.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Dylan but the feeling was coming to me, it couldn’t be ignored because for one, it was that beat again. Something made us leave together that day and I believed it was fate.

It was our deal.

12.    Tattoos and Boxes – Bailey Gray

Our next stop after Dodge City was Memphis. I wanted to see Graceland.  We decided to head to Tulsa first and make a few stops along the way.

The early part of the drive was quiet, neither one of us were very energetic in the morning and Dylan seemed distracted with his phone so I looked through the photos on my camera that I took last night and the ones from the night at the Brickyard that I didn’t remember taking. Most were of Dylan singing and Eddy’s band. There were a few with Lanny and me. I missed my bad decision partner already and wished I would have kept my phone so I could have kept in touch with girls like her and Sway.

“Was your scholarship for photography?” Dylan asked before we stopped in Tulsa. He noticed one of the pictures on the camera, one of me after the pole dance that Lanny had taken with my camera. “Shit, I looked ridiculously uncomfortable.”

“I think you were,” I said scooting closer to him and buckling myself in the center seat to be near him. “I did provide quite the dance. I’m pretty sure that I’m show girl material.”

“I would have to agree,” he said, his hand finding my inner thigh, his fingers rubbing circles over my skin just under the frayed edge of my jean shorts. Thankfully, we found a Target this morning and I was able to get some clothes and more underwear. Dylan said we’d find a laundry mat tonight to clean up our other clothes. A week on the run and you’ll run out of just about everything.

“Fuck…now I’m thinking about that dance.” Dylan shifted, his hips lifting slightly as he leaned forward slumping against the steering wheel. After a moment, he leaned back and put his arm back around me. “Distract me…do you want to take photos for a living?”

I kind of laughed, but kept focused. “I’ve thought about it and yes, my scholarship was for photography. You knew that though, didn’t you?”

“That’s impressive and yes, I may have heard that around school.” He said twirling a piece of my hair between his fingers. He used to do this when we were younger, a habit, one I loved.

“So you think about pursing the scholarship then?” You could feel the tension rising in Dylan, he didn’t make a movement or a sound until I answered. I knew my answer would dictate his mood.

“I’m not going,” I said clicking the arrow on the camera to scroll through more pictures, each one reminding me of why I wasn’t going. This trip, these photos, this was me. A university, a planned life, that wasn’t me.  “I do think about pursing photography, maybe selling some photos online or something to make a living.”

“Why does it matter if you make a living?” He was genuinely curious when he asked that.

“Well eventually I need to make my own money, think of the future.” My finger paused over the arrow button again and I twisted to look up at Dylan. He met my glance but only for a moment. “What’s our plan anyway?”

“We were going to Birmingham, remember?” His smile was only on one side, the reality that this wouldn’t last forever kept it for being a full smile, or at least that’s what I thought.

“Eventually we will have to…you know…settle on something.”

“I know.” And that’s all he said before he asked, “So if you could, you’d just take photos?”

“Yeah, I would like that but it’s probably just a pipe dream. There’s so many gifted photographers out there that’s it’s hard to get into a field like that.”

“But you got a scholarship.” He pointed out, laughing, but not a sincere laugh. It’s one that said, are you crazy? “That’s something right there. If you love something, money shouldn’t be the deciding factor.”

“So you’re saying that if you love something, you should do it for free?”

“I already do.”

He had a very good point.

Brushing the side of his face against my hair, his nose ran along my ear. “It’s not about making money brown eyes. It’s about giving your heart.”

“What about you then? Your trust fund won’t last forever,” I countered, scrolling through photos again and chuckling at the one from last night that I took when Dylan had fallen asleep. He noticed and rolled his eyes.

“Fuck my trust fund.” His glare was obvious though I didn’t look. “To me, it wouldn’t matter how I made my money as long as I was doing something I loved. Money means nothing. It doesn’t buy you happiness though most try, it only complicates shit that didn’t need to be complicated in the first place.”

This time I looked up at him setting the camera on the seat beside me, he had all of my attention now and I know I had his, most of it anyway. “Is that why you won’t take up Sam on the offer?”

“You mean with that record label he offered up when he has no business doing so?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“Because,” Dylan let out a huff as if I should have known. “That’s not me.”

“So what would you do to make money?”

“I want to make music, I do. It’s a passion of mine.” He paused for a moment as he passed a car in the left lane and then moved back to the right lane on the highway. “I’d probably get a job somewhere singing in a bar for just enough money to have a place to stay and eat. I need to feel alive and do something I love.”

“What about now…right now?”

“I’m right where I want to be.” He gave me a smile and kissed my neck with a low chuckle. “A good deal.”

There was that deal again.

Trying to change subjects, I reached for his iPod and switched playlists. Dylan let me do whatever when it came to music. That was nice because back home, whether it be with Eric or Mercedes, I never controlled the music. The thought of those two made me think about what was going on back home and what people were saying. I imagined Facebook was crawling with all kinds of nasty and ridiculous rumors and theories. I bet it was already said that I was having Dylan’s love child or something.

“Do you have Facebook or Twitter?” I asked. My gaze was mostly on the iPod but I did glance up to see his reaction.

Dylan gave me a sideways glance. “Do I look like someone who would have that shit?”

“Point taken.” I nodded finding another playlist on his iPod. This one was marked: Liars.

Later that afternoon, on our last leg of our five-hour drive, we went through what I like to refer to as our nineties-tease-me-phase. I have to explain how that started though.

A joint.

It was slightly entertaining to me that here I was, a few weeks ago, living the perfect life and now here I was, drinking, smoking joints and on the run.

I had never smoked pot before and well, I wanted to. Naturally, Dylan had some and I wasn’t surprised by that at all. He wasn’t exactly okay with me doing it, said I was too innocent to get wrapped up in it but I had to remind him this was pot and not cocaine. He didn’t find any humor in that statement but he allowed it.

We smoked it and then headed to Memphis. It was illegal but that was half the fun. I learned quickly that if I wanted to get into trouble, Dylan was the perfect partner.

Dylan showed me that he had mad rap skills and I showed him I could throw down some Salt N’ Pepa when needed. I learned that Beastie Boys, Dylan’s rap idols, had sick rhythm and that Brass Monkey was his favorite song of theirs, if he had to choose just one.

We rapped to No Diggity like nobody’s business and nearly wrecked the car during our road-talent-show when he played U Can’t Touch This.

“I’m not sure what’s more entertaining to me right now,” I laughed. “The fact that you have all these songs on your iPod or that I know all of them.”

Dylan laughed. His eyes carefree and lost in the moment. “Definitely that you know them.”

Dylan could sing every line and didn’t miss a beat including spanking my ass when I flipped around in the seat to do the booty shaking bounce at one point.

During this two-hour driver of so-you-think-you-got-talent-car-tour, we worked up quite the case of the giggles and munchies. That led us to Taco Bell in Tulsa and then we carried out our moves to the parking lot when Tongue Tied came on.

Looking at us, you would have thought we were a bunch of stoners when we were just two kids finding friendship and enjoying ourselves. For the first time in a while, Dylan was relaxed and completely himself. I loved it and honestly, fell a little deeper that I was seeing that side of him.

I got lost in a fit of giggles and Dylan looked over at me, taking a pull from his cigarette. “You’re so fucking pretty when you smile like that.”

Silence fell over us. Dylan’s eyes scanned over mine and the tips of his fingers ran over my cheek and then winked. I gave another round of giggles feeling the high still.

We were standing in the parking lot leaned against his car, the heat from the hood burning the skin on the backs of my thighs as I sat there bouncing around to the music. Dylan finished his fourth soft taco and tossed the empty wrapper in the bag beside me.

“Teach me those moves from that pep rally shit,” he said, smiling, when the song Fight Music came on. Deciding he was still hungry, he went for his fifth Taco. I watched him unwrap it and take the first bit.

“First of all,” I jumped down after taking a drink of our Mountain Dew we were sharing, “it wasn’t to this song, it was to a mixture Landon made that was with My Name Is, Fight Music, Lose Yourself, and Shake That.” I gave Dylan a look. “He was going through a Slim Shady phase.”

Dylan choked on his laughter, his hand covering his mouth. “You got Landon to make that shit?”

“No, I didn’t.” Dylan’s eyes were on mine, curious and you literally see the realization in his eyes. “Mercedes can be very persuasive.”

“Still,” he gave a nod, his expression changed as if he was trying to hide an emotion, his hands moved to my hips after turning the song up. “Teach me that shit.” His head dipped, his mouth against my neck. “I dreamed of you doing that for me, only me.”

I taught him my moves after that. His own private showing. I guess I would have to say I taught him and about ten Taco Bell employees who saw us. It wasn’t private at all but neither of us cared.

He taught me some too.

He was surprisingly a fast learner. I knew that. I experienced that. I loved that.

Watching us, I half expected us to start rapping and break dancing while pouring out our 40 ounce to lost hommies. We were out of control.

Dylan wasn’t what I expected most days. While he ranged from a series of emotions, there was this full of life boy that emerged from that from time to time and laughed, loved and lived with everything he had and was goofy.

It was the same kid that loved nineties rap, fast cars, obsessed with Taco Bell, tattoos, cigarettes and had a temper like a hurricane. Usually predictable, but be ready for a force of nature because if finally pushed over the edge, when he reached shore, you had better hope that you boarded the fucking windows up.

As we sat there in the parking lot, Dylan nodded to a tattoo shop across the street amongst a strip mall.

“Bucket list?”

Scanning the row of buildings, I looked for what he was referring to and settled my eyes on a billboard for tattoos and body piercings.

My eyes lit up at the possibility of getting something to remember our trip by, our memory, and one only we knew the meaning to.

Dylan smiled and gave a nod. “Let’s go.”

It turned out to be just up the street, an old concrete row of buildings, with the tattoo shop on the end. Glass windows curved into a glass door with spray painted windows that looked like graffiti. Dylan appeared comfortable. His steps were sure pushing open the door. I followed, my heart in my throat at what I was about to do.

“What are you guys here for?” A girl not much older than me asked, her nails and lips black.

“Tattoos,” Dylan said never making eye contact with her as he scanned the walls of art and body piercings. I did the same in awe that I, Bailey Gray, a girl that just weeks ago was living the life that everyone else wanted. Now look at me, picking out tattoos.

The girl went through all the options and said we had to pay half now and the rest when we were done. Dylan tugged out his wallet from his back pocket and handed his ID and credit card over to the dark haired girl behind the counter. She smiled, her eyes shifting to mine. Hesitantly, I handed over my ID.

Examining both carefully, she typed some information into the computer in front of her and then motioned down the hall.

“What are you gonna get, brown eyes?” he whispered walking beside me; his eyes on his feet with his hands in his pockets, his shoulder bumped mine. “Tinkerbelle?”

“No,” I shrieked offended that he would think I would get a fairy tattooed on me. Then I smiled. “I was thinking a butterfly,” I teased.

He laughed, his shoulders shaking but never looked at me. “Original.”

I wasn’t thinking butterfly, and when he said original, I realized what he meant. A butterfly would be expected of me.

A taller man walked in and sat down in a metal stool, eyeing my appearance. I did the same wondering if I was gonna get blood poisoning from this. “What’ll it be?”

I must have stared at him and his art splashed over him for at least five minutes before pointing to his right bicep. He smiled and asked where I wanted it.

The entire experience was frightening as hell and I think I spent the majority of it with my eyes closed and biting my fist. I may have passed out too. It burned, it stung and I was sure he was peeling my skin off layer-by-layer and then adding burning acid to it.

When he was finished, he slapped me on the ass, hard I might add, ran his hand down his jaw, winked and said. “Some of my best work darlin’,”

I couldn’t look. Wanted to, but couldn’t. Removing myself from the table, I still didn’t look, even when the inked up man with black eyeliner offered the mirror.

Dylan met me in the hallway, his eyes casted on his cell phone in his right hand. When he heard my flip-flops against the painted concrete floor, he looked up briefly and nodded to the exit sign.

As we walked to the counter again, Dylan smiled adjusting his shirt over the bandage they put on his stomach. “What’d you get?” I asked him, adjusting my own clothes over my hip.

“Tinkerbelle,” Dylan teased but he seemed tense, maybe it hurt. I knew I was a little tense. It hurt like hell.

We rounded the corner and stood at the counter, neither of us speaking.

“Was it everything you hoped for?” The girl behind the counter asked, looking at Dylan.

Keeping his stare low, Dylan spoke and I knew by his tone when the shift in his mood occurred. “It was fine but you might wanna tell your staff to keep their fucking hands to themselves.”

He saw the guy spank my ass.

“Stan doesn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure of it,” she said swiping Dylan’s credit card.

“He’s lucky I didn’t break his fucking arm.” Dylan shook his head but didn’t look away, his smirk, cold, and it made me want to smack him, sort of. He was being an asshole and he knew it but it was reassuring that he was looking out for me.

Neither of us said anything walking to the car until we got inside. I looked over at him when he started the car. “What did you get?”

The corners of his mouth twisted into a shy grin that I found adorable. Before lifting his shirt, slowly, his smirk turned to a grin.

There, along the right side of his ribs was a scorpion. Though he liked to deny it, all of Dylan’s tattoo’s had meaning. “What does it mean?” I looked closer, my head practically in his lap.

“They can mean a lot of things.” His hand moved to drop his shirt hiding it from my view as he started the car. “Mystery, power, aggression, healing and protection.”

Mine seemed stupid now.

I knew he wanted to ask but he didn’t. Maybe he thought it was private, maybe he didn’t.

It took him about ten minutes and he finally caved when we passed a sign. “What did you get brown eyes?”

I felt incredibly embarrassed to admit it and the words rushed out. “A sun.”

“A sun?”

“Yep.” My hands folded in my lap. I watched the passing billboards as opposed to his stare. I could feel it almost as I felt the burning from my new branding.

“Can I see it?”

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head no. It wasn’t that I found it pathetic or anything, I just felt that compared to something Dylan would get, it was meaningless. Dylan communicated a lot about himself through tattoos. I was trying to do the same but felt like I failed when I saw something as strong as a scorpion on him.

Dylan didn’t like my no and jerked the car over to the side of the road, gravel pinging the sides of the car. Cars honked as they drove by at his lack of care for anyone around us. Before I had time to react, I was flat on my back with him hovering over me. “Show me,” he demanded parting my legs with his hips, one hand resting on the back of the seat, the other beside my hair.

My eyes motioned south to my right side, his followed and he moved the hand that was beside my head to the Beastie Boys t-shirt I stole from him this morning. Slowly, his fingers grazing my skin as he did it, he lifted my shirt up to my ribs.

Closing my eyes, I imagined what it looked like but couldn’t place it.

“Have you looked at this?” Dylan asked seeming to know my hesitation.

“No.” My arms flopped over my face. “I was scared.”

He was quiet, his fingers lightly traced over my hipbone right below the stinging. Between my arms I could see his arm flex as he held himself above me. “It fits you perfectly.”

My curiosity got the best of me. Holding myself up on my elbows, I looked. The tattoo was exactly what I wanted. It was a sun with flowing edges, three larger stars and four smaller ones within the clouded edges. “The guy said it means burning passion,” I said. My lashes lowered feeling shy when I looked up at Dylan.

The car rocked when a freight truck went by, Dylan’s hand slipped from the back of the seat and he landed on top of me. Forehead to forehead now, he kissed me sweetly speaking against my lips. “It can mean whatever you want it to. Some artists will tell you it means heat and fire, passion, all elements associated with dedication, truth and light.” He pulled propping himself up on his hands. “If you believe it to mean something, that’s all that matters.”

We ended up finding a hotel after that and then a place to eat dinner. Dylan wanted to eat at the Crazy Chow House so we did, we ate too much and then went shopping at a nearby grocery store.

Walking around aimlessly, we tossed random shit in the cart, razors, toothbrushes, eye drops, condoms…yep, condoms.

Dylan smiled when I grabbed them. Yes, I did that. “You planning on getting lucky brown eyes?” His arm draped casually over my shoulders as I pushed the cart down toward the chips. Dylan reached out when he spotted Cheetos and put two bags in the cart since they were two for five.

“I was hoping that eventually you’ll take my virginity,” I said that just about the time two teenage boys came down that very same aisle.

Their wide-open mouths didn’t last long when Dylan stepped toward them, glaring. “Get lost.”

They didn’t wait around.

Turning back to the cart, I reached for some microwave popcorn and continued walking as if nothing happened.

“What about getting arrested, where’s that on your list?” Dylan asked when he caught up with me.

“I was thinking of stealing a cop car or something along those lines.” I was half joking.

Dylan took a second look at me, his arm wrapping around my shoulder again. “Do you want to go to prison? Dumb idea, brown eyes.”

Throughout the rest of our wandering around that grocery store, I thought of ways to get arrested but none seemed worthy enough. Dylan did cool shit when he got arrested like lighting cars on fire and riots.

As we paid for our random shit we collected, I picked up some watermelon gum next to the register and waited for the clerk to look the other way. When he did, I stuffed it in my bra.

You would have thought I had stolen a cop car with how much I was sweating after that. Dylan kept looking at me like he was concerned at my sudden shift in appearance but said nothing until we got outside. “What’s your deal?”

I grinned when we got the car feeling much like I just escaped from prison. “I stole a pack of gum!”

Dylan smirked shaking his head as he opened the trunk and placed the three bags of groceries beside his guitar, slightly chuckling. “You rebel you.”

I smacked at his arm when he threw it around my shoulders and followed me to the passenger side of the car. “Hey, I’m an outlaw now. Treat me with respect.”

That night, back at the hotel, when Dylan was in the bathroom right before we went to bed, I stared at the box of condoms, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Rolling over to face the wall, I tried not to look at it.

My mind was shifting through all the possibilities of when that box would be opened. From what we had experienced already, I couldn’t wait for that moment to come.

When Dylan came out of the bathroom, he laid down on the bed beside me, spreading his arm across the bed for me to come closer. I did.

Curling up beside him, I pressed my cheek to his warm skin. Again, my eyes went to the box at the end of the bed on the table beside the television that Dylan had turned on. A movie was playing though I paid no attention to it, but Dylan seemed interested.

He surprised me when he spoke, I jumped slightly in his arms, the top of my head knocking against his jaw. “That box is haunting, isn’t it?”

“A little,” I admitted burying my head between his arm and chest.

“Take this off,” he said pulling at the end of his t-shirt I was wearing. Underneath it I had nothing but underwear, no bra.

Sitting up, I pulled the shirt away and let it drop on the floor.

“Fuck…” he drew out softly when he saw my bare breasts. “You’re making this so fucking hard.”

Sitting up, he moved his weight to rest against his right hand, his left raised to cup my right breast in his hand. “You’re beautiful,” he said before moving his mouth to my nipple. Right before his lips found the sensitive skin, he looked at me. “Is this okay?”

I nodded with a slight whimper.

His lips closed around it, then I felt the soft swirl of his tongue. It was one of those tingles that you felt in every nerve of your body letting you know that you were alive and feeling the very best sensations’ possible. He kissed my breasts, my chest, my lips, my arms, everywhere as if he was making love to me, pouring emotion, fire and heat, into every kiss.

