26. Dee
Chapter twenty-six
Dee
Dylan’s been acting weird all night. I try to shake this nagging need to check his table every so often, just to make sure he’s okay, but it’s hopeless. Something was definitely off when we left our apartment.
My phone buzzes from my bag, and I apologize to Stephanie before checking it to make sure it isn’t Morgan, Emi, or one of the girls with an emergency.
Dylan: How’s it going?
Why the fuck is he texting me?
“Do you need to get that? Feel free…” Stephanie adds.
“Oh, no. I’ll just let them know I’m busy.” I wave off her concern and she smiles before taking another bite of her breadstick.
Dee: Do you mind? I’m trying to focus here.
“I’m going to run to the restroom really quick. Fingers crossed this is one of those instances where it just takes someone leaving the table for the food to come. I’m starving.” Stephanie laughs, and so do I. She’s sweet.
“Thanks for taking one for the team,” I say before she heads toward the back of the restaurant.
Dylan: You don’t look focused. You look like you’re texting me back.
Dylan: And now you’re alone. What happened? Did you scare her already?
Dee: Don’t be a shithead. My date is going to the bathroom. Yours is right in front of you. Pay attention.
Dylan: She’s hung up on her ex. He’s called her three times since we sat down. She clearly wants to answer.
Fuck. I knew I was overconfident.
Dee: Maybe she just feels bad for him.
Dylan: She’s pulling up screenshots of their past conversations to get my input.
Dee: Oh. That’s a bad sign.
Dylan: You think?
Dee: Well, give me the scoop. Do you think she should give this guy another shot?
Dylan: Whose side are you on?
Dee: That depends on what you saw in the screenshots.
Dylan: Very helpful.
Dee: Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Her relationship status said single, not emotionally unavailable as fuck.
Dylan: That would have been helpful. Is your date going better than mine?
Dee: That seems like a low bar…
Dylan: He just sent her a picture of her Pinterest board. Says he wants to give her the engagement ring of her dreams, so he’s getting inspiration.
Dee: Okay, the bar’s in hell.
Dylan: The bar or me?
Dee: Hey, it could be worse.
Dylan: How, exactly?
Dee: The food is really good here.
Dylan: I guess I’ll be drowning my sorrows in potato wedges tonight.
Dee: That’s the spirit. Get cozy. Play your cards right, and maybe you can score an invite to their wedding. Give me another chance to find you a date.
Dylan: Nope. You’re not getting into my dating apps again. Not after this. I got you a date to the wedding, and you got me in the middle of someone else’s proposal.
Dee: You did not get me a date to the wedding.
Dylan: What are you talking about? You haven’t stopped smiling all night.
I look up to find him staring at me. Has he been watching me all night? Sure, I’ve had fun, but in all honesty, there’s no real spark with Stephanie. She’s nice, beautiful, but this feels like friendship to me.
Dee: I’m smiling because she’s nice. I didn’t even want a date to this wedding. This was your idea, remember?
Dylan: Yeah, and I regret it.
I look up again, eyes locking with his. He looks as serious as I’ve ever seen him. My stomach drops. My palms begin to sweat. My head swims.
What the fuck does that mean?
“Everything okay?” Stephanie asks, pulling my attention to her as she drops into her seat.
My eyes flit over to Dylan’s table, and I catch a glimpse of him eyeing Stephanie with something close to…no, that’s not resentment. Is he really so doom and gloom about not having a date to this wedding that he can’t be happy for me having a good time? He’s the one who set me up.
“Of course.” I smile.
“I guess it didn’t work, did it?”
Shit, can she hear my thoughts? I meant what I said. Stephanie is kind, but I’m just not interested in pursuing more…
“No food,” she says playfully, hands wrapping around her stomach with disappointment.
I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as unsettled as I feel. “Let’s see if I’m luckier tonight.” I stand, nodding toward the hallway with the restrooms. “My turn to give it a shot. I’ll be right back.”
I don’t look at Dylan as I hurry away from my table. I race into the bathroom, but since I don’t actually need to be in here, I fix my lipstick, fluff my hair for no reason, wash my hands, and genuinely just try to buy time.
It feels disingenuous to go through this date, knowing I don’t see a future. But I’m not a dick, so I’m going to finish out the night and hope Stephanie and I can be friends after this. My head starts to throb, and I press my fingers to my temples and lean against the wall for another minute.
Dylan.
He’s gotten in my head with this entire thing. Pushing me to open up. Encouraging me to start dating again. Filling my head with dumb compliments and making me think this messy shit-show stage of life is actually a good thing. He’s fucking wrong.
