Page 47 of The Love Interest
He grins. “Possibly both.”
I grip the flashlight tight as we leave the safety of the car and head toward the shed. As we walk, my thoughts drift to Kaylee. Surely she would’ve said something by now if she was listening in? She’s usually only connected when she knows a big conversation with Juliet is coming up, but then again she has popped in randomly a few times, so I probably should check.
Hey, Kaylee, are you there?
Nothing.
“What are you doing?” asks Dyl. “You spaced for a second.”
“I was just checking if Kaylee is listening.”
“And?”
“We’re alone. If we aren’t, she’s not saying anything.”
“Oh, cool.”
The ground is soft and squishy, and every step sends a small wave of grayish mud up the edges of my Chucks. In front of the shed is a small overgrown veggie garden and a chopping block. Embedded deep in the block is a rusty ax.
Dyl steps up the first step. The wood creaks under his weight. He freezes, his entire body tense. The only sound is the rustle of the wind through the trees and the occasional high-pitched chirp of crickets. He places his palm flat on the dark wood and pushes. The door swings open, letting out a low screech. The light of the moon illuminates only a small stretch of the shack, and I can see half of a wooden dining table.
Dyl enters first, his body hunched, ready to spring back should the expected ax murderer leap forth. But the shed is still, and his body relaxes, his posture reverting back to its usual confident semi-slouch. His hand fumbles around on the doorframe and then he grins, his white teeth glowing in the shadowy murk.
He flicks his finger upward and orange light floods the shed.
“Quick, get in before anyone sees you.”
I step inside and he swings the door closed behind me. Inside, it’s a small square room, with a dining table, two chairs, and an empty kitchen counter with a dirty sink loaded with dishes. A moth-eaten mattress and a balled-up blanket are pressed against one corner. The counter is moldy, and the taps are covered in flaky brown rust.
Dyl flicks the lights off.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He grins. “It’s sexier this way.”
I step toward the door and yank it open. His eyebrows furrow and he blocks my path with one hand.
“Get out of my way,” I say.
“What?”
“I said get out of my way.”
His arm remains on the door. “Dude, calm down. I meant it was sexier in the way, like, scary is sexy. That sort of thing. What did you think I was saying?”
I let go of the door handle and face him. For the first time, I realize I’m taller than him, and I stare right at the tip of his nose, just under his neatly trimmed eyebrows. “I don’t know why you brought me here, that’s what. And why you treat me the way you do. Because, Dyl, you’re treating me like I’m an idiot and I’m just not. I know the game we’re playing. I do. And you act like we aren’t competitors and you show me cool things but when does it stop? And why did you even start it? Why did you bring me here? And why did you say you wanted to make itsexierfor us alone in a small room?”
He’s staring at the floor.
I step toward him. “Why did you bring me here, huh? You’re such a big fan of the truth, so why don’t you tell me? What are you afraid of?”
He looks to his left. “I brought you here to kiss you.”
“Are you joking?”
He sucks on his bottom lip and faces me. He looks like he’s in pain.
“It’s not like that, it’s…” He runs a hand through his hair and spins away. Once he completes his little circle he steps toward me. “I’m going to kiss Juliet tomorrow. And I need practice. I thought you’d understand because you need practice too. I brought you here because no one in town will see us and it seemed like a good idea. I thought we could kiss each other like teenage girls do in sitcoms to prepare for the real thing. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”
