Chapter 7
seven
Ash
“Hey, how’s it going?” Dylan says, sliding into the open seat next to me.
I blink out of the general fugue state I adopt for most of my classes and stare at him.
Along with AP Chemistry, AP Economics is one of two classes I share with Dylan this semester, which explains his presence here. What it doesn’t explain, however, is why the hell he’s here, sitting right next to me and trying to strike up a conversation.
I pointedly turn away, focusing on the whiteboard at the front of the class where Ms. Pederson is painstakingly copying out notes on fiscal policy before class starts.
“You can’t just ignore me all period,” he says, sounding amused.
“Watch me,” I mutter, still staring straight ahead.
“I’m serious. I can be annoyingly persistent. Just ask any of my teachers. ‘Dylan may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he refuses to give up even when he probably should.’”
I bite back a startled chuckle, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of my eye before I can stop myself. “Did someone really say that about you?”
He grins wryly. “Well…no. At least, not to my face. But that doesn’t mean they’re not thinking it. Perseverance is my superpower. What about you?”
“Huh?” I ask, my pulse quickening.
“Your superpower,” Dylan repeats patiently. “Come on, everyone’s got something they’re best at. For me, it’s dedication. I can throw myself at a problem over and over until I solve it. Who needs actual intelligence when you can rely on sheer stubbornness?”
He says it with a grin, clearly intending it as a joke, but I frown. “That’s not funny.”
His grin fades as he fixes me with a curious look. “What do you mean?”
I turn more fully to face him, abandoning any pretense of ignoring him. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that. I saw you at that vet’s office. The doctor there seemed to respect you, and I doubt he would’ve hired an idiot.”
Dylan shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Hired is a strong word. I’m pretty much a glorified volunteer.”
I wave a hand. “Whatever. My point is, you’ve gotta be smart if you work at a place like that and are taking AP classes. Give yourself a bit more credit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You mean like you did last Friday at the vet? ‘I can’t possibly take care of a mostly self-reliant cat on my own. Oh, woe is me!’”
I scowl at his bad impression. “I did not sound like that.”
“Close enough. How is the little furball anyway? Did your aunt let you keep her?”
As I’d expected, Aunt Claudette had taken to the kitten right away, cooing over it the instant I returned from the vet’s.
Before the weekend was over, she had a litter box set up in one corner of the cramped kitchen, a ludicrously tall cat tree perched by the television, and piles of toys scattered everywhere as tripping hazards.
Thankfully, the kitten was already house trained—some asshole must’ve abandoned it before I’d come along—but I feared for the continued safety of my aunt’s more fragile knickknacks.
“The cat’s fine,” I mutter, ignoring the rest of his question. No reason to give him more excuses to look smug. “Besides, my reaction was different. I was just being honest.”
“Or maybe you don’t see yourself clearly either,” he counters. Little flecks of gold glitter in his eyes, his unruly mop of hair falling over his forehead.
It takes me a concerted effort not to stare. Swallowing, I face forward again and see Ms. Pederson finishing up her notes. “Whatever.”
I’m saved the need to listen to his response by Ms. Pederson calling the class to order. Fifty minutes later, I’ve heard about as much on inflation as I can stand. I shove my things in my bag and start for the classroom door.
Next up is lunch, which will at least be a welcome break. Maybe I’ll even start a new sketch today. Nothing like still-life to lull you into a peaceful daze. I’m a few steps out the door and into the hall before I realize I’m not alone.
“So, does she have a name yet?” Dylan asks. His hands grip his backpack’s shoulder straps where they cross his chest.
So much for being saved by the bell.
“No.”
He’s giving me such an incredulous look that he almost collides with a girl hurrying past us down the hall. “Seriously? Who spends an entire weekend with a pet and doesn’t give it a name?”
“She’s not my pet! She’s…” I pause, unsure how to finish that thought. Instead, I switch tact. “You seem weirdly invested in an animal you didn’t want either.”
Something in his expression shutters, and he stares down at his feet as he walks. Guilt floods me. Just because I don’t want him bothering me doesn’t mean I want to make him feel like shit either. I’m on the verge of apologizing when he finally speaks.
“My house isn’t exactly conducive to supporting a pet right now.”
Despite myself, I’m curious. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my mom works long hours and so does my older brother, so they wouldn’t really be able to help out. And my own schedule’s so packed, what with school, my shifts at the vet, and chores around the house.” He shrugs. “Taking care of a pet would be one thing too many.”
I get the feeling he’s holding something back, but I don’t push. After all, he’s not the only one with secrets.
Dylan visibly reins in his emotions, plastering on a smile. “We used to have a dog, though. I’d love to have another…someday. What about you, oh hater of life?”
I roll my eyes. “I never said I hated life. Just that I shouldn’t be responsible for it.”
Dylan opens his mouth, then cuts off as a pack of guys in school jerseys shove past us, laughing and calling out to one another. I briefly lose Dylan in the crowd and find myself slowing down to scan for him.
What the hell are you doing? You should be taking this opportunity to escape.
I hesitate, my stomach twisting. I’m still standing there uncertainly when Dylan emerges from the crowd.
He breaks into a wide grin when he sees me. “You waited.”
“We all make mistakes,” I mutter, starting down the hall with long strides.
He hurries to keep up, his heavy backpack thwacking against his back with each step. “So, okay, you don’t hate animals. Does that mean you had pets growing up?”
