Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
let people help you
Dylan
‘Another day in paradise.’ Max pulls open the curtains and the blast of light sends me hurtling under the covers. I peek through
a gap in the duvet as my eyes adjust and see him looking out at the misting rain with his hands on his hips, shoulders sharp,
boxer briefs low, as always. He cranes his neck as he looks out, although the drizzle blocks most of our view. ‘I feel like
my dad, standing here peering out the window like this.’
‘Funny, because you look like me peering out the window waiting for my dad,’ I say, bringing my head out of the covers and attempting to discreetly wriggle closer to the warm patch of the bed he
left in his wake.
The sound of his laugh fills the room, like every part of him does. ‘You know, you only accosted me twice last night. Better
than the night before.’
‘You can’t keep saying I’m accosting you.
’ I successfully make it to the trapped heat beneath the covers and almost sigh at the sensation.
My unconscious body betraying me is hardly unexpected, considering the only thing on my mind over the past few days has been everything we did to that poor, unsuspecting sofa.
We were in a woodworking class yesterday and I had to physically pull my eyes away from Max’s fingers.
It’s a miracle no one else has commented on it.
But the fact is, even within these four creaky walls, Max and I have kept things certifiably PG. There’s been a lot of kissing–sometimes
soft and gentle, sometimes with greedy tongues and teeth–and plenty of eager, over-the-clothes groping that almost veers into
something more, and there’s been boundless patience from a half-naked Max while I turn his limbs this way and that to analyse
every tattoo on his skin.
I want him again. I know that. But the way he’s stuck to his word and let me take everything at my own pace? It shouldn’t
be a turn-on, and it definitely shouldn’t be a surprise, but it’s both.
‘Did you know that you are the cutest snorer I’ve ever heard?’ he asks through a yawn, running a hand down his torso.
‘I don’t snore.’ I tug the duvet up to my chin.
He raises a brow, nearly hidden behind messy hair. ‘You mean no one has ever told you that you snore.’
‘Maybe, Max, it’s because they know it would embarrass me to find out.’
‘When I can’t sleep, those little snuffly sounds make me a little less frustrated about it.’
‘I’m glad I’m a mood stabiliser for you, but I might just stop breathing, if that’s okay.’ I pull a hand out to give him a
thumbs-up.
‘Not okay, actually,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘And for the record, you do the opposite of mood stabilising. My emotions
are very unsteady, where you’re concerned.’
When he looks at me, I swear his eyes burn through the duvet, straight to the knot of want that sits mostly in my belly, but
sometimes, unexpectedly, in my chest.
‘Did we both have the same idea this morning with a lie-in?’ he asks.
‘Would most people consider seven o’clock a lie-in?’
He plops down on the bed by my feet. ‘We’re not most people, Dylan.’
I don’t know if it’s the we itself, or the implication that there’s any way I could be grouped with someone like Max in whatever arbitrary way, but it makes my
heart pound.
His lips tip up in the tiniest smile, and I give a reply that I hope doesn’t give away the mess in my brain. ‘Right. Well,
we should get ready if we want to be on time.’
‘I know, I know, you don’t want to rush before the hike even starts. I promise I’ll be ready.’ His stomach makes a noise,
and he clutches it. ‘They’d better pull through on their promise of breakfast en route, because I genuinely think my organs
are about to shut down. And I know what that feels like, so I’m being dead serious right now.’
‘Have you ever considered not being so dramatic?’
‘Honestly? Never.’ He sighs loudly. ‘Drama tends to find me.’
‘Did you look up the route we’re walking? I sent it to you.’ He shakes his head, so I sit up to grab my phone. ‘There’s this
tiny, ancient chapel called St Govan’s on the route that I’ve wanted to visit even before I knew I was going on this trip.
I’ve been waiting for this hike to be announced for weeks.’ As I scroll through my saved videos to find it, he shuffles over
to me, arm warm against mine. ‘It’s halfway up a cliff and you can only access it via this set of stone steps. I was wondering
if maybe you could take photos on my behalf?’
‘For you, Dylan,’ he puts a palm to his chest, ‘I will bring my exceptionally heavy camera and all its accompanying shit on
a miles-long coastal walk.’
‘I just meant on your phone,’ I say, turning away so that he won’t see my smile. For you, Dylan. ‘But thank you.’
It feels good to have this. To focus on me and how I feel and let myself exist in this weird in-between where I get to have fun with Max
without any pressure.