Before long, he wrapped his arms around me and lowered me back to the bed, climbing between my legs. I willingly opened them wider, his hips moved slowly, his bare stomach pressing to mine as his cotton covered hips meet my own. With one hand on my knee, he opened my legs further. When my legs were apart enough, he sat back on his ankles running his hand down my sides before removing my panties and then his own underwear.

As soon as he shifted forward and I felt him against me, bare, I rocked against him. We both moaned.

Dylan growled, falling forward before catching himself before he slid inside, he was there, ready, shaking with restraint. “It’d be so fucking easy to have you right now, so easy.”

“Then do it.” Holding onto his biceps, I lifted my hips slightly.

Pushing against me, above, moving along the most sensitive part of me, he rocked forward without slipping inside. His thrusts were hard and strong, his hands gripping the bed sheet beside my head, powerful, frustration marked his movements. “I want you brown eyes, I do,” he moaned. “We have time…”

I clutched at his arms, chest, back, anything as the tingles took over and I enjoyed what he was giving me, with no barrier.

Just as I was coming down from my breathy moans and harsh breathing, Dylan moved away before he came saying something about my tattoo and not wanting to get anything on it.

When my hand gripped him tightly, falling against him, he panted and groaned. I loved the way he felt comfortable. So utterly and out of control that I wanted to cry out, beg him for more but this was him, giving himself at the pace he felt comfortable. He pushed and pulled at my body, bringing me close as I brought him to the edge, his face buried in my neck, whispering words too low for me to hear. When he came, he moaned harshly into my skin, holding me tightly. I feel so close to him like this, his pulse just the same as mine, falling apart together, that our closeness felt inseparable.

13.    Groupies – Bailey Gray

Dylan and I took our time getting to Birmingham. I think he was stalling but regardless, we spent a good week in Memphis doing nothing but sight-seeing.

It was now the Fourth of July and we were in town watching the fireworks show. When the sun in the sky was swallowed by the river, the night was upon us and I was humming with excitement at wanting to watch fireworks with Dylan.

Noticing my excitement, he thought it was cute and smiled when I pulled a bag of sparklers out that I intended on lighting a little later.

When we were kids, we used to watch the Lake Fair fireworks together every year. Now I was excited to relive those moments with the sparks in his ice blue eyes and the warm summer air around us.

Standing against the front of the car, Dylan pushed me away by my hips and turned me around. He sat on the hood of the GTO and placed me securely between his knees before lighting his cigarette and blowing smoke over my shoulder.

“Have you watched fireworks here before?”

“It’s beautiful, just watch.” He wrapped his hands around my hips.

I leaned against his chest and dropped my head on his shoulder watching him take a few drags.

He noticed me watching and kissed my temple. “What?”

“You’re not at all what I thought you’d be,” I said looking at the tattoo on his forearm that read: Be sure to put your feet in the right place, then stand firm. – Abraham Lincoln.

Dylan flicked his cigarette away from us and crossed his arms over my chest, keeping us together, holding me tighter. “You’re exactly what I expected.”

I held his wrists as we stood against his car, watching, making memories. Loud flashes lit the night’s sky, red, purple, green, a rainbow of colors. Maybe it was the night, being with him, or this last week, with him and only him but I was so far gone, wrapped around whatever this was on my mind, wasn’t the past or the future, it was right now, right here.

Kissing his hand, I maneuvered from his hold. Dylan pushed himself away from the car, standing next to me. Like everything else that’s happened so far, tonight, with him, feels a little different. His cheeks had a tint to them from the afternoon sun, his eyes holding a depth, an openness I hadn’t seen before. He was giving me everything he had to give. He was giving me his soul if I wanted it.

Nervous, I chewed on the inside of my cheek waiting to see what he was going to do. He reached for the bag of sparklers on the hood and handed me one.

He smiled, a smile that was brighter than the sky, holding his lighter in his hand, he lit my sparkler for me.

For a moment, we looked at each other, sparks around us and it was perfect. I wanted to tell him right then that I loved him but every time I tried, I couldn’t speak the words. To me that words held a meaning that I couldn’t just throw around.

Dylan smiled again, softly, searching my eyes that were as bright as the colors in the sky.

“Dance around like you did when we were kids and I will light your sparkler for you,” he said, kind of shy, keeping his eyes on mine.

Taking Dylan’s advice, I danced around the car with the sparkler in hand, living in my moment, creating my memory and watched Dylan as he moved up the hood to lean against the windshield with a smile, watching, living in the moment, smiling at the memory he was keeping for himself. Pink sparks turned to gold like fireflies as the moon peaked through a thick layer of clouds.

When the gold turned to blue, I could feel the heat and dropped the sparkler with a giggle.

I ended up getting back on the hood with Dylan and laid across the cracked windshield.

If I had to pick the perfect Fourth of July, it was right there on Dylan’s hood, making memories.

A gritty acoustic guitar woke me the next morning. Dylan was playing a song I didn’t know, maybe one of his own. Rolling to curl up next to the pillow he used, I watched as he hunched over the guitar, his right bicep flexing with the movements. The light filtering through the room danced across his body, his bare upper body within view but most of the room was shadowed.

Since hearing him play his own song that night at The Brickyard, I hadn’t heard any more of them.

Earlier in the week, I found a notebook of his, by accident, with close to a hundred songs written in it. Not wanting to pry, I just briefly glanced over them and slipped it back in his neatly packed bag. With his organization, I thought for sure he would have noticed that I looked but he never said anything.

We were still in Memphis and deciding when to head to Birmingham. Dylan was getting anxious to see Drew.

Another thing happened that morning that I wasn’t expecting.

I started my period.

I had no tampons.

Dylan must have noticed my look of disgust when I exited the bathroom and eyed me warily. “What’s wrong with you?” His wary looked shifted to a teasing smirk. “You look like you just dry humped someone’s leg in their sleep.”

“No,” I snapped slamming the bathroom door in my menstrual rage. “I need to find a grocery store.”

Dylan chuckled taking his wallet from the table and placing it in his back pocket. “You’re not in any condition to go anywhere. Look at you.” He pointed at me as if I didn’t know I was aware of the fact that I was curling up into a sea of pillow and moaning while holding my stomach. “What do you need?”

“Tampons and Midol.” Lifting my head from the pillow, I gauged his reaction. “I started my period.”

Dylan’s eyes were wide but he said nothing to embarrass me, a slow smile spread across his face. “Oh, well, I’ll get that for you before I head to the bar for sound check.”

“Really? That doesn’t freak you out?”

“No.” His brow scrunched as he hovered over the bed, smiling now. “Why would it?”

“Because it’s a girl thing. Some guys are embarrassed by it. Eric was.”

“Please,” he sighed kissing my forehead and then my nose and my freckles. “It’s a natural thing. I’ll be back later, okay?”

When he got to the door, I confessed my other request. “Uh, Dylan?”

“Yeah?” He turned, the door half opened, his hand on the knob. “Chocolate too?”

“And here I was going to try to surprise you with it.”

I wanted to shout the words I love you after him but didn’t. He was too good to be true. The last thing I wanted to do today was go buy tampons. I also didn’t want to ride in a car. I wanted to lay in this bed all day, eat chocolate and moan occasionally while complaining about my gender.

Dylan wasn’t gone long and came back with more than I expected.

Pizza and chocolate.

After handing over the box of tampons first, and then the chocolate, he sat at the table next to the door and took a slice of pizza from the box looking over a flyer in his hand.

“What’s that?” Placing a pillow over my lap and a blanket around my shoulders, I took a large scoop of ice cream. He even got me the right kind, Rocky Road.

Dylan flipped the flyer over and set it across from him on the table before grabbing another slice of pizza and then handing me one.

“There’s an open mic night tonight,” he said looking to me for approval. “Think I should do it?”

I wasn’t exactly in the mood to go to a bar but the thought of hearing Dylan sing again won me over.

I agreed, with a mouthful of pizza and ice cream, and Dylan made a few calls to the bar to get signed up.

“What time are you going to the bar?” I asked after taking a shower. It made me better to get cleaned up. Dylan tried to get in with me but I told him no, there was no way I was going near him while I was on my period.

“Five,” he said tuning his guitar and looking through that notebook, biting the corner of his lip, he flipped the page again.

I could sense that he was a little nervous, wouldn’t admit to it, but I felt the need to help him out.

“Do you need a distraction?” I asked removing myself from the sea of pillows and candy wrappers around two that afternoon.

Dylan didn’t quite understand the meaning behind my words until I moved from the bed and sat in front of him, on my knees, my hands ran up his thighs.

He snorted, his eyes lighting up as he tossed his notebook aside and moved the guitar to the floor. Leaning back in the chair after peeling his t-shirt off, he started working on his belt buckle. “Fuck yeah.”

If there was any way to relax Dylan it would be seeing my mouth wrapped around him. His eyes were trained on my hands as they moved over him, and then my mouth replacing them.

Dylan was all heavy breaths, dirty whispering and soft grunts, his hips meeting the movements of my mouth. “Jesus,” he moaned in a sound that nearly sounded like he was in pain, one hand in my hair, guiding me, the other on my hand that was rested on his bare thigh. His iPod connected to his docking station rolled The Black Keys through the room.

It was like being at a pep rally and motivated me to continue. Or maybe it was the way Dylan was reacting and talking to me that kept me going because he was all for motivation.

“Fuck, you do that so good…just like that honey…” he moaned and then drop his head back against the chair and close his eyes. I learned quickly the more I swirled my tongue and brought him deeper in my mouth, the more he reacted.

The thought that I was giving Dylan Wade a blowjob was electrifying. I was pleasuring him in the most intimate way, attached to him in ways I’d never been with anyone else. Being on my knees provided me the ability to see his face this time, his beautiful contoured face that was on the edge, moments away from pleasurable numbness.

He looked down, his hand gently touched my cheek, curling around the back of my neck. “So fucking pretty.” Hooded eyes focused on me, thick lashes blinked slowly. “Watching your mouth on me is…” I took him deeper, his voice caught. “My god…”

Those were his last words.

I wasn’t sure what to do with what was in my mouth at that moment and I think Dylan noticed my hesitation when he watched me adjusting his jeans and shirt. Of course I swallowed it. What was I going to do, spit it out?

I heard from the girls in school that boys didn’t appreciate that and it made them feel bad.

“You don’t have to swallow, you know that right?” he said slumping back in the chair, his hands on my hands pulled me up into his lap.

“I know.” My cheeks burned slightly, he noticed and brushed his knuckles over the left side of my face.

“It’s sexy though,” Dylan groaned whispering into my ear before sucking on my earlobe. The sensation sent a wave of arousal through me. He noticed that too. “How long are you usually out of commission?”

Damn period.

“Usually three or four days.”

“Well,” Dylan turned my body so I was straddling him, my legs fell over the sides of the chair. “I have some serious making up to do in a few days.”

I couldn’t fucking wait and hoped that box would finally be opened.

When we arrived at Alfreads on Beale in downtown Memphis, Dylan’s nerves returned and he fidgeted often, all the way up until the time he was ready to take the stage. I didn’t go back with him, instead I sat at a nearby table and tried to go unnoticed since I was only eighteen and it was pure fucking luck that I had been allowed in as many bars as I had. No one checked my ID and I was beginning to think this was just part of the south and something they did. Dylan had another thought on this and said I was dick magnet.

Sure enough, two minutes after sitting down, guys started approaching me. I felt disgusting being on my period and couldn’t understand why anyone found me attractive during that time of the month. Naturally, they wouldn’t have known that I was on my period other than the fact that I wasn’t exactly friendly with anyone.

Bands and local artists took the stage, each one singing a variety of music in different genres. Feeling nervous for Dylan, back stage, alone, I started biting my nails when they announced his name and the raucous throng of people surrounding the stage cheered. They were here to listen to live music and didn’t care who was on stage as long as they could play.

Most of them could too. I was thoroughly impressed with the talent in this city. I think that’s what made Dylan nervous too. Though he never intended to be some sort of rock star, deep down he still looked for approval from an unsparing industry.

The entire way to the bar, Dylan wouldn’t say what song he picked to sing, just that it wasn’t his. And until we got here, and he watched about five bands, I don’t think he had decided on anything until he observed the crowd.

Right before his turn was up, he came out and sat with me for a moment. Appearing relaxed, he slouched to one side drinking a beer the owner had brought out to him. Dylan thanked him, another one was handed to me, which I took and practically chugged. I think I was nervous enough for the two of us.

Without saying anything Dylan stood and walked over to me. Holding out his palms, I took them and he pulled me up from my chair to his arms wrapping them around my waist.

I looked up and he smiled. “Wish me luck?”

Gently kissing his lips, he had other ideas and deepened the kiss. Letting go of my hands, he cupped my face with both of his hands, his palms now on my cheeks. Kissing me with a few more lingering pecks to my lower lip, he pulled away and then kissed my nose once. “Enjoy the show, brown eyes.”

When he slipped back stage, I moved closer to the stage wanting a good view.

As the previous band exited the stage, the announcement came on for Dylan. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Dylan Wade of Seattle.”

Seattle? Maybe he didn’t want anyone knowing where he was really from or he just didn’t care and rattled off a city when asked. I tend to think he just didn’t care.

Not long after that, Dylan took the stage, his gaze locked on his feet as him and three other guys shuffled to the poorly lit stage.

Dylan never looked up until he was standing at the microphone and then as if he could feel my presence near him, his eyes found mine. The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk as the electric guitar behind him played the opening notes to a song I knew. Within a few seconds, Dylan leaned in and began singing.

He played the Framing Hanley version of Lollipop.

My face was immediately on fire but I couldn’t look away. The swarm of bodies near the stage went crazy for it as did I. The entire song I couldn’t take my eyes of his lively performance and desire to put so much of himself into his performance. Not only that, he was relaxed. And when he saw that the crowd was enjoying it, he fed from that and got even more into it.

I think I lost my voice that night, I even reached out to him when he fell to his knees at one point in front of me. I felt like a goddamn groupie.

What really made me feel like a groupie was hoping he’d invite me back to his room and knowing I would be.

One of my favorite parts was when he would scream into the microphone keeping a note longer than the others and the veins in his neck surfaced. It reminded me of what I did for him earlier and what provoked the song.

Not only could I see myself being a pit -lizard, I could now see myself being a groupie. It’s a shame how easily I was influenced when finally allowed to think for myself.

We didn’t stay long after Dylan sang, long enough for him to come down from his adrenaline high singing on stage gave him.

Back at the hotel, I found my groupie self in his arms, right where I wanted to be. The curtains were open to the night, the lights of the city below dimly lit the room, our low steady breathing muffled by the sounds of the air conditioner.

I could feel his heart between my shoulders and his stomach against my back. I could feel both his arms around my middle, and I was glad it was dark around us. I was also glad that I was facing away from him, because the way he was holding me made me smile like some kind of groupie lunatic.

Lifting my right arm out from under his bicep, I placed my hand on his that was curved around the top of my rib cage. I wondered if he could feel my heart, because it was beating like crazy, wondering if he knew how I felt about him.

He pressed his face closer; I could feel his nose by the back of my ear. He warmed my body space and surrounded me as he whispered, lowly and with gruffness. “Thank you for getting in my car that day.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, through my hair and my entire body.

Dylan did things to me, made me feel ways I never imagined.

I wasn’t sure if I could sleep that night with all the thoughts in my head about what we were doing, how I felt, how he felt, the future, all of it, but then Dylan made the lowest, quietest hum-sound right by my ear. It made my eyelashes feel like a thousand wonderful pounds, and I closed them easily, happily, keeping that memory, that moment with me.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice tickling my ear.

I hummed in response this time, and sleep found me before I even knew it.

14.    Her storm – Dylan Wade

I was holding out on brown eyes. She knew it. I knew it.

Pushing limits was my fucking thing. It was. But not with her. Not with brown eyes. She was better than that and not someone I wanted a one-time thing with.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted her. I wanted all of her and in every way manageable. The fucking cute way she scrunched her nose when she couldn’t make up her mind, which was often. The way her eyes lit up when she watched me sing. They way her lips pushed out when she slept and the freckles on her nose and cheeks and the way she could never quite tame her ginger locks into a ponytail.

I wanted all of her. Even the parts that darkened the light around her but I couldn’t do it without feeling sick to my stomach that I would be what he said I was. Resentment. She wasn’t resentment.

I want her and only her.

I want to be a part of her storm.

I want to feel my pulse against hers.

I want the bitter on her sweet tongue. The sadness in her sweet syrup eyes. The silence in her screaming mind. The enigma that is really quite simple. A complicated happiness.

I wasn’t willing to let go, I was falling completely, forever, solid fucking love swimming through my veins. I want to be the breath in her mouth and the rhythm in her chest that beats for me only.

I want her to know the truth that would crush her.

I want to hide her from that very same truth and keep her with me.

I want her to see the beauty this world has to offer her. That was the fucking point of all of this.

I want her sunrise and her sunset.

I want to go back to being seven and kissing her innocence and her soft skin against mine. I want to go back to the first time I touched her and remember that feeling and live in that moment. I want to get rid of this ache in my chest and the pure fucking torture of being so close and not being able to have what I want.

What I want doesn’t fucking matter anymore. What she wants matters.

15.    I’m Here – Bailey Gray

Whenever you tell a story, there’s always a twist, a turning point, a point when the story changes. When we arrived in Birmingham is when it happened. It was the reason why I said the cover should have been shadow and smoke.

When we arrived in Birmingham, we met up with a few of his friends that he kept in touch with because his brother was out of town that weekend. We made plans to meet up with him Friday night at his bar which would mark the one month day to us leaving home.

In that one month I learned a lot about Dylan and the life he had and wanted. He wanted to sing only if he didn’t have to be obligated to do so. He did in fact hate lemons and anything cinnamon. Cardboard freaked him out. The Beastie Boys were his favorite band, again, if he had to choose.

The most important part that I learned, if Dylan wanted something, whatever it was, nothing would stop him. Until me. He wouldn’t give in. He kept saying shit like I wasn’t ready and he wanted me to be sure. I had knocked off everything else on my summer bucket list but my virginity, or innocence as Dylan put it. I begged, pleaded, attacked, nothing worked.

I also learned quickly of Dylan’s moods and that they changed drastically from one moment to the next. When other guys and I were involved, that’s when his anger got the best of him.

I’d seen him jealous at the club in Oklahoma City and a few other times during our trip but nothing compared to that night at his friend’s house in Birmingham. Even then that was nothing compared to the rage he could release when pushed. I soon came to find that hurricane he had inside of him was the deadliest storm I would ever see.

His friend, Chris Rigby, lived in a small housing development outside downtown Birmingham with his parents who were, conveniently out of town, that weekend.

As soon as we entered the house, the smell of marijuana and whiskey was almost overpowering.

Dylan stayed close by me, introducing me to people he hadn’t seen in years but kept in touch with. He seemed at ease and welcomed the distraction the drugs around him provided.

I’m not sure why, but most of the night felt odd to me, a strange reminder that we were just two kids who knew nothing about consequences and the damage we could do to one another.

