Page 79 of Revolve
The silence stretches like an elastic thread. All I can think of is how he may not think I’m nothing, but I’ve felt like that for so long, it’s how I see myself.
“It feels true, though,” I admit. “I gave my entire life to skating only to end up as this inexperienced, broken girl. Even with Ajay, I can’t help but think that if he got to know the real me, he wouldn’t even want to kiss me.”
Dylan goes almost completely rigid. “You’re not his to kiss,” he says.
I chuckle. “And I’m yours?”
“If you want to be.”
My heart lurches. “Lucky me,” I try to joke, my voice wavering. “W-what would that entail?”
“I kiss you.” He leans down to barely brush his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Whenever.” On my cheek. “Wherever.” My chin. “You want.”
When he pulls away, the silence hangs like a wet coat on a hook.
“I only have to ask and you’ll give it to me?”
“You only have tolookat me and I’ll give everything to you, Sierra.”
I forget how to breathe. “That’s quite the contrast to the first time we kissed.”
“Oh, you mean the first time you attacked me?”
“I did not! You kissed me back!”
His eyes flicker. “Your hips rocking against me made it pretty damn hard to resist.”
“So you were just overcome by lust and didn’t see past my lips or legs.”
“I didn’t see pastyou, Sierra. Still can’t.”
I hope I don’t blush, because I never have before, but for some reason with Dylan I’m always glowing red like fucking Rudolph. “So, what? You’re going to give me lessons? A how-to guide for your local prude?”
Dylan chuckles, so close I think he might kiss me, but he doesn’t lean in. “Whatever you want, Sierra. You know that no one else can teach you the way than I can.”
I suppress the bodily reaction his words cause and try to appear casual. “I’ll think about it.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, and I watch his expression fall the tiniest bit.
The lights around us glow, casting a soft warmth over the crowd. One by one, people light their lanterns, and we follow suit. The pretty flicker of orange surrounds us, creating a warm bubble of light. Dylan’s gaze is so intense, it feels as if he’s lit the fire in my chest rather than the lantern. Above us, the sky stretches in a deep, velvety blue, eager to be painted with light.
I remember when Scarlett and I planned on attending this event. But our first year at Dalton, September was nothing but rain, and it got canceled. Never did I think I’d be here with Dylan Donovan.
There’s a round of cheers from the front of the group, but I’m too focused on Dylan to hear it. Then the first lantern rises, a single golden orb lifting into the night. Then, one by one, hundreds follow, soaring upward in delicate arcs like fireflies, transforming the sky into a sea of floating lights. It looks like those glow-in-the-dark stickers on my ceiling.
I steal a glance at Dylan. “We make a good team,” he says.
I let out a noncommittal sound.
“Admit it. We do,” he presses.
“Yeah. We make a good team,” I say.
My gaze falls back to the lantern as we lift it together. Just before we release it, Dylan’s brown eyes focus on mine. The lantern catches the wind, billowing happily as it floats upward. I watch it spin slowly, our names etched on either side, both of us, up there, in the stars.
TWENTY-EIGHT
DYLAN
