Page 92 of One Night

"How about your apartment?"

I pause, chewing on my lip.

He turns to me. "We won't do anything. I promise. Unless you've changed your mind."

Despite my body telling me to change my mind, I shake my head and say, "Not yet. It's too soon."

"Then we'll just watch TV. If I try anything, you can kick me out." He smiles. "What do you think?"

"Okay. We'll go to my apartment." On the way there, I say, "So why didn't you tell me you were dyslexic?"

"I thought I did, but I guess it never came up. It's not something I try to hide. I'm not ashamed of it or embarrassed by it. It just takes me a little longer to read than other people. But I do all right."

"Is it hard for you to write the letters? Because we don't have to do it. If I'd known about this, I never would've asked you to do it."

"It's not hard. It may take me a little longer than other people but it's always been that way for me so I'm used to it." We're at a stop light and he looks at me and smiles. "And I know how much you like the letters. It's part of our story, remember? The romantic tale of how we met?"

"Speaking of that, I can't believe you told your parents how we met."

"I didn't tell them how. I told them when."

"Yeah, but that made them wonder why we didn't talk again until just recently."

"And you explained why. So we're good." He checks his mirror as he merges on the freeway. "Going back to the dyslexia thing, if you think that little girl you read to might have it, or if she gets diagnosed with it, I'd be happy to meet with her. Sometimes it helps to know you're not the only one that struggles with it. At least it did for me. My mom got me in a group that had other kids that struggled with reading problems and it made a big difference."

"You'd really do that? Talk to Emily?"

"Sure. If she wants me to. And if her mom's okay with it."

I smile at him. "You're really sweet."

"Not always. I have a bad boy side." He says it like he's joking, but it's kind of true. When he's rocking it out in his band, dressed in all black, playing his guitar, he seems like a bad boy. And that night we met, when he saw me across the room and came over and kissed me without even telling me his name? That was bad. Very bad. And yet I loved it.

He was also bad when he did what he did to me in the cleaning closet at work. And yet I loved that too.

"I'm not afraid of your bad boy side," I tell him.

"Then I guess it needs to come out more. But not tonight. Tonight I've gotta summon my inner angel if I'm going to survive being at your apartment as your platonic friend."

I smile. "You could just go back to your place."

"Is that what you want?" He sounds disappointed.

"No. I want you to come over. I'll just throw on some baggy sweats and put my hair in a bun so that I'm so hideous you won't even want to get near me."

"Not possible." He squeezes my hand, which he's holding. "There's nothing you could do that would make me not want to be near you."

"See? You're being sweet again."

"Told you I was summoning my inner angel. No bad boy tonight. Only good."

It's what I asked for but part of me is a little disappointed bad boy Dylan can't come out and play. But he will eventually. We just need a little more time.

My phone rings and I answer when I see it's my little sister. "Hey, how was dinner?"

"Dad almost killed Lark."

Lark. I still can't get used to that name. It sounds like a type of bird.

---