It started with me being high, as was Dylan, the music around us pulsed and I found myself dancing with a guy named Josh who Dylan was friends with.

Dylan saw and wasn’t pleased but did nothing to stop it. The only indication I got from him that he didn’t enjoy it was his glare. He took a drink of his beer, his eyes remained locked with mine as I danced with Josh.

When Josh and I parted after the song, things were kept civil. His hands had been probably where they shouldn’t be and his mouth was dangerously close to my neck a few times but…I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have done.

Dylan and I hadn’t defined our relationship and I didn’t see where we really needed to. Neither did Dylan, or so I thought. I still hadn’t told him how I felt, though I was sure he knew, I hadn’t said the words out-loud.

Feeling Dylan’s livid glare had me sweating bullets so I went outside with my plastic cup of beer to get some air, a warm summer night was just what I needed to clear my already foggy head. That’s when Dylan followed me.

“You fucking that guy later or what?” he said slurring his words, his hands buried deep in his cargo shorts that hung low on his hips, a smirk present. Whenever Dylan had something to say, whether good or bad, he smirked.

My words came out in a hiss when I turned to face him, my stomach twisting and turning. “Jesus Dylan, I was just dancing with him.”

He sounded desperate for me to hear him but I didn’t, I was pissed. “Why did you let him dance with you like that?”

“Dylan, we were just dancing.” My voice was softer now, nearing tears I didn’t want to show. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with Dylan being upset with me for enjoying myself. I wasn’t attracted to Josh nor would I have let him try anything. But dancing shouldn’t be off limits and neither should talking. After all, he could check out another girl but I couldn’t dance with someone? “You didn’t see me acting this way when you checked out Sway,” I added spitefully.

That set him off. “Don’t give me that shit!” he yelled, his voice echoing throughout the covered deck we were standing on. His weight shifted and he stepped forward. “It sure as shit didn’t look that way to me,” he spit, desperation turned to anger and I heard something break, a beer bottle against the wall side of the house, a beer bottle I didn’t know he was holding. It was evident we had both had too much.

“You’re overreacting.”

That was the wrong thing to say to him.

To be fair, I pushed, but what he said next was like acid in my veins.

Dylan tore his eyes away from mine and turned to walk away, but stopped abruptly. He spun around to look at me before he got to the door. “I fucked Mercedes Grant last summer.”

He kept his eyes on mine as if he was challenging me to reply. I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t going to let him know how bad that hurt.

He knew what to say to hurt me right then.

The door to the house slammed behind him and I stayed outside and sat in the grass. Laying back, I stared at the stars above me wishing they held an answer. If only I could connect them and come to some sort of an unspoken answer. I cried. It was the type of tears that soaked your face, warmed your cheeks and closed your throat begging for some sort of understanding.

What did Mercedes have that I didn’t have? Why did every guy want her? Why would he sleep with her and not me?

She was a bitch, how could they not see that?

At the first sign of interest, guys were drawn to her and I never understood why. First Eric and now Dylan, I really couldn’t understand the appeal she held.

I got cold quicker than I wanted and decided to go back inside to face Dylan. I was ready to leave and if he wasn’t going to take me, I was walking.

He was sitting at the bar in the kitchen with several guys that appeared excited to have him around. They patted his back, talked around him, never noticing that he was not part of their discussions.

Without knowing I came back inside, he tensed, he felt it. We had that type of pull on each other now.

Setting the beer down, forcefully, his head tipped toward the door and I knew this was my directive to follow or I was about to be left there. He waved a quick goodbye to his friends and moved past me to the door, his stare on his feet.

Sure enough, he walked to the door, waited for less than two seconds, and then pushed through to the driveway.

Nothing was said when I got in the car and nothing was said when we drove away.

I folded my hands in my lap prepared to pick out a corner on the street soon. I thought for sure this was the end of our trip. I’d have to call my dad, beg for forgiveness and go about my perfectly planned life.

I didn’t want that though. As much as this hurt, my time with him had been unreal. That’s why this hurt so badly. Dylan was showing me a side of life I never knew. Yeah it was painful but it held a fire I never knew anyone could feel.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, no music, nothing. Streets were empty, houses dark, and businesses closed. At the stop light, I snuck a peek at him, his stare was forward, never yielding. A quiet rolling rumble from the GTO is the only noise around us but I knew. I could feel it, the storm that was coming. The shadows that were moving on my sunrise and sunset, the darker tones that would suffocate my honey hues.

When we got back to the hotel, he said nothing to me. When I slammed the door behind me, which got his attention. He looked back at me and I smiled kicking my shoes to the side near the heater.

Dylan set his phone, keys and wallet on the nightstand and then looked over at me again. “What’s the matter, brown eyes?” He was taunting me with the curve of his lips and the smirk that touched his eyes. He was being vindictive.

“Don’t be an asshole Dylan.” I threw my bag down and slammed the door to the bathroom before I entered it. Trying to avoid him as long as I could, I stayed in there for close to an hour.

When I came out, his mood had softened though the wreckage around the room informed me it wasn’t without damage. I decided in that hour of my alone time that I was going to be the bigger person in this and apologize. “I’m sorry I danced with Josh. I wasn’t trying to upset you.” I moved from the door to the bathroom to the bed sitting on it. “I was having a good time.”

“Yeah, I know.” His irritation spoke in his stance and the way his eyes held mine as he paced the space beside the bed. He still hadn’t calmed down. Before I had much time to react, he stopped pacing and hovered over me. “You made that perfectly clear tonight.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I sighed feeling like I was suffocating with him that close, that angry, that defensiveness for something he didn’t understand. Quickly I brushed away the blame-worthy tears streaming down my face.

“But you did,” Dylan said keeping his eyes on mine. Anger was flaring, that part I understood. “You said it.”

“My god, you’re so frustrating.”

“Yeah well.” He finally stepped back creating a few inches of distance. His hands patted his pocket looking for his cigarettes. When he found them, he pulled one out placing it between his lips and squinted at me. “You’re annoying.”

“I am not.” I glared trying to let him know this wasn’t exactly helping us move past this.

“Yep, you’re annoying.”

“What are you, like five-years-old?”

“Shut up,” he said taking his lighter from the pocket of his flannel and tossing it around in his left hand before lighting the cigarette in the non-smoking room.

“Okay, so four then.”

Dylan pushed against my shoulder and I fell against the bed, he smirked as he walked toward the balcony but added. “More like two.”

I wasn’t finished with our argument though and had a few things I needed to say so I followed him. He sighed when I came outside. “Haven’t had enough princess?”

I did what I thought was necessary for the situation. I kicked his shin. “Don’t be a fucking jerk about this.”

He laughed a little darker this time. “Well then, go ahead,” he said blowing smoke out with another chuckle. “Tell me he touched you so I can lay that motherfucker out.”

I wasn’t laughing. “That’s not nice, Dylan. You’ve got some serious anger issues. We were dancing. Don’t blow this up into something more.”

“Whatever,” he grunted kicking his legs up onto the railing and leaning back in the plastic chair that was out there.

“Fine Dylan, take me home then. If this is the way this shit is going to go, take me home!” It was the first time since we left where I didn’t want to be around him.

“So what?” Dylan snapped jerking his legs from the balcony to sit a little straighter, his posture tense. “You fucking hate me now because I was trying to protect you from being raped by a fucking douchebag?”

“I wasn’t going to be raped Dylan.” Losing a little steam, I sat down beside him in the other chair next to his. “You’re exaggerating.”

“You don’t know that,” he mumbled taking another drag from his cigarette. “You’re so fucking naïve to all this shit around you. There’s so much about this fucking world that you have no idea about. Do you know how many times Josh has been in and out of jail?”

“Stop trying to protect me Dylan,” I said ignoring his comments on Josh. It meant nothing and wasn’t part of this argument. “I don’t need you to. You’re not my father and please don’t act like it.”

“Yeah, princess.” He gave another scornful glare my way. He called me princess just to pour salt in the wound his words left. “You can be goddamn sure I’m not your fucking dad.”

Just as I was about ready to walk away, he grabbed my hand when I stood, the fire in him simmering down slightly. “I refuse to sit back and watch you get hurt. I won’t do it. I watched for years and I won’t anymore.”

He let me walk away and gave me some space. In the twenty minutes he sat outside, smoking another two cigarettes, his temper had calmed as did mine. Covered up to my chin in blankets and fully clothed, I laid there and stared at the ceiling as he moved through the room and eventually in bed beside me.

“Why Mercedes?” The words hung in the air, apprehension suffocating me. I felt tears slip from the corner of my eyes at the mention of the memory. First Eric and now Dylan. Was the reason behind him putting a baseball bat through Eric’s windshield because he was jealous of Eric and not me all along?

Dylan picked up the water bottle on the nightstand near the bed diverting his yes from mine. He didn’t make eye contact and I knew why. After taking a drink, he set the bottle down, still no eye contact. His expression remained the same, his eyes focused on the ceiling when he finally laid down beside me. “I’ve never given any thought to it. I woke up beside her and then left without another word.”

“When you saw Eric and her together, what hurt more, that she was with someone else?” My words came out choked as the tears flowed again. He knew then that I was crying. There was no hiding it now.

“Bailey,” he grimaced. He couldn’t even look at me. “She had nothing to do with it. I told her that I was upset that he was cheating on you.”

“Why her?”

Nothing was said for close to a minute. His palms pressed to his face, digging at his eyes and then he groaned dropping them beside him. “She was just a girl brown eyes. One that was willing at a time where I had no idea what was going on around me.”

“Were you high?”

“Worse, I was strung out at the time. Fucking tossed beyond belief. The only reason I know it happen was waking up naked next to her and the condom on the floor.”

My heart felt like a knife was stabbed through it and it was trying to beat around it.

Up until now I had no idea that Dylan had done anything worse than marijuana. How could I have though? Anytime we talked about that, the conversation quickly changed to something else.

It was times like this when it was easy to mistake his actions for inadequateness. That maybe he didn’t feel the way he said he did about me. I knew though. It was in his touch and the way he looked at me.

So he slept with Mercedes. I didn’t have any claim to him back then and wasn’t sure I really had any now. What scared me was the way it felt and how hearing that he had been with my best friend, and she knew that I had hidden feelings for Dylan growing up, and she still slept with him. And Eric. It was like she took everything I had or wanted. That’s exactly the way Mercedes was though. I knew that.

Dylan wasn’t going to let me go to sleep without feeling my skin next to his. It didn’t matter that we had a fight or that I was still upset with him, we had something between us that wasn’t going away.

“Take this off brown eyes.” He said tugging at his t-shirt I was wearing and the sweatpants too.

I did as he wasn’t wearing anything but his underwear.

Sure, I was easy to forget but Dylan was easy to forgive. His words still hurt, they did, but I was willing to forget them for now and be in the moment. I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring. What if this was the last night together? Did I really want to spend it mad at him? No.

Dylan moved, planting his hands firmly on both sides of my stomach and ran his nose against the side of mine. He brushed his nose and lips down my cheek, around the corner of my open lips, over my chin.

My head fell back. My spine curved up. I heard myself whimper and hum. He shifted onto his knees and glided his nose down my neck. It started there, under his teasing affection, and spread like wildfire. Every millimeter of my skin tingled and burned for his touch, his skin, and his kisses. He was apologizing.

The aching in my stomach spread hotter, all throughout me. The needful burning he lit in me prickled painfully under the surface of all my skin. I wanted him. I wanted him to show me his love in the most intimate way. The way he had with others only with me, it’d be different. We would be sharing something he hadn’t with others. Love. I knew enough about his encounters with those other girls to know he hadn’t been in love and it was just sex with them.

Dylan whispered and worshiped. I panted and pleaded for more, always needing, wanting, begging for more but he wouldn’t give in.

“Not tonight brown eyes,” he whispered when I tried to position his naked body where I needed it most. “I can’t do it because I need you to feel what I feel for you the moment it happens and right now, I’m not sure that you do. Not after a fight.”

Why did he keep saying that?

“I want you Dylan, right now.”

His expression didn’t change and he stared at me like I hadn’t said anything.

When I tried again, he moved from between my legs to beside me. “Brown eyes,” his voice was full of hesitation. “Not like this, not here, and certainly not after what happened earlier.”

“But…I want you,” my voice cracked without me wanting it to. “Show me you want me too.”

His gaze was on mine, taking in my responses to his touches, my words. “And I want you too…but not like this.”

His rejection hurt. I’m not going to lie. Deep down, I knew he had reasons for waiting. There was something untouchably deep about him and to see it, to really see it, you had to understand him. In a weird way, I did so I didn’t push it.

16.    The Wade Brothers – Bailey Gray

There has always been a mystery around the Wade brothers. Drew was older than Dylan by three years. He was always into drugs as long as I could remember but when he nearly overdosed at sixteen, Ken didn’t take well to that, I assumed. I didn’t know the entire story and Dylan never felt the need to go into details.

All my theories were speculation. I never knew the truth and I wasn’t sure I ever would outside from what I learned from his uncles and the brief interactions Dylan and I had about him.

That weekend we arrived in Birmingham Drew was out of town. We he got back into town Friday night, I was afraid to go to the bar with him after what happened on Tuesday night at his friend’s house.

Since then things had went back to normal but we had yet to take things further sexually or talk more about what happened.

Dylan seemed nervous that afternoon and said little until we were in the parking lot. Even then, he said nothing to me but reached for my hand and held it as we stepped into the downtown Birmingham bar his brother now owned. A sign on the outside said The Joint. I laughed at the thought that it held somewhat of a hidden meaning. I’m sure it did.

Drew was in there, it wasn’t hard to spot his tall slender body slouched in a booth going over what appeared to be invoices. Drew looked very much like Dylan aside from tattoos. They were usually confused as twins when they were younger and could still pass for them.

When the bell sounded as we walked inside, cigarettes and dingy carpet engulfed us surrounded by dusty gold walls. Old kegs were used for tables with glass tops and wooden chairs. In the booths, the wooden tables had a gel coating over them with hundreds of coasters underneath the coating.

Dragging me along with him, we approached Drew. He stood, smiling at his younger brother.

Dylan smiled when Drew hugged him and it was easy to see they didn’t part on bad terms and still had a brotherly bond.

“You remember brown eyes, right?” Dylan asked pulling from Drew and gesturing to behind him to me.

Drew’s eyes seemed distanced as he tried to remember me. Years of using probably fogged his memories.

“Yeah.” He gave a smile, one that matched Dylan’s and reminded me of their mom. Drew had Dylan’s eyes, bloodshot and dark, but they had the same smoky ice blue to them. “You guys want a drink?” Drew nodded to the bar over his shoulder.

Without waiting for us to answer, Drew walked through the crowd to the bar in the back.

We followed. Dylan reached back, his hand finding mine to guide me with him. It was still early in the night. The bar was scattered with about ten different people all-seeming to be lost in their own world.

“So runaways, huh?” Drew smiled up at me when we stood by the bar, both of us finding a seat on the wooden stools that surrounded the weathered wooden bar. “Where are you guys heading?”

Dylan took a shot that Drew pushed in his direction and then the beer. I did the same looking at Dylan as I did so. “We’re thinking of staying here for a few weeks and then we’ll see where that takes us.”

“You’re welcome to stay at my place.” Drew suggested taking a rag from under the bar and wiping down the wood in front of him. The smell of bleach rose above the beer in front of me. “I’ve got a girl staying with me but we have a spare room you’re welcome to use.”

Dylan agreed, maybe to be closer to his brother, but I wasn’t one to argue. I didn’t really care where we stayed. Part of me liked the idea of staying with his brother as I would feel closer to Dylan.

We went out to dinner with Drew that night instead of staying at the bar. Most of the time Dylan and Drew talked and they did include me too but I spent a great deal of time watching the two of them.

Drew was mellow where Dylan was dauntless.

Dylan didn’t need to be loud to get his point across but in his own way, intuitive natured, quick to stand up for himself, speaking in sighs and motions, he did it with an edge you wouldn’t expect from an eighteen-year-old kid.

The next morning Dylan asked me if I wanted to go see his mom’s grave. The tenderness he displayed while asking was sincere and nearly broke my heart. He looked lost, sad, conflicted, every emotion a kid would feel while going to see his dead mothers grave.

Apparently, Dylan hadn’t been there since he was twelve and felt it was time. Why he wanted me there was somewhat terrifying for me.

Dressed in a black dress I borrowed from the girl staying with Drew, Dylan borrowed a suit from Drew and said his mom would be pissed if he went there wearing that shit he wears nowadays. Drew laughed and agreed. Apparently, he went there every Sunday. She died on a Sunday. Sunday was Drew’s day with her.

Dylan wanted to go on another day. He chose Saturday morning.

“I’ve never seen you wear a tie before,” I said when we walked through Drew’s house and to the driveway to get into his GTO.

“Yeah, well,” he gave the tie a tug pulling it from his neck to hang loose a little more. “It’s for her. Don’t get used to it.”

“You’re not much of a rebel looking like this,” I giggled when he climbed over the seat to his side. Still couldn’t open the door since the bull incident and it seemed the longer he went without fixing it, the more I understood his theory about memories.

“Stop it,” he said shaking his head with a laugh when he caught me looking at him. “You’re distracting me and I never claimed to be a rebel. Don’t put a label on something you don’t understand.”

When we got to the cemetery about a mile down the road from Drew’s house, I let Dylan be alone and stand near her grave by himself. Since it’d been so long since he saw her, I couldn’t see invading on his privacy.

Dylan was still affected by the death of his mother. Whenever he said his mom’s name, there was a tiny glimmer of pain he tried so hard to keep hidden, but I saw it. It was in the way his hands shook the entire way here and the distant look in his eyes when he got out of the car and slowly walked over, the setting sun around him was beautiful. It may have been wrong to do, but I took a picture of him walking toward her grave. Afterward, I pulled it up on my camera and stared at it. The sunlight had caught in the top right corner of the shot and casted rays of light at Dylan, walking, dressed all in black with his hands in his pockets, head down. In the corner of the left side of the shot was his mother’s headstone.

I snapped one more photograph when he knelt down beside the headstone and placed a lily near it, her favorite flower. He only bought one this morning, he said she appreciated simple gestures like that.

It wasn’t long and he motioned for me to come over, so I did, keeping quiet until he spoke. We both sat in the grass now, looking at the headstone. Around her name were three sparrows, the same sparrows around the tattoo on Dylan’s collarbone.

Dylan must have noticed me realize this and smiled. “Sparrows mean undying love and commitment to one person, or so they can mean that. If on your arm, they can mean that person values freedom over everything else, bound by no rules.” With a sideways smirk, he gestured to the headstone. “For sailors sparrows mean a safe return home. Drew chose sparrows for that reason.”

Nodding, I read the scripture placed upon it.

Lauren Wade

July 30, 1972 – December 14, 2003

No hand so soft and gentle

No heart so tender and true

No sorrow greater than us losing you

Dylan had told me the story behind her headstone as we sat there, it was something he wrote for her in school when they asked us to write a poem. It wasn’t exactly the same but they had decided to use it for her headstone because she loved it so much.

