Page 102 of The Assist
The second I wake up; she’s already in my head. Not just a passing thought, either.
There’s a full-body, deep-in-my-chest ache for her. For the way she looked at me last night, like I was something solid she could lean on. For the way her fingers curled into my hoodie when I kissed her like we had all the time in the world.
We don’t. Not really. But today, we do. I grab my phone off the nightstand and scroll straight to her name.
Dylan: Be ready in twenty minutes. No arguments. Dress comfy.
Three dots pop up.
Then disappear.
Then reappear.
Mia: Demanding much? Where are we going?
Dylan: Trust me.
I grin and toss my phone on the bed. Opening the wardrobe, I pull on jeans, a black hoodie, and a pair of beat-up sneakers. No team gear, nothing that screams ‘professional athlete.’ I want a day where I’m just Dylan.
Just hers.
When I pull up outside her place, she’s standing on the pavement, arms crossed, chin tucked into a cream knit jumper that’s about two sizes too big. Her hair is loose, and her jeans hug her legs. She’s wearing Converse on her feet.
She’s unfair. Absolutely fucking unfair. Nobody should look as hot as her. I lean across the seat and push the door open.
“Get in, Clarke.”
She rolls her eyes but smiles and climbs into the passenger seat, bringing a fresh, warm,Miascent that punches the air out of my lungs.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mutters, buckling her seatbelt.
I shoot her a sideways grin. “Don’t you forget it.”
She snorts and props her feet on the dash, getting comfy like she belongs here.
With me.
Fuck, I’m already in trouble.
It’s a long drive to the coast, but I don’t care. We talk about everything and nothing. The music she likes. The food I can’t live without. Her weird obsession with true crime podcasts, and the fact I secretly love cheesy rom-coms.
She laughs so much it feels like I’m drunk on the sound of it.
When we pull into a battered seaside car park, the ocean stretches out in front of us, grey and choppy, the sky heavy with clouds. Seagulls screech and swoop overhead. It’s cold, and it’s windy, but it’s perfect.
Mia looks around and smiles, tugging her sleeves over her hands. “No crowds,” she says softly.
“No hiding,” I add. Her gaze flicks to mine, warm and wide and a little scared.
But there’s excitement there too.
Hope.
I reach across and grab her hand, lacing our fingers together. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s just be us today.”
The beach is half deserted, nothing but damp sand stretching for miles. We kick off our shoes, roll up our jeans and walk close to the water’s edge, with our toes freezing, and laughing when the waves chase us up the shore. Mia squeals when I scoop her up and pretend like I’m going to throw her in.
“Don’t youdare, Dylan!” she shrieks, her legs kicking as she scrambles for me to put her down.
