16. Ash
sixteen
Ash
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
My memories of last night are hazy at best, but I remember enough to piece things together.
I’d gone to that stupid party to get wasted, hook up with some cute boy, and forget all about Dylan.
Instead, I’d ended up thinking of nobody else.
Greta must’ve called him at some point, and despite how terribly I’d treated him, he’d come.
And in one moment of drunken weakness, I’d ruined everything.
Just like with Harvey. Just like I always eventually do.
My head throbs as my eyes flick from Dylan to the bed to the door, seeking something to latch onto but liking none of the options.
What good would running do? We’re in my own room for Christ’s sake.
And from the intent look on Dylan’s face, I can tell he’s not about to let this go. Not without talking about it first.
Well then—let’s get this over with.
I cross my arms and fix him with my fiercest scowl as I struggle to slow my pounding heart. “What the fuck is there to talk about?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. How about that wild dream we just shared?”
“What dream?” I shrug, keeping my expression carefully neutral.
Dylan rolls his eyes. He moves as if to step closer, halting when I tense. “Come on, Ash,” he sighs, making a pacifying gesture. “Drop the act. I heard what you said in the dream and saw how you reacted when we woke up. You can’t pretend nothing happened.”
“But nothing did happen,” I say even as I internally kick myself. If only I’d been quicker to mask my real emotions.
From the way Dylan’s eyeing me, it’s clear I’m getting nowhere. Time for a different approach.
“The only thing that happened here,” I say, raising my voice in mock anger, “was you invading my privacy! I thought I told you to stay away from me.”
Dylan’s eyes widen. “I’m only here because you asked me to—”
“I think you should go,” I say, stabbing my finger toward the door.
The ache behind my temple grows while I await Dylan’s response. He doesn’t budge, studying me uncertainly. My stomach falls when his lips firm, the determination plain on his face. He steps forward, but instead of moving toward me or the door, he plops down onto the edge of the bed.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s really happening.”
I clench my jaw, struggling to think past my pounding head. If Dylan refuses to budge, I can only think of two other possibilities to get rid of him: kicking him out via force, which I’m not willing to do…or surrender.
My shoulders sag as I slump against the wall, bowing my head. “Please, Dylan.” Desperation fills my tone. “I’m begging you, just drop it.”
There’s a long pause. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, allowing myself a brief flicker of hope.
“I can’t,” he says softly.
So much for that.
“Fine,” I whisper, my voice heavy with defeat. I take a deep breath, then meet his soft hazel eyes, dread seeping through my veins. “I can visit people in their dreams.”
I’m not sure what I expected. Perhaps for Dylan to gasp and deny it, or for him to run screaming from the room like Harvey essentially had. Instead, my confession elicits nothing except a slow nod.
“I figured.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “The whole shared dream thing kinda gave it away.”
Despite my life unraveling before my eyes, the sight of Dylan’s smile flutters my pulse. A hazy memory from last night comes back to me, leaning against Dylan’s firm side, his warm hand clasped in mine. I shove the memory down. Dammit, I need to focus!
“And that doesn’t…bother you?” I venture hesitantly.
He shrugs. “Why would it?”
I stare at him, shock rippling over my skin. “Because it’s unnatural! Because it’s invasive! Because it’s an impossible, insane power that shouldn’t exist in a rational world!”
Incredulity grips me as Dylan’s grin widens. “Maybe so. And I’m probably going to freak out later once I’m home and have time to think about it more. But right now, it seems pretty badass. You’re like a real-life superhero.”
“There’s nothing super about it,” I say, still floored by his nonchalance. This is going nothing like what I’d imagined, and my burgeoning hangover isn’t helping me process.
“What do you mean?” he asks from his spot on my bed. His excited eyes suck me in like a warm embrace. “Sure, it’s not as flashy as invisibility or super-strength. But you can imagine entire worlds into existence and make whatever you want happen. It’s sort of like being a god.”
“No, it’s not!” I shove off from the wall, too wound up to sit still. “You don’t get it. I can barely control what happens when I dream. I have to take sleeping pills every night just to ensure I don’t accidentally hurt anyone.”
Dylan scrunches his brow as he considers my words. “So, everything that happened last night…”
“Completely unintentional.” I huff a humorless laugh. “Obviously. It took a while for my drunken ass to realize what was happening, and even then, I didn’t know I’d dragged you along for the ride until I saw you by our…by the picnic table.”
Something passes over his face. “What about the musical number and the candlelit dinner?”
I blink. “The what?”
“Never mind,” he mumbles, his cheeks flaring red. Apparently, he’d had a very different experience from me before we met up. “Anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat, “you’ve never tried to learn how to use your power? With enough practice, I bet you could—”
“What part about it being dangerous don’t you understand?
” I snap. “When I was younger, I thought I could control it. I used to explore my own dreams every night. Then, I discovered I could slip into the dreams of others and bring them along for the ride. It was fun—at first. Like a wondrous new adventure each time full of infinite possibilities.” I remember coming home to find my mom’s lifeless body sprawled on her bed, one limp hand still cradling an empty bottle of pills, and shudder.
