Wild Thing

37. Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Seven

DYLAN

S o this was what a whore felt like.

Empty. Numb. Used.

Back at our table, I was too anxious to eat.

Even though I was in my body, I was definitely out of my fucking mind.

There were two things I needed to do. Find Taylor and get blackout drunk. In that order.

Pulling my phone out of my clutch, I texted Taylor.

Big SOS. Meet me at the photobooth at the back. Super urgent, come alone .

Okay, very 007 of you, but fine. Be there in 3mins.

I pushed back my chair and rose to my feet, offering Marie a quick smile as I smoothed my dress. “I’m just going to find Taylor and say hello to her team."

As I stepped away, I looked toward Brax’s table.

He wasn’t there, but Ally was. Everyone was engrossed in their meals, heads down, forks scraping against porcelain plates.

I weaved through the maze of tables, before finally arriving at the photobooth.

Taylor was there already. She looked beautiful, wearing a shiny, gold halter neck dress, her light blonde hair swept upwards in a dramatic updo.

“Holy shit, that dress Dylan-” she began, her eyes wide.

I cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a hit, come in here.”

I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the booth, yanking the curtain shut behind us.

Sensing my terror, Taylor studied me for a second before realizing something was very, very wrong.

My hands shook slightly as I tried to center myself, but my effort was futile.

Taylor’s playful demeanor faded in an instant. “Dylan,” she said softly. “What’s going on?”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat refusing to budge.

“Dylan,” she repeated, her tone firmer. “Talk to me.”

I exhaled a long breath. “He’s engaged.”

Taylor blinked, confused. “What?”

“Brax.”

“What?!” she shouted, her reaction sharp and immediate.

“Ssshh!” I hissed.

“Engaged?!” she repeated, albeit quieter.

“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking. “And she’s fucking here. ”

She didn’t need me to explain further. The heartbreak was written all over my face.

Taylor pulled me into her arms. “Shh…” she murmured, hugging me tightly.

My breathing grew shallow and erratic as I fought back the tears. I was trembling uncontrollably, despite my best efforts to stay composed.

“It’s okay, Dyl,” Taylor whispered into my hair, her voice soothing. “Just breathe.”

“I can’t… I can’t…”

The words stumbled out, raw and panicked. My chest felt like it was being crushed underneath iron.

“Yes, you can. Look at me,” she urged, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with me. “Breathe, babe. You need to breathe.”

I let out a shuddering breath, my chest cracking wide open.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Maybe,” I said, nodding my head slowly. “Can you come with me?”

Taylor’s brow furrowed. “Listen, I can't straight away. But as soon as the mains are over, I’ll come and get you. We’ll smoke bomb the hell out of here. Okay?”

I nodded numbly, barely registering anything Taylor said.

“Okay,” I whispered, sniffling.

“Dylan,” Taylor said firmly, grabbing my face with both hands. “You’re strong. We’ll plot his death tomorrow, okay?”

A faint, broken smile tugged at my lips, grateful for the attempt to make light of the fucked up situation I was in.

“C’mon,” she said softly. “I’ll walk you back to your table.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Are you sure? I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s fine. I just need a moment. You go back. I’ll message you if I need you.”

Taylor nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay then. I’ll see you soon.”

She pulled me into one last hug, holding on tightly before sliding the curtain open and disappearing back into the gala.

I stayed where I was. The photobooth screen lit up, reflecting my face back at me.

I barely recognized the cheating whore staring back.

***

I hurriedly made my way through the double doors and into the foyer, searching for the bathroom.

I walked quickly, the soft swish of my dress providing a rhythm I tried to match my breathing to.

Inhale, step, exhale, step.

Over and over, but it didn’t work.

By the time I pushed open the bathroom door, I was on the edge of losing control.

I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me, and made my way to the vanity. Placing both hands on the cool surface, I leaned heavily against it. I couldn’t bring myself to look in the mirror.

I already knew what I’d see. The face of a cheater trying and failing to hold herself together.

I wanted to scream.

Cry.

Collapse.

Die.

I stumbled toward a stall and shoved the door open. I slid the lock into place and then, finally, I broke.

Silent sobs wracked my body as I slid down the back of the stall door, folding in on myself.

