Waiting for You (29 page)

I want to be a part of
her storm.

I want to feel my pulse
against hers.

I want the bitter on
her sweet tongue.
The sadness in her sweet syrup eyes.
The silence in her screaming mind.
The enigma that is
really quite simple.
A complicated happiness.

I wasn’t willing to let
go, I was falling completely, forever, solid fucking love swimming through my
veins. I want to be the breath in her mouth and the rhythm in her chest that
beats for me only.

I want her to know the
truth that would crush her.

I want to hide her from
that very same truth and keep her with me.

I want her to see the
beauty this world has to offer her. That was the fucking point of all of this.

I want her sunrise and
her sunset.

I want to go back to
being seven and kissing her innocence and her soft skin against mine. I want to
go back to the first time I touched her and remember that feeling and live in
that moment. I want to get rid of this ache in my chest and the pure fucking
torture of being so close and not being able to have what I want.

What I want doesn’t
fucking matter anymore. What she wants
matters.

15.
   
I’m
Here
– Bailey Gray

Whenever you tell a
story, there’s always a twist, a turning point, a point when the story changes.
When we arrived in Birmingham is when it happened. It was the reason why I said
the cover should have been shadow and smoke.  

When we arrived in
Birmingham, we met up with a few of his friends that he kept in touch with
because his brother was out of town that weekend. We made plans to meet up with
him Friday night at his bar which would mark the one month day to us leaving
home.

In that one month I
learned a lot about Dylan and the life he had and wanted. He wanted to sing
only if he didn’t have to be obligated to do so. He did in fact hate lemons and
anything cinnamon. Cardboard freaked him out. The Beastie Boys were his
favorite band, again, if he had to choose.

The most important part
that I learned
,
if Dylan wanted something, whatever it
was, nothing would stop him.
Until me.
He wouldn’t
give in. He kept saying shit like I wasn’t ready and he wanted me to be sure. I
had knocked off everything else on my summer bucket list but my virginity, or
innocence as Dylan put it. I begged, pleaded, attacked, nothing worked.

I also learned quickly
of Dylan’s moods and that they changed drastically from one moment to the next.
When other guys and I were involved, that’s when his anger got the best of him.

I’d seen him jealous at
the club in Oklahoma City and a few other times during our trip but nothing
compared to that night at his friend’s house in Birmingham. Even then that was
nothing compared to the rage he could release when pushed. I soon came to find
that hurricane he had inside of him was the deadliest storm I would ever see.

His friend, Chris
Rigby, lived in a small housing development outside downtown Birmingham with
his parents who were, conveniently out of town, that weekend.

As soon as we entered
the house, the smell of marijuana and whiskey was almost overpowering.

Dylan stayed close by
me,
introducing me to people he hadn’t seen in years but
kept in touch with. He seemed at ease and welcomed the distraction the drugs
around him provided.

I’m not sure why, but
most of the night felt odd to me, a strange reminder that we were just two kids
who knew nothing about consequences and the damage we could do to one another.

It started with me
being high, as was Dylan, the music around us pulsed and I found myself dancing
with a guy named Josh who Dylan was friends with.

Dylan saw and wasn’t pleased
but did nothing to stop it. The only indication I got from him that he didn’t
enjoy it was his glare. He took a drink of his
beer,
his eyes remained locked with mine as I danced with Josh.

When Josh and I parted
after the song, things were kept civil. His hands had been probably where they
shouldn’t be and his mouth was dangerously close to my neck a few times but…I
didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have done.

Dylan and I hadn’t
defined our relationship and I didn’t see where we really needed to. Neither
did Dylan, or so I thought. I still hadn’t told him how I felt, though I was
sure he knew, I hadn’t said the words out-loud.

Feeling Dylan’s livid
glare had me sweating bullets so I went outside with my plastic cup of beer to
get some air, a warm summer night was just what I needed to clear my already
foggy head. That’s when Dylan followed me.

“You fucking that guy
later or what?” he said slurring his words, his hands buried deep in his cargo
shorts that hung low on his hips, a smirk present. Whenever Dylan had something
to say, whether good or bad, he smirked.  

My words came out in a
hiss when I turned to face him, my stomach twisting and turning. “Jesus Dylan,
I was just dancing with him.”

He sounded desperate
for me to hear him but I didn’t, I was pissed. “Why did you let him dance with
you like that?”

