“I’ll move my car when I get my pizza.” Dylan laughs. He grabs me a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and himself a Pepsi. He holds the soda out to me. “I guessed ‘cause it’s what your sister drinks.”

“Thanks. This has been very informative, Lil’ D,” I tease, as I take my soda from him.

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Please, not you, too.”

“O-kay.” I mimic his dramatic sigh. “But just remember it’s back there for blackmail.”

“You gonna cut me any slack?” His crooked smile is one of the many things that melted me at the party, and no guy should be giving me happy tingles just after I slammed the door in James’s face.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” And we’re standing here, and I’m lighter every minute.

“Perfect.” His voice is dry, but a corner of his mouth pulls up. Dylan holds open the door. “It’s not raining, we should be outside.”

“Agreed.” I follow him out the door.

***

Our legs are stretched out on Mary’s hood. Bits of sunshine paired with the black surface makes it feel almost like summer. The Willamette River is in front of us, and we have a view of a few of the bridges that stretch across the water.

Dylan’s favorite pizza is pretty awesome—double pepperoni, ham, and olives.

“So.” He takes another bite. “I’m assuming you’re a college girl. Where you headed?”

“Undecided. I’m pre-med, and there are a lot of places I could go. I’ve applied like, everywhere.”

“Cool. I’m, um…pre-law.”

I choke on my bite of pizza. “Pre-law? So, really you’re a brainiac like me, but you’re disguised as a hot party guy?” My cheeks heat up the moment the words are out. I drop my pizza and put my hands on my cheeks, hoping to cool them down.

“Wow, Hanes, was that a compliment?” He nudges my arm with his elbow.

“Oh, come on.” I shake my head. “You’re not going to argue with me on that point, are you?” Maybe if I play it off as his conceit rather than how I feel, it won’t be a big deal.

“Let’s just say I’m holding onto that one for blackmail.”

Of course he is.

“But seriously? It’s what my dad does, and I get it. It’s like the law is this strict guideline. But really, it’s so bendable, you know? If you’re smart about it. I like the idea of all the motions, and the back and forth that happens between firms working on the same case.” He takes another bite, so relaxed. “Plus, I’m kickass at arguing and getting my way.”

I have to laugh at his honesty. And I’m sort of in shock because a part of me felt he’d be a guy who did nothing. I bet his dad has enough money for him to get away with it, too. But he’s not going to do nothing—he’s going to do something big.

“I’m getting into medicine because of my dad. He decided to teach instead of practicing. I want to practice. Probably pediatrics, but I’m not sure yet. I have a way long time to think about it.”

“So, we’re both after the big degrees,” he says.

“Yeah.” We both are. “But on opposite sides of what they offer.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs.

It sort of sums up Dylan and me. Not that there is a Dylan and me. But it’s like we’re similar, and we’re not. I’m okay to cry in front of him, although I’m still embarrassed about it, and we’re both unhappy about this wedding. Then he’s the big mansion, hot party guy with the model friends, and I’m…well, the opposite of that. Before I have a chance to process how much time’s gone by, the city’s turning dark, and I’m not sure what to do.

“I’ll take you home,” he says.

“What?”

“You’re looking around like you’re trying to figure out how to get rid of me,” he teases as he slides off the hood.

He stands underneath me and holds his hand out to help me down. My heart starts to beat all crazy, which means I’m completely ridiculous because it’s just a hand. I take it and land way too close to him. And his blue eyes are too close and his warmth is too close and he smells so, so good. And when he steps away, it’s like my legs are weak, proving that I really need to be careful around this guy.

“So, today we call bonding time, and maybe we’ll get together again for the museum, cross something off that stupid, damn list.” He sucks in the last word. “Sorry, I know it’s your sister’s.”

“Her lists are ridiculous. No worries here.”

“I know you don’t know me or anything, but you really should talk to your sister about all this mess with the friend and the guy and everything.”

I blow a loose strand of hair off my face. “Maybe.”

I know he’s right, and I know I’m stubborn and want her to come to me. But I’m also stubborn enough to wait on her for a while longer.

Dylan pauses looking at me more intently than I expect. He shakes his head like I do when I’m trying to get past one thought into another.

“No maybe. Dylan knows his shit. Besides, if you’re able to get them to separate for longer than a bathroom break, I’ll call you a miracle worker.”

It sounds like a challenge. “You’re on.”

Nine

~Dylan~

I can’t get over how weird yesterday was. I mean, it started because I can’t stand to see a girl cry. When Ziah was all teary and mopey, I did the only thing any guy would—I tried to distract her so the tears would stop. I’m not the best with the whole opening up thing, but I figured pizza always works with me. So I gave it a shot.

And it actually wasn’t so bad.

Not like I think we’re friends or anything, but for a little while, I actually forgot I was just trying to distract her. Granted, today I’ll do everything in my power to make myself remember it was just distraction. She’s still the angry chick whose sister is ripping my brother away from me. And who also has an idiot of an ex-boyfriend.

“Lil D! Open up.” Something pounds against my bedroom door.

“Go away!” I yell back at Derrick. I’m still pissed at him about this whole thing, and honestly, I’m not even sure what to say to him anymore. It’s weird hanging out with him now, and I never expected it to be like that.

“No.” He pushes inside.

“Don’t make me kick your ass again.”

He laughs, and I roll over to ignore him. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re hanging out for a while.”

I look up to see he’s already dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a button up shirt. “Oh, so you have time for me today? You pried your lips away from Lora long enough to talk with your brother?” Still, I find myself pushing up and getting out of bed.

Derrick rolls his eyes. “Grow up and come on. You’re acting like a five-year-old.”

I choose to ignore that. This is his fault, not mine. Once I’m in my bathroom, I strip and take a quick shower. When I’m ready, I jog down the stairs, half expecting to see Derrick and Lora surgically re-attached, but luckily, she’s not here.

“So what’s up? Why do you suddenly have time for me?”

Derrick groans. “Seriously, you’re starting to piss me off.”

I grab an apple out of the bowl and take a bite. “What a coincidence. You’re doing the same thing to me.”

He doesn’t reply, but grabs his keys off the counter. I follow him, eating the apple as we go. I’ll never admit it, but I’m excited to spend the day with him. I’m so over all this wedding stuff and just want to pretend things are the way they used to be.

We head to the driving range, which may sound like something eighty-year-olds do, but golfing is the shit. When Dad makes time for us, that’s almost always what we do.

Over two buckets of balls, we challenge each other to see who can drive the farthest. Once we’re out of balls, we head to the pizza place, and I pray to God they don’t tell him I was here with Ziah yesterday. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to know I actually don’t hate her guts. It might come in handy later.

Luckily, Hank’s at lunch, which is ironic as hell, if you ask me, since he works at a pizza place. We have our specialty, drink way too much soda, and then I beat him at a few video games. It feels like old times.