I need to finish this date. Get home. Hide in my room and find a fucking job. Dylan will move out, and then we’ll go back to being friends who annoy each other and get on each other’s nerves, and all of this weirdness will disappear.
He won’t see too much.
He won’t push me to do more.
He won’t…he won’t be around. And that’ll be better for both of us.
He won’t make me laugh or surprise me with new slivers of himself that only I get to see. And that won’t make me feel special.
I spend another minute collecting myself before leaving the restroom, only to run straight into the fucking guy invading my thoughts, my text messages, my dating life, and my goddamn apartment.
“Jesus, Dylan.” I close my eyes, placing my palm over my racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me. What the fuck are you doing outside the women’s restroom?”
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You…you looked upset.”
“I’m not. I was trying to make the food come.”
“What?”
“You know the thing where someone goes to the restroom and the food…” My voice trails off because he’s looking at me like I have three heads. “Never mind. I’m fine. Sometimes people just go to the bathroom, Dylan. We’re roommates. You should know this.”
“Why are you always so combative?”
“Why are you being so overbearing?” I throw back at him. “You’re going to ruin my chances with this woman. Is that what you want?”
I don’t mean it. Not really. He wouldn’t purposefully ruin my date, especially given everything it took for us to make this happen. But he lurches back, looking at me in shock, like I’ve just hit him.
“No. Dee, I didn’t mean to ruin it. Do you like her?” His question is quiet.
I can’t get a read on him, but I swear he’s not breathing, waiting for me to answer. That’s when I realize I’m holding my breath too.
“She’s beautiful,” I say, staring at my hands as I wring them between us. “Really kind. Accomplished and sweet.”
He steps closer, mere inches between us, and his words are quiet, just for me.
“I asked if you like her. Do you see yourself waiting for her call? Will you be up tonight wondering what she’s doing or if she’s thinking of you or what it’d be like to have her hold you?
Do you want to know her favorite food so you can make it for her or her favorite song so you can add it to every playlist you ever make?
Are you dying to meet her family just so you can know her a little better, and the people who built her into the most incredible person you’ve ever met?
Someone who pisses you off while also jump-starting your heart so you know you’re alive? ”
His breathing is ragged and we’re impossibly closer now, just a breath away from touching.
My pulse is racing and I watch his neck as he swallows, finding myself speechless.
That’s got to be a first.
“No,” I whisper. “She’s a wonderful person.” I shake my head. “But she’s not my person.”
His face shifts, determination overriding every confusing signal he’s sent me in the last five minutes. “Let me go ahead and apologize for keeping you.”
He walks briskly past me and I stumble, shocked, staring after him, confused as fuck for a moment. Long enough to realize he’s walking right past his date…and straight toward mine.
That motherfucker.
He wouldn’t.
I hurry back, making a direct line for my table, overhearing the last of his conversation with Stephanie.
“So yeah, she’s really messed up in there.
” His hands rest low on his stupid, muscled abdomen.
“She texted me from the bathroom. She’s really embarrassed.
Didn’t know if she’d make it back out here to tell you.
I came as quickly as I could. She was lucky I was here with my own date.
” He gestures to his table, where I’m fairly certain his date is on a video call with her ex.
Yikes. Big swing and a miss, Deanna.
“What the fuck are you doing, Dylan?” I snarl, yanking hard on his arm till he’s forced to lean down to my level.
“Getting us out of here.” His eyes lock on mine. “We’re going home.”
Stephanie reaches out and takes my hand, clearly concerned for my well-being given Dylan’s theatrics. I’m sorry. I meant Dylan’s lies.
I should be mad. I should be furious. But fuck…am I relieved?
While Stephanie is a wonderful person, I was hoping to get through the night keeping things between us firmly in the friend zone. But hearing Dylan say the date is over and insisting that he’s taking us home? My heart swells and trips over itself.
Jesus Christ. What the fuck is happening to me?
Dylan excuses himself to his own table, talking to his date, I assume blaming his roommate and some bullshit sickness for why he has to leave early. I pay the bill for Stephanie and me, and we say our goodbyes as he settles his own tab and wishes Vanessa good luck on her date tomorrow with her ex.
My heart is pounding out of my chest and I have no idea why I’m not spitting mad that Dylan fucked up the first decent date I’ve had in months. Instead, I’m looking forward to being alone with him for fuck knows what reason.
Any warmth I felt for Dylan vanishes the instant I remember myself.
Dylan wants a date to Bec and Aiden’s wedding.
Dylan insisted we spend all this time finding the perfect dates for each other.
Dylan was the one who wanted this. And just because his date wasn’t honest with herself about being ready to move on, now I have to pay the consequences?
No, fuck this.