“The last time I was here was with Drew,” he said taking a cigarette from his pocket and then chuckling softly before putting it away. He leaned back on his hands, his legs kicked out in front of him. “She’d kill me if she saw me smoking that shit.”

“Do you blame Drew for leaving?” I asked. We hadn’t talked about Drew much since we got here and I was curious about his thoughts on the situation. They both acted like they had never parted, throwing insults at each other and reminiscing about their childhood.

“No. Drew had it bad.” Dylan picked at the grass ripping pieces apart in his hand as a distraction. “I’m glad he left. He needed to. Drew took a lot of shit from my dad.”

“Are you mad at him for leaving?”

“No.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Bailey you think too much.” His eyes found mine and I nearly gasped when I saw that they were glossed over. He didn’t want to be talking about this. “He had his reason and they’re just that, his reasons. I have no right to hate him for leaving. Did it suck? Yeah, it did but that’s my own shit, not his. You can’t get wrapped up into what happened in the past or what others did to you. Being mad at him would be a waste of energy.” When he spoke the words, it felt like he was trying to convince himself of that more than me.

“But you were sad?” I reached for his hands in his lap when he leaned forward. He took mine and intertwined our fingers together.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I have regrets and things I wished would have turned out differently.” He looked at our hands and then back to the grave. “It’s not something I’m going to dwell on. What I think about it is in the moment, right now, what I can control.”

“Yeah.” I thought for about a half a second and then said what I was thinking. “Sometimes it feels better when you admit to yourself that you hold resentment.”

I held resentment for a lot of things, mostly for my parents and the way they controlled everything I did.

“Jesus, this shit isn’t complicated and I don’t need you to analyze me,” Dylan snapped letting go of my hand and standing. His hand found his hair and tugged at the ends. “It’s just shit. Shit that doesn’t mean anything.” His eyes soaked in sadness, inside my heart though his words were harsh. “The sooner you realize that people are fucking liars, dishonest deceitful pieces of shit, the better off you’ll be.”

His words held truth, they did. I didn’t know it at the time but he tried to warn me. He did.

And then he said, “Bailey, you hear what you want to hear sometimes.” There was tenderness to his smile, he wasn’t trying to hurt me, and a hunger in his eyes that spoke truth beyond the words. “Sometimes memories are just what they are…memories.” He gave the grave another look before walking away, a warm comfort in a knotted chest.

Dylan was nearing tears and didn’t want me to see him cry I assumed but then we sat in the car for close to an hour, talking. He couldn’t leave. I wondered if this was why he came to Birmingham. Was it to see his mom and his brother? Was that why Drew came back here?

Since their mom was born here, her family asked that she be buried near her cousin and dad. Their grandma, Lauren’s mom, was still alive and lived in Montgomery.

We eventually left and headed to the bar where Drew had live music going on. Thankfully, no questions were asked about our age and we got in without hassle. After being at the cemetery for close to three hours, I would have done anything to get Dylan’s mind off his mom as his anger surrounding the situation seemed to escalate when I pressed.

We sat at a back table that had a clear view of the stage. Drew was singing tonight.

“Drew taught me everything I know about music. He and Eddy were always playin’ shit when I was younger, like barely old enough to hold a fucking guitar let alone know a goddamn thing about it.” Dylan’s eyes lit up. “I remember them doing an acoustic version Midnight Rider…man,” he sighed at the memory and watched Drew take the stage, “those were some good times. Those are the memories you want to remember.”

17.    Stupidity – Bailey Gray

After being at Drew’s a week, I was starting to feel like I could move in with him and Dylan and be perfectly happy. They were entertaining and exactly what I needed. I loved that they didn’t shelter me and shield me from their insults. They tossed them my way too and I slung ‘em right back.

Drew’s girlfriend, Megan, was very nice and I enjoyed having a girl around at times. One that wasn’t a backstabbing cunt. Drew tried to say she wasn’t his girlfriend but you could see it in his eyes. He loved that girl and her quirky attitude.

Sunday afternoon while Drew spent time at the cemetery, Dylan and I sifted through the photos I had developed. He stared endlessly at the sunrises and sunsets, kept the one of him walking toward his mom’s grave and passed over the ones of him, on stage, singing.

“You’re alive out there,” I said holding the one where he was standing in front of the microphone, both hands cupping it with his head leaned back belting out a song that held true meaning for him. His song.

His fingertips slid up my arm, over my collarbone and to the side of my face. “It’s because of you.”

I looked down at him and smiled. Then his phone started ringing. It was my dad again so he ripped out the battery and tossed it on the floor just as he had done every other time he called which was daily.

“Do you think he will ever stop calling?” I asked biting my nails. Part of me still thought about why he was calling but it probably had more to do with school than anything. I knew he despised the fact that I gave up my scholarship.

“No, he won’t stop until he has control of you,” Dylan said removing himself from the bed and reaching for his cigarettes. “That’s all he wants. Control.”

When Drew got back from visiting his mom we all went out to dinner together. Dylan ran into Josh there, the first time they had seen each other since that party and me dancing with him. It probably would have blown over but Josh was flirty and Dylan didn’t appreciate it when he put his arm around me and took a few of my fries from my plate like he was some sort of good friend.

We were asked to leave when Dylan took a swing at him.

“Jesus Dylan, was that necessary?” Drew asked when we got to the parking lot. He and Megan both stared at us. I had no idea what to say so I kept quiet.

“Yeah, it was!” he shouted over his shoulder before getting in his car. “Get in Bailey.”

On the drive back to Drew’s, house Dylan said absolutely nothing to me. It was frustrating. I was somewhat relieved that Drew and Megan had taken a separate car. I wanted the time alone with Dylan. I had this crazy thought that I could talk to him.

His mood didn’t improve and when his car started vibrating, it ignited. “Now what the fuck is wrong?” His hand over the wheel flipped up checking gauges but nothing indicated a problem.

The rain that had started when we left the steak house had picked up rocking the car with the wind. The vibration in the left rear got more apparent and Dylan knew something was wrong. We pulled off at a truck stop and parked, thankfully before something broke. “Stay in the car.”

I stayed in the car and watched as he said for me to do. I did sense he wasn’t in the mood for any more provoking.

Hearing him rummage in the truck, I watched through the rearview mirror to see him toss a tire outside along with a handheld jack.

The rain, a steady pour now, wasn’t letting up. I didn’t want him out there alone so, against my better judgment, I got out.

Dylan was crouched near the tire with a tire iron in his hands. With the rain, his hands kept slipping from the tool and that seemed to frustrate him even more.

“Can I help?” My voice was timid, rightfully so. At first, I wasn’t sure he had heard me with the rain, but he did.

“You can help by staying in the fucking car,” he grunted tossing the tool aside, he finally got the lug nuts off. He then took the shredded tire and removed it to replace it with the one from the trunk.

I still wasn’t over being yelled at and answered as such. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

Dylan stopped. I struck a nerve, looking up at me with the cold blue that set fire with my words. “I’m the jerk?”

“I…you…fuck…”

Frustrated, he ripped his wet shirt over his head. It slapped against the ground as it fell beside him.

Next thing I knew he had me in his arms.

His fingers dug into my wet skin sliding against me. Twisting in his arms, I slipped slightly against the wet fender. “Don’t say that to me.”

He slammed my open door shut and my back hit the door, my head hit the window as he pushed me against the side, not hard but he got my attention which was what he wanted. “Don’t fucking do that to me? Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m the asshole for trying to protect you from things that can hurt you,” he spit, eyes hard and only on me, the only blue that surrounded dark let me know a storm was coming, his hand under my chin forced me to pay attention. “There’s so much you don’t know.”

And that’s where it ended. Dylan wasn’t willing to talk about it and with Dylan, if he wasn’t talking, he just wasn’t.

I had so many questions for him about his cryptic words but he would shut down.

Drew and Dylan were a little on edge the next day and I thought it had to do with last night and the restaurant but it didn’t. Sam, the overly persistent producer we had met in Kansas, had followed Dylan and was now asking questions around town. Why he was so hell-bent on Dylan was weird and Dylan didn’t appreciate it one bit.

Sam had found Dylan with the help of Drew and presented the idea of a three-band show to support the local bars. And if you spent any time around Sam, you would understand this had nothing to do with supporting local bars. It was all about him and his record label.

The bands would play at each bar for two hours starting at three and end at Drew’s bar, The Joint.

While Dylan initially denied the offer, and told Sam he could fuck himself, he reconsidered after Drew said it’d be good exposure for the bar. Dylan would do anything to help Drew out, including agreeing to partner up with the likes of Sam Young for a night.

To prepare for the night, Dylan called up Eddy, who had ratted him out to Sam about going to Birmingham. Dylan told him he now owed him and he’d better get his ass to Birmingham by Friday night.

Eddy brought with him Reece and another guy named Davey who I had never met before. They spent the next week rehearsing for ten hours a day at The Joint while Megan and I helped Drew with advertising and posting signs around town.

The night of the concert, Dylan was in the living room while I was getting ready. I wasn’t exactly sure what to wear to the bar but Megan helped me out and brought over a nice and simple black dress that clung to my every curve. Dylan wasn’t exactly impressed with the dress but more jealous of it. His words not mine.

“Are you nervous?” I asked slapping his hand away when he crept up my side again.

“A little,” he admitted. “Never played in front of this many people before.”

“You’ll do fine.” I knelt beside him moving my hands up his thighs.

“So you say,” he chuckled catching my hands when they got to his buckle.

“You don’t need a distraction?”

“No,” he said bringing my hands to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “I have something else planned tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, the concert.” Standing I felt silly thinking he would need me as some kind of good luck charm.

Just about the time I was walking away, his warm hand caught mine and brought me down on his lap. His hands went to my face forcing me to look only in his eyes.

“I don’t think you get it, brown eyes.” His voice shot through me. “I want you, all of you, tonight.” When the words were out, his stare was on mine, suggestive, curious.

“You mean we can finally open the box?” I tried to hide my nervous grin but there was no way around it.

Dylan chuckled pressing his lips to mine, “Yes.”

“Why now?”

He wasn’t prepared for that question but kept his expression relaxed. “Taking my own advice and living in the moment,” he winked. “Now let’s go play rock star for a night.”

Once he told me that the box would be opened tonight, that’s all I thought about. I thought about how it would feel, what I would do, what he would do, the things he would say to me. All of it. Hardly focusing on anything around me, I was lost in my own world.

The commotion around me didn’t lend well to that though.

Dylan was amped when we got to the first bar, especially with Eddy and Reece around. They were tossing shit at each other and Reece had a black eye before the first show even began. When they finally got on stage, they fed off one another and the music they played which was mostly a mix of rock and roll and grunge rock. They played covers from Korn, Theory Of A Deadman, Chevelle, and The White Stripes. Then they played one of Dylan’s at the first bar.

You tease me dear

For you don’t know

The power I hold so near

You should fear me dear

The horror held so near

You tease me dear

For you can’t know

The shame I hold so dear

For you don’t know

The scenes appear in fear

His eyes were focused on the ground when he would sing one of his one songs, never looking up, the nervous edge he had overpowering every other motion he had. But I felt and heard every word as I always did when he sang.

What was hard were the girls that hung all over Dylan before the shows and even during them. They crowded the stage, clung to his legs and offered themselves up after every set.

I did not like that and felt better that Dylan didn’t want to pursue his music any more than he already was. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing this every night. Some of those girls should have been ashamed of themselves. They looked desperate and trashy.

As I sat in the crowd, Dylan’s eyes were on mine a lot. He knew that I didn’t know anyone besides Megan and Drew and both were at The Joint preparing for the final show. Megan showed up halfway through their set and asked if I wanted to come back with her but I couldn’t leave when Dylan was on stage. There was something about that boy when he had a guitar. An enchanting force surrounded him up there and you couldn’t help but stare at him as he held your attention.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Dylan had been performing his entire life with how relaxed he appeared at times, until he played one of his own songs.

Drew and Megan showed up again at the second bar just about the time Dylan and the boys came on stage. He spotted Drew and smiled adjusting the mic height. Slinging the guitar over his shoulder, he wrapped his hands around the microphone and met Drew’s eyes near the stage. “This one is for my brother.” He raised an eyebrow when a group of energetic girls in front of him screamed, his warm laughter rang through the bar.

Dylan flicked his wrist behind him and Reece started in with a song I knew held meaning for Dylan and Drew. Midnight Rider.

Drew laughed. “He better not fuck this song up,” he said with more emotion than I thought a guy like Drew Wade would display. Megan wrapped her arms around his waist and swayed to the music as Dylan leaned forward and began to sing. There was such a rush around us, bodies swaying, the vibrations of live music, it was easy to get lost.

The version he played of the song was heavier, more rock style like Theory Of A Deadman would do, but it was perfect and ignited the crowd the way it was designed to.

I knew one thing, it was hot in there. Being in Alabama in late July, the heat from outside was intense as was the heat in the bars. I assumed they had air conditioning but with that many bodies swaying side to side, the heat rose quickly. I was relieved that I wore a dress.

During their set at the second bar, I met Nate, a bartender at Drew’s bar who came to find Drew to let him know the fire department had been called about the capacity limit being met.

Drew left to talk with the fire chief and made Nate stay and keep an eye on me. Nate was not good company. He was energetic, loud mouthed and full of all kinds of crazy. He had a smile I could resist though and had me laughing at everything he said.

With the thick crowd near the stage, it was hard not to be close to him. I didn’t think anything over it when a few guys got rowdy in front of us and I was pushed into him, Nate immediately righted my position to keep me from falling. He smiled when my eyes caught his and thanked him, always smiling. I tried not to pay too much attention to him knowing what Dylan’s reaction would be.

Megan found me again after that, which I was relieved by. I really didn’t want Dylan seeing me standing with Nate. “Hey girl.” Megan bright green eyes were bloodshot and tired. Poor girl was worn out running back and forth between the three bars. “Fuck, this is a nightmare. Drew is all kinds of tossed over there.”

Tossed?

Tossed in my mind meant drunk or high, at least that’s the word Dylan used it for. “You mean high?”

She gave me a funny look. “No, I mean stressed out. He’s nervous. Drew doesn’t get high anymore, it’s not his thing.”

“Oh, right.” I knew that. Dylan had told me he laid off the drugs completely these days.

I had already added so much more to my vocabulary around Dylan and now Drew but it was strange how many different meanings all these words had.

“Should we go help?” I looked around the bar over the throngs of people to see the guys shuffling off the stage with a four or five girls following them. Sighing I turned back to Megan, “I’ll come with you.”

“Okay.” She grabbed my wrist. “Where’s Nate?”

“I’m here!” he shouted through the thick mass of bodies all pushing toward the entrance to get to the final bar.

All three of us walked the four blocks to Drew’s bar where the first band was already setting up for their set, the drummer took a seat at the drums.

I helped Nate and Megan set everything up, take the cover at the door and eventually take drink orders. I hadn’t seen Dylan since the last bar and when I saw him take the stage, he was drunk. I was sure of that.

Dylan and the boys started with a few Powerman 5000 songs to get the crowd amped, as if they needed it and that’s when I could tell he was drunk. His mood before was lively but now he seemed a little more on edge, vulnerable but relaxed if that made sense.

I had my fair share of drinks too. Megan was convinced I needed them but I think she was just trying to keep me and her both calm.

Dylan caught my eye every once in a while, every time his expression was something I couldn’t place. His mood was off.

As I sat in the corner with Nate, Megan and Drew near us, the music darkened, a slow base filled the bar. I looked up to the stage that was dimly lit, Reece had his head down, beating a slow rhythm that seemed mysterious and the intro something a lot darker than they had played the rest of the night.

I immediately looked to the stage to see Dylan. He was standing near the microphone, no light on him, completely shadowed. He gripped the base tightly, his body swaying, slightly rocking from one foot to the other.

As the music went into a riff, his eyes found the audience but he kept his head bent forward, almost more menacing that way. Through the shadows, I saw that ice blue that could give you chills and tingles at the same time.

As the music sped, his voice became louder to the point where he was practically screaming.

Looking at him now, I’d never seen him play like this before, so dark, so angry. He had an intensity that seemed ever darker than the lyrics to the song. He rocked from side to side throughout the third verse, his hand tight on the microphone, one in his pocket.

Across the table from me, Nate stood and smiled down at me when the song changed to something more upbeat and dance worthy. Drew even got Megan out there to shake her ass a little. I danced mostly with her and tried to stay away from Nate. He was flirty and had a cute face. I needed to stay away from him. I knew exactly what Dylan’s reaction would have been.

But the thing was, Nate was drunk, I knew that. And I was feeling the music Dylan was screaming on stage, Crazy Bitch. I loved the song and the fact that he was singing, dancing around, holding a microphone so close to his lips I wished it was my body he was squeezing.

Nate touched me, reaching for my arm. Pulling me close, I finally understood what his intentions were but I couldn’t move away. Fear maybe, I don’t know. Stupidity?

I don’t think he knew that I was with Dylan so I told him, “I’m with Dylan.”

He smiled, always smiling, and pulled me closer, we both laughed when our chins bumped together at the close proximity. “He doesn’t have to know.”

Leading Nate on was not my intention at all. He was warm, I was feeling the song, wanting arms around me but not wanting Nate’s. He was warm but not the warmth I was used to. While now, all I smelled was whiskey and beer, I wanted the smells of summer grass and sun and the boy I knew so well.

Alcohol and jealousy could do unexpected things to your actions and intentions. I knew that now. When Nate’s mouth found my neck and then jaw and finally my lips, at some point during the song, I didn’t move. Frozen in time, I couldn’t believe what I was allowing.

Nate didn’t let me react knowing his chance was now. My heart was screaming, telling me I was being stupid but my body didn’t react. When his tongue found mine, I reacted and pushed him away but not soon enough for the damage to be done.

“Bailey!” Drew screamed over the crowd but it was too late.

When I turned around and looked back at Drew who called my name, I found that the conversations around us had silenced, music stopped and eyes had darted to me, and Nate, and his hold on me.

Stupidity. Young stupidity could destroy a lot of things.

Dylan must have seen.

Indifferent, and I should have known, Nate crossed his arms over his chest before he looked over at me. His eyes skipped to the stage. They passed by mine and locked over my shoulder. That’s when his posture changed from indifferent to guarded. His hands dropped and fisted, preparing, glaring, and anticipating.

I couldn’t see through all of the commotion but I heard it. A chair was thrown, bodies shoved, glass breaking, the silence no longer and yelling replacing it as if someone was trying to hold someone back. I knew that someone. When I looked at the stage, Dylan wasn’t up there any longer, his guitar broken on the stage with Reece and Eddy scrambling to chase after him.

“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 myself 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.

I could feel him against me, hard, straining against his jeans, he wanted this but he also didn’t want it in his car, something he swore he’d never do. Something he said that I was better than. But after tonight, my actions, I wasn’t any better.

My hands moved from his shoulders to grasp my dress and before he could stop me, I tore it from my body, needing, loving, wanting everything he was now giving regardless if he was begging me to stop.

