Her eyes remained dry even as her heart cried out at the unexpected words. “I don’t need to hear those things anymore,” she whispered.
“If you don’t want to hear it, then let me show it to you.” As he turned them around, wanting to put more distance between them and the rest of the crowd, the gentle sea breeze blew his hood back, revealing his face.
“IT’S DYLAN OF MINUIT ROUGE!”
Both of them stiffened at the scream. A second later, a crowd of rock-star-crazy freshmen girls surged towards them. The old Dylan would have loved this, would have called for security to take care of her while he took care of his fans. After all, he was the rock star who did not belong to one girl and he had always wanted it that way.
But it didn’t happen like that.
He pressed her face hard against his chest, keeping her securely in the circle of his arms. “Give us room,” he said with cool politeness, the icy tone effective in penetrating the hysteria around them.
“She’s not a part of this. I don’t want her hurt.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” a fan shrieked.
“I want – need – her to be.” He spoke without hesitation, shocking Bree.
They continued to move, Bree blindly following his lead because in situations like this, it was the only way to survive. The moment she parted ways from Dylan, it would be a bloodbath – for her.
After what seemed like an eternity, she felt him ushering her inside a car and by the time she was able to open her eyes, the car was moving, Dylan was seated next to her and Bob, Staffan’s man, was greeting her from the front passenger seat with a cheerful smile.
“Bob?” she asked in a dazed voice. What was happening?
“The boss was worried about something like this happening. And so it did happen,” the beefy scary-looking man answered. “The boss is always right.”
Dylan rolled his eyes.
She almost giggled.
But when they looked at each other, her amusement died and she quickly looked away. Her fingers curled into a fist. We’ve practiced this before, Bree. We can do this. We can keep ourselves from crying—-
“Bree...”
She shook her head jerkily. No. They could not talk now, not when she hadn’t yet fully mastered herself, wasn’t yet completely sure she would not cry if she looked at him again.
Some immeasurable time later, she felt the car slowing down and heard doors opening. Bree still had her head down, gazing at her clenched fingers. She just couldn’t be sure she would not start crying if she looked at his face.
But Dylan didn’t speak a word as he reached for her hand and guided her out.
She followed him silently, not caring where they went. She just cared about not crying.
Dylan said hoarsely, “You need to open your eyes sometime.”
Bree did, slowly, and when she realized where they were, well, that was when she had to kill herself in an effort to hold back the tears.
She fell to her knees, her body shaking. Pain had her gasping her words out. “Why are you doing this to me?” Why would he bring Bree to her old school – to the very room where they first met?
He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Please. I’m sorry. You don’t have to stop crying.”
Dylan’s words in the past hammered back into her brain.
“Is this how it’s going to be all the time? Things don’t go your way and you use your tears against me?”
Another gasp was torn out of her even as Bree shook her head more wildly. No, no, she was never going to cry again! Never! Not when—-
Unable to bear it anymore, Dylan hauled her into his arms. “Bree, please, please forgive me for being such a goddamn asshole.” She thrashed and struggled in his embrace, but he only hugged her more tightly.
Tears struck his eyes and he let them fall, unabashed. “Bree, please...” He brought her hand to his face, letting her feel the wetness on his skin.
He was...crying?
She slowly pulled away and this time he let her, not looking away when her gaze searched his. “W...why?” she choked out.
“Because I was a bastard to keep you from crying, to say those words, and most of all because I was a bastard for being stupid enough to keep pushing away the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Another lone tear formed in the corner of his eye, but he did not blink it away. If she did not forgive him now, if she thought he was gay just for crying – then so be it.
“Remember the time we first met? I didn’t really believe you couldn’t see a thing back then. But babe, that time...I know now...you were the one who was seeing clearly. Because that early, you believed in what we could be together and I was the blind one then.”