“So, there is nothing we can do—is that what you’re getting at?”
“I thought maybe you would have a brilliant idea.”
Balancing his chair on two legs, Jared swayed back and forth for a few seconds. “Do you want me to seduce him or something? Because if that’s what you’re getting at…”
“Wh-What?” I sputtered. Uncertain whether he was serious or not, I gave him a horrified look. “You’d do that?”
He laughed at the expression on my face. “Please, I have standards. I don’t seduce douchebags, but more importantly, I don’t go after a friend’s man. If I did, I’d go after Dylan before anyone else.”
“Dylan is my friend, not my man.”
“Sure, let’s go with that. He’s your buddy, right? And it was only my ghost who was at the bar last weekend, watching every move you two made. I thought he was gonna jump over that bar and pummel me when he saw me touch your face and tuck your hair behind your ear. He looks sexier when he’s brooding—I’d suggest pissing him off more often.”
“You did that on purpose?”
“No, but if I’d known he’d react that way, I probably would have. I bet he was losing his shit when we were dancing. Too bad we had no idea he was there.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You shut up. And what about you? Miss he’s my buddy that’s all. After you went over, every time he touched your hand or your arm, you lit up like a Christmas tree.”
Standing up, I shoved his shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and land back on four legs with a loud thud.
“Hey!”
“You don’t want me angry, Jared. I’ll make it hurt.”
“Oh, bring it on. I’d like to see you try. It’d probably feel more like a tickle but give it a go. I give you permission.”
Growling, I went after him before he could run away.
* * *
When I made it back home, it was almost nine o’clock. I’d just made a hundred dollars by taking fifteen Instagram photos for a student who had over three hundred thousand followers. She had heard about me and my services from one of her blogger friends who I had taken photos of before midterms. Any money that added to my savings account was good, so I tried my best to never turn anyone down, but after the fifth outfit change, I thought maybe I should’ve charged more. Considering it took us over two hours to get all the shots she wanted, I thought raising my rate was a great idea.
Even though I was pretty much ready to crawl back to the apartment after being out for over thirteen hours, I still made sure I was as quiet as a mouse when I tiptoed pass Ms. Hilda’s door.
When I got into the apartment and turned on the lights, it took everything in me not to shriek like a banshee when I saw a big figure sitting on the floor in the living room, right under the windows.
“Dylan? You scared the crap out of me. Why are you sitting in the dark?” I dropped my equipment bag right next to the door and walked toward him, hesitating when I got to the couch and he still hadn’t spoken.
He had his elbows propped on his knees, hands dangling between his thighs, and he wasn’t looking at me, didn’t even meet my eyes.
“Dylan? What’s wrong?” I took an involuntary step forward but stopped myself from going farther.
Slowly, his head tilted up and his eyes met mine. Usually, I couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds when he looked straight into my eyes like he was trying to see deep into me, but the way he was looking at me right then…I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
He, on the other hand, had no trouble breaking eye contact. “Nothing, Zoe,” he said quietly then rested his head on the wall behind him. A few seconds later he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.
“Obviously that’s not the case,” I stated softly, thinking something terrible must’ve happened. He didn’t even open his eyes, let alone give me an answer.
Where was the guy who smiled at me left and right and made me feel lightheaded without even knowing what he was doing?
Starting to worry, I went and sat to his left, not within touching distance, but not too far away either. We spent a few minutes sitting side by side in absolute stillness. The only sound that could be heard over the heavy silence was coming from a neighbor’s TV, most likely in the apartment below us.
“You can tell me what’s going on, Dylan. I’m not a bad listener, and I’m supposed to be—”
His eyes didn’t open, but he did finally speak. “If you tell me you’re my buddy, Zoe, so help me…”