My vision blurred and I let the tears fall freely, praying I would drown in them.

Minutes passed.

Ten, maybe more.

I sat there, motionless. Almost catatonic. My gaze fixed blankly on the toilet in front of me, unblinking except when my body forced me to.

The sobs faded, leaving me hollow and numb.

It was a cruel kind of reprieve… the absence of pain replaced by nothingness.

I cursed myself for getting into this situation.

Selfish, foolish bitch. You brought this on yourself. Now you have to survive it.

I needed to pull myself together. Sitting in the bathroom stall, crumpled and useless, wasn’t going to help me.

Marie would notice my absence soon, and the last thing I wanted was for her to come looking for me.

I wiped my damp cheeks and forced myself to stand.

Back at the vanity, I opened my clutch and dumped its contents onto the counter, fumbling for my compact. My eyes were red and glassy, but my makeup had mostly held up. At least, enough to fool anyone who wasn’t paying close attention.

Exiting out of the bathroom, I heard an explosion of sound and noise coming from the Great Hall.

The double doors opened and Brax was hurrying through them.

My steps faltered, and I froze mid-stride.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

My hands clenched instinctively around my clutch. I considered throwing it at his fucking head.

“Dylan, wait!” he shouted, his voice desperate as he rushed after me.

“Get the fuck away from me!”

Spinning on my heels, I stormed down the empty corridor. My only thought was to get as far away from him as possible.

“You’ve got to let me explain!”

His footsteps quickened until I felt his hand close around mine.

I yanked my hand free. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I spat at him.

My pace quickened, my movements frantic. I had no idea where I was going, only that I needed to keep moving.

I spotted an exit.

I made a beeline for it, shoving the heavy doors open and bursting into the crisp Autumn night. My legs carried me down the stairs, my chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak.

“Dylan, stop!”

Brax’s voice was closer now, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw him taking the stairs two at a time before vaulting over the handrail to cut me off.

His movements were infuriatingly fast. He planted himself directly in my path, blocking my escape.

“Will you stop running for a second?!”

He was frustrated and desperate.

I froze, my breath ragged. I stood two steps above the man who had torn my world apart. My eyes burned as they locked on his.

“Fucking ENGAGED !” I yelled, my voice cracking with rage.

“It’s not what it–”

“No,” I cut him off and shoved him backwards.

He stumbled down a step.

“Fuck you, Brax! You’re a fucking liar.”

He flinched, pain in his eyes.

But I didn’t care. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry," he said, grabbing the handrail to steady himself. "I should have told you the truth. It doesn’t change anything–”

“Are you fucking deranged? It changes everything!” I shouted. “We had sex tonight, Brax! You came down my fucking throat while your fiancée sat in the next fucking room!”

The word burned my tongue.

None of it felt real. I felt like I was living someone else's life.

“Everything I’ve said to you still stands,” he pleaded. "I promise you!"

I struggled to believe him. I couldn’t distinguish between what the truth was and what was a lie.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I-I thought…” he stuttered, his words faltering. He gripped the cold metal handrail so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"You thought what?"

“It’s complicated, Dylan.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that a thousand times, " I scoffed. "I knew you were hiding something from me, I fucking knew it!”

“I was going to tell you-”

“When?” I snapped, cutting him off. “When were you going to tell me?"

“Once it was done! Once it was over!”

His voice rose with desperation. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I was unhappy. When I told you that Ally and I shouldn’t be together. I am ending things with her, Dylan. I swear to you,” he begged, his voice thick with urgency. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you.”

I didn’t respond.

Brax shifted uncomfortably, rocking his weight from one foot to the other. “Dylan, I know what I’ve done is wrong. I know I’ve fucked up. But when it comes to you, I can’t fucking see straight. You’re all I see. You’re all I want.”

He scrubbed his face roughly with his hand. “The engagement was a giant mistake. I’ve known it was a mistake from the start, long before I even ran into you again. I just didn’t have the guts to end it earlier.”

“And what? You do now?”

“I don’t love Ally! Please believe me when I tell you that I was going to tell you the truth… I swear."

All I could do was stare at him. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe every word spilling from his mouth.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

“How can I trust you? You lied to me.”

“I’m sorry, Dyl. I’m really sorry.”

