Wild Thing

6. Six

Six

DYLAN

Sunday

“ T hat will be six-hundred and eighty dollars.”

Cringing at the stupid cost of the stupidly amazing tan trench coat, I handed over my AMEX.

Taylor and I spent most of the morning shopping in the city. The weather was average, raining steadily, but not as torrential as the day before. There wasn't much else to do apart from shop. We hit some of our favorite streetwear stores, plus a few high end designer stores. I did major damage to my bank account… new lingerie, leather pants and a Saint Laurent bag that I definitely didn’t need, but had to have. Plus, Taylor insisted I buy a new outfit for dinner with Brax, which included this trench.

This was what I loved about her. She was a ride or die friend. She’d cautioned me about my choices, but ultimately supported me no matter what.

Browsing the racks in a giant department store, Taylor pried a little further into my life. “So help me understand why the idea of settling down with Zack is so bad.”

Picking up a white blouse from the rack and holding it over my chest to check myself out in the mirror, my stomach drops slightly upon hearing Zack’s name.

Maybe it was guilt. Even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Yet.

Exasperated, I told her it was complicated. “I feel like a bitch saying this, but I’m bored out of my brain, Taylor. One year in and I feel like I’ve aged twenty.”

Taylor nodded. “I get it.”

“He wants the white picket fence, the dog, the kids and the caravan…”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I know. I know it’s not bad, but I just don’t want it… with him. We have the same boring conversations on loop. ‘How was work?’ , ‘What do you want for dinner tonight?’ , ‘What do you want to watch on Netflix?’ It’s so predictable I could mime the words as he says them.”

“What about your sex life?”

“It's regular, but it’s not hot. It’s vanilla. Like a fucking rehearsed dance.”

“Robotic.”

“Exactly," I sighed. "I can’t ignore the fact that I’m unhappy. And if I’m feeling like this now, how will I feel in another year?”

Taylor continued to browse the racks, pulling out items of interest and then placing them back. “And does Zack know that you’ve got one foot out the door?”

“His head would have to be fully up his ass to not know. Like, how much more resistance do I need to show?”

“So why haven’t you just broken up with him? Are you trying to force him to break up with you so you’re not the asshole?”

“No–I... maybe," I sighed. "I don't know, honestly.”

Taylor looked over to me. “And what do you want Dylan? What will make you happy?”

I traced my fingers over the clothing rack, pondering Taylor’s question. Before I knew it, his name flashed into my consciousness.

Brax.

I must have looked visibly shaken because Taylor was staring at me over the rack, with a smirk plastered on her pretty face. She doesn't miss a beat.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

I ran my fingers through my hair feeling confused and uncomfortable. “I don’t know Taylor. My whole world spun on its axis when I saw him yesterday. I don’t know how to explain it. The connection between us is… something else. It’s visceral. And what are the chances of running into him, while I feel so disconnected from Zack? Literally, I’ve been asking the universe for a sign, and in walks a six foot three one.”

Taylor studied me in silence, processing my admissions, my confusion, my fucking messy situation. “Girl, you are in so much trouble.”

“I know.”

We continued to browse in silence for a few moments. The only sound was from the clothes hangers as Taylor shifted through the rack in front of her, a slight smile dancing on her lips. “You’re loving it aren’t you?”

I placed my pointer finger and thumb close together. “Just a smidge.”

***

After inflicting further damage on my credit card, it was mid-afternoon by the time I arrived back at The Dalton. I had just enough time to relax before getting ready for dinner “with an old friend.”

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the sky looked ominous. A storm was brewing out west. While running a bath, I unpacked my shopping and laid my outfit choices on the bed. I was undecided on what to wear, but I was certain on one thing: I had to look hot.

My outfit planning was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. Glancing at the screen, I saw the name I’d been dreading: Zack.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and answered. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“How are you?” Cradling the phone between the crook of my neck, I continued laying out outfit options on the bed.

“Good," Zack answered sharply. "I thought I would have heard from you today.”

There was always something. I couldn't do anything right. “Sorry, I’ve been out shopping.”

“Listen, I know we’ve been at each other’s throats lately, but at the end of the day, you know I love you, right?”

An awkward pause followed. “Yeah, I know that.”

