Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
DYLAN
The second I wake up; she’s already in my head. Not just a passing thought, either.
There’s a full-body, deep-in-my-chest ache for her. For the way she looked at me last night, like I was something solid she could lean on. For the way her fingers curled into my hoodie when I kissed her like we had all the time in the world.
We don’t. Not really. But today, we do. I grab my phone off the nightstand and scroll straight to her name.
Dylan: Be ready in twenty minutes. No arguments. Dress comfy.
Three dots pop up.
Then disappear.
Then reappear.
Mia: Demanding much? Where are we going?
Dylan: Trust me.
I grin and toss my phone on the bed. Opening the wardrobe, I pull on jeans, a black hoodie, and a pair of beat-up sneakers. No team gear, nothing that screams ‘professional athlete.’ I want a day where I’m just Dylan.
Just hers.
When I pull up outside her place, she’s standing on the pavement, arms crossed, chin tucked into a cream knit jumper that’s about two sizes too big. Her hair is loose, and her jeans hug her legs. She’s wearing Converse on her feet.
She’s unfair. Absolutely fucking unfair. Nobody should look as hot as her. I lean across the seat and push the door open.
“Get in, Clarke.”
She rolls her eyes but smiles and climbs into the passenger seat, bringing a fresh, warm, Mia scent that punches the air out of my lungs.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mutters, buckling her seatbelt.
I shoot her a sideways grin. “Don’t you forget it.”
She snorts and props her feet on the dash, getting comfy like she belongs here.
With me.
Fuck, I’m already in trouble.
It’s a long drive to the coast, but I don’t care. We talk about everything and nothing. The music she likes. The food I can’t live without. Her weird obsession with true crime podcasts, and the fact I secretly love cheesy rom-coms.
She laughs so much it feels like I’m drunk on the sound of it.
When we pull into a battered seaside car park, the ocean stretches out in front of us, grey and choppy, the sky heavy with clouds. Seagulls screech and swoop overhead. It’s cold, and it’s windy, but it’s perfect.
Mia looks around and smiles, tugging her sleeves over her hands. “No crowds,” she says softly.
“No hiding,” I add. Her gaze flicks to mine, warm and wide and a little scared.
But there’s excitement there too.
Hope.
I reach across and grab her hand, lacing our fingers together. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s just be us today.”
The beach is half deserted, nothing but damp sand stretching for miles. We kick off our shoes, roll up our jeans and walk close to the water’s edge, with our toes freezing, and laughing when the waves chase us up the shore. Mia squeals when I scoop her up and pretend like I’m going to throw her in.
“Don’t you dare, Dylan!” she shrieks, her legs kicking as she scrambles for me to put her down.
I laugh and set her down carefully, hands lingering on her waist. The urge to kiss her almost drowns me. But we’re in public. And despite the freedom, some habits are too ingrained to break.
Instead, I tug her tighter against me and bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re dangerous,” I murmur.
She tips her head back to look at me, all mischief and challenge. “You love it.”
“I do,” I admit, my voice sounds rough.
I’ve fallen so fast for her it’s not even funny.
We eat greasy fish and chips on a battered wooden bench overlooking the water, our fingers brushing when we steal fries off each other’s trays.
Mia’s tucking into mushy peas. I make dramatic gagging noises whenever she dips a chip into the neon green mess.
“You’re such a child,” she says, laughing.
“And you’re a weirdo. Who the hell invented that shit?” I shoot back.
She grins, scrunching her nose, and my chest fucking aches with how much I adore her. How much I want this, not just today but every day.
When she’s finished devouring the devil’s spawn that is mushy peas, we wander to the fun fair. It’s run down but colourful, all flashing lights and tinny music, and there’s kids running wild with candyfloss stuck to their fingers.
Mia drags me to a game stall where you have to knock over stacked cans with beanbags. She tries first, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. She misses every shot and I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.
“Stop looking at my form,” she grumbles.
“Hard not to,” I mutter under my breath.
She rolls her eyes, and her cheeks pink. I pay for another go and step up. The guy running the stall raises an unimpressed eyebrow at me. But I line up my shot and smash all the cans in one throw.
“Show off,” Mia says, bumping her shoulder into mine.
“All for you, baby,” I say, handing her the ridiculous giant pink unicorn I won.
She laughs so hard she nearly drops it. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Nope,” I say smugly. We keep strolling, hand in hand, her new prize tucked under her arm. And for a little while, it’s like nothing else exists. There’s no pressure or rules to follow, and no future looming like a dark storm cloud. It’s just her and me. Just us.
We’re waiting in line for candyfloss when it happens. A little boy, maybe eight or nine, tugs on my hoodie.
“Are you Diesel Winters?” he asks timidly.
I glance down, startled and Mia tenses beside me. I crouch a little, smiling. “Yeah, mate, I am. Are you a hockey fan?”
The kid’s eyes go huge. “You’re my favourite player!”
My throat tightens and I ruffle his hair gently. There’s nothing more humbling than someone telling you they admire you. “Thanks, bud. You want a picture?”
He nods frantically. His mum snaps a quick photo of us, and she can’t thank me enough for taking the time to pose with her son. Mia steps back, giving us space.
When the kid beams and runs off, Mia sidles back to me, slipping her hand into mine.
“You’re good with them,” she says quietly.
“With what?” I say, confused.
“Kids.”
Her voice is soft. Almost wondering.
I shrug, feeling weirdly shy. “Guess I just remember what it felt like. Looking up to someone. Dreaming big.”
She leans her head against my shoulder. And just like that, the heaviness in my chest shifts. Becomes something lighter and more hopeful.
We drive home as the sky darkens, streetlights blurring into gold smudges through the windshield. The giant unicorn is strapped into its own seat in the rear of my car. Mia insisted it wore a seatbelt and who am I to argue.
Mia falls asleep in the passenger seat, curled up like a cat. I steal glances at her every chance I get. Memorising the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks. The way her mouth softens in sleep.
She’s beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with looks. She’s real. And I’m so far gone it’s not even funny anymore.
When I pull up outside her flat, I kill the engine and just sit there, watching her.
I should wake her gently. Be respectful. Instead, I reach over and brush a knuckle down her cheek. “Mia,” I murmur. She stirs, blinking up at me, confused and sleepy. “We’re home,” I say softly.
She sits up, stretching, hair a mess, and her hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
And I’m gone. Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean across and kiss her.
Not asking for anything. Just being. She kisses me back without hesitation, hands sliding into my hair, tugging me closer.
The heat between us sparks instantly, like a match dropped onto dry grass.
I pull back before I do something stupid. Before I beg her to let me stay.
Her lips are swollen, her eyes heavy. “I had the best day,” she whispers.
“Good. Me too,” I rasp.
She opens the door, slipping out into the cool night air. But before she shuts it, she leans back in, eyes shining. “You’re worth it, Diesel.”
The door clicks shut and I sit there, heart hammering against my ribs, breathless and wrecked and more in love than I ever thought possible.