16. Dylan
SIXTEEN
DYLAN
TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD
“Are we still on for tonight?” Adrian wipes his hands on a napkin, balls it up, and drops it on his plate. “Because Freya’s starting to think you don’t like her.”
He says it lightly, but there’s a prodding edge in his voice. I can’t blame him. See, I like Freya. I like her a lot. Frankly, it’s been a real challenge trying to like her less because she’s just that cool.
But yeah, I’m totally avoiding her.
Because she’s got that one fatal flaw. Like Olivia and Naomi and Paisley and all the others after them.
She’s Adrian’s girlfriend.
“I’m not.” And now I’m also avoiding looking at him. “I’ve been busy with work.”
Adrian sends me a knowing look but doesn’t say anything else about that.
“She wants you to meet her friends. I want you to meet them. They’re all nice people.” He sighs at whatever horrified expression I don’t manage to hide fast enough. “Look, just stop by for an hour. That’s all I’m asking.”
I blow out a resigned breath. Seeing them together hurts and makes me jealous, and I just need a bit more time to get my shit together and get over Adrian, because I’ve been doing an abysmal job so far. Time’s up, I guess.
“No matchmaking,” I say. “I mean it. Because then I’m out.”
“She learned her lesson the first time. So you’re coming? We’ll pick you up from work?”
I roll my eyes. “Give me some credit. I said I’d be there. You don’t have to babysit me.”
He sends me a toothy grin before he checks his watch. “I gotta get back to the garage. I’ll see you tonight.”
Can’t wait.
I don’t really have any expectations for the evening. Mostly I figure I’m going to feel out of place.
Freya lets out an excited squeak when she sees me and throws herself into my arms.
“You made it!”
“I’m not the long-lost son,” I grumble.
She just grins at me and tugs me forward, immune to my borderline hostility. “Come on. Let me introduce you to everybody.”
She makes the rounds, and I immediately forget all the names because I’m already overwhelmed.
And I do feel out of place amid all the new faces.
I’m most likely projecting, but the people in this apartment have the carefree air of college students all around them, and I’ve just come off a double shift at a restaurant where I work as a waiter on the weekends when I’m not busy being the world’s worst employee at the hardware store.
I have a horrible feeling I smell like fries.
Ah well. Not much I can do about that right now.
It’s almost insulting that nobody actually has an issue with me and how accommodating and friendly they all are.
Three of Freya’s friends are also student athletes, all of them runners, and there are two girls who study accounting with Freya, as well as a guy from the swim team.
I get a beer from the kitchen and sit down at the table.
Freya sidles closer to Adrian, and he throws his arm over her shoulders.
He murmurs something in her ear, and she laughs.
I drain my beer and go get another one.
An hour later somebody’s pushed the couch against the wall, and then suddenly there’s dancing, and oh my God, I refuse. There are limits to what I’m willing to do for Adrian, and dancing is where I draw the line.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you want to run right now?” Adrian asks when he sits down next to me a little while later.
I send him an exasperated look. “I’m not that bad.”
“So a nine?”
“Barely a seven.” I shake my head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Go and dance and have fun.”
He ignores me, grabs my glass, and takes a drink. He makes a face and starts to cough a second later.
“That’s not beer.”
I snort out a laugh. “What gave it away?”
“Why are you drinking whiskey from a beer glass?”
“Otherwise I have to go back and forth every time I run out.”
He takes a closer look at me. “How drunk are you?”
“Not as drunk as I was planning to be by now. It’s slow going.”
He takes another drink and makes a face again. Freya comes and lands next to Adrian, smiling widely.
“Come dance, both of you.” She’s all flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
Adrian raises his brows at me.
“You two go ahead,” I say.
Freya grabs Adrian’s hand and pulls him up. He sends me a look over his shoulder as Freya drags him away.
I watch them dance, her arms around his neck and his around her waist. She gets up on her tiptoes and kisses him.
The masochistic side of me refuses to look away.
There’s a realization unfurling inside me.
That this is something else.
That I’m on borrowed time.
And the clock is ticking down mercilessly.