“I just don’t want you to spend this time away thinking we’re not in a good place.”

I stopped what I was doing and held the phone to my ear properly. “But we’re not in a good place, Zack.”

“Us arguing over the fact that you don’t want to move in together, doesn’t mean we’re in a bad place.”

“Yes it does! We’re having the same conversation over and over again. I’m not in the same headspace as you. We're clearly on different pages. I’m not ready for that level of commitment, and that’s opened up a raft of issues. You know this. I’ve explained all this–”

He angrily cut me off. His temper was never far away.

“Then what the fuck, Dylan? How much time do you want?”

“I don’t know Zack!”

“Do you expect me to just wait around for you to be ready?”

“If you love me the way you say you do, then yeah, I do expect that. And some fucking space please.”

Zack sighed dramatically down the phone, huffing and puffing as he realized this conversation was going nowhere. He wasn't used to not getting his own way. My reluctance to not behave the way he wants was triggering for him. “Fine. It’s not what I want, but fine.”

“Thank you. Just… give me some time Zack. Please.”

Part of me wished he would just admit that being with me was too much work and that I wasn't worth it. How much resistance did I need to demonstrate before he reached his limit? He was nothing if not patient.

“So what are you doing tonight?”

Shit. I wasn’t ready to have to lie to him so quickly.

Do I tell him the truth? That I'm having dinner with an ex?

No. There was no way. Even though it was just dinner, the optics weren’t great and he would fucking flip.

“Dylan?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked you what are you doing tonight?”

“Oh. I’m going out for dinner.”

It wasn't a total lie, but it was still a half truth.

“With who?”

Ah, fuck.

“Taylor.”

There it was. The first lie. One of many I’d have to spin.

“Oh, great," Zack quipped sarcastically. "Taylor the trainwreck.”

His ability to piss me off knew no bounds. “What the hell does that mean?"

Taylor was many things, but a trainwreck wasn't one of them. If anyone was a wreck, it was me.

“She’s loose. Not a great influence on you.”

I seethed with anger at his matter-of-fact tone. Gaslighting motherfucker. Zack wanted to control me, that I was certain. He had opinions on who I was friends with, and over time, had found something wrong with anyone I was close to.

“Dylan, you there?”

“Yep.”

I decided it’s not worth arguing. I just wanted this conversation to be over.

“Okay… Dylan?” Zack’s voice softened.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Goodnight.”

I hung up quickly before he questioned me on why I wouldn’t say I loved him back. I really should have ended things before this trip.

Taylor was right—I was hoping that I’d pushed Zack far enough away that he would sever the ties, saving me from being the bad one. I’d always been a sharp-edged person, but was I really this cold-hearted?

I wondered what it meant to be able to lie so easily.

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts away and went back to planning my outfit.

I’d worry about those dark parts of myself later.

With my hair blow dried straight, it framed my face like a halo of darkness. Listening to Placebo, I slipped on a short black leather skirt, pairing it with a tight plain black tee, the new stupidly expensive, but stupidly luxurious Burberry trench and a pair of black strappy heels. They were old faves and comfortable.

Just like my dinner companion.

It was cold and wet out, so I made the calculated decision to wear no bra. I'd always felt beyond sexy and powerful when my nipples were on display underneath the fabric. The whole fit was edgy, and clung to my curves in all the right ways. I hoped that once I took the trench off, Brax would be sent into a spin. I wondered if he would remember the time he fucked me while wearing an outfit similar to this.

I smiled at the memory.

I’d been out with the girls and he picked me up from the bar. He was always so good like that. If I was out, it didn’t matter what time of night it was, he preferred to pick me up, making sure I was safe.

This particular night, I was super drunk, and while he was driving, I leaned over and grabbed him, licking his face while he tried to control the car.

I was always doing wild shit like that to him.

Biting his ear, I told him that I couldn’t wait until we got home, so he pulled over in a deserted car park. He ordered me out, hitched my skirt up over my hips, bent me over the hood of his car and fucked me senseless.

Rough, hard and fast.

Even the stars came.

Zack has never. Could never.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my new handbag and slid my phone, card holder and lip gloss inside.

God, I felt nervous.

With one final check in the mirror, I walked out of suite 1402 to meet an old friend for dinner.