Brax reached out toward me.

I stiffened, taking a step back up.

“Don’t,” I warned, my tone ice cold. I refused to let him touch me. “We’re nothing anymore, Brax. This whole thing—” I gestured vaguely between us, “—has been a giant mistake.”

He vigorously shook his head in disagreement. “No. This hasn’t been a mistake.”

My hands flew to my face in frustration.

“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” I dropped my hands and glared at him. “Does that help you sleep at night? Do you even know how demoralizing it was to sit in there and watch you play happy families with her, when twenty minutes before that you were telling me you loved me? Do you have any idea what that felt like for me?”

He inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. My words had hit their mark.

“You think the fact that you have a boyfriend hasn’t fucked with me?” He shot back. “You think I haven’t thought about his hands on you? Yours on his?”

“No, no, no, no,” I snapped, shaking my head. “Do not turn this around on me. I've been nothing but honest with you from the very start. And, yeah, I may have a boyfriend, but it’s not like I’m engaged to be fucking married!”

The words were heavy and damning. It was a defining moment.

“Dyl…” His voice was so faint it barely reached me. It trailed off like the last breath of someone who was dying. "I'm so fucking sorry."

“What was this past week to you?”

“Some of the best days of my life.”

Fuck. There it was. The thing he always did to me. He was an expert at reaching into my ribcage, grabbing hold of my heart, and squeezing it until I couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t say that,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? This has been the best week of my life.”

“How many times, Brax?” I shook my head. “How many times will I let you break my heart?"

"Fuck, don't say that Dyl–"

"Because this past week…” I swallowed hard, fighting to keep it together. “I’ve spent it thinking that maybe we were supposed to be together. But all it’s done is remind me that you’ll always be that guy to me.”

His brows knitted together, confused. “What guy?”

“The one who fucked me up for life.”

It was a killshot.

"Jesus…" He ran both hands roughly through his hair. Loose strands fell across his face, but he didn’t bother brushing them away. “Fuck.”

This wasn’t just heavy; it was devastating. For both of us.

His eyes lifted to mine. He looked like he was struggling to process that he was the villain in this story.

“I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Well, you are.”

The words came out cold and final.

Without another look, I moved past him, descending the stairs swiftly, my dress swishing with each step.

I was nearly clear, nearly free of him, when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, halting me mid-step.

Our positions had switched. Now he was the one standing two steps above me, forcing me to look up at him.

“I watched you walk away once,” he said, his voice determined. “I’m not going to do it again."

But I refused to let his words weaken me. I was done being the fool.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to lie to me."

Brax took a step down, closing the distance between us. He was only one step above me. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

We were so close to each other, all it would take would be one small shift, one small movement, and our lips would touch.

The memories hit me then.

Like a montage, I saw him in the hotel bar, at the candlelight dinner, in the tiling superstore.

I felt his arms wrapped around me at the concert, the feel of his skin under my hands in the shower, the worksite, that coastal drive, in the ocean, my bed. How it felt to wake up next to him.

Every conversation, every kiss, every touch, every fuck—all of it came flooding back to me.

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll walk away,” Brax said again, his voice dark and low.

He reached for me with his other hand, wrapping it around my waist and pulling me tightly against him.

I hated the way I wanted him.

How my body responded. How even now, after all of this, I still had this undeniable need for him.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips lightly against mine.

"I love you," he whispered.

For a moment, I allowed myself to feel the softness of his lips.

But I didn’t kiss him back.

He pulled back slowly.

I stared at him, studying his face as if it were the last time I would ever see it. I etched every detail deep into my memory. The sharp lines of his jaw, the stormy depths of his eyes, the dark mess of his inky black hair that I had once loved running my fingers through.

His vicious throat tattoo.

Against every fiber in my being, I locked my eyes onto his and chose to lie straight to his motherfucking face. “I don’t love you.”

My heart cracked in two at the lie. I'd been lying all week but nothing prepared me for how this final one felt.

It felt like something died inside of me as I said it.

Brax held onto me in disbelief for a few seconds more, before slowly releasing me.

Choking back tears, I stepped around Brax and ran up the stairs, towards the entrance to the convention center.

I left him there.

I didn't look back.

And as usual, he didn’t chase me.