“But it’s all too easy for dreams to twist into nightmares, forcing you to relive your worst memories or face your deepest fears over and over until you’ll do anything to escape. ”
I tear my gaze away from Dylan’s sympathetic look and gesture at the sketches plastered over my walls.
“These are real—the trees and buildings and people they depict. They help me remain grounded, to remember what actually matters. Dreams are nothing but illusions. Temporary figments that might not be able to harm your flesh but have just as much capacity to traumatize your mind as they do to help. And I decided a long time ago I was better off without them.”
My bed creaks as Dylan rises. I stay stock still while he approaches, pausing a foot or so away. His proximity tugs at me like a magnet, impossible to ignore.
“Is that why you pushed me away?” he asks softly. “Because you were worried about what might happen if I got too close to you?”
Heat prickles my skin as I jerk a nod. “When you confessed your feelings to me, I knew I’d let things go on too long already. Because…”
I trail off, swallowing. Dylan shifts closer. His fingers brush over the skin on my arm, leaving sparks in their wake. “Because why?”
“Because it made it impossible to deny how much I care about you.”
His fingers still. I stare at the floor, afraid to look at him. Despite that, I can hear the smile in his voice. “Does that mean you like me, too?”
My pulse ratchets up a notch, my headache all but forgotten. “This doesn’t change anything. What happened last night could happen again. I could…could hurt you again.”
“The only thing you’ve done to hurt me so far is shove me away.”
My breath catches when Dylan tentatively cups my cheek. Unable to stop myself, I finally look up, meeting his honeyed eyes. “I’ve lost so much already,” I whisper. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you as well.”
“Then don’t,” Dylan says, his words like a soft caress.
Before I can respond, he leans forward, sealing his mouth to mine.
All thoughts of protest flee before the tender press of his lips.
His tongue lightly flicks against my lips, and I open my mouth on a groan, letting him in.
Our hot breaths mingle as his hand brushes along my stubbled cheek.
My own hands find his back, tugging him flush against me.
By the time Dylan and I break apart, both of us panting, I’ve almost forgotten what started our conversation in the first place. Almost…but not quite.
“I take it this means you’re not going to stay away from me.”
Dylan’s flushed face beams at me. “Not a chance in hell.” His hand finds mine, our fingers slotting together perfectly despite my mind screaming at me all the ways this is a terrible idea. “Whatever the dangers are, we’ll face them together.”
Visions of my parents flash before my eyes, faded and frayed like the memory I’d watched play out last night. I swallow it down, forcing a wavering smile as I squeeze Dylan’s hand. “Right. Together.”
“Ash!” Aunt Claudette’s voice suddenly rings out from the hall. My horrified gaze fastens on the jiggling doorknob. “You up yet? I was thinking of making some pan—oh!”
I rip my hand out of Dylan’s right as the door opens. My aunt pauses in the doorway, staring at us. “Well,” she says after a brief span. “I see you have company. It’s Dylan, right?”
“Yes, Ms. Brown,” Dylan says bashfully. “Sorry to surprise you like this. It was late when I brought Ash home last night, so I wound up staying the night.” He indicates the rumpled blankets on the floor. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course, honey,” Aunt Claudette says, offering her usual broad smile. “You’re always welcome here—any of Ash’s friends are.”
Her eyes flick between us in a sort of question, but I don’t correct her. I’m not sure what Dylan and I are at this point, but friends seems as good a label as any now, no matter how hard I’ve fought to resist it.
“Thank you, Ms. Brown,” Dylan says.
She nods, turning to exit into the hall. “I’m making pancakes if you want to stay for breakfast.”
“Thanks, but I should get home.” An anxious shiver races over him. “I borrowed my brother’s truck last night, and he’ll kill me if I don’t return it before his shift this morning.”
“Another time, then. Tell your mom I said hi.”
“Will do!”
My aunt’s heavy footfalls mark her descent down the stairs. I wait until I hear the clang of pans in the kitchen before turning back to Dylan. “So, I guess I’ll, uh, see you later?”
The soft smile he gives me is like my own personal beam of sunshine. “Definitely. But first…”
He leans in, the kiss catching me by surprise. Not that it takes me long to adapt, closing my eyes and losing myself once more in our shared closeness. In the irresistible feel of Dylan against me, our lips and bodies joined as one.
The kiss ends far too soon, Dylan moving to gather up his things and tug on his shoes. “See you tomorrow at school, Ash,” he says with one last parting grin.
Then, he’s gone.
I stare after him, my hungover brain struggling to make sense of everything that’s happened. Somehow, I’d gone from missing Dylan and thinking I’d never talk to him again to kissing him and confessing my deepest, darkest secret, all in the span of a single night.
In some ways, this path feels like it had been inevitable—like no matter what I did, the eventual outcome would’ve always brought us here.
As I heed Aunt Claudette’s call for pancakes, however, I can’t help but think of Harvey, and I send a silent prayer that our relationship doesn’t end up suffering the same sorry fate.