Page 16 of Burn It Down

I’m fighting the urge to throw my phone across the room when my ringtone filters through my anger and reaches my ears.

Dylan’s name is on the screen.

Chapter 6

Dylan

His last text message tells me I fucked up. I took it too far. Old habits die hard, but that isn’t what this is. There’s no way he can know his list offiner thingssounds like my perfect day and I was caught so off guard by his answer, I deflected with a terrible joke.

After him shielding me with his body, seeing him bleed, and getting a glimpse of his broad shoulders and shockingly muscular forearms, I don’t need to start confusing lust with interest.

What I need, is to get laid.

But that’s not Jake’s problem.

I hit the call button and wait for him to answer. After three rings, I assume he isn’t going to, but as I begin to pull the phone away from my ear, I hear his voice.

“Figure it was faster to insult me verbally instead of typing it out?”

He’s pissed.

The fact that I hurt his feelings gives me mixed emotions. Obviously, I feel bad, but also, knowing that my opinion matters to him, throws other feelings into the mix. Complicated ones.

“I’m really sorry, Jake. I didn’t mean what I said. I was trying to make a joke and it was a bad one.” I hope he can hear the sincerity through the gravel in my tired voice.

“The conversation with my father earlier wasn’t enough for you to realize I don’t consider myself like the rest of them regardless of my bank account balance?” he fires at me.

I sit up in bed, and rub a hand across my bare chest. Iknowbetter than to judge a book by its cover.

“Yeah, man. I’m sorry. Look, I don’t have a lot of friends and I work so much that I’m out of the habit of how to make new ones. I swear I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbles a second later.

“You always say that even when it isn’t fine,” I tell him, thinking back to the day I hit his car.“Don’t sayit’s fine. Say what you’re thinking,”I command.

“I can’t.” The reply comes so quickly it sounds like the words left his mouth before he could catch them.

“Why not?” I ask, hating that my voice is growing as deep as this conversation.

“Because some things are better left unsaid,” he replies sadly before he quickly changes the subject, bringing us back to neutral ground. “So, about my clutch, should I just call the office in the morning?”

“I’m swamped next week, but I can take it the following Saturday.” It’s not like I had plans outside of work anyway.

“I don’t want you working on a weekend because of me.”

“I’ll be there anyway. Might as well be working on a car that’s worth my time.” That logic must resonate because he finally agrees.

“Okay, next Saturday it is. I’ll be by around nine, but I might need to take you up on that lift service you guys offer.”

“No problem. See you then.”

The silence hangs heavy between us. I want to keep talking, but it doesn’t seem right. He must agree because he says, “Yeah, see you then,” and hangs up the phone.

I lie in bed with my hand down the front of my boxers, remembering the way Jake rolled up his shirtsleeves, the way he patted my arm after his dad was a douche, and the way he drove that car at a hundred and twenty miles per hour like it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Yeah, I definitely need to get laid.

I might be willing to call an ex, but I moved back into my dad’s house when my last lease was up. I didn’t like the thought of he and Cassie here by themselves in case the vandalism shit followed them home from work.

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