Page 46 of Revolve
What I don’t say is that it reminds me of when things were good between Justin and me. It helps me believe it wasn’t all bad. Dylanshifts closer. His eyes linger on my face like he’s piecing together something I won’t say. My breath catches, the closeness stirring the echo of a kiss I can’t seem to forget. But then he leans back abruptly, the chair creaking as he drops into it, leaving me standing there, awkward and unsteady, between his legs.
“Didn’t expect you to run away after our first practice,” he says, looking at me from where he sits, the chair barely wide enough. But he leans into it with the kind of ease that makes it look like it was made for him. I suppose he does that all the time. Dylan walks into every room like he owns it, like he’s been there a thousand times.
“I didn’t run away. I visit on weekdays since I study on weekends.”
He gives me a curious look. “So, why does your mom think you’re some sweet angel?”
His fingers graze my thigh, and I flinch, quickly clearing my throat. “Because I am.”
“The only sweet thing about you is the alcohol I tasted from your lips, Sierra,” he says, his tone too casual. “Everything else is hot and scorching.”
“Like the sun?”
“Like hell.”
My gaze cuts into his. “You would know.”
The tension is thick in my room, making me fall back onto my mattress. I stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. “No one likes an angry girl.”
“I do.”
“Coming from Dalton’s most physical hockey player, that’s not exactly a compliment,” I try to joke, but he doesn’t even crack a smile. “If you must know, you can’t be loud and opinionated when you’re trying to get judges to like you. My partner also wasn’t a fan of my attitude.”
My heart skips when his fingers drag along my desk, over the pink journal where I’ve written all my darkest thoughts from lastyear. “Having an attitude versus an opinion about something you do professionally are two different things. I think you’ve been around weak people who can’t listen to a smart woman without making it a dick-measuring contest.”
I blink.
“When you’re with me, Sierra, I don’t want you to be who everyone thinks you are. I want you to be the girl who calls me out on my shit and speaks her mind. Can you do that?”
I nod.
“Good.” He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now let’s go before Lidia thinks you’ve killed me in my sleep. And take these.” He places a bottle of ibuprofen on my desk.
“How’d you know?” I stare at the bottle. I’ve never told him about my headaches.
“Your best friend mentioned something,” he says before heading for the stairs.
Of course she did. I pull the charger from my laptop, stuff both into my bag, and grab the jacket slung over the chair. My attention catches on the photo booth pictures of Justin and me in the trash can under my desk.
I head downstairs, but my mom doesn’t let me leave until I’ve eaten something, and Dylan spends that time buttering her up. I leave my half-finished food and pull my bag onto my shoulder. I can’t take it.
“Let’s go.” I grab Dylan’s arm, dragging him along. He waves to my mom, who calls for me to slow down.
“I like it when you have your way with me, Romanova.”
Great, so he’s joking about this now. He really didn’t think anything of that kiss. For all I know, it was just another Wednesday—another girl; another kiss; another hot, stuffy room where she’s left burning with the need for more.
“Just unlock the car,” I order.
“The back seat?” he asks buoyantly. “It’s been a while, but you’re small enough—”
“Just drive,” I say, giving him a gentle shove. But even as he jokes, I can’t help but notice his eyes dim. I walk to the passenger side, but before I can open the door, Dylan pushes it open from the inside, a boyish grin on his face as I dodge the swinging door.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
My seat is warm when I get inside, and Dylan takes my bag from me and tosses it in the back. I watch him then, in the quiet of the car’s hum as he puts a hand on the back of my seat to reverse.
When he’s on the road, he glances at me. “You didn’t finish your breakfast. Your headache will only feel worse on an empty stomach.”
