Page 5 of Because of Dylan

He’s standing now. “No, you’re right. Forgiveness can’t change the past. But it could change the future.”

His words hold my feet captive under the weight of their truth. I swallow hard, force my body to turn and walk away. But I can still feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on me all the way back to the dorm.

Chapter Four

“We’re sticking together tonight, right?”River leans down to speak into my ear. She’s a few inches taller than me, and that’s without the boots she’s wearing right now.

I nod and salute her with my red cup.

“Be right back.” She walks away toward the bathroom at the back of the house.

I don’t want to be here. My mind can’t stop racing and playing the meeting with my father again and again. It’s been three days, and I thought of little else. I promised River we would stick together tonight, but the pressure building inside me needs an escape. I need a distraction. My usual distraction comes in the form of either a hookup or alcohol. I take a sip of beer. Ugh. Warm. I stare at the red cup in my hand. I don’t really want a beer. Alcohol clearly isn’t going to cut it tonight.

I drag in a deep breath. Colossal mistake. The air is stale and heavy as it fills my lungs. The walls are closing in on me. I need to get out.

I try to move around the dancing and mingling people. Familiar faces litter the crowded space. I don’t want to see them. I’m in search of fresh faces, and I’m bound to find a few freshmen in any of the campus parties. It’s the first Friday of classes, which means a party at every frat and sorority house on campus. It’s a Riggins tradition.

I push the heel of my hand into my chest as if I could dislodge the increasing anxiety with the rubbing motion. I don’t want to think about my father and the life I left behind. I need to get out of here. I head down the hall. Where is River? I can’t find her, but I find something better. This is what I need. A distraction.

A blue-eyed freshman leans on the wall and takes turns between looking around and staring at his phone. He’s trying to act cool and fit in, but his darting eyes and stiff shoulders betray him. He’s nervous. He wants out of here as much as I do.

The weight in my chest gets lighter with each step I take to him. The rush of taking charge, of being the one to choose, gives me the control I crave. It pushes aside the pressure in my solar plexus. I’m a thousand pounds lighter by the time I’m close enough to touch him.

I lean into him and speak loudly enough for him to hear me over the music and the chatter of dozens of people crammed into the frat house living room.

“Hi. You look a little lost. Freshman?”

He’s quick to smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“You seem a bit out of place.” I tap my red cup to his in salute. “Welcome to Riggins University.”

He’s beautiful, in a boyish Captain America-minus-all-the-muscles way.

“I’m Becca.” I hold my hand out to him.

“Tommy.” He hurries to move his cup to the left hand, and fumbles, spilling some liquid over his fingers. “Sorry.” He wipes his hand on his jeans before shaking mine.

I like him. He’s sweet. Perhaps too nice. I don’t want to hurt him or string him along. I just need to get lost for a while. A part of me wants to retreat and let this boy go. But the other part, the part that needs a distraction, wants this. My hands are sweaty, and I cross my arms, drying a hand against the fabric of my sleeve. I hold on to the red cup tighter as not to drop it.

“Do I make you nervous?” I’m unsettled—like I’m on the verge of something big. My heart beats erratically.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like crowds.” He blushes, his cheeks turning pink, and he clears his throat before taking a sip of his drink.

I almost change my mind, but he gave me a perfect opening.

“Want to get out of here?” I throw the overused line at him.

“Sure.” He nods, hair falls over his eyes, making him look even younger.

I set my cup on the nearest flat surface, already littered with empty and half-full cups. He follows suit and trails behind me. I grab my phone to text River.

I look at him over my shoulder. “Anyone you have to say goodbye to?”

“Nope, came alone. Don’t really know anyone here.”

I text as we pick our way out of the crowded space, the loud thumping of an obnoxious Kanye West song gradually getting softer as we move away from the speakers and make our way to the door.

Becca: Bailing.

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