Dylan gasped, his mouth hot against my skin. Keeping one arm around my back, he struggled to rip his flannel away and the t-shirt underneath over his head. My eyes followed the lines of his muscles and the ink that tattooed them, seeing cuts from the glass in the bar. Dylan didn’t give me much time before he reached for my thighs and then he was pushing me away.

Only he wasn’t saying no, his words were, but his body wasn’t. He grabbed my hips and turned us both, laying me across the seat, his knees spread my legs, and his hands worked on his belt buckle hastily and then unzipped his jeans. All the while, his eyes were on mine, dark, pleading, wanting, lusting, and hurting. “Tell me no, don’t let me do this,” he begged again pushing his jeans down to his knees, trying to fight his desire and need for this too.

I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. Seeing him fight because of me, for me, did something to me and I wasn’t taking no for an answer tonight. I had to prove to him that we needed this. I needed this.

“Just fuck me Dylan,” I pleaded through tears, my hands sought what I needed between us. When I grasped him firmly, he groaned, his head falling forward and it sounded like he was starving. “That’s what I want.”

He planted his right hand firmly on the back of the seat, his other rested by my head as he tried to maneuver himself closer, the muscles in his chest flexing and contracting with each movement. His legs moved trying to gain room we didn’t have on the front seat of his car.

His head dipped forward, his arms shaking, his entire body shaking as he leaned in.

Meeting my stare, his eyes were regretful, on edge, raging. “Fuck,” he sighed shaking his head, hands trembling, “please stop me.”

I didn’t.

Pressing his weight forward, his hips in contact with mine, no barriers, and his eyes dropped to between my legs, watching.

I think a lot of things in that moment. Sunrises, sunsets, rain, summer, ice blue, the ocean, the sea.

With the window down, the rain pelted my face and Dylan begged me again. “Don’t brown eyes,”

Pushing my hips up, I slid against him and it was over. He gave in.

I could feel the change, passion, desire, burning fucking desire took over.

In the dark, rain soaked innocence, I never thought my first time would be like this, in his GTO. His name was in the back of my throat, pleading, as I swallowed.

“Brown eyes,” he whispered, his tone like iron, a steel gate that holds the barrier between us emotionally.

I was scared for what I had done, what we had done. I was scared of this dangerous love, of the burn and of the desire I couldn’t let go of, the hurt, all of it. I was scared.

Steading his weight, his hips shifted again, shaking and then he pushed.

It was gone. My youth, my innocence, my perfectly planned life was gone when he pushed because I pushed, we pushed, until there was nothing left but what was right here, wanting, shaking, loving.

It hurt.

It burned.

I was scared.

I couldn’t breathe but yet when I felt that connection, I could finally breathe.

I couldn’t control the sound the escaped me when he was finally inside me. He moaned, his back arched and his head fell forward further until his body came to rest above mine. Moaning again, I could feel the desperate tenor vibrate my soul and the shake that started in his hands above me holding himself steady shuddering through to his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “This is wrong. Tell me to stop.”

But I didn’t.

Rocking against me, tight burning pain was all I felt but he was there, over me, weighted and loving, giving me what I wanted despite the pain, despite me pushing him into this.

I didn’t want him to stop, ever, through the pain, the burning, the aching, I never wanted him to stop.

“Don’t stop Dylan, please don’t,” I panted against his cheek and my eyes squeezed shut.

He moved quickly letting go of the hesitation he had. Leaning down a little closer, flushed cheeks, I could taste the blood from his lips on mine as he kissed me, hard but slow, deep, speaking for his desire he hadn’t let go of. I closed my eyes, holding on to his as tight as I could, my hands slipping from his shoulders from the rain soaking us. My legs started to shake wrapped around him, my feet resting against his jeans that were wrapped around his calves, the muscles in his legs flexing with the movement of his hips.

When he gave me all his weight, I felt him tremble, his movement tensed, sped but slowed at the same time. “Fuck,” he breathed gripping me harder, rocking faster, deeper, the pain spreading like fire.

My head fell back, the rain mixed with my tears, and Dylan’s mouth captured my cries of pain and pleasure.  Pulling against his shoulders, I brought my head back up, my lips found his collarbone, sliding across the weight sweat and rain soaked skin.

Grass, heat, summer, I felt him everywhere, all around me.

Our lips brushed, I tasted the blood again and Dylan gasped into my mouth, his hips moving faster. This angry, loving, boy who held my heart in his talented hands, taking my innocence, gave me himself so deeply I could taste him everywhere.

We were in over our heads, I knew that, he felt it, he believed it but still, here we were, living in moments, loving dangerously.

There was a moment when I forgot to breath, it happened when he breathed in, taking the air from my lungs, and I felt him between my legs, harden, moaning so lowly that I thought he was hurting, maybe he was but then his breathing changed, panting, gasping and unsteady.

“I love you,” I whispered over my heartbeat pounding in my ears and the rain outside. “Forever. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

It was the first time I had said those words but they went unnoticed. I’m not sure he even heard me.

Dylan held me so close I cried out, his nose brushed against mine. “Never,” he promised shaking his head slightly. “Never brown eyes.”

“Dylan,” I panted into his mouth, my legs burning, my body burning, taking and giving everything I had.

I didn’t realize that he’d stopped his movements until I felt him gasp again, his breathing beginning to even out but not making any movements.

Dylan touched his nose and forehead to mine. Kissing my top lip, my bottom one, his breathing slowed.

He blinked, his eyes trained on mine, wanting, loving, needing. “You were made to love me,” he said against my lips. “Only me.”

“I know,” I whispered again, kissing his top lip, his bottom one, just like he did mine. “I do love you. Please kiss me, please, please—”

His lips were on mine before I got the third please out. He kissed me with his tongue and his lips, and I could feel his heart beating in his chest, thumping hard and fast against my own.

My entire body went limp into him. I could hear myself crying against him.

I sunk into the seat and let go. Overcome and overwhelmed, I could hear myself crying and I could feel myself dissolving around him, but I could hear and feel him, too. The weight of his body relaxed, but the weight of his despair was so much worse.

He was giving me what I wanted, but he wasn’t feeling it. When I looked at him, his face told me so. While I had his body, his lips, his hands, his voice, I don’t have his heart right now. While he was whispering to me, the energy behind his words is empty.

Settling my face into his neck, I wrapped my legs around him desperate to make him feel something.

“It’s okay,” he said, aching with need but then again, words were empty. “It’s okay.”

Barely breathing, barely moving, he held me tight, kissing my neck again.

He told me he loved me, chanted it even but then he was back to begging me, wanting me to believe. And then he looked at me, really looked at me, his hand on my cheek as his movements become harder. “Don’t forget, only you.”

18.    Dangerous Love – Bailey Gray

All I could focus on, besides Dylan begging me to stop, was how badly it hurt. Those girls that say they have orgasms the first time are lying sacks of shit, at least in my mind they were. It burned, it was uncomfortable and it hurt.

Nothing about it felt good.

Let’s be real here. It was awful. He was drunk, we had just been fighting and his body was a mess.

I remember Mercedes telling me how sweet her first time with Kasey had been and the candles and all that shit. Was my first time like that?

Nope. Not even close. But Mercedes could have been lying to me too. After all, she did that a lot.

Honestly though, I wouldn’t have changed it.

We were still in his car, our clothes had been replaced but we hadn’t moved. It’d been two hours and the sun was starting to rise over the hill behind Drew’s house. All the lights in their house were off, I was sure Megan, and him were in there somewhere.

Dylan flicked the cigarette butt out the window, his body shifted to lean against the door but he looked at me, wounded, his face sad. “Did you want to kiss him?”

“No, I didn’t. He kissed me and it shocked me. Before I could react, the damage had been done.”

His eyes were deep, voice raw from my actions, his hurt, my hurt, the hurt we couldn’t stop now. His hand rested over the steering wheel, shaking, his eyes rimmed with tears, red, puffy.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his eyes closed, guarding. “I constantly fuck up.”

“You won’t, I’m here.”

“Are you?” Ice met fire. “Are you really here? Do you understand what we’ve done?”

“I’m sorry, I meant it. I want you.”

“You’re sorry?” he laughed, his mood darker than before vindictively twisting. “Show me then.”

“How?” my voice was a whisper, cut-deep, bleeding, an open wound ready for salt, his salt, his tears, his anger.

I got my answer when his hands moved from the wheel down to his belt and unzipped his pants.

He was hurting, I know that and this was his way of showing it, making me feel his pain by inflicting pain.

I had never been afraid of Dylan but I was right then. I was afraid because of what we just did and now he was forcing my head in his lap.

When it was over, I was crying and he knew what he’d done. It hit him about as hard as that kiss had hit me, seeing firsthand the consequences your actions cause.

“I fucked up, right?” he asked, looking down at me. “I fuck up too much?”

“No.” I touched his face. It was a lie, the only lie I’ve ever told him.

What I just did, what he asked me to do, it was his way of getting back at me. He did fuck up. I shouldn’t have been treated like that. He knew. So another guy kissed me. Did I ask for it? No.

I let him reach for me and pull me into his lap, his buckle digging into my hip. The hardness between his legs was starting to soften but he hadn’t adjusted anything. He was still hanging out of his pants only now I was sitting on him.

“Do you hate me now?”

“No.” I shook my head meeting his stare. “I could never hate you.”

“You could,” he said dropping his eyes. “You could hate me.”

Deep down, it was a warning I should have took notice in.

“Will you come inside with me?” he asked lowly, a whisper.

I nodded but said nothing and followed him inside, through the dark house, into the room at the end of the hall we were staying in.

“You know, this isn’t exactly how I imagined it.” His hand twisted through my hair and he pulled my head closer to him, kissing my forehead when we laid on the bed. The morning light was filtering into the room now matching his ice blue eyes.

“You imagined it?” I whispered into his shoulder.

He pulled back to look at my face. “I’ve imagined it for a lot longer than I should have, when I had no business imagining.” He was quiet for a moment while the weight of his words settled over me. I don’t think I would have known what to do with Dylan before this point in my life. Even if Eric hadn’t been a factor, I would’ve talked myself out of it completely, too scared of what other people would say and think. As it was, I know I haven’t handled the situation as well as I could have. Or more importantly, should have. We were both constantly testing each other in ways we weren’t exactly trying to do.

He took a breath and continued, “I wanted to make it special. You know? Like candles and music and stuff. Something. Anything. I just wanted to make the first time that we were together special for you. More than―”

“Dylan, stop.” I moved my head back to make sure he could see the truth in my expression and words. “It wasn’t exactly the way I imagined either but it was us.”

Slowly, I was learning that a lot of times, the best things in life didn’t rely on being planned. There was no explaining or rationalizing emotion when you were in love. It was feeling, believing, remembering, and making moments. My life had always been planned out for me, and those plans were all I ever knew, all I relied on to get by. But this entire relationship with Dylan was been unexpected. It made sense that saying this would follow that path. And maybe that’s what made this so perfect, knowing that this was what I really wanted, without outside influence or expectations. It was completely unstable, dangerous love that could destroy you but it was Dylan. That’s the only way he knew how to love.

“I love you,” I said again, this time with purpose, a statement with no expectation of return.

Dylan smiled tucking me into his arms. “I love you too brown eyes.”

We eventually fell asleep, wrapped around each other in our dangerous love. When I woke up, he was staring at the ceiling. He looked conflicted and I wondered what about last night he regretted. I knew the parts that I did.

There were so many things I wanted to say, to ask, to feel, but I asked none of them and stayed wrapped in his arms.

He must have sensed I was awake. “I’m sorry,” he said regretfully kissing my temple.

Burying myself in his arms, I let him show me in kisses and touches how sorry he was, how sorry I was and our dangerous love.

Dylan’s phone next to the bed was ringing, again, always ringing. He ignored it but eventually took the battery out.

“You seem distracted.” It was an observation and he knew it. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away as he stared at the wall. Squinting, he bit down on the corner of his bottom lip, contemplating, withholding. “Nothing, brown eyes.”

I wanted to stop time, stop thinking, be here with him and make these crazy memories he dreamed of but I couldn’t. Something was up with him and I knew it. It was more than nothing, it was in the constantly ringing phone, the hidden stares he offered and the way he reacted to the name that appeared on his phone every day.

19.    Desire – Dylan Wade

I’m a stupid fucking kid with too much desire.

She had no fucking clue how much I loved her. No clue. She has no understanding of how badly I wanted to do right by her, only her. She was my fucking pulse, my desire, my heartbeat and nervousness.

Desire can be the death of a man.

My back curved holding her to me pressing my face into the space between her neck and shoulder. My hold was tight, always tight fearing she would let go, there was no space between us.

Only us.

One on the inside and out. It was us.

“Do you love me?” I asked, lifting her leg. I fell, between her legs, right where I needed to be.

Reaching below the sheets, I positioned myself where I needed to be, inside her, loving her, feeling her.

Resting against my chest now, she talked about our past, what led us here now, only she didn’t know the half of it.

“Do you remember what I said to you when your mom died?” she asked, her cold toes finding my legs, her breath soft against my neck.

I remembered everything this girl said. Everything.

“You told me that you would always be there for me.”

It was a lie, she knew. She wasn’t there for me but I forgave her. Lies were told to her. Dishonest fucking hateful people who destroyed our relationship and wanted to now.

“You smelled like grass and trouble,” brown eyes laughed, the sound was the best in the world

“I was trouble,” I smiled kissing her nose. “I am trouble. You really shouldn’t have come with me.”

She said nothing more. The more I warned her the more I thought the warning was sinking in. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her. It wasn’t my place.

If only things had gone differently when we were younger.

I remember her sneaking out and sleeping on my bedroom floor for weeks after my mom died. I remember feeling relaxed that she was there, with me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her all night. I loved her there. I loved her with me. I loved that she wanted to be there.

Knowing I had her now, I lived for my moment before it was gone.

I felt another huge wave of relief crash over me as I kissed her passionately. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I picked her up moving her to straddle me.

She had on a black lace bra, that offset her pale skin beautifully and my lips were drawn to her skin like a magnet. She dipped her head back as I buried my face between her breasts, reaching around to unclasp her bra, letting it fall gently off her shoulders.

I sat on the bed, she had no idea how seductive she could be as she shimmied herself out of her jeans, her hips wiggling with each exaggerated move.

Running my hands up the back of her thighs, coming to rest on her ass, she smiled at me, sweet chocolate.

I couldn’t fucking deny it now. I had an ownership, a possessiveness that I’ve always had with her. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing. It didn’t matter in school if she was with someone else, I felt and I knew goddamn well that she felt it too. If anyone said something bad about her, I was the first to stand up and the last to stop fighting for her.

“Is this what you want?” I asked as she smiled kissing me, and then hitched her leg around my hip.

“Yes,” she hummed. I reached down and grabbed her leg behind her knee for support, then pressed my hips into her.

She felt incredible against my body and each moan she made caused my dick to get harder and harder until I was throbbing with need for her. Her hands became frantic, needing, pleading with desire that I felt deep in my bones. My breath, my movements, all controlled by that fucking desire. Desire can be a fucking nightmare. It can make you forget consequences and lie to the one person you loved and swore to never hurt like they could.

I slid my hands around her waist and let them slide lower to rest on her ass, once again pressing my hips into her.

She threw her head back against the mattress. “God, Dylan, you feel so good.”

I couldn’t wait to be inside of her. She had other plans though.

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped as I watched her lick and kiss me down to my hip and over the top of my boxers that barely contained my erection, ending on my left hip where she finished with a nip of her teeth.

Watching me with a knowing look on her face, she reached out, gripped the base of my erection, and slowly moved her mouth closer. Her tongue slipped out and licked the tip, causing me to jump. I watched as her lips parted and she slid the tip into her mouth, her tongue sliding off the tip down the shaft.

My hands rested on her shoulders, lightly holding the hair away from her face so I could watch her. It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen, watching her take me into her mouth. My body was on fire from her touch. Each time she would take me in deeper. I groaned loudly knowing that I could easily come and I didn’t want it to be over yet.

“Brown eyes…fuck…you gotta stop…” I was getting close and my self-control was waning under her touch. I wanted to be inside her.

She pulled back, looking up at me with her sexy brown eyes and I couldn’t stop myself. I had to be inside her. Using a little more force than I would have liked, I pressed her back down onto the bed and hovered over her, leaning in to kiss her passionately.

“I fucking need you so much,” I said softly as I positioned myself at her entrance. I was crazy with desire, knowing that nothing would be between us. I could feel her heat luring me in, desire, the fucking monster it was. Her slickness made it so that even the slightest movement on my part would cause me to slide into her.

I pressed forward, relishing the feel as I filled her completely. I stilled for a moment to regain composure, the feeling of being skin to skin with her almost too much for me. My eyes closed as I fought off the orgasm that was bubbling under the surface. I didn’t want to spill my shit before she got what she needed.

“Please…Dylan…fuck me…” Bailey writhed beneath me and I almost couldn’t believe what she had said. It was erotic as hell to hear those words out of her beautiful innocent mouth.

I wrapped one hand around her body, letting it slide to her ass, and rested the other on the bed by her head. Catching on to what I wanted, she wrapped her legs around me as I pulled her hips against my body, the new angle changing the sensation for both of us.

“You want to be fucked, brown eyes?” I said, feeling gritty and raw.

She bit her lip and moaned as she nodded, completely unraveling any control I had left. I pulled out of her body and vigorously thrust back into her, using my hand to pull her body to mine. She used her legs to keep me where she wanted me.

I continued to pound into her, each pass causing her body to arch and tighten, reaching for the friction that would allow her release. I loved that it was my body that caused this reaction in her. I loved that she could feel all of me, with nothing in between us.

I felt like I could fucking explode at any moment, but I desperately wanted to give her an orgasm. This needed to be different from the first time, this wasn’t anger. This was love. Fucking blinding soul type shit. I sat up and grabbed her legs from behind my body, spreading them wide, continuing to move in and out of her Flushed with color, the way her muscles tightened, I knew.

“Bailey…I’m so close…fuck…so good…”

Before I could get a full sentence out, she screamed out in ecstasy. I couldn’t stop myself, grunting loudly, completely overpowered by the sensations.

“Oh God…Dylan…that was…fuck…” She ran her hands through her hair as she panted heavily, her skin perfectly flushed.

I kissed her lips with that same fucking desire that consumed me. “That should have been our first time,” I smiled. It was weak.

My phone was ringing again.

Bailey slipped to the bathroom, I answered the phone. No hello, no nothing, he just laid into me like he had for the last fucking seven weeks. “You bring my daughter home right now Dylan or you will regret it.”

I laughed. The vicious edge to my hatred was spit through my words. “She’s free to go when she wants but you don’t see her crawling back to daddy, do you?”

“She has no business being with your delinquent ass. Bring her home now or I will destroy you.”

Jeff wanted a rise out of me and I was the fucking kid he wanted me to be right then. He knew what to do to ignite me. He’d been doing it for years. “You’re just upset ‘cause you don’t want the town to know she’s screaming a Wade brothers name every night.”

Bailey came back into the room, my flannel loosely buttoned, her skin peeking out, haunting me. I dropped the phone when she came back and took the battery out.

