58. Dylan
FIFTY-EIGHT
DYLAN
The buzzing makes my whole body jerk.
I blink, head thick and everything bleary. I’ve been moving in and out of the state of somewhat asleep and not at all asleep for hours now, exhausted to the bone but unable to succumb.
I wish there was a switch that would just turn my brain off and stop me from thinking.
Nina set me up in her and Preston’s guest room. It’s a sleek and stylish place with floor-to-ceiling windows and a magnificent view of the harbor. The bed is so soft that it feels like I’m sleeping on a cloud of feathers.
It’s impossible to get used to it, so after tossing and turning for a few hours, I grabbed the comforter and relocated to the floor. The carpet underneath my back feels a tiny bit more natural, even if I still can’t seem to fall asleep.
The buzzing continues until I hear Nina’s footsteps move past my door. I have so very little interest in what’s going on out there, but my door is ajar, so I hear everything anyway.
Nina’s voice is brisk and annoyed.
“This is a completely inappropriate time for a visit,” she tells somebody.
Silence follows.
“Yes, well, he’s asleep,” she says. “You should stop by in the morning.”
My pulse quickens, and I don’t know what makes me do it, but I get up and sneak out my door.
Nina is standing by the front door and speaking into a screen by the door.
This whole apartment is full of them. There’s one in my room too, and I got a crash course in how to use it earlier, but I barely paid attention.
“Adrian,” Nina says impatiently, and my chest jolts.
Somehow, I’m out my door and already halfway to Nina.
“Adrian?” I don’t know if I intended to speak out loud, but I do anyway. Nina turns around and sighs.
“It’s Adrian,” she says with clear annoyance in her tone.
I stand in the middle of the hallway in my borrowed sweats and my borrowed T-shirt and fidget, feeling like I’m ten years old again and need permission.
“I suppose you can come upstairs,” Nina says before she presses her thumb to the screen.
There’s a brief moment when I wonder, if I wanted to go out, would I even know how to get out of this place?
It takes him a few minutes, but then there’s a knock on the door that’s almost drowned out by the pounding of my heart.
Adrian.
Adrian.
Adrian.
“Adrian,” Nina says, and she has the courtesy to sound more neutral than icy.
“Nina,” he says, eyes only on me, basically dismissing her. “Hey.” He shrugs, almost like he’s apologizing.
“Hey,” I reply.
My shoulders relax for the first time since he walked away from me at the airport.
“Yes, this is a pleasant surprise, but I have work in the morning,” Nina says. And then she’s gone, and it’s just me and Adrian.
I don’t know what to do now. I fervently wished for him, and now that he’s here, I can’t seem to do anything but look at him. Hungrily. As long as I can.
He looks disheveled. Messy hair and a messy air surrounding him.
“Show me your room?” Adrian says.
I nod and we walk down the hallway. I lead him inside, then push the door shut, and lean my back against it.
He looks around in the darkness for a moment before he goes and switches on the bedside lamp. His eyes move over the comforter and the pillow on the floor, and my face heats because of how out of control I feel.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.
“The bed’s really soft.” I look down at my toes. “They say it’s bad for the back, you know?”
He tilts his head to the side and studies me for a long time, and then he’s suddenly sitting on the floor, then lying on the floor.
“Well, come on. Don’t leave me hanging,” he says.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I go to him anyway. I can’t not go to him.
I lie down next to him. Shoulder against shoulder. Hip against hip. Thigh against thigh.
Adrian pulls the covers over us and puts his head next to mine on the pillow.
“Did you know Nina and Preston moved?” he asks.
“Yeah, they told me,” I say quietly.
“But you didn’t tell me.” He doesn’t sound accusatory, just perplexed.
I lick my dry lips and clutch the edge of the comforter.
“You were with Freya,” I finally say. Not accusatory either. Just stating a fact. This just begs the question, why is he here with me and not with her?
He falls silent for a long time.
“I told her,” he says quietly.
I can’t seem to breathe properly.
“Told her what?”
“About me and you.”
For a quick flash, I feel elated. Because to tell her about me and Adrian, there has to be a me and Adrian, right? Right?
