Page 95 of Sweet Chaos
She’d told me that once, years ago, when I was too young to analyze it or figure out what the hell it meant. But even then, I’d had a feeling that was a bad thing. That you should never lose yourself in the process of loving someone. If anything, love should make you a better version of yourself. That’s how I felt with Scarlett—I’ll always love her. She made me want to be a better man.
“Dylan.” Her hands cradled my face and before I’d had a chance to process what was happening, her mouth captured mine. And just like that, I was kissing my ex-girlfriend on the beach under a sky that was getting dark.
Her arms wrapped around my neck and her tongue was in my mouth. It took me a second to come to my senses and push her away. “The fuck are you doing?” I stood up.
She smiled as she got to her feet. It wasn’t a sweet smile. It was cunning. A glimpse of the other side of Sienna, the side of her I’d forgotten. The side that showed me she was more like her father than she realized. She ran her hand down my chest and I clasped her wrist and pushed it away as my eyes met Scarlett’s over Sienna’s shoulder. She was farther down the beach, and dusk had descended, but there was enough light to make out that it was definitely her. Besides, I’d know her anywhere.
Scarlett turned, and she ran, and I fucking hated myself.
I glared at Sienna, my jaw clenched. “You saw her,” I gritted out. “You fucking knew she was there.”
Sienna’s eyes narrowed on me. “She stole my ex-boyfriend. My first love. And you know what’s crazy? While we were sitting out here talking, I’d almost forgotten about that. Because it was just you and me again, and it felt so good to be next to you and to actually talk. And for a little while, I remembered how good things used to be. And I remembered the things I loved about you. But then I sawher,and it all came rushing back. If I can’t have you, why should she?”
I brushed past her and strode away, so fucking pissed I couldn’t see straight. “You don’t know what love is, Sienna.”
“You’re an asshole, Dylan,” she screamed, shoving my back. I spun around to face her, and she pummeled me with her fists, her chest heaving. I grabbed her wrists to stop her from using me as a human punching bag and pushed her away. She came at me again, screaming like a madwoman, and planted her fist in my face.
I rubbed my jaw as she cradled her hand and fell to her knees on the sand.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“How could you do this to me?” she cried, her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking while I played monkey in the middle, caught between the past I wanted to run from and the future I wanted to run to. Sienna had made damn sure that her sister would pay for her sins, and so would I.
One fucking kiss.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” I seethed. “I fell in love with your sister.”
“Why? What does she have that I don’t?” Sienna asked, scrambling to her feet. “Whyher?”
There were a million reasons why I loved Scarlett, but I wasn’t about to share this information with Sienna.
“Because she’s not you. She’s everything you’re not and I love her.” I left her on the beach and I strode away.
“Good luck explaining why you were kissing your ex-girlfriend, asshole,” she called after me.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
33
Scarlett
Ihad it coming. I did. But I had no idea it would turn out like this. I’d expected a conversation. Angry words. Tears. Apologies. I could have withstood that. Could have taken everything she threw at me. But this. I hadn’t seen it coming.
Why had I gone to the beach? Why? I thought it would help put things in perspective. Or, at the very least, I thought it would give me a bit of peace.
I took another sip of my margarita that I was drinking out of a mason jar and licked the salt off my lips. I was buzzed, well on my way to getting shit-faced. Hollowed out and empty from all the tears I’d shed. Personally, I would have gone straight for the tequila shots and not have bothered with the mixers. But the margaritas were good and the salt on the rim of the glass tasted like my tears, so I drank up, my legs draped over the side of the armchair, my eyes on the boring white ceiling.
My mind replayed the scene in front of the gas pumps. The way he’d pulled her into his arms and brushed away her tears. And the scene on the beach. I couldn’t get the vision of that kiss out of my head.
He’d kissed her. He’d kissed Sienna.
My heart hurt so much. Physically ached. I didn’t think this pain or that memory would ever go away. It was branded on my heart forever.
“We need to change the playlist. This is depressing,” Nic said, her words slurring a bit. She was slouched down on the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table, margarita in hand. “It’s putting me in a weird funk.”
Neither of us made a move to change the music. Instead, we suffered through John Mayer singing about slow dancing in a burning room. And I thought about dancing with Dylan. On the beach. In Mavericks. On the terrace in Cabo on his twenty-seventh birthday. I didn’t even bother trying to stop the tears from falling.
“Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like,” Nic said. “I mean, maybe they weren’t really kissing. You said you weren’t that close to them so… it could have been an optical illusion… delusion? Or whatever the word is…” Her voice trailed off.
