Page 48 of Revolve
DYLAN
DON’T ASK QUESTIONSyou don’t want the answers to. It’s pretty fucking clear how Sierra sees me. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, maybe let the memory of the kiss just linger between us until it got so unbearably tense that she would do it again. This time I wouldn’t pull back; I wouldn’t care what she thought of me, and I’d give her exactly what I would anyone else.
She knows my reputation, and I’m glad she has no expectations. The only idea of a relationship I’ve had is my parents. And I’m pretty sure cheating on your wife isn’t one of the requirements. It irritates me more that with every one of my mom’s calls that I ignore, they get less frequent, and I end up feeling guiltier.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door before Kian walks in. “Can I use your bathroom?” He’s wearing a pink robe, has a towel over one shoulder, and carries four bottles of shampoos and conditioners in the crook of his arm.
“No.”
Today is the first day I’m actually studying. My professors are piling on assignments, and I haven’t even glanced at them with how drained I am after training with Sierra.
“Oh, come on! My shower isn’t working and no plumber’s willing to come by in this weather,” Kian whines.
I focus back on my Business Law readings. “Use Aiden’s.”
“I’d rather not be haunted by whatever he and Summer have done in there.”
“Eli’s?”
“Too far.”
I roll my eyes. “There’s no way you’re using mine. You know that.”
“You’re so anal about your shower. I thought you were over it being your ‘sanctuary.’”
This is one of those times when I don’t feel bad about all the pranks I’ve played on him. “Reprieve,” I correct. “And the answer is still no.”
He pouts and continues to stare at me, but I don’t let the beam of his gaze affect me. My reading is sixty-three pages, and I’ve read the first page three times.
When that annoying feeling of being watched gnaws at me, I get out of bed. There’s still some time left before our second half of practice starts, but I’d rather not be stared at for thirty minutes. I grab my gym bag and pull it over my shoulder just as I point for Kian to exit. He huffs and walks off. I pull together a quick snack and make sure to threaten him before I leave about using my shower.
At the rink, Lidia gives Sierra and me a ten-minute break after two hours of lifts. She’s been strict about keeping us to the basics, and it’s obvious Sierra’s patience is wearing thin. She walks to the bench with a limp, and I can’t help but notice when she winces. I know it’s from the bruises my hands leave on her abdomen.
Sierra pulls out her phone and swipes through her social media, lingering on those lantern festival videos. My gaze flits between her and the screen as I try to understand what she finds so fascinating. They show people gathering for the festival that stretches on for the course of a few weeks. I used to go with my parents as a kid but haven’t been since. Now that I think back, I can’t even remember if my dad was there or if his phone went off while in the middle of lighting the lanterns.
I dig into my bag. “Here,” I say, handing her one of the sandwiches I made.
She stares at it in my hand for so long, I drop it in her lap. Sierra mutters a “thanks” and doesn’t say another word as she takes a bite. Things with us have been awkward. Tension thrums off her, and I can feel it when I touch her. She’s more guarded than usual, and we barely talk during the first four hours of practice and the last four when we come back after classes.
Practice has sucked and Lidia’s been angrier than I’ve ever seen her. Even worse, I’ve seen Coach Kilner walk by plenty of times, and sometimes he stops to watch, and other times he takes off before I can talk to him. I’m not sure if he’s appreciating my effort or just reminding me of how I fucked up his season.
Lidia claps twice, and just like that we’re back.
Then when I get the hand placement wrong, Sierra takes my hand and fixes it for me. Sometimes, I wonder if she misses him. Last week Justin and his partner, Julia, practiced on one side of the rink while we were on the other. Lidia made sure that never happened again.
I lift Sierra and she grunts, so I immediately put her back down.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
I look at Lidia. “She’s in pain. I’m not going to lift her until she’s black-and-blue.”
“You okay, Sierra?” Coach Lidia asks. It’s the tenth time she’s asked her that, and each time Sierra gives her the same answer. The same lie. It’s starting to piss me off.
“Fine,” she mutters.
I chuckle, returning to our start position.
“Go ahead,” Sierra says, her voice sharp, daring, but there’s something raw under it. She doesn’t meet my eyes, like she’s bracing herself for whatever’s coming next.