Elation turns to numbness in the next breath.
What now? Because the way I see it, it’s me or her, and I don’t think I have a leg up in this competition. The guy he fucked on an island out of loneliness versus the woman he planned to marry.
Is there even a competition, or am I kidding myself by thinking there is?
Is this why he’s here? For a farewell speech?
“What…” I force myself to swallow around the lump in my throat. “What happened?”
The comforter shuffles when he moves.
“She said she needed time to think.”
“Makes sense.” My voice is barely there.
“Dyl?” Adrian says softly, so softly. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.”
He throws his arm over his eyes and draws in a shaky breath.
And I don’t care how much it hurts. How raw I feel. How much I crave and yearn and ache and want. It doesn’t matter, because all I can do is be there for him when he needs me. And he does need me right here and now. I don’t know if he will in the morning, but right now, he does.
I move closer and wrap myself around him. His head is in the crook of my neck, his warm breath on my skin.
I wish he was angry at me. Because this whole situation? I did it. It’s my mess. If I’d never kissed him, this would be the best time of his life. It’d be a miracle.
If I’d never kissed him, he would be with Freya right now, living in a dream.
I would’ve ignored the bone-deep craving and been his friend, longed for him from afar, and he would’ve come home to his fiancée, happy and in love, instead of looking so thoroughly confused and miserable.
Whatever I want to tell myself, Adrian loves Freya, and I don’t think he ever stopped, despite what happened between the two of us.
But I stole him for myself, and turned this impossible dream come true into a confusing nightmare for him.
It’s just another sin on my long list.
I told myself it would be enough to have him “for now.” That once we were off the island, I’d give him back. That whatever time I had with him would be enough.
And I really thought I meant what I said.
But now…
It’s like the minute we got back, I went back on everything I said.
Because having him “for now” turned out to be nowhere near enough. I was lying to myself if I thought I’d ever be able to have him and then just give him back.
On the island, all of it felt theoretical.
Of course he’s Freya’s. Of course. Because she wasn’t there.
Because there came a point where her presence was purely theoretical.
Where I could easily push her out of my thoughts and never consider what would happen if it was me against her.
Because that was never going to be a real possibility.
My heart beats faster and faster, skipping up from my chest to my throat. I feel weary. Heartsick.
Greedy.
Greedy and selfish to my marrow, blood, and cells.
Haven’t you done enough already?
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Haven’t you done enough?
What if I told him I loved him right now? What if I said those words?
What the fuck would that accomplish?
And then comes fear. Bone-deep, sharp-as-a-knife terror that fills my insides inch by inch until my cells are made up of nothing but fear.
I will lose him. I will lose everything. Everything and everyone. I stole something that was never mine to begin with, and when everybody else finds out… I will lose everyone.
When my mom died, my family died too. I was suddenly alone in the world. Just a kid. Six. Alone. And that loneliness lived inside me for years until Adrian came into my life and started filling it. He banished the loneliness and filled my life with people. He gave me family.
I might lose them. All of them. I might ruin everything.
Haven’t you done enough already?
“I love you,” I whisper.
Because apparently I haven’t done enough damage quite yet, and fuck consequences.
He’s very still in my arms before he lets out a shaky breath, his whole body shuddering, and presses his forehead more firmly against my neck.
It’s not some grand love confession. It’s just me putting into words what we both know is there.
I love him.
He has to feel that I love him by now. There’s no way he doesn’t know.
He draws in a shuddery breath. “I didn’t imagine it. You said you loved me. I know you did. I don’t remember when, but you said you loved me.”
“In the raft,” I choke out.
He seems to process that for a moment.
“Why now?” His lips move against my skin and goose bumps flutter over my back.
“Because I’ve always been selfish when it comes to you. Because I think you deserve to know.”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
I nod.
It hurts.
I hurt.
“Dyl?” he says, and I swallow hard and nod again to show I’m still listening. “I love you too.”
It should feel perfect. Like everything I’ve ever wanted. I should be elated about this quiet confession.
“But you also love her,” I say softly.