Cory: And you miss him. So, what’s the problem?
Me: It’s complicated.
Cory: Summer, you should see his face.
Me: I can’t. I need to get over him. I don’t want to keep feeling this way.
Cory: Please just meet me here. Maybe you’ll feel differently when you see him. If not, it’s crowded. He won’t even know you’re here. And I need you.
An hour later, I’m dressed, my hair’s neatly styled, and I’m wearing makeup for the first time in weeks. I spot Dylan as soon as I walk in, but Cory’s right; I could easily go unnoticed in this crowd.
Nate and Cory sneak a few glances at each other, and an idea forms to lock them in a room together to sort out their shit. Maybe then she’ll let me leave. Having said that, they’re not the only ones sneaking looks. I’m guilty of that. Dylan hasn’t left the bar since I arrived. He has a revolving door of guests keeping him company but has never once engaged someone first.Is Cory right? Is he miserable?
My heart sweeps with emotion but cracks at the same time. I can’t do this. I need a minute. I need to stare at myself in the mirror and remind myself that I’m okay. I’ve never needed a man before, and I don’t need one now.
I walk casually through the bar, picking up speed when I’m in the hallway, but then decide I don’t want to be here. At all. I don’t need air. I need to leave. I turn back at the last second to talk to Cory and run straight into a hard chest. The impact hurts, and it takes a second to get my bearings. I smell him right away but hope that I’m wrong. His hand steadies me as I look up into his eyes. Dylan.Shit! I’m not…I can’t…My head is a mess.
“I’m sorry, I was just…”What?I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.
I look over my shoulder, fully prepared to walk away.
“Please, wait,” Dylan begs. He reaches out to touch me but seems to reconsider when I glare back.
“What do you want, Dylan? I can’t be your friend right now. I’m leaving.”
He cringes and runs his hand down his face. “Fuck! I messed up, Summer. I know that. I’m not here as your friend. I’m…” He trails off and grips his neck. “I’m sorry, Summer. So fuckin’ sorry.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? For him to step up. For action. I sigh before looking toward the exit and then back into the bar. I’ve got several ways to escape, but something keeps me in place.
“Please,” he begs again and this time it’s desperate. I can hear the panic in his voice. I look into his eyes and break at the pain I see there. He’s trying. It’s what I wanted. Giving him a small nod, I cross my arms over my chest and wait.
“I know this has taken me too long, and you have every right to be upset, but please hear me out.” He looks around the hallway, noticing, as I do, that we’ve drawn a crowd.
Lightly grabbing my hand, he walks down the hall toward a storage room and pulls me inside. When the light flicks on, he cringes at the mess surrounding us. “Sorry, I wanted privacy.”
I shrug, because, let’s face it, the mess is fitting for our current situation.
Dylan sighs and runs a hand through his hair and then down his face. “I fucked up, Summer. I have no excuse, except that, apparently, I’m a commitment phobe in denial,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head. “I’m thinking it stems from losing my dad and not wanting to lose someone else I love.”
Okay. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion, but I remain silent.Surely that’s not all he has to say.
“I have the tendency to hold on to issues, letting them fester and take over my thoughts, rather than allowing myself to work through them. I blamed that little girl,you, for taking up space in my mind that should have been reserved for my dad. I blamed myself for what might have happened to you,andI blamed myself for Dad’s death. Then to find out you have those scars, because of me…” His voice wavers, and his eyes close in obvious pain.
I know what he’s trying to say, because I do the same thing. I internalize rather than sharing the load, and as a result, I never work through my issues. The two of us make one helluva train wreck. Is it even possible to move past this? I want to. I really do, but…
Dylan sighs again and looks to the roof for a moment. When he looks back, he has a soft smile. “Remember when you stupidly tried to jump in a lake in the middle of the night, and I saved you?” Dylan says, completely off topic.What?I stare at him in confusion and shake my head. Not because I don’t remember, but because I don’t know where he’s going with this.
“What about the night we spent an hour talking about the movieGhostonly to discover I was picturing the movieCasper?”I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon. It had me laughing for hours.
“Or, how about that time we threatened to soak Luke’s bed in beer if he outed you as a Backstreet Boys fan?”Yep, he still decided to share that little tidbit.
I know what Dylan’s trying to do, and it’s sweet, but…
He raises his hand to tell me to wait, sensing my reaction. “I remembereverymoment we’ve shared and even the ones we faked. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you since Thanksgiving. You deserve so much more than a text message friendship.
“Summer, you’ve been my best friend since we were kids…” He pauses for a laugh, and he gets one, albeit small.
He smiles in return and continues. “Summer, we may have begun our friendship as a game, but everything I feel for you is one hundred percent real. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be around you all the time. To hear you laugh, to see you smile, to kiss you… Point is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you think that I didn’t want that when I did…I do…so much. I’m sorry I ran. I don’t have an excuse for my behavior, but I can promise that it willneverhappen again.” He finishes and then shakes his head. We both stare at each other, and when I don’t speak, his face falls, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Please, say something.Anything.”