Page 90 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

Charlotte stops being a fly on the wall and voices her opinion even though I didn’t ask for it. “Maybe when he disappears like that, he’s with his girlfriend.”

That comment makes me realize how many of our other conversations she’s been eavesdropping on. I want to slap her solely because this is a thought that has crossed my mind several times in the last few days.

“Shut up, Charlotte!” Lana snaps.

“What?” Her eyes move from Lana to me. “Isa, let’s be real. Thisthingyou guys have going on is just about sex...well, not even sex, because he’s too scared of catching an STD to actually sleep with you, but Dylan is the type of guy who wants an emotional connection. He’s told you a few times that he doesn’t want it with you and that’s probably because he has that with his girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Lana corrects, then reaches over the table to take my hand. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just being a jealous bitch.”

I can’t even respond. Lana is right. Charlotte is just being a jealous bitch, but she’s still right. This is just a physical thing. He has told me he doesn’t want to fall in love with me. He admitted that he still loves Fran. And before he disappeared, there were many times that we could have gone all the way, but he stopped it every single time. I can’t argue any of the points she’s made.

The last bell rings, but I’m so disheartened I don’t even gather my stuff. I just sit there and try to swallow the hard lump in my throat.

“I’m just stating the truth,” Charlotte claps back, shifting to speak to Lana like I’m not even there. “Besides, Dylan doesn’t give a shit about her. He’s only using her because she’s easy, so why would I be jealous of this whorebag?”

“Whorebag?” Dylan’s unexpected voice startles me, and I look back just as he straddles the bench to sit beside me. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, caressing the lobe for a few seconds before his arm slips around my shoulder. For a moment or two, he just stares at me like we’re the only two people there, and then he pulls me closer to kiss my temple. “Hi,” he whispers into my hair.

Something isn’t right. He’s always affectionate, but something is just off today. I have so many questions, but I refuse to ask them in front of Charlotte, so instead, I try to be as casual as possible.

“Hi,” I greet back.

His grip tightens around me, and the smile on his face is his usual cheerful smile, but he still doesn’t seem like himself. “So, what exactly is a whorebag?”

He’s very pale and his eyes are red and tired, but the most glaring detail is the cut on his lip. I don’t ask about any of it. I simply add it to my growing list of questions and continue with the conversation. “It’s just a normal bag...but it’s stuffed with a whore.”

He chuckles. “Intriguing. Do you come in travel size? Because I would take you with meeverywhere.” He looks across the table. “Hey, Lana.”

“Hi. You just disappeared on us. We were worried.”

“Nah, you shouldn’t worry about me. I’m fine. Sometimes I just need a break.”

Charlotte is scowling at me like I ate her firstborn, but she immediately softens her expression when Dylan looks at her from across the table.

“Hey, Charlotte.”

“Hi, Dylan.” She puts on her sweetest smile. “I’m glad you?”

He doesn’t even let her get that sentence out. “Charlotte, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make assumptions about me. You don’t know me, so please don’t go around talking as if you know what I think or what I feel. It wasn’t right for you to say something like that to Isabella on my behalf. I don’t need a mouthpiece, so don’t do it again.” He stands up without giving her a chance to respond. “Now, if you ladies don’t mind, I’m gonna steal her away before Tommy gets here.”

“Take her,” Lana says, waving us off. “See you tomorrow, Isa.”

Charlotte is still pouting like a stubborn child when he holds out his hand. I take it and walk with him to the front of the school to wait for Tommy. It’s noisy and crowded as students stream out of the front doors, but we find a semi-quiet spot under a tree.

I decide to broach the subject because I want answers. “I thought you were mad at me.”

He shakes his head and circles his arms around my waist. “I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad at you?”

I stare at him, wondering if he even remembers the last week. “You came to the store on Friday, and I was a little tipsy.”

“Nah, I wasn’t mad about that. I was...disappointed, but I wasn’t mad.”

“Then why did you ghost me for a week?”

“I didn’t ghost you. I just...wanted to be alone, so I switched my phone off. Like I told Lana, sometimes I need a break.”

“From me?”

His arms tighten around me. “No, not from you. Just from...life. Remember, I told you I have plenty of bad Friday nights? That was just one of them, and I needed a break after that.”

---