An image of the Ellingtons’ immaculately kept house flashes before my eyes, and I snort. “Hardly. My grandmother would’ve been horrified at the prospect of all that hair on her precious carpets. Besides, what would her esteemed guests think? How uncouth of her.”
Dylan chuckles. “I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone use the word ‘uncouth’ in a sentence.”
“I was being ironic.”
He shakes his head, grinning. “If you say so.” His grin fades slightly. “So, is that where you lived? Before moving here, I mean?”
Goosebumps prickle my skin. I can see the direction this conversation is heading, and it’s not one I intend to ever pursue, let alone with a virtual stranger in a crowded hallway.
Best to shut this down now.
I whirl on him, and Dylan jerks to a halt, his eyes widening.
“Look,” I snap. “Just what the hell is it you think you’re doing here?”
He blinks. “Um…talking.”
“Why?”
His face takes on a stubborn cast as he sets his jaw. “Because I’ve decided to be your friend.” It sounds like he’s trying to speak confidently, though the way his voice wobbles at the end sort of ruins the effect, turning it into an uncertain question.
“I don’t have any friends.”
I hate the way Dylan winces, but I refuse to back down. People I let get close inevitably end up hurt. Just look at Harvey. Look at my mom and dad. This is for Dylan’s own good as much as it is for mine.
I turn to depart, thinking the conversation’s over, but Dylan’s next words bring me up short. “Doesn’t it ever get lonely, acting like this?”
Heat radiates through me as he steps in closer, my pulse pounding as he holds my gaze. My voice comes out hoarse. “Why do you care?”
He shifts another step closer, the two of us practically pressed together now. We must be drawing stares from passing students, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his to check.
“Because,” he says. “I don’t think you’re the colossal asshole you pretend to be. I think there’s so much more to you that you keep buried beneath the surface. And the glimpses I’ve gotten of that guy make me really want to get to know him better.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if there’s nothing deeper worth knowing? What if the real me is just as fucked up as meets the eye?”
He shrugs, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the serious glint in his hazel eyes. “Then, I guess I’m not as smart as you seem to think I am.”
He shifts, and for one terrifying, exhilarating moment, I think he might be about to lean in and kiss me. Then, he brushes past, adjusting his backpack as he continues down the hall.
I stand where I am for several beats, feeling shell-shocked. What the hell just happened?
Dylan pauses a few feet ahead of me, glancing back. “I’m meeting my friends for lunch. Want to join?”
“Nope.” Recovering some of my lost wits, I try to breeze past him, but of course, he doesn’t take the hint.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He grins, my heart pattering in a way I do my best to ignore. “Don’t you want to see the inside of that room you were lurking outside your first week?”
I don’t respond, lengthening my strides as I weave past other students. I have the advantage of longer legs, but apparently I underestimated Dylan’s stubbornness.
“Seriously?” he huffs, struggling to keep pace through the crowd of students. “Are you really back to ignoring me now?”
No response.
He rolls his eyes. “Isn’t that a little childish?”
No response. He wants to be stubborn? I’ll show him stubborn. I lived with the Ellingtons for five years. I learned the art of the cold shoulder from the best of them.
“Fine,” he sighs, slowing his gait and falling back. “Be that way. Catch you later.”
I release a relieved breath as he fades behind me even as I shove down a pang in my chest. This is the only way this can go if I want to keep myself and everyone else around me safe. No strong emotional ties. No slip-ups. No more Harveys. It’s for the best.
…Right?
The rest of the day passes Dylan-free, or at least as much as it can be when we’ve still got AP Chem together. To my relief, however, he doesn’t try to make small talk again. Gradually, I start to relax. Guess he took the hint after all.
And if I’m a smidge disappointed he’d given up so easily, well, too bad. I’d told him to leave me alone, and he’d listened. What more can I ask for?
The final bell tolls, and I bolt for the exit. I’m cutting through the parking lot outside when the voice I’ve both dreaded and yearned to hear all day shouts, “Hey, wait up!”
I don’t, quickening my steps instead. It doesn’t help.
“Asshole,” Dylan pants when he reaches me. I can’t resist giving him a smug look, and he scoffs. “I never disputed you were an asshole—I just said you’re not only an asshole.”
“And you don’t know how to take a hint.”
“I told you—dogged persistence is my superpower.”
“I’m not sure being a pain in the ass counts as a superpower.”
He grins at me. “Sure it does.” He falls into step at my side, and I reluctantly slow my gait. Apparently, this is happening whether I like it or not.
We walk in silence for a time, me sulking while he hums obnoxiously under his breath like he doesn’t have a care in the world. When we reach the turn for my aunt’s street and he turns with me, I raise an eyebrow. “You live around here?”
He gestures off to our right. “Nah, I’m a good twenty minutes that way. Though I’ve got a shift with Dr. Jenkins first today anyway.”
“Then, why the hell are you following me?”
“I’m keeping you company. You know, like friends do. Speaking of, mind if I stop by and see how She-Who-Has-Not-Been-Named is faring? Maybe I can help you decide.”
Tension roils through me. I stop, turning to glare at him. “Listen, I get that I’m your new charity project or whatever, but just because you helped me save a cat does not magically make us friends. It’s not your job to save me. So, kindly fuck off.”
For a moment, he looks ready to do precisely that. Then, his lips firm. He gives me a long, assessing look, and I ready myself for another argument.
To my surprise, however, he simply nods. “See you tomorrow, Ash.”
I watch him walk away, never once glancing back. I should feel victorious. But staring after his retreating form, all I feel is a hollow sense of loss.