“There’s a girl… Lora’s sister, actually. I kind of like her. Maybe really like her, but I told her we could only be friends.”

Dad shifts. “There’s a woman in my office who asked me out for drinks. It’s the first time since your mom left that I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t. Don’t be like me, Dylan. You’re too young, have too much life in you for that. Out of all of us, you’ve always been the one with the most life—and the one who took her leaving the hardest. That’s my fault for not being there for you.” His eyes shift, and he sucks in a breath. “I left you too, didn’t I?”

Yes, you did…

I can’t help it, I hug him. We probably look crazy, but I don’t care. He squeezes me back, and now it’s his words that are replacing my thoughts. Don’t be like me, Dylan.

“Would you ever want to see her again? It’s up to you, son, but if the opportunity came, would you want to see her?”

His words shock me, kind of jolt me away from him. “What?  No.” I shake my head. “She was everything, and then she left. I hate her for that.”

And that’s the truth. She was the one I watched movies with at night, and the one who made me cookies or brought me to the park. She was my world and then she burned it down.

“You were young… so young, when she left. She was…”

She was what? I want to ask, but I let him finish.

“No matter what, I loved her. Through it all. I guess that makes me even more to blame than her.”

Suddenly, I need to make him feel better. No one forced her to leave. She just did. “It’s not your fault. You should go out with that lady, Dad. No offense, but it’s probably been way too long since you got some.”

Dad laughs and shakes his head. “Only you, Dyl.” Then more seriously, “I’ll think about it. You, on the other hand. Well, not the ‘get some’ part because I don’t even want to think about that, but you shouldn’t run like I do. Give yourself a chance to be happy. Don’t be afraid to have something real—something that means more.”

“I’ll think about it,” I counter, and I will. I’m not sure I can go there, but I might want to try. Because he’s right. I don’t want to be like him… alone.  “Thanks, Dad.” I stand up.

“There’s more. We really need to talk, Dylan. Or you need to talk to your brother.”

Groaning, I ask, “Is it good? Actually, don’t answer that. I can tell. Can we do it later though? I think I’ve had enough for today.”

I know it’s something bad. He wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t, and I’m kind of sick of bad.

“You should really stop giving us excuses to put this off.”

“I know, Dad. Soon, okay? I have something I need to do.”

Dad nods. “I’ll see ya later. And thanks. I love you.”

I don’t remember the last time we said that to each other.

“I love you too, Dad.”

Twenty

~ Ziah ~

It’s not that Dylan never calls me; it’s just that it doesn’t happen often. “What’s up?” I answer.

“I wanna get together. Do something. You know, hang out.” His voice sounds a little weird.

“I’ll see you this weekend, remember?”

“What?”

“All the people who actually go to college have the week off, remember? That’s why they picked the date for the wedding. So they could all have a week of fun before the big day. Lora said we’re getting together Saturday.”

“I thought maybe we could get together sooner?”

I’m not sure if I trust myself around Dylan without a group, but I don’t want to blow him off. “I have a few big tests this week and will definitely not be any fun. How about I see you on Saturday for dinner, and we’ll plan something to save ourselves from what will probably be wedding-week insanity.”

“Yeah. Okay. Cool.”

When we hang up, I get this weird feeling Dylan walked around what he wanted to say but never said it. After the last time we had a big talk, I’m sort of relieved he didn’t.

***

“Ziah!” James jogs up to my locker.

It’s both comforting and weird that we’re talking again. It’s better than avoiding, but I don’t think we’ll ever have the easy friendship we had before we started dating. It does make me think twice before trying to date a friend again. Maybe Dylan’s right to be scared.

“What’s up?”

“I talked to that Matthew kid who’s so good in our AP English? And he said he can get together with us next Wednesday if we want to gear up for big test after break.”

I scan his face for any sign that more might be going on, but I don’t find it. “With Matthew?”

James rolls his eyes. “That would be the point, yeah.”

“Okay. That week is crazy, but I need all the help I can get. I’m in.”

“Great.” He smiles wide, and it’s more relaxed and less forced. James and I will be okay.

***

It’s Saturday before the wedding, and we’re all at the first event of what is sure to be a week of insanity. It started with Alyssa and Paul shamelessly flirting at the table—both over the top and ridiculous, but at least they were entertaining. After the last time I went out with Lora and her friends, she promised Mom an early night.

“I owe you a dance.” Dylan takes my hand and pulls me from my chair. The whole crew is out tonight, and even Alyssa tagged along for fun.

The music slows as we hit the small dance floor, and Dylan pulls me close. My heart starts pounding.

“Relax, Hanes.” He grins as he pulls me closer, pressing our stomachs together.

Right. Relax. “You always smell good,” I say.

I’m not sure it’s something you’re supposed to say to your friend, but instead of pulling away, he breathes in and pulls me even closer.

“So do you,” he whispers as he leans in even more.

We’re almost cheek to cheek, and a shiver runs through me as his breath touches my ear and neck.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you—” he starts.

“Shhhh.” I let myself really relax into him like I never have.

He started it, so I’m feeling like I’m safe. I readjust my arms around his neck wanting to be closer when I’m not totally sure it’s possible.

“But—”

“Please. Just dance and relax for a few.” I lean into him farther as our bodies move together.

Dylan says nothing, and his hands slide lower on my waist. Are we dancing like this to a fast song? It doesn’t matter. The heat from him radiates through my body. Our hips move together, and his fingers trace patterns on my back. As my nerves start to take over, I swallow. Hard. Now his hands slide up my bare arms, and mine are making patterns in his hair.

“Dirty dancing!” Paul nudges us from the side. “Nice.” He wags his brows as Alyssa falls easily into his arms, and they laugh together as they dance.

Dylan sighs.

I move away, but just slightly. His hands rest on my shoulders, and he whispers again. “I really want to talk to you.”

I’m so afraid of another, “I like you, but can’t,” speech, I rest my head on his shoulder, willing him to be quiet.

Derrick steps next to us and whispers, “Hands off, and we’re leaving in about ten.”

Dylan shoves him away. “Okay.” He looks at me with annoyance on his face. “I need air.”

“I’m coming.” I have no idea what this is about, but I get the same feeling I did on the phone. That Dylan has something to say and doesn’t know how to say it.

My gut turns over in nerves.

We step out the small back door into a downpour.

“Shit,” Dylan sighs.

I step into the alleyway behind the restaurant letting the cold water soak me.

“Ziah.” He grabs my hand as he follows me out. “I don’t want you to get cold or wet.”

It’s too late. I’m in the rain in the dark. I look up at the sky and let it hit my face. The raindrops reflect the city lights above me, and it’s breathtaking—small slashes of silver in the sky. When I let my face come back down, Dylan’s staring. My stomach flips. I want him to look at me like that more than I want anything. Why did he have to drag me out here? Why does he want to talk? Why haven’t I been able to let go of his hand?