19. Dylan
NINETEEN
DYLAN
Bzzzz. Beep. Beep.
I turn on my side and hide my face in the pillow.
Bzzzz. Beep. Bzzzz.
What the fuck is that noise?
Beep. Beep. BEEP!
“Dude, will you turn off your alarm already?” a voice from next to me mumbles.
I slowly force my eyes open and blink at the ceiling.
“Oh my God!” The mumble turns into loud annoyance.
I watch from the corner of my eye as Indy pushes himself up on his elbows and looks around blearily. He leans over me, grabs my phone, and starts to fidget with it. A moment later, he shoves it in front of my face. “What the fuck kind of alarm is this?”
I throw my arm over my eyes to block out the day. “It’s an equation. You have to solve it before you can turn it off. It helps you start the day in the right mood.”
“I’m fucking a nerd,” he says.
“It’s supposed to wake your brain up enough that you won’t snooze the alarm.”
Beep. Beep. BEEP!
Indy drops the phone on my chest and throws himself back on the bed. “I’m too hungover for this shit.”
I grin at the put-out tone, take the phone, and turn off the alarm before I go back to staring at the ceiling.
“Why are you setting your alarm for five on a Saturday?” Indy mutters, face half-hidden in a pillow.
“I have to be at the airport in a few hours.”
He’s silent for a little while.
“Ah. The infamous bachelor trip.”
I sigh and nod. “Want to go for me?” I’m only partially joking. I really don’t know what I was thinking when I booked the tickets.
Well, to be fair, I do know.
I wasn’t.
Simple as that.
Tequila was involved. Too much of it. Not right away. No, first there was the video call with the excited face of my best friend on the screen.
We’re getting married!
This summer.
You’ll be my best man.
Freya holding up her hand. The left one. The one with the gleaming band on the fourth finger.
I knew it was coming. I would’ve had to be a complete idiot not to think the proposal would happen sooner rather than later.
It still caught me off guard.
It’s pathetic, really. I’m twenty-four years old. I’ve been in love with Adrian for the better part of my life. I moved across the continent to get over him three years ago. Three years. Three. Years .
And I failed spectacularly.
I was trying to forget.
Instead, absence made the heart grow fonder.
So fond that I chickened out of attending Freya and Adrian’s engagement party, went out, got so drunk I have absolutely no recollection of that night, and did something really fucking stupid.
Anyway. Five months later, here we are.
Adrian and me.
Going away on a two-week trip to Fiji for his bachelor party.
Of sorts. It’s just the two of us because Adrian’s best man apparently decided on some drunken whim to buy plane tickets and surprise him, because his best man, with his tiny, pea-sized brain and a humongous streak of selfishness decided he’d take Adrian for himself for one last time before he has to lose him for good.
Well done, Dylan. Dramatic to the very end.
I rub my hands over my face and blow out a breath before I turn my head to the side.
“Will you drop me off at the airport?”
Indy purses his lips. “Still planning to go through with this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re in love with this dude, and he’s getting married, so the whole thing feels a bit like self-inflicted torture?”
I glower at him. “You know, you were supposed to be a hookup. Get out.”
Indy laughs, no offense taken. “Shouldn’t have kept me around after that first time then, huh?”
“Kept you around? I did my best to get rid of you.”
“You know perfectly well that deep down you wanted me to stay. That sad boy routine gets old fast.”
“I’m not sad. I’ve just been trying to achieve… mystique.”
He laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bed, but then he sobers again and sends me a long look. “Want my advice?”
“No.”
“Don’t go.”
I look away. “I will anyway.”
“Yeah, I know.” He pats me on the thigh. “Come on. Let’s get you to that airport, then.”
“What time does your flight leave?” Indy asks as we maneuver through the crowd at SFO.
I adjust the shoulder trap of my backpack and tug my suitcase after me. “An hour and a half.”
“Adrian’s already here?”
“Yup.”
I wheel my suitcase to the counter and hand over my luggage. Once that’s taken care of, I turn to Indy.
“Thanks,” I say.
He shrugs. “Least I can do, seeing how I will one hundred percent squat in your apartment while you’re gone. I’ll even water your plants as a thank-you.”
“I don’t have any plants.”
“You will by the time you’re back. You should get a dog,” he says, because that’s a sensible reply.
“Because I don’t have any plants?”
“No, I’ve just always wanted a dog,” he says happily. “We could co-parent it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll come up with some good names while you do.”
I roll my eyes at him while he grins at me. Indy tilts his head to the side and studies me for a moment.
“Go on then. Go on your trip. And while you’re there, get over him,” he says. “There are plenty of guys in the world. I’ll introduce you to some when you get back.”
I nod and give him a small smile. “It’s a deal.”
He hugs me, claps me on the back, winks, and walks away. I take a deep breath, shoulder my bag, and get going.
Since most of San Francisco seems hell-bent on traveling this morning, it takes me forever to move through security. Once I’m done, I pull out my phone and check my messages. Nothing. I head to the gate.
Heart beating wildly with anticipation.
Legs carrying me forward with speed.
And then there he is.
I see him immediately.
Adrian.
My Adrian.
Mine for the next two weeks.
And then that’s it.
He looks around, and his smile is brilliant when he sees me approach.
A second later, he whoops, no fucks given about all the other people around us, and rushes toward me.
He tackles me with a hug. Wraps himself around me.
He smells like home. We almost fall to the floor, and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“Hi,” I say. “Hi,” I say it again, stupidly happy to see him.
“Hi yourself.” He looks equally happy to see me, and I bask in the sunshine of his smile.
“How was your flight?” I ask. It’s been almost six months since I last saw him in person, almost a week since we last spoke. His hair is different. He’s dressed in a pair of blue shorts and a white T-shirt, a pair of sunglasses on top of his head. I drink in the sight, parched from the years away.
“It was fine. I got some reading done for that stupid class you made me take.”
Adrian’s been patiently working his way through a business management course in community college. He enrolled a year ago, and despite the occasional complaints and promises to quit for good, he’s doing great.
“But fuck school. Ready to have fun?” he asks, eyes shining with excitement.
“And by ‘fun’ you mean spend the next thirteen hours on a plane?”
He throws his arm over my shoulders and laughs. “I’ve got a deck of cards in my backpack.”
“I’m not playing poker with you.”
“You’re totally going to play poker with me. It’ll be good for you.”
“How is it good for me?”
“It’s something you’re bad at.” He shrugs. “It keeps your ego in check.”
“I’m not bad at poker,” I protest.
“You’re pretty bad. Not technically, but you can’t bluff for shit, so you need all the practice you can get.”
“I can bluff just fine.”
“The hell you can,” he says with a laugh. “You’ve got so many tells.”
“You just know me way too well.”
“Which makes me the perfect person to practice with.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”