I wanted to tell her that all this, my language, my hatred, my aggression, my tone of voice was because of her.

“Do you love me?” she asked, so sweet, so innocent, sweet chocolate and ginger freckles that danced through me and my moments.

“I’ve never loved anyone like this,” I said kissing the inside of her thigh when she came to the edge of the bed, my hands shaking with the threat of losing all this should he come here and tell her. Every inch of me was wrapped around every inch of her. There was love here. We felt it. It radiated from every inch of her to every inch of me. Would it destroy what we have?

Yes. She would only see one side, the side that was deceitful and that I kept something from her, protected her from a lie that would break her heart and mine.

I no sooner put the battery back in to call Drew and he called again.

Anger raged, I threw something, a fist into the wall and a crashing dresser when she reached for the phone.

“You’re acting crazy,” she said, panic in her voice when the phone rang.

“You haven’t seen crazy yet, brown eyes,” I said blowing smoke in the air and ripping the phone from her hand, a chest full of smoke and a head full of haze.

I took one last drag from my cigarette and answered the phone before turning around to face Bailey, for her to see how bad it really could be, how much he could destroy, had destroyed.

Every lie was merited and every secret justified when I he said he was in Birmingham. He was here. Here to destroy what he wanted. Every stolen moment between us was because of him and I hated him for it.

“You come here and you will destroy her,” I said to him hoping he heard me. “Are you ready for that?”

He didn’t. For once, he hung up.

Bailey looked at me, apprehension, concern, and sighed. “He’s here?”

“Somewhere,” I said walking to her stumbling over the mess I created.

“Let’s go to dinner,” she said, she knew, she wanted to make the moment last.

Desire, the fucking monster it could be. I gave in. I wanted and I took despite the consequences and what they had the power to destroy. I could have justified it in the beginning. Told her the truth. It wasn’t my place. That lying sack of shit needed to own up to it. See firsthand what he hand done.

20.   Lies – Bailey Gray

His eyes were closed, drifting, his features relaxed from earlier. He seemed close to sleep or maybe he was already sleeping.  Our relationship had changed over the last week, since that night in his car. Dylan wasn’t as careful with me or maybe he never was. Maybe now I noticed more, felt more, believed more. It’s like the colors again, ones you didn’t see, now lighted for you to see. Their beauty lies deeper than you ever knew, holds more meaning, has stronger beliefs.

“What will you do if he comes to find me?” I asked. “You know he’s going to.”

“I’ll kill him,” Dylan said with a dark laugh.

“You’re not a killer Dylan, nice try. And don’t do that. Then you’d be in jail and remember what Drew warned you about.”

I grabbed his ass and he slapped my hands away. “Don’t joke about that.”

Dylan twisted around taking my hands in between his bringing them to his lips, he held me close, and his lips hovering over my knuckles, his eyes on mine, serious. “He’s the reason. He’s the reason for all this shit.”

“What?”

We were in the living room at Drew’s house, standing near the bar that Dylan had been drinking from all night. It was becoming a habit, one I didn’t like and felt slipping. He was turning to a substance and Drew and I knew it. We talked often, Drew and me. He helped me understand Dylan in a way I never knew.

He’s Dylan Wade. He’s this crazy, willful, incorrigibly passionate, all heart and soul, the boy that I couldn’t and didn’t want to live without now. I held on to him with everything I had knowing what we had was a dangerous love.

And though Drew hadn’t been around Dylan in years, he still understood the side I didn’t. The reckless side.

Drew stepped in between us knowing Dylan had too much to drink. “Dylan man, sleep on it buddy.”

Dylan, on most days, was a man of few words. Sometimes his nonchalance bothered me. He had so much talent, a passion that spoke volumes but he thought it wasn’t there or maybe, as Drew said, he didn’t care. But lately, he was more than a few words. He was full of cryptic sentences that left me pondering the change that I saw since my dad called.

Dylan was complicated. He was like a Rubix Cube. Hard to solve but once you had a pattern, some movements came natural while others you would never solve.

Here’s where my life changed. I never saw it coming but I guess with change you never do. How could you? If you saw it coming you might have stopped it.

Dylan and I left on a Friday. June seventeenth to be exact.

On August fifth, my world was shattered.

Dylan stood when he saw my dad, as did I, at the end of Drew’s driveway, waiting for me. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to fucking come here,” Dylan growled slamming the front door. I followed.

My dad looked different, anger had settled over him. It was evident he hadn’t slept in days, bloodshot eyes and wrinkled clothes.

“Why are you here?” My voice shook, his parental stance was intimidating.

Dylan’s hand shook in mine and then I noticed it wasn’t just him shaking, it was me too. Drew stepped from the house coming to stand behind us. “What’s going on out here?” His eyes followed Dylan’s glare to see my dad. “You need to get off my property,” Drew said, forcefully and with anger I didn’t know he had.

“I’m here for my daughter,” my dad said, his somber response bit. He looked at me. “Get in the car Bailey.” His right hand was on the top of the white Toyota Camry he was driving. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit and it’s time to come home. You start school soon.”

“I’m not going to college dad.” My voice was still soft and I spoke more into Dylan’s shoulder than anything.

Dylan noticed, his stance more protective, his grip a little more possessive.

“Why don’t you tell her why you really forced her to come along, Dylan.” My dad looked from Dylan to me, his eyes blood shot and weary. He was drunk. I’d never seen my dad drunk before.

My gaze shifted to Dylan when he turned to look at me. My heart stopped. He stared at me, his expression turned from anger to hurt as if someone had punched him. It was that feeling. I felt it the morning we left, in my room, my sunrise, I felt it again.

Dylan blinked, I was brought back into the moment, this moment. His brow pulled together. “Bailey…I—”

“Dylan was only using you to get back at me.” My dad said interrupting Dylan walking toward me and reaching for my hand. Drew moved closer to, anticipating what he knew was about to happen. “I was driving the car that killed his mom. He knew and used you to get back at me.”

Anything could have happened right then but all I felt was the world crashing upon me. Drowning. Suffocating. Heart ripped from my chest fucking hatred, lies, deceit.

“How long have you known?” My voice was distant to even me. I looked from Dylan, to Drew, and then back to Dylan, waiting, demanding something.

“When I turned eighteen,” Dylan paused, his breathing low and harsh, his body shaking, “I saw the paperwork with the help of an attorney and found out who set-up the trust fund.”

Gestures, responses, reactions, hidden meaning, cryptic warnings were validated.

“That’s why you blew up the prosecuting attorney’s car?” Dylan nodded, his brow scrunched, he was hurting and on the verge of either blowing up or falling to my knees. The gasp of breath he took sucked the breath from me. Distant yelling was near, Drew and my dad, but it was Dylan and me, right now.

Dylan nodded and the motion broke another part from my breaking heart.

He knew my dad was the one…fuck…and he used me? How could he? Did I mean anything?

“He helped your dad cover it up,” Dylan glared, his intensity shifted from me to my dad. “As a city council member at the time he couldn’t have a murder on his hands.”

“It was a fucking accident Dylan!” My dad shouted, taking a step toward Dylan, Drew moved between them.

“Leave Jeff,” Drew said placing his hands on his chest, between me stood two men, two people who used me for their own benefit.

Was this some kind of sick joke?

“Get off my fucking property,” Drew said with a calm edge that held more warning than it did a directive. He knew Dylan was fading fast.

“Bailey,” my dad tried again when Drew pushed him toward the car. “You mean nothing to him but resentment. That’s all it was. Come with me. Come back home and get on with your life!”

“Get on with my life?” I gasped, tears rolled, anger was rising in me, heating and prickling my skin. “What life? You just destroyed anything I thought I had.”

My eyes found Dylan, he looked as if someone had just slapped him.

“You’re acting like a slut.” This was my dad’s next attempt at convincing me. Not a very good one.

“Don’t dad,” I said still looking at Dylan. He hadn’t said anything, I wasn’t sure if he was breathing other than the shaking of his chest and hands.

“That’s what this was about, yes? Acting like a slut?”

Dylan put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me aside, his eyes dark smoke.

“You touch me and I will sue your piece of shit ass.” My dad shot at Dylan when he stood face to face with him. Drew stepped aside.

Dylan reacted and swung. My dad knew exactly what he was doing by provoking Dylan that way. I came to understand that was his plan. He knew that if he pushed enough, if he demeaned me in front of Dylan, he would react.

And he did.

Dylan was absolutely right. The world is full of horrible shit. Are there any honest people left?

After today, I didn’t think so.

One side of me was incredibly angry but the other side was satisfied that I finally knew the truth.

Drew broke my dad and Dylan apart, both raging and cussing and spewing shit I couldn’t understand.

“We pay for the fucked up shit we do in life!” Dylan shouted shoving him against the car, his head snapped back against the glass of the window. “Some people have to fucking pay for it, someone does! Maybe not you but someone does.”

“Dylan, stop!” I shouted but between the rush of my blood and my pounding heart, it sounded like a whisper.

“I won’t quit until he bleeds for his fucking repentance.” Dylan reached up and easily pulled away from my dad who had gotten a hold on his shirt.

Drew managed to get them apart with the help of Eddy who came running out of the house.

Both my dad and Dylan were panting, trying to gain control neither of them had, both fighting for very different reasons. “You know what you can do?” Dylan asked my dad, pushing against Eddy who was holding him back.

“What Dylan?” My dad spat blood swiping his hand over his mouth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Go fuck yourself, for starters,” Dylan said spitting blood of his own, his glare had the power to set the world around his on fire. “Second of all, congratulations motherfucker, you just destroyed any relationship you could have had with your daughter.”

I felt it right then. My family was broken apart, wrecked, maybe beyond repair. My heart, shattered, fucking split right down the middle.

I didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Dylan was right. He did destroy anything he could have had with me. But Dylan just might have too.

I wanted to run, anywhere, escape, get lost, forget, and drown. Truth of the matter was that I had nowhere else to go.

As if it was some kind of sign, Megan pulled in the driveway right then and I ran to her car before she shut the engine off. “Drive, please just fucking drive!” She did without question and I cried. I cried harder than I ever had before. When I was finally able to talk, we were at her apartment, a place I didn’t know she had. She said she lived here before she met Drew but hadn’t given up her apartment yet.

She managed to get me inside and into a spare bedroom she had. I said I wanted to be alone, I did, and she respected that and let me be.

I wanted numbness. I wanted an escape. I didn’t want to hear my own heart beating. I didn’t want to feel the tears that wouldn’t stop. I felt pain. I felt Dylan’s pain. How could he look at me knowing my dad killed his mom? How could they have kept this from me?

The truth was, though everything had been completely wrecked, I wouldn’t have changed any of it. It was that old saying, the journey of getting there is better than the destination. It was true.

Here’s the thing that most don’t consider when keeping information from someone. You had the information that could have potentially helped them or changed their life in some way. You had the power to help them and you didn’t. It doesn’t matter if you lied or not. You kept something from them. Dylan was the last person I expected that from.

I wanted an escape but I had nowhere to go. Dylan found me. Drew must have helped.

“Let me in Bailey,” his warning couldn’t be missed. He was angry but maybe not as angry as I was. “I swear to fucking god—”

“No,” I said lying on the floor away from the door, just in case he broke it down. “Don’t fuck up Megan’s house.”

“I’ll set this fucking room on fire.” His second warning, one I should have listened to. “You know I will. Let. Me. In!”

I didn’t and the door came crashing down.

It pissed me off that I couldn’t have a moment to myself. I’d given him so many moments this summer, I needed a few to myself to think.

My hurt turned to anger, raging anger. A glass cup on the dresser broke against the wall. My anger could be destructive at times.

Propping up the door, some privacy, Dylan turned around with a flinch and the smug set of his lips just threw me into more of a spin. “Do you fucking hate me now?”

He stepped in my direction and I took two more steps back. He looked at me and it made me nervous. Grievingly desperate, his eyes were begging me to listen.

He turned and smacked his palm against the wall. “You don’t know shit.”

Dylan stared me down, his eyes were lost, and I kept mine on him. He licked his lips, studying me to see how I was going to act.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t. Because of you.”

His smirk from earlier turned into a condescending grin. “Don’t spin this all on me. That’s not fair and you know it.” He was spitting acid through a smile I used to love.

“You could have told me!” I shouted and all it did was provoke him.

“Goddamn him!” Dylan yelled until his voice gave out. This sound of his fist going into the wall shook my bones, my hands went to my ears.

He took a step forward, an angry step but he wasn’t going to hurt me, I knew that.

“Don’t touch me, Dylan,” I warned but my voice shook and I pulled my hands out of his reach.

Dylan laughed but he stepped back and appeared nervous but I knew he wasn’t. “Don’t touch you?” He rolled his eyes, looking at the wall to the glass on the floor and then back to me. “Okay,” he said nodding his head like I was playing a game with him and he was playing along just to appease me. But it wasn’t a game and he fucking knew it. This shit was real. My hurt was real but so was his.

“Why did you get in my car that day?” He sounded honestly curious again but his eyes told me otherwise.

“You asked me.” My hand swept over my tears, trying to breathe and focus. “Remember?”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice sharper now. “Tell me the fucking truth, you didn’t have to. Why? Why did you get in my car? Why did you throw away everything, the perfect life, for me?”

I choked on my tears trying to clear my throat and then gave up and cried into my hands. My chest and lungs struggled to gain control. I hated that nothing made sense to me right now but him, feeling him near me.

“Jesus.” He pressed his head into the doorframe, tightly gripping the back of his neck with both hands. The way his chest was heaving, I could tell he was attempting to control his anger. His breath began to come in short gasping spurts attempting to control himself. “I fucking hate him. I hate him!”

He put his hands on his hips, still facing the wall, his head dipped forward, contemplating, regretting, realizing. “For the record, I never meant to hurt you.” He looked at me with what seemed like disappointment. “I wanted…god…brown eyes,” he swallowed choking back tears but it did nothing, they fell. “I tried to tell you.”

I reached for him, I couldn’t take it any longer. All anger and emotion aside, I wanted his touch.

He held me tighter, pulling himself to me while I cried, he cried, we cried. I put aside the reasons and lived in this moment, the one that was crying, begging for me to listen.

“If you want to know anything, ask me,” he said looking down at me when we finally sat on the bed.

“Why did you lie?”

He squinted his eyes and pondered my question, then shook his head. “I’ve never lied to you. But I also never thought it was my place to tell you. Think about what I would have been saying. You’re dad took my mom from me. He took my childhood from me. He took yours from you. Think about it.”

His words, the truth, crushed my soul, broke my bones and poisoned my blood.

It was late now. I didn’t want to move, still wanted to be numb and my body was drained. “Stay here with me?” Dylan asked. Megan said she wasn’t coming back tonight and that I could be alone tonight. I knew we were alone. Hoped that we were.

“Where’s my dad?” My drained body fell back against the bed, my heart stayed with Dylan, in his hands.

Dylan sat on the edge of the bed and wrestled off his shoes dropping them with a thud onto the wood floor, the sound echoed. His knees brushed against mine, I watched him, breathless after his display of anger earlier to this now, restless. “I don’t know. I lost it and left. Drew said he’d keep him away.”

“I meant what I said.” Turning me around, his hands framed my face, his eyes, bloodshot and pleading. He wasn’t going to beg and deep down I knew he wanted to. “I mean it brown eyes, I love you. I do.”

Nodding, I focused on his lashes and then deeper into his eyes wanting to trust him, his touch heavy and slow.

“You don’t.” Once the words left my lips, I regretted them because they weren’t true.

His lips curved at the corners, but the smile wasn’t one of amusement. He was being serious. “Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried. I meant everything I said to you.”

A bitter laugh escaped me, my arms folded over my chest.  “Then what was it?”

He broke eyes contact, his head turning to the side, his jaw tight. He was closing down, shutting the door.

“Answer me.”

His gaze returned, but he said nothing, at least nothing in words. My face was suddenly between his palms, so close to his own. His fingers were electric on my skin, the sensation calming yet terrifying. His lips barely touched my own. “You know goddamn well the answer to that question.” There was no lust to his voice, only anger but underneath that, was the love I knew, the layers were peeled.

He lowered his mouth to my ear. “Please hear me.”

I did hear him.

“Tell me this is okay,” he said breathlessly against my skin.

I knew what he was asking and I couldn’t deny him. There’s something about heartache that makes you want to feel what broke it one last time. We both knew this was the last time.

I could feel him struggling within, not wanting to stop. He pulled me from his chest, his hands on my shoulders. “Please don’t leave,” he gasped. “We need this.” Dylan took my face in his hand pressing his lips to my forehead. He kept his lips there trying to convince me he meant everything he had said.

Pulling himself closer, he stroked my cheek with his thumb but didn’t say anymore.

He gasped, his tears mixing with mine, searching for himself within me. Gripping my shoulders firmly, his body shook as he drew me closer. “Just be here, with me, one last time, be here.”

My hands shook when I brought them to cover his over my cheeks. His expression shifted again, his anger seemed to shatter like glass and then the slightest pressure against my mouth drew me in.

The sound of metal and leather unfastening brought me back and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, wanting, needing, and begging.

When I reached for him, he grabbed both my hands and held my wrists together in one hand above my head near the headboard. “Tell me to stop, tell me to leave and I will,” he said through his teeth. “Tell me that you don’t love me.” His hips pushed forward, his glare on me, burning me. “Fucking say it,” he growled, low, primal.

But I couldn’t.

Reaching between our hips, he pushed his clothes aside with his right hand. My breath caught when I felt him press himself against me, there, stomach to stomach, chest to chest.

It felt wrong, it felt as if we were destroying the very last bit of anything we could have had.

21.    Lost – Dylan Wade

She tried to shove my hands away when I went for her shirt but she wasn’t strong enough or wasn’t pushing enough. Instead I placed my hand between her breasts and pushed her back down onto the bed, not hard, but enough to let her know I was serious.

Gripping her hips, I pushed closer forcing her thighs apart pressing myself against her. Through my jeans, she could feel what I wanted most, her.

Bailey’s lips fell open, her neck arching. That’s when her back arches curling her fingers into the sheets, no more fighting, now she’s holding onto me, bending her knees to squeeze me, begging me closer.

Circling her hips, I knew she was done.

I let go for just a moment to pull my shirt off watching her rock against me, desperate for more. Her eyes watched me when my hands moved to my belt. The sound of the metal clanking brought her eyes to mine.

She reached for my belt but I shook my head. “Stop it.” Placing my hand on her chest once again, I pushed her back again. She’s not running this shit tonight, I was. I was going to fuck her until she begged me to stop because I know it was the last time.

Bailey seemed to understand and placed her hands over her head when I pressed my body forward. My buckle pressed into her stomach, she winced, so I pulled back to remove my jeans and then found my place between her legs again.

At the contact, she moaned again, her head tilted back further and I bent my own, dragging my lips and teeth over her throat. I wanted her to have marks from me, remember me, memories only she knew. Her legs trembled, heels dug into my thighs.

She knows what I’m doing. Maybe it scares her but regardless, she knows.

Grasping her wrists tighter, I pushed into her at the same time I bit her neck, she knew.

When she cried out, I covered her mouth with mine silencing her cries.

