Prologue #2
“Ah-ha! So he’s using her. I’ll fucking kill him.” I go to unbuckle my seat belt, but Dylan stops me, his hand covering mine as he laughs so loudly, I’m shocked it didn’t wake the happy couple.
“Trust me. If you knew Dom like I do, you’d know the man doesn’t have a bad intention in his body. He’s probably already written his vows and picked out the centerpieces for the big day.”
I narrow my eyes, unsure whether to trust him. Ellie and Dom have been dating for a short time, but I’ve never seen her this into someone before. I glance at Ellie once more. I want the best for her, of course, like any friend would.
“Dee.” Dylan’s light and friendly tone is gone.
I’m drawn in, captivated by the seriousness carried with just one word.
His hand is still on mine, my heart racing as he stares at me.
I have to remind myself to take a breath.
“I wouldn’t let him fuck this up. I don’t think he could if he tried.
He’s all in.” He holds up his phone and I spy a text thread between him and Dom from earlier today.
Duusde I thifkn Im in lpove wiuth her. Annd I neeeeeeeeeeeed a ridfe homne. Pls pick us upl.
I take a breath, shoulders sinking with relief. Dylan notices and lifts his hand from mine.
“You’re quite the friend to sing his praises like that,” I say.
“Coming from the woman about ready to throw down, nearly abandoning her Crunchwrap Supreme to defend her friend? I’m honored.”
I laugh and realize this guy isn’t all good looks. He’s fun too. I’m not opposed to seeing more of him, and it makes me like Dominic even more for Ellie. You can learn a lot about someone from the friendships they keep.
“I’d be back for my food,” I say, reaching into the bag and pulling out a cinnamon twist—one of his. “So what about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you already married to the lead singer of whatever band it is you play in or what?”
His eyes glitter before he shakes his head. “Nope. Just me, the guys, and work. Trying to focus on planting some professional roots before I get caught up in something like…well, something like that.” He glances at the backseat again.
“Fair enough. I’d want the same.”
“What’s the plan after graduation?”
“I still have two more years, assuming Meyers doesn’t doom me to eternal student life.”
“You’ll pass,” he says confidently.
“Are you volunteering to tutor me?” I ask.
“Uh, no. That’s not going to help you pass. What part of I flunked the class twice made me sound like a good tutor?”
I scoff. “Maybe I just want some eye candy while I struggle through.”
“Now that, I could help with. But seriously, what’s next for you? Will you stay local?”
“I start my internship this spring with Keller’s Financial. I’m hoping they bring me on permanently when I’m done with school.”
Dylan whistles. “Okay, hotshot.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Hey, you should be proud of that. That’s not an easy internship to get.”
“I would think the artist in you would be more impressed by my sad-girl, emo poetry from middle school, than my spreadsheets.”
“I would not underestimate how interested I can be in spreading sheets.”
“Well, now I know you’re just lying about focusing on your career.” I hit him with air quotes for good measure. “Knocking me out with a line like that, I just know you’re breaking hearts all over Columbus.”
“Not as many as you’d break with that sad-girl poetry. Remember any good ones? I’d love to hear them.”
I shouldn’t have said anything. I was more so joking around, not realizing he’d actually ask me to elaborate.
A tiny thread of embarrassment tangling up my insides pulls taut, and I force my face to remain neutral even though my stomach twists with discomfort at the wave of memories that hits me.
It’s been so long, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forget that sinking feeling of shame.
“You could never handle the emotional wreckage I’d reduce you to,” I say with false confidence. He laughs and returns to his food, oblivious to the turn my thoughts have taken…or at least I think he is, until his silence has me returning my focus to him once more.
“What?” he asks, uncertainty ringing in the space between us. “Why do you look like you’re going to cry?”
“I don’t cry.”
“Everyone cries.”
I take another bite of my food and ignore the unsettling feeling sizzling my skin under his assessing stare.
I suddenly realize the drummer with good hair and hot lips might be more than a pretty face.
He’s an empath, and I return full swing to my usual self.
The part of me that can’t be embarrassed by anyone or anything.
The one with an answer to every question.
The one with a punch line for every joke.
Jokes I refuse to be the butt of anymore.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Dylan,” I say, forcing myself to relax in my seat.
“I’m not sure that would be possible,” he responds quickly.
The air in the car seems to still, and I find him watching me, his eyes on my lips, all humor gone between us.
Before Dylan or I get the chance to do something that’s probably a little dumb and very much impulsive, Dom revives himself, mumbling something unintelligible then demanding a taco for him and Ellie. Dylan begrudgingly hands the bag to them.
Dylan drives us home, making light small talk between the four of us. I wait, holding Ellie’s door open, watching her crawl out of the car—a miracle, given the lack of coordination I’m witnessing. Before I close the door after her, I catch Dylan’s stare fixed on me.
My insides tumble at the heat in that stare.
I give him a wink, betting that even if Dom and Ellie end up together, the hot drummer and I will most likely see very little of each other after this.
But I hold onto that steady confidence he seemed to have in me, thinking my future was as bright as any other.
Probably should have held on a little tighter, I think the next day, when I flunk my econ exam.