Page 68 of It Should Have Been Me

Dylan is usually quite laid back, but he has a violent temper. We’ve clashed on many occasions, so I take his threatening tone very seriously. “The cosplay has already stopped,” I assure him with a nod.

He doesn’t care about the details. He takes my word for it and moves on. “Alright, let’s go.”

He’s already back in high spirits by the time we get down to his car, and I realize that absolutely nothing is going to dull my boy’s enthusiasm. He is so pumped for this wedding because he talks about what he’s planning for the reception all the way to Pete’s condo. On the corny scale, it’s a new low, even for Dylan, but Pete and I will inevitably go along with it because...it’s Dylan. We’ve been dragged along for whatever crazy ride he decides to take us on for years. No point in stopping now.

“Pete,” Dylan yells as he opens the front door, “you home, sweetheart?”

Dylan has been living with Peter for a year and a half now, so they’ve gotten into this weird habit of speaking to each other like they’re a married couple.

We don’t get a reply, so I follow Dylan upstairs to Peter’s bedroom. “Both of you are the same,” he complains. “I bet he also forgot, and he’s still asleep right now because he has the luxury of just sleeping in until eleven on a Friday morning.”

“Every morning,” I correct. “He has that luxuryeverymorning.”

“Yo, Pete, wake up,” Dylan says as we barge into his bedroom.

“Fuck, Dyl!” Pete’s panicked voice shocks me, but it’s the sight before me that halts me in my tracks.

I shouldn’t be surprised at what we find, but holy shit, am I surprised at what we find. Peter is shirtless, sprawled on top of some girl. It looks like we stumbled into a heavy make-out session because the room is hot as hell and her legs are still wrapped around him.

Pete frantically looks around before he checks on her to assess their respective states of nakedness. She’s fine, though, still fully clothed in a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt (hisT-shirt), and he seems relieved about that.

“Shit.” Dylan looks worriedly between me and Peter. “Pete, I don’t know if you know this, but...but there’s a girl trapped beneath you.”

“I’m fully aware, thanks.”

Peter’s annoyed tone is a clear instruction for us to leave the room, but Dylan ignores him and approaches the bed.

“Hi, I’m Dylan.” He reaches out to shake her hand.

“Lia,” she responds somewhat apprehensively. “Mahalia, but you can call me...Lia.”

There’s something familiar about her. I recognize her but I can’t quite place where I’ve seen her before. It’s not a face one would easily forget. She’s a stunner. Her hazel eyes are complimented by her light-tan skin and pitch-black hair. The fullness of her lips seems to soften the sharpness of her prominent cheekbones and angular jawline. Her features are distinct and sultry at the same time. She could be a model. Wait! That’s it. That’s where I’ve seen her before.

“Nice to meet you, Lia,” Dylan says. “Sorry to barge in on you like this, but we didn’t expect Peter to have a woman in here because he never invites girls over.” He looks over at me. “Isn’t that right, Scott? He’sneverbrought a girl home before.”

“Never.” I try to keep a straight face when I confirm this, but Peter’s discomfort is pushing me to breaking point.

“Wow, that must mean you really like her, huh, Pete?”

“Fuck, Dyl.” Pete drops his forehead against Lia’s shoulder, using her as a sanctuary from the onslaught of embarrassment he’s receiving. He takes a moment to recover, then pins a cold stare on Dylan. “We’re friends, but this is inappropriate.”

“Is it?” Dylan feigns shock. “How inappropriate would you say? Like, if you had to rate it on a scale, would you put it on the lower end? Like that time Scott sent me that super-cringe voice note in the middle of the night...”

“Leave me out of this, please.”

“Or would you put it more on the higher end, like that time when you groped your dick in front of my fiancé...duringmy proposal?”

The laughter I’m trying to contain comes out as a snort.

Peter just shuts his eyes and shakes his head as if he’s silently wishing for a natural disaster to come along and end his misery. “The things you’ll do to prove a point.”

A giggle escapes Lia, and it eases the tension a fraction. “Did you do that?”

“I didn’t know he was proposing,” he replies before his focus shifts back to Dylan. “Consider this me giving you official notice. I’m kicking you out. You have one week to pack up your shit and get the fuck out of here.”

It sounds harsh, but Pete only says that because Dylan is getting married next weekend, so he’ll be gone in a week, anyway.

“You’re talking out of anger again, honey. We’ll find a way to work this out.” Dylan winks at Peter, which only pisses him off even more. “Well, I think we’ve done enough damage. We’ll meet you downstairs, Pete. Lia, it was lovely meeting you.”

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