She fucking knows what this is. She does.

Dragging my kiss, my tongue, my body against hers, I didn’t ease up, no, I pushed harder than before. Possessiveness runs through my veins not wanting to let go, this girl was mine and I didn’t want to let go. These screams were mine, the way her body curled into mine, that’s mine too.

I didn’t fuck around, I didn’t tease her, or me. Knees apart, I gave her what we wanted, needed, desired, and begged for.

Digging my fingers into her hips, I fucking groan at the contact of being wrapped around her, spread out before me, loving me the way she knows how to.

The way she watches me makes my fucking knees shake, it takes my air from my lungs and gives me chills, that kind of shit. It takes my world and crushes it knowing it will never be the same.

That’s when she started to cry, feeling it too.

“Shhh,” I whispered rocking my hips and watching her body take all that mine is giving her as it sows my own control.

A soulful surrendered heart, I gave every miserable ounce of frustration and aggression that I’ve shouldered this summer, that I’ve shouldered my entire goddamn life. I fucked her as hard as I wanted to fight for her, for us, and I didn’t stop until she screamed for me to as I came, we both came, both my arms wrapped tight around her, rolling through my release.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she begged.

I pulled her legs over my shoulder, moving deeper, feeling more. “Never,” I moaned pushing deeper yet again, shaking my head lightly.

“Tell me,” I whispered between pants. “Even if it’s a lie, tell me.”

The truth fell from her lips. “I love you.”

22.   Truth – Bailey

There I was, another sunrise, another decision. It ties into the beginning right about now. I was back in that sunrise the morning I left. A change, a thought, a feeling never happens right away. You never see it coming. Just like the sunrise creeping over us, chalky warmth, a glow in the distance. Just as the night’s mistakes, regrets and stars were shaken from the sky, a decision was made.

What would you do for a piece of forever? What would you do to love more, feel more, and live more?

What would you do to find yourself? Would you give all that up to find just a small piece of yourself, a side you’ve never known?

When the light flittered in, I felt his touch, soft, warm, wanting, his finger skimming.

I knew he never meant to lie to me. He knew the truth would break my heart. I remembered his words, the first song of his he ever sang, his eyes on mine. He tried to tell me so many times.

Hide you from the fear

You find deep inside

Dylan’s eyes were focused on the same window, lost in maybe the same thoughts. We both know what last night was and what this morning was I wanted to stop looking and not remember anything but I couldn’t. I wanted to stop noticing every small detail I loved about him.

I could feel him behind me, warming my skin just as the sun did and the fiery ache in my chest and the ice blue that melted it.

He was quiet, his breathing light as the breeze through the open window. I twisted and looked over at him. He was on his back staring at the ceiling.

I remembered, briefly, the morning we spent skin-to-skin, laughing, living for moments and memories that only we knew, words only meant for us, moving above me or under me with reverent curses and parted lips. The way he would gaze down at me in a heated expression, the feel of my fingertips meeting his hard muscles, begging him not to stop and knowing he held every string to my heart if only just for a summer.

I know what I lost, him. And the thought killed me inside. It was like watching the door close, drawing back the curtains on a sunny day, and faded light overcome with darkness.

Dylan left that morning back to Drew’s house. I went with him and sure enough, my dad was waiting. I needed some answers, I told Dylan I would come back and I went to breakfast with my dad. Afraid he would kidnap me, I made Drew drive me.

We never made it inside the restaurant. Instead, we talked outside his car. Truth be told, I didn’t want to have breakfast with him. I didn’t want to be around him. Yeah, he was my dad and nothing would change that but sometimes you can destroy a relationship beyond repair. He did that.

“I don’t even know you right now,” he said to me and it was finally the truth. It was honest and real and maybe the first honest statement he has made in years, or ever.

I offered the smallest flicker of my lashes, dark and unyielding. I had my own anger for the situation. Anger I wanted to inflict and anger I wanted him to own and feel deep―deeper than he ever felt imaginable. I wanted to show him that mine was the kind of anger that would rise and spread like wildfire turning everything to ash and black billowing clouds into the night’s sky. “You chose not to know me. You never tried to, ever. You knew the daughter you wanted to know, the daughter you created and the life you tried to control. And now you’re just a liar, so far from the truth it’s pathetic.”

His face became hard and anger flared. “You have no idea what it’s like.”

“You’re right,” I agreed folding my hands over my chest. “I don’t have any idea because you kept the truth from me. Why did you cover it up?”

He sighed, a frustrated palm smacked against the hood of his car. “All right Bailey, here’s the fucking truth. I was a drunk for years. I’ve cheated on your mom more times than she probably cares to ever know. She found out that I was sleeping with Teresa and got mad at me. I shook my head, repulsed that he slept with Mercedes’ mom. “I got drunk and crashed a car into an innocent woman’s car. Come to find out, she was our neighbor.” He was speaking this as if it was no big deal, words were flowing, scripted almost. “I was on the city council at the time and set to be mayor,” he shook his head, “that would have been the end of my career. I pulled a few connections with the prosecuting attorney, made sure it was taken care of and set the Wade family up with a hefty financial security, all of them. Ken benefited from it just as much as his boys did.”

“Money would never make up for what you did,” I said crying again. “You took their mother, his wife from them. Money doesn’t fix that shit.”

My words meant nothing. He snorted, watchful of my guarded stance feet from him and Drew sitting in the car, waiting for me. He knew I wasn’t leaving with him and that pissed him off. It wasn’t in his control, this was out of his hands and that’s what he had a problem with. “It could have happened to anyone. You think Dylan’s impervious to it? You don’t think his drunk high ass couldn’t have killed someone?”

It was the only truth he had. The difference? Dylan wouldn’t have covered it up. He would have owned his mistake.

“You’re wrong,” I said stepping back a foot. I wasn’t going to respond or defend his actions and I wasn’t going anywhere with him. “I’m not leaving with you.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Bailey,” my dad said in a thick tone, he reached for me, his hands on my arms gripping me tightly. I could feel the pulsating as his hands squeezed. “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re coming home.”

“No, I’m not.” I tasted the salt from my tears when they ran over my lips. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I heard Dylan’s GTO before I saw it, as did my dad, his anger flared. “That son of a bitch just doesn’t quit.”

He had no idea. I looked to Drew who stood beside me now, reached for me knowing I would run to him. “Stay back Bailey. Dylan is not something to get in the way of, especially not now.”

My hands shook as did the rest of my body, so badly that I could barely move or breathe without wanting to scream. I felt trapped, like the world was ending right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it. My heartbeat was in my stomach, racing, wanting to run to him.

Dylan pulled next to my dad’s car and stepped out. With his hands in his pockets, his head was down focused on the pavement. Memories from last night flashed behind my eyes when I closed them.

With his fatherly demeanor, my dad stepped to him but I couldn’t hear his words with my heart beating and I know his words were threatening and forbidding.

To anyone else, it may seem like my dad had the upper hand in this situation. He was older and louder than Dylan, smarter, maybe but not analytical like Dylan. He’s the mayor. He’s a father, my father, my protector. He was feared and respected by our entire community. But that’s his world.

It wasn’t the world Dylan and I had created this summer, not the world we know, not the love we know. Dylan didn’t have to shout, or use his razor sharp words or cuss or hit to get his point across unless he wanted to.

He could fuck you up with one look. I’d been on the receiving end of that look before.

As my dad spoke, walking closer, Dylan finally looked up at my dad and smirked.

The gesture sent my dad over the edge he was barely teetering on. “You little shit. You think this is a fucking joke, don’t you?”

Dylan’s eyes found mine. My dad didn’t see it, his back was to me. His eyes lingered my way before slowly shifting back to Jeff, challenging but relaxed.

They exchanged a few more words, nothing I could hear and it made me want to get closer.

Dylan held his hands up, as if surrendering. He shook his head and looked down, ignoring harsh words. Then my dad pushed him against his car.

“Dad!” I screamed fighting against Drew who was holding onto me. “Stop it, leave him alone!”

Dylan stumbled back against the car but didn’t fall. My dad pushed again, this time Dylan fell to one knee, catching himself with his hands against the car.

My sight blurred from the tears, my thoughts lost on anything but Dylan as my dad pushed him again. This time Dylan laughed and used his car, his hand on the door handle supporting him.

My dad had Dylan backed into a corner but stepped back long enough for him to react, holding his hand in the hair speaking but not yelling.

That’s when Dylan looked at me. “Everything is fine brown eyes, get in the car with Drew,” he said, his hands trembling.

My dad asked him a question, but I couldn’t hear it. Dylan paced, spewing the answer and looking around as if he wanted to escape. “I need to speak to Bailey, Jeff.” Dylan’s voice rose but kept a calm mask.

“You’re not going anywhere near my daughter again,” my dad replied, shoving Dylan back when he tried to move past him.

Dylan looked at me and spit blood on the pavement before meeting my father’s stare. “Do you think you can keep me away from her?” he asked, smirking condescendingly. “You haven’t done a great job so far, mayor. She’s been on my dick all summer and you couldn’t stop that, could you?”

My dad grabbed Dylan by his shirt and then slammed his knee into his stomach. Dylan fell, hard, the wind knocked out of him, coughing and gasping for air.

In true Dylan form, he recovered quickly, laughing as he kept his eyes on me.

I lost it. No one could touch Dylan like that. No one. I didn’t care that he was my father, he wasn’t going to hurt Dylan.

Eddy held his hands up and let me go, backing away as if to say go for it.

Dylan stood slowly, rising to his full height and bounced a few times, shaking out his hands and twisted his head from side to side. “Don’t fuck with me, Jeff.” His voice was low and commanding for the boy he was, his posture violent.

“What are you going to do about it, kid?”

Dylan’s smirk was crooked, condescending and menacing, promising but not threatening. He was relaxed, surprisingly. Moments passed where my mind shifted through more memories and moments.

Dylan was back on his feet, yelling at my dad. I was pounding my fists into his back, trying to get him to stop, screaming, crying, all of it.

As if Dylan’s patience had ran out, he stepped forward. You could see my dad tense. I think he knew then what Dylan was capable of. “That girl will always be mine,” he motioned to me with a tip to his bloodshot eyes. “You can take her away but you can’t take my memories. You can take my mom, Bailey, my life but they are my memories!” he screamed until his voice gave and then he cried.

My heart was beating irrational love, reckless and dangerous love that knew bleeding colors.

My dad stood near his car, one hand on the door, the other pointing at me. “You’ve fucked your life up Bailey.” He was done, finally done fighting. He knew by the look in my innocent eyes that I wouldn’t go with and I wouldn’t forgive him. “He will destroy everything you had going for you.”

He left.

Some might say what the fight was for if he gave up but those were the people that never fought Dylan Wade.

He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t back down from this. Not when Jeff Gray had taken everything from him already.

23.   Dangerous Love – Bailey Gray

Dylan and I were two kids who fell hopelessly in love one summer, or maybe it happened when we were younger but never knew it. Our intentions were not vindictive. Although we accepted we probably would, Dylan and I never wanted to hurt anyone let alone ourselves. But dangerous love, jealousy and spitefulness changed a lot of things. Our circumstances made true liars out of us, and turned our innocent love into dangerous love.

Somewhere along the lines, it shifted and I couldn’t tell you where or when that happened.

We were back at Drew’s house.

Dylan met me halfway down the driveway. He was crying, slowly, slightly and barely noticeable to anyone but me. Sliding one hand behind my neck and one against my cheek, he pulled me close until out foreheads touched. He brought my hand to his cheek, leaning into my palm, he closed his eyes and breathed. “Brown eyes,” he whispered breathlessly, his tears fell, mine fell, ultimately, we fell, together.

Dylan smiled with a sweetness I knew well now. “I remember the first I ever saw you, brown eyes. I think about that shit all the time.” He pressed our lips together. “I loved you then, you know that, right? We were only three but I loved you then.”

I nodded knowing he did, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said, moving closer. Dylan’s hand fell from my face, to my shoulder, and slid down my arm.

“My heart will always be with you,” he cried, choking on his words. He knew what this was.

I remembered his words. “Tell me a secret Dylan, something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“I love you.”

He was barely moving, barely breathing, waiting for me to say something.

I stared at the ground trying to process everything but I couldn’t think.

He hugged me and kissed down the side of my face with wet lips. “Do you have any idea how hard it is not to throw you in my car right now?” he smiled, he studied me, candlelight contagious warming smile. I wanted this moment to last forever.

He looked down before meeting my eyes, his face expressionless like he was attempting to turn off any emotion he had, or didn’t want to have.

Dylan cleared his throat and looked at me. Breathing through his noise, his eyebrows drawn together and his chin quivered. “Say something.”

I couldn’t.

This was the worst pain I had ever felt but also numbing, like I was dying.

It was hard to believe that there would be no way around this. No matter what way I looked at this, I would wonder what life held for me. And I don’t mean with anyone else. I meant for me, with me. I didn’t know myself and this situation, the conversations with my dad, my sunrise and sunset proved that.

Dylan wasn’t a rebound or distraction. No. He couldn’t be. Not Dylan. Like I said, you don’t just fall for someone like Dylan Wade. You bleed for someone like Dylan Wade.

We had the best of intentions and maybe the way we got together was vindictive, spite, a way out, the way we loved wasn’t. It was as pure as a snow covered lake. We loved. We made memories.

Our love was dangerous.

It was asking me to come with him.

It was “South it is, brown eyes.”

It was dancing in the rain on the hood of his car.

It was making dents that only we knew.

It was living in the moment and making memories and deals.

It was being in love and having your heart ripped from your chest. Here you take it, I don’t want it anymore. It was that kind of shit.

It was “Please don’t do this, not here.”

It was here me now, listen to me.

It was waiting, I waited, and we waited. Nothing.

It was remembering every detail, everything that made him Dylan Wade and remembering nothing at all.

My silence spoke volumes and I could tell it made him angry. “Say something!”

“This can’t work.”

“You believe that?” he hissed in my face jerking my chin up so I would meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Dylan.”

“Please don’t do this,” Dylan groaned running his hands down his face and letting go of me. “I would wait forever for you but don’t tell me it’s over, please.”

“It’s over.” A sharp sting of pain radiated throughout my body, my heart, my soul when I said that.

“You know that it breaks my fucking heart that I didn’t tell you what I knew.” His face contoured into an unbearable amount of agony and he turned away, pulling his hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he whispered painfully.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and cried into his chest like I’ve never cried before.

The absolute worst part was when he let me go. Our eyes met and they stay locked for a moment, remembering, loving, and never forgetting.

Dylan reached up and twirled a lock of my hair between his fingers. He watched dark ginger dance in his hand before letting it fall.

I hugged him tighter and exhaled breathing out the breath I had been holding. I lifted my head and rested my chin on his chest, looking up at him.

He didn’t smile. “I’ll always remember this, with you,” he said attempting to smile but it didn’t touch the pain in his eyes.

“I will too…but I need to do this Dylan. I can’t give you my heart when I don’t know myself.”

It hurt to watch but harder to look away as he took in what I was saying. I could tell my words were hurting him, but he looked somewhat resolved when he responded. “Will you promise me something?”

I nodded.

Dylan ran his hand over my hair and kept his eyes on mine. “Keep our memories what they are, ours.”

I buried my head in his chest savoring the connection I knew would be gone once we broke apart. I wasn’t trying to choke back the tears any longer and neither was Dylan.

“I’ll never be sorry,” he said slowly, his breath on my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears poured as I swallowed his words. Then he let go and created distance raising his hands to cup my face in his hands. “I love you, please remember that,” he whispered tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Half of me will always be with you, barely breathing, watching your sunset.” Removing my hand from around his neck, he kissed my knuckles and then let my hand fall.

Before I had a chance to say anything, Dylan removed himself his eyes casted down hidden from mine. He walked away. Hands in his pockets, face down, he walked away.

Some people never consider the ramifications of a lie. After a while, a lie can become what you believe as if it was never a lie. You’re floating in between reality and fiction.

The problem is if you keep that lie to yourself, eventually it will eat at you.

I also knew that everything in lie was two sided. That’s why I waited for Dylan to explain. My dad told me once, though he never believed his own words, that the world had two sides.

Everything had two sides. The world, relationships, lies, love, all two sided. Assuming you know both sides, whether it be in a relationship or a lie, you can easily make a complete ass out of yourself.

I had a desire inside of me, something dark and unpredictable. The problem was that I forgot about me that summer.

There was a reason why I got in the car that day. And there was a reason why he asked me to come.

But there was a reason why I left too.

When I looked back at him, it was harder than I thought it would be.

Dylan once asked me if I was the same person when others weren’t looking as I was when they were. I didn’t know who I was when they were looking.

Every memory I had that was about me, was tied to Dylan in some way. He knew me and it was the only way he let me walk away from him that afternoon.

The thing was, you experience life and you’re forced to deal with it. Like it or not, it happened and you deal with it.

That’s the deal.

24.   Regrets – Dylan Wade

I had regrets. Fucking crushing regrets but I had the chance to change it and didn’t. That’s my shit. No one else’s.

But after nearly trying to kill myself by drowning my sorrows, my brother let me in on a secret. Get the fuck off my couch was his secret. So I did.

When Bailey left, Megan took her to the airport and she went home for all I knew. It was none of my business and probably better that I didn’t know. I lost her. Simple as that. Another fucking regret.

Eddy lived in Seattle. I went there when Drew told me to get on with my life. I would have stayed in Birmingham but I missed my friends in Seattle. I went there instead.

Eddy got me into music more, a welcomed distraction. I had a steady gig with him at a string local bars.

Eddy was what I needed, he didn’t put up with my shitty attitude and temper, and he kept me grounded in music. The first time I ever heard him play, I was young. He played Hurricane acoustic, eyes closed and played the shit out of the song. I had fucking goose bumps at eight-years-old and was hooked.

Eddy, my mom’s older brother, taught Drew and I how to play the guitar and anything else we wanted to know musically. He played in a band when he was younger, they made it big and then he just walked away when they were on tour. It wasn’t long after my mom died, that had something to do with it, but it wasn’t Eddy’s thing either. He enjoyed the music, not the life.

After my mom died, I spent a summer with Eddy and it changed my life a lot.

Eddy wasn’t married and if you ever met him, you completely understood why. He was a dick.

His mom was a Russian Jew and if you asked my dad, she was completely crazy.

Eddy played the guitar, like me, and always had Bob Dylan playing. As a kid, I thought that was pretty cool given my name. Apparently, my mom named me after him.

Eddy and I would play Beatles and Stone songs all night long. That’s when I knew I wanted to be a musician, to an extent.

That led me back to Seattle to do it the right way. By October, I had a place to stay and a steady gig. But I wasn’t over her. I wouldn’t say I straightened up after she left, Drew would tell you differently, but I had distractions.

People do stupid shit when they’re tossed. I did some stupid shit. Spent some time in jail, a few nights, and Eddy had to tell me to stop fucking up.

So there I was becoming a fucking stoner and well on my way to fucking up big time when I met Silas at a gig we played in Beltown. Pretty much the worst influence ever.