But then I check my texts and spot one from Ava, and my stomach lurches. This is one thing I’ve been avoiding thinking about.
My friend asked me to stay away from her brother and I’m explicitly going against her.
‘What’s your face doing?’ Max asks bluntly.
‘I just saw a text Ava sent last night asking how everything’s going.’
‘She never asks me how everything’s going,’ he says easily. When I don’t bite, he asks, ‘What’s wrong with that? Need me to tell her to stop
being so clingy?’
He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he snorts a laugh. Ava is the opposite of clingy and we both know it.
I pull at the threads of my fraying bracelet. ‘I suddenly remembered that me doing this thing with you might make my and Ava’s
friendship weird.’ I weigh up only telling him half the truth, but I’ve come this far, so I continue, ‘My last relationship
isolated me from a lot of my friends, and I’ve really liked having Ava around. You probably don’t get it, because you’ve always
had her in your life, but I like being her friend. I like knowing she likes me.’ I trail off, embarrassment heating my cheeks
from revealing that last part.
‘I do get it,’ he says simply, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. ‘It’s nice to know you’re one of her chosen ones. She’s careful
with who she loves. But I also know she’s wildly unbothered about what other people are up to, and she’s loyal to the people
she cares about, so honestly, you’re not really being fair to her by assuming she’d react badly to finding out about this.’
I wait for the sting of his reproach, but it doesn’t arrive. All that comes is the realisation that Max can stand up for himself,
or his sister, without turning it into a personal attack, and that strikes me deeper than any kind of reprimand would.
He continues, ‘When have you ever known Ava to have a reaction to anything? She’d be kind of grossed out, maybe, but I honestly don’t think she’d care.’
He’s probably right, but it only slightly alleviates my fears. ‘I don’t want to risk losing her if she finds out, that’s all.’
‘Were you intending to tell her?’
I pause. ‘Did you not hear any of what I just said?’
‘She’s not going to find out, Dylan, because I’m not going to tell her either.
Okay?’ He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head up towards his.
‘Believe it or not, informing my sister that I had an incredible time fucking one of her friends isn’t super high on my list of dream conversations. ’
My pulse stutters, and then the need to be validated raises its head. ‘Was it really that good for you?’
His laugh bounces around the room, but also my ribcage, somehow, and he releases my chin. ‘If you’re questioning how much
I enjoyed it, then maybe I need to be more vocal next time.’ His smile flashes and he clarifies, ‘If there’s a next time, obviously.’
I remember him being vocal. I remember him saying he liked it, at the time, I just wasn’t sure if I believed it. When I don’t reply, he flings himself backwards on the bed
and stretches those exceptionally long limbs, revealing my recent favourite tattoo of a tiny Highland cow in the crook of
his arm. I’m overcome by the urge to feel how soft his skin is there.
‘Do you want to get in the shower first?’ he asks the ceiling.
‘No, you go first.’ I say it like it was ever a question. He always showers first; that’s the routine. ‘I need to talk to
my sister. Not about you. She’s moving into halls today, so I want to check on her.’
He does one more obnoxiously loud stretch in response and saunters off to the bathroom.
Dylan: Good luck for today
Dylan: Is everything looking okay?
There’s no response for a few minutes, which is unusual enough, and then a message comes through.
Tahlia: Yeah, it’s all fine! No problems here.
Immediately, I press the call button.
The second she picks up, I blurt out, ‘Why did you use perfect grammar?’
‘It’s fine,’ she repeats.
‘Tahlia,’ I say in my best older-sibling voice. ‘What’s going on?’
There’s an extremely unusual pause from the young woman who has never known silence in her life, and then she says quietly,
‘Dad texted me around four this morning. I only just saw it. He forgot about dropping me off and only remembered when he got
home from being out drinking. He realised he’d still be drunk by the time I need him to drive me.’
Part of me is glad he at least had the sense of mind to know he couldn’t drive, but the rest of my brain whirs, trying to
come up with a solution while Tahlia’s still talking. ‘Mum can’t change her shift either. She’s already at work. It’ll be
okay, though.’
‘He had one job,’ I murmur, nails digging into my palm.
‘He was really apologetic,’ she says half-heartedly.
‘Did he offer to help you find an alternative? How are you going to move all your stuff?’
I think about the excited voice notes she’d sent last night alongside the photo of the suitcase and boxes in her room, all
ready for her to start her bright new life.
‘I’ll figure it out,’ she says, but the barely perceptible tremor in her voice breaks my heart. I should’ve been there, and