Chapter 34 #2
I suppose she’s right. I’ve been bored, steaming my skating dresses over and over.
Both the Rapunzel one and my favorite black and crimson one for our short program.
Now, in the bathroom, I stare at my reflection, and I let myself look.
When I see my scars, I remember the hot sensation of Dylan’s mouth on my skin.
But more than that, I see them for what they are. A new beginning.
I’ve barely read the instructions when I’m about to flick the vibrator on, but a knock on my door startles me.
I panic, quickly throw on my clothes, and shove the toy in my suitcase.
My heart races, the sense of relief immediate.
I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it anyway. My brain won’t let me.
I check the peephole, and Dylan’s there, running a hand through his hair in a white tank, gray sweats, and glasses.
We practiced our routines countless times before Lidia was satisfied and let us go back to the hotel. We didn’t talk the entire way, and I appreciated the comfortable silence. But now, as I’m standing in a long T-shirt and Care Bears shorts, with a damn vibrator hidden in my suitcase, I hesitate.
“If you’ve had your fill of me through the peephole, can you open the door?”
I snap my eyes away as though he can actually see me. I open it slowly, and blink at him with sleepy eyes. He raises his brows, leaning against the door frame.
“Nice pj’s,” he says.
“Nice sweats,” I reply.
Dylan doesn’t wait for my permission and pushes past me to sit on my bed. The TV is playing The Weather Channel when he grabs the remote.
“Sure, make yourself at home,” I mutter, plopping down on the other side of the bed.
“I just saw the Russian skaters going down to the gym. Fucking try-hards.”
We continue to watch TV, but the silence is eating me up. “Why are you wearing glasses?” I blurt.
He glances at me. “I was reading a book Summer let me borrow until Kian called and spoiled the end,” he says, sounding irritated.
That explanation does nothing to tame my overactive brain or fluttering ovaries. Reading? God.
The hockey game is in the last period, but Dylan’s barely watching. He’s on his phone, but he groans and tosses it on the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“The guys are planning a Halloween party.”
“Isn’t that the devil’s favorite day?” I suppress a chuckle.
He gives me a blank stare. “It’s my birthday.”
“On Halloween? Oh my God, that makes so much sense. I should have guessed.” Even as I joke, he doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood, and it confuses me. “Shouldn’t you be excited?”
“I’ve always hated celebrating my birthday.” Dylan settles deeper into the bed. “It got better since I’ve been at Dalton ’cause all we did was get drunk, but since the drug test, it feels different. I’m dreading it, but I’d never tell them that.”
“But it was a mistake, wasn’t it? Sure, you smoked weed, but that isn’t something you do on the regular.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not. I’ve never even cared to smoke, but that night I needed something to help me escape. I didn’t want to see my mom’s face or hear my fucking dad’s voice. I was sick of it.”
“Sick of what?” He keeps his words tightly wound up, but the longer he sits here, it seems to pull at the binding.
“My dad’s been cheating on my mom for years. I was five the first time I found out because we got a call from the hospital asking for my dad. My mom and I arrived to find his mistress, who had just given birth to Ada.”
Oh my God. “She’s not …?”
He shakes his head. “But that’s never mattered to us.
She’s my sister, and I’ve loved her since the first day I saw her.
We were lucky we went there because her biological mom was in a tough spot.
Apparently, when she got pregnant, my dad stopped answering her calls.
She didn’t have money, and she never wanted kids, so we adopted Ada.
My dad was livid, but so was my mom. That was the first time I wished she’d leave him. ”
“I’m so sorry, Dylan. You were just a kid.”
“I’m just glad Ada didn’t witness any of those fights.
And she left for school when I came to Dalton.
Freshman year was the worst though. I didn’t answer any of their calls.
I just got drunk every other night and tried to forget it all.
Until my mom showed up at the house. She’d make us food, stock the fridge.
She told me she wanted to leave him, and I felt like a weight was lifted.
But then, every year, I’d have the same useless conversation with her. Nothing ever changed.
“And that’s when I messed up. I got high because the two people in my life who showed me relationships are messy and complicated called to say things were different now, and our family would be whole again when it never was in the first place.
I thought they were calling because they were getting divorced.
I finally thought it was over. But they’re getting married. Again.”
We’ve unconsciously moved closer to each other. So close that he seems to distract himself by playing with the hem of my shirt.
“It’s not fair that you got caught up in that,” I say, and before I can stop myself, I hug him. With my hands around his neck and me kneeling on the bed, I hold him tight.
I think he smiles against my cheek. “Didn’t take you as a hugger, Romanova.”
“I’m not. But you’re annoyingly persuasive.”
He chuckles. “I don’t recall asking you to hug me.”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to hug,” I say quietly.
Dylan wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in, so I’m on his lap. “I appreciate it.”
I don’t know how long we stay like that, because I’m hyper-aware of his hand on my thigh, lifting the hem of my tiny shorts and stroking the bare skin. Then his phone dings again, and I see his lockscreen picture.
“Is that you?” I pull away but not too far. It’s a picture from some tournament, but Dylan’s brown locks are gone; all that’s left is a bright pink buzz cut. “When was that?”
“Last year. The hat of consequences has no mercy. It’s our version of a punishment that we started in freshman year. The guys knew I would do anything without complaint, except buzz my hair. That was painful. Probably more than his piercing.”
“Whose piercing?”
He ignores me and instead shows me more pictures from that time. I’m convinced he’s the only man who could look that good with pink hair. He shows me a picture from Halloween, when they dressed up as Snow White and her dwarfs.
When our gazes meet and our noses brush, my heart somersaults.
“I’m starving,” he says after a beat, switching the channel back. “I’m going to grab some food. I’ll get you something.” Dylan kisses the crown of my head where my scar is, then pauses for the briefest moment, like he didn’t mean to do that. “Don’t watch too much of The Weather Channel without me.”
I roll my eyes when he throws me a wink over his shoulder and walks out. My heart flutters a little. Okay, fine, a lot.