Drugs don’t kill people. People kill themselves by becoming addicted to the shit. Using kills people. Drew was proof of that. Though he didn’t die, he got pretty fucking close more than once.

I was on my way there after she left. Regrets, they could kill you and make you do stupid shit. I believed that.

Drugs didn’t kill you. They fucked you up.

That’s how I met Silas, drugs. Silas, a bassist guitar player, was a crazy son of a bitch. Fucking crazy but I dug it. He was unpredictable too. You never knew when he’d show up. Our lists had to change nightly because we didn’t know if we’d have our bassist player that night until five minutes before the show. I did two set lists each night. One marked Silas and one marked Wade.

Silas had apparently graduated from Berkley and majored in Botany. Strange dude and smoked too much of his own shit.

It may sound like Silas was a bastard. He was but when he wasn’t high or picking fights, he had a big heart and would say things like, “Hey man, you need to get whatever girl that ripped out that heart of yours and made you play this bullshit.

The thing was, he was right. It was shit music.

He’d ask me, “What’s your deal?”

What was my deal?

It was about taking charge of my career, playing the music I wanted to play, where I wanted to play, and not seeing overpriced ticket sales.

Sometimes I woke up in the morning and reached for her. She wasn’t there. It’s a strange moment when you wake up in the morning and for a brief moment, nothing is what it was. And then you realize that nothing will ever be the same and probably never will be.

Everyone knows if you want to control someone completely, take what they love. You want power over them, take what they love. You want revenge, take what they love. You want anything, take what they love.

You want to hurt them, simple, tell them a lie.

Believing that it could be, in fact, be real, I ignored it. I let the lie go and saw what I wanted, a love like no other.

You never want to make a mistake, but, they fucking happen.

Sometimes, I think I’ll never be normal again. I like to hope Bailey was the same but I’m not sure.

I’m just a guy. Deep down, I’m still a boy.  A boy with a broken fucking heart who misses cold toes, freckles and tangled ginger locks.

That’s my deal.

25.   On my own – Bailey Gray

I could tell you a story about love but you’ll never fully understand what we felt that summer because you weren’t there experiencing our moments and living it with us. Maybe you see it now. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I lost you in the middle, I lost myself a few times.

But it was a story and it wasn’t finished.

I believed that if there was someone out there for me, my soul mate, I would find a way back to them.

On my own now and I’m constantly met with silence. A lot of it. It’s something I’ve missed and something I hated.

Sometimes I think I’m the strongest when I have something to prove. It’s like a fire gets lit and I say, “I’ll show those fuckers.”

I became driven to show everyone, myself included, that me, Bailey Gray, with the perfectly planned disaster, could be on her own.

I wanted to know that I could make it.

I had been wondering for eighteen years on what my life would be. Now look at it. I’d like to say it was what I imagined but it wasn’t.

After that day with Dylan, Drew bought me a plane tick home. I went back to Washington but I didn’t go home. Instead, I drove up to Seattle with my $750 that I had left.

I was sitting in a small coffee shop ready to pick out a corner again, only this time to live on when I met Avery Weber, a photographer of all people.

She gave me a place to stay and helped me sell some photos. It seemed too good to be true but Avery was what I needed to get over that summer. I never went to Dartmouth, I gave that life up. I never talked to my parents but I did see Jeb. I couldn’t not see him. He didn’t blame me for leaving the sweet boy, he tried to give me money. We kept in touch now and then he snuck up here to see me with friends. My parents never knew. As far as they were concerned, I was no longer their daughter. It’s a shame but they made it that way.

I thought about that summer all the time.

It was a summer of tears, laughter, colors that bled lies, denying the truth, it was the kind of love that knew no bounds, tangled emotions that were strong.

I saw colors that summer I had never seen before, ones that gave me hope where others were dark enough to give me chills and frighten my soul with their storm.

I have a phone now but I have very few contacts in it. One number appears frequently and I know how he got it. Megan. We kept in touch. It was now December and he called twice, both times I didn’t answer. He never left a message and I didn’t expect him to. Dylan wasn’t the type of guy to leave a message.

Sitting in a local Starbucks in downtown Seattle near the pier, I contemplated a few places to take some shots this weekend. Avery and I traveled up the coast a few times this month and got some really good sunsets, my specialty in photography, but they never had the same effect on me anymore.

“Bailey? Is that you?” I recognized the voice, my eyes shifted through the line to Kasey. Shocked I stared at him for a moment before his smiled broke through and brought me back.

Removing himself from the line, he came over to the table I was at near the window. “It’s really great to see you, Bailey.”

“You too Kasey.” I stood and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. It was the first time I’d hugged another guy since I left Dylan.

Kasey got back in line to get some coffee and then came over to sit with me. We talked about that summer and why I left. I told him about my dad and what he had done to Dylan’s mom. He said he assumed something along those lines with how quickly the accident had been covered up. We may have only been ten at the time but it was obvious that something wasn’t quite right with it.

“Eric was pretty torn up after you left,” Kasey said with a grin. “Punched through a glass window and ended up with thirty some stitches in his throwing hand.”

“Are you shitting me?” I nearly spit out my coffee.

“Nope.” His grin got wider. Kasey couldn’t keep a straight face and started laughing.

“Damn you Kasey,” I said wiping the corners of my lips with a napkin.

“I’m sorry,” he said through giggles, “but your face was priceless.”

“What did he do?” Tracing the coffee cup with the tips of my fingers, I tried to hide my curiosity.

“What do you think he did?”

“Honestly?” I contemplated my response because, believe it or not, I had thought about this a lot lately. I thought about Eric’s reaction when I left but I thought about Dylan’s even more. Something told me their reactions were entirely different. “Nothing.”

“You’re right. He did nothing for about a week. We still went to Lake Washington that night, he got drunk and that was about it. Then, after a while when he realized you weren’t coming back, he got drunk every night.” Kasey gave me an expression that spoke more about the past than I thought he knew. Deep down, Kasey knew. He was a smart guy. “He showed up at my house, drunk and got in a fight with my brother.”

“Did you know about―?”

Kasey nodded before I finished my question. “I more or less ignored it. I never thought Mer and I would last but I loved her. I did. She broke my fucking heart bad but I knew. I wasn’t stupid.”

“I’m sorry Kasey, I am.” And I was sorry. I knew exactly what he must have felt.

“I’m sorry too.”

We talked for probably another half an hour about football and that he was dating a girl now, Payton, and he was really enjoying having a two-sided relationship with someone who didn’t just think about themselves.

“Keep in touch Bailey, please,” Kasey said before he left.

“I will. Good luck on Saturday.”

He smiled and tugged me into a hug. “Thanks.”

I met up with Avery after that. She wanted to see a concert at the Showbox SoDo downtown. I tried to tell her music wasn’t my thing but she knew I was lying. Avery wasn’t letting up and we eventually went.

Avery didn’t let me get away with shit. She was a say-it-like-it-is type of girl with short sassy red spiked hair, wore leggings with leg warmers everywhere and I was sure she didn’t shave her legs. Ever. But I loved her.

She’d say things to me like: “Girl, if you don’t like your life, change it. Don’t cry to me when you’re the only one with the power to change it.”

I needed shit like that. I did. She told me the truth whether I wanted to hear it or not.

And then, when I got sad around his nineteenth birthday, she asked what my deal was.

What was my deal?

My deal?

My deal, as Avery would put it, I was just a girl with a broken heart.

That’s my deal.

I loved Avery for the simple fact that if she didn’t want to see you, she’d slam the door in your face, and had a time or two. She was my kind of friend.

I was doing well. I was making my own money, selling my photographs and living a life that was mine.

It wasn’t  like I didn’t think about Dylan. I couldn’t look at the blue sky and not think of him. Good thing Seattle was mostly grey or I might have gone insane.

Being with him opened my eyes to a lot of things. Not just my family but life in general. It opened my eyes to a world I never knew. A world I could be myself in.

For the first time in my life I knew who I was, but I knew that because of Dylan, what he showed me. It took months to realize that, distance myself from that to know it.

Dylan and I weren’t anything anyone else could ever see or hear, or know. For the longest time we were a fraction of a touch in the halls, for just a second. We were unspoken words to leave home. A head nod. We’re the only ones that know what that dent in his door meant or the cracked windshield while making memories.

We weren’t anything we could have been, should have be, or actually were.

We were a sunset of rich colors that blend that knew no lines.

We were waiting

Who was I?

Well I was dark ginger beauty with speckled cheeks from sun kissed rays. I had my dad’s eyes and my mom’s nose. I shared a birthday with my little brother. I had chocolate brown eyes that Dylan would say he wanted to swim in and bath himself in their chocolate syrup and would tell me, as the moon lit the bedroom and all I heard was the beating of our hearts, that the chocolate made my soul sweet and my heart sing to him.

I could dance my ass off to just about any song and Dylan would say I do it well.

I enjoyed beer now, but it’s not my favorite and I’m not twenty-one so it’s few and far between.

My favorite color is ice blue.

I have tattoos now, my favorite is the guitar wrapped in a chain on my wrist. My sun tattoo on my hip means a lot to me as it reminds me of a boy who holds my heart.

I could speak two words in Spanish and three in Italian. I could make an apple pie that will put your grandmother’s recipe to shame.

I was scared of the dark and couldn’t watch scary movies. I owned every Kings of Leon song ever made, including their questionable earlier years. I wear jean shorts even in the winter. I collect flannel shirts, I have a bottle of whiskey I will never open and a guitar I will never play.

But that’s just my deal.

Maybe I’ll never have my sunset.

Maybe I don’t need it.

Maybe perfectly planned is okay for some people. Perfectly planned is not my deal.

I believe that people come into your life and then some go. I also think there’s a purpose as to why they were in your life at all. Each one takes a piece of you when they go. Some leave pieces of themselves with you. Sometimes it’s wisdom, or maybe, it’s a lesson.

Dylan left a huge part of himself with me

When I close my eyes, I think about Dylan kissing me awake in the barely illuminated morning, and the way his blues eyes look when he first opened them. I think about what it felt like to kiss him in that lake and making out a summer bucket list. I think about what it felt like to be in his arms, have them wrapped around me and feel his weight on me. I think about the look on his face when I said on was leaving and watching him walk away.

I lost a lot that summer but I gained a lot more.

If you let Dylan, he could be the shadow and the smoke in your eyes.

He gave me a piece of forever that summer. I had a taste of what it was like. To love, to feel, to live, I had it. Maybe it was short but I still had it.

Dylan blamed himself for not telling me but it wasn’t his fault. I knew that. Dylan hadn’t done anything wrong but show me how to be myself and how to live for myself. So many times he’d tried to tell me. Now I understood that.

Even with that, Dylan wasn’t the type of guy that you could fall in love with and then simply fade out if things didn’t work out.

He was the type of guy that you fell hard and like concrete, rooted, you stayed until that barrier cracked and you could start to wiggle loose one wiggle at a time.

He was intense and you couldn’t just forget him as if he had never been there.

Now, this was where the story of two outlaw kids took on another twist. Some would have thought that day in Birmingham would have been the last we saw of each other. Like I said, loving someone like Dylan couldn’t be easily forgotten. Our souls couldn’t forget a love like that. It may have been brief but was enough to last a lifetime.

Avery had convinced me to go to a concert at The Showbox SoDo. I told you that already. That’s when two souls found each other again. Maybe it was fate? Or maybe it was being in the right place at the right time.

I don’t think Dylan knew I was there that night and I never knew it was his band that was playing. I didn’t know he was still playing. I hoped that he was but I didn’t know.

Avery and I were sitting at a table in the back, talking about what she ate for lunch when the band took the stage. Still, I didn’t look up. Avery was also incredibly animated when she spoke about anything, now wasn’t any different.

Then he spoke.

“You hear people say they lost the girl of their dreams, and I did.”

My eyes shot to the stage when I heard that familiar voice that could still send chills down my spine.

It was him.

In Seattle.

Right in front of me.

“And I fucking regret it every day. Here’s to you brown eyes. I hope you got your sunset.” His eyes, ice blue, shifted from the audience to the guitar in his lap.

I spit out my drink, literally spit out my drink all over Avery.

She sighed like a child had just thrown up on her and said, “I’m guessing you are brown eyes?”

“No.” I wiped ice from my lap.

Avery rolled her eyes, long fake black lashes. “Liar.”

When he started to sing, I was completely entranced by him as he sang, it was captivating. When Dylan played music, he had the air of a person in deep almost studious concentration way his voice would lower still did things to me.

The song he played? Tangled Up In You.

Dylan sang that song with such an emotion people felt that song in their bones, the passion was evident in every word. His eyes were closed, he wasn’t fidgeting. He was feeling.

“My god,” Avery said blowing the breath she had apparently been holding in when he sang the very last word. “Who the fuck is that boy?”

I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move.

He must have known I was there. Maybe he felt it too.

I knew it when he was standing behind me. My blood felt it, my heart knew it, and my skin tingled. It was him. Honest and alive, I smiled.

“How are you?” he asked giving Avery a shy sideways smile. His flannel was rolled up to his elbows revealing those same tattoos I studied over the summer. Ripped jeans met a pair of worn Vans and I smiled that we were wearing the same type of shoes. All this time and we still had the same quirks.

“Please tell me you fucked him.” Avery shook her head biting her lip batting her eyes. “Goddamn.”

“Avery!” I gave her a glare and offered an apologetic smile to Dylan. He smirked, sideways, boyish, damn him

“What?” She stood and shook his hand. “Anyone that smiles like that deserves a good fuck.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dylan meet Avery.”

They spoke for all of two seconds and she ran away. Avery knew we had some unresolved issues. “He’s your deal,” she said with a wink.

My deal.

Seeing him now, being in the same room with him made me realize how incredibly stupid I had been. Looking at those ice blue eyes now, that spark I had flamed brighter than ever now. When he smiled, it became a volcano.

“You’re not the girl you used to be,” he said eyeing the tattoos.

“And you’re not the boy you used to be,” I said gesturing with a nod to the stage, with swarming girls around him.

We spoke briefly about his band. Now that I looked closely, Reece was with him as well as Eddy. They were both sidetracked with women on their laps.

“Why did you come to Seattle?”

“My uncle,” he said sitting across from me where Avery had just been.

“Oh.”

He smiled, crooked and just the same as he would over the summer. “It was you. And if there was one thing that kept me going,” His smile faded slightly, one side higher than the other. “It was waiting for you.”

“I need to tell you something,” I murmured.

“Anything,” he said tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I still love you. I never stopped.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe after the words were spoken, truth and desire turning on me.

“Brown eyes,” he sighed as both of his hands came up to frame my face. I slowly opened my eyes.

I gasped when I realized how close he was.

“Sometimes I thought I imagined everything between us, like maybe it wasn’t real but then I watch a sunset and I remembered the way your touch felt and the way your eyes mixed with the lighting. It was real.”

“Every moment with you was real, brown eyes. I mean that.”

I stared at him.

“I’ll be honest,” he continued. “I told myself to forget you. Imagine it wasn’t real and that I let you walk away, because I did. I was angry. I wanted to follow you, shake some sense into you but you made it seem so easy to walk away, like it was never there to begin with, like you didn’t take every piece of my soul that summer. But you did.” He let out a dark chuckle.

I only nodded as he poured his heart out to me, something Dylan never did.

“Now what?” He knew what I meant by that.

“I’m done pretending you didn’t mean anything to me. That you still don’t. I loved you. I love you now, here. The bone deep shit that you try to capture in a song or a movies or a book, that kind of shit. The type of love that words can’t compare to. I still love you. I never stopped. Time apart never changed that for me.”

I gasped feeling the blood rush to my heart with each word. I couldn’t deny that his words stung something deep inside of me. A love I could never forget and never wanted to. It was a love that put those sunsets to shame.

“Don’t give me some bullshit about us not being meant to be together because we are,” he continued. “You didn’t just randomly show up here. It was fate. You once asked me if I was in the right place at the right time what I would do. This is me, in the right place at the right time.”

And there was the part I couldn’t deny.

“Don’t,” he whispered as he put his palm to my cheek. “I’m here, I want you, and I won’t let you walk away this time.” He looked weary when I cleared my throat, his eyes jerked to mine. “Please, brown eyes.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan.” I reached across the table to his hand, but his hand came down on top of mine taking both mine and his together. “I tried so hard to do the right thing and no matter what way I chose, none were for me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said looking into my eyes. “I once told you that I’d give up everything for you, I meant that. I did. Even though you walked away, I never stopped loving you. I’m just as guilty as you for what happened. Any time that summer I could have told you what I knew…and I didn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Were we ready? Could I love him in all the ways he needed?

I tried to bury it, hide the feelings but I couldn’t.

This was believing in the future that holds no resemblance to the planned version of your life.

When would my time be mine? When would I be able to be myself?

Now. It was my time right now.

Fuck all that shit that happened before. Fuck my parents and their hidden lies and scandal secrets. Fuck their looks and judgment for something they would never understand. Fuck the numbers. Eighteen will always be just a number. Nineteen is just a number. It doesn’t mean shit. Fuck school and fuck the pressure to go. Fuck the world because it doesn’t matter. Love like there’s no tomorrow. Love because he’s mine. I choose Dylan.

I needed air.

I motioned outside and he followed.

Behind the bank of clouds thick enough to obscure the light of the moon, holes peeked as isolated sparks of light broke through.

A gleaming rich array of silver, grey and dark blue, all blended together on the pier meeting the black of darkness. Any light, luminous once, had a way of shinning its way through a darkened soul that was now alive.

“What did you do when I left, when you got in your car and left?” I asked as we walked along the Seattle waterfront.

“I went to Drew’s house and stayed in bed for probably two weeks. He finally had enough and made me start taking showers and eating. It was like he expected me to actually function normally.”

We talked about nothing, anything, and everything for four miles. By the time we had made a loop around, Eddy and Reece were looking for him. He ignored their raucous catcalls and inappropriate gestures and looked at me.

I smiled and gestured toward his familiar GTO parked by the curb. The dent in the door and the hood was still there. Our memories. Nothing was said, we walked over and got in.

As we sat there Dylan looked at me with those ice blue eyes and said, “Which way should we go, North or South?”

A feeling of contentment came over me, knowing this was where I belonged, said, “South?”

He smiled. “South it is, brown eyes.”

So there you have it, a story my heart holds true. A story about a girl and boy who were so lost they couldn’t see what was right in front of them. It was our deal.

I can’t say that I regretted anything that happened that summer because I didn’t at all.

It was our story, played out on the open highway chasing sunsets. It wasn’t an easy story to tell you. It was a story of kisses, lust, passion, youth, mistakes, lies, hiding, stupidity, judging, but most of all, love.

Some say a sunset can be too beautiful for words. I’d agree with that. There are a lot of things too beautiful for words for me.

To me, it was the earth’s way of saving the best for last.

The End.

I restore myself when I’m alone.

Marilyn Monroe

Shey Stahl is the author of Waiting for You and the Racing on the Edge series. When she’s not writing she’s doing whatever she wants. Sometimes that’s watching racing and sometimes that chasing around her little jerk of a kid that she loves, so she says. Currently she’s working on Delayed Penalty. A story about a hockey player.