“Dylan, we were just
dancing.” My voice was softer now, nearing tears I didn’t want to show. I
wasn’t exactly comfortable with Dylan being upset with me for enjoying myself.
I wasn’t attracted to Josh nor would I have let him try anything. But dancing
shouldn’t be off limits and neither should
talking
.
After all, he could check out another girl but I couldn’t dance with someone?
“You didn’t see me acting this way when you checked out Sway,” I added spitefully.

That set him off.
“Don’t give me that shit!” he yelled, his voice echoing throughout the covered
deck we were standing on. His weight shifted and he stepped forward. “It sure
as shit didn’t look that way to me,” he spit, desperation turned to anger and I
heard something break, a beer bottle against the wall side of the house, a beer
bottle I didn’t know he was holding. It was evident we had both had too much.

“You’re overreacting.”

That was the wrong
thing to say to him.

To be fair, I pushed,
but what he said next was like acid in my veins.

Dylan tore his eyes
away from mine and turned to walk away, but stopped abruptly. He spun around to
look at me before he got to the door. “I fucked Mercedes Grant last summer.”

He kept his eyes on
mine as if he was challenging me to reply. I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t going to
let him know how bad that hurt.

He knew what to say to
hurt me right then.

The door to the house
slammed behind him and I stayed outside and sat in the grass.
Laying
back, I stared at the stars above me wishing they
held an answer. If only I could connect them and come to some sort of an
unspoken answer. I cried. It was the type of tears that soaked your face,
warmed your cheeks and closed your throat begging for some sort of
understanding.

What did Mercedes have
that I didn’t have? Why did every guy want her? Why would he sleep with her and
not me?

She was a bitch, how
could they not see that?

At the first sign of
interest, guys were drawn to her and I never understood why. First Eric and now
Dylan, I really couldn’t understand the appeal she held.

I got cold quicker than
I wanted and decided to go back inside to face Dylan. I was ready to leave and
if he wasn’t going to take me, I was walking.

He was sitting at the
bar in the kitchen with several guys that appeared excited to have him around.
They patted his back, talked around him, never noticing that he was not part of
their discussions.

Without knowing I came
back inside, he tensed, he felt it. We had that type of pull on each other now.

Setting the beer down,
forcefully, his head tipped toward the door and I knew this was my directive to
follow or I was about to be left there. He waved a quick goodbye to his friends
and moved past me to the door, his stare on his feet.

Sure enough, he walked
to the door, waited for less than two seconds, and then pushed through to the
driveway.

Nothing was said when I
got in the car and nothing was said when we drove away.

I folded my hands in my
lap prepared to pick out a corner on the street soon. I thought for sure this
was the end of our trip. I’d have to call my dad, beg for forgiveness and go
about my perfectly planned life.

I didn’t want that
though. As much as this hurt, my time with him had been unreal. That’s why this
hurt so badly. Dylan was showing me a side of life I never knew. Yeah it was
painful but it held a fire I never knew anyone could feel.

The drive to the hotel
was quiet, no music, nothing. Streets were empty, houses dark, and businesses
closed. At the stop light, I snuck a peek at
him,
his
stare was forward, never yielding. A quiet rolling rumble from the GTO is the
only noise around us but I knew. I could feel it, the storm that was coming.
The shadows
that were
moving on my sunrise and sunset,
the darker tones that would suffocate my honey hues.

When we got back to the
hotel, he said nothing to me.
When I slammed the door behind
me, which got his attention.
He looked back at me and I smiled kicking
my shoes to the side near the heater.

Dylan set his phone, keys
and wallet on the nightstand and then looked over at me again. “What’s the
matter, brown eyes?” He was taunting me with the curve of his lips and the
smirk that touched his eyes. He was being vindictive.

“Don’t be an asshole
Dylan.” I threw my bag down and slammed the door to the bathroom before I
entered it. Trying to avoid him as long as I could, I stayed in there for close
to an hour.

When I came out, his
mood had softened though the wreckage around the room informed me it wasn’t
without damage. I decided in that hour of my alone time that I was going to be
the bigger person in this and apologize. “I’m sorry I danced with Josh. I
wasn’t trying to upset you.” I moved from the door to the bathroom to the bed
sitting on it. “I was having a good time.”

“Yeah, I know.” His
irritation spoke in his stance and the way his eyes held mine as he paced the
space beside the bed. He still hadn’t calmed down. Before I had much time to
react, he stopped pacing and hovered over me. “You made that perfectly clear tonight.”

“I didn’t mean it like
that,” I sighed feeling like I was suffocating with him that close, that angry,
that defensiveness for something he didn’t understand. Quickly I brushed away
the blame-worthy tears streaming down my face.

“But you did,” Dylan said
keeping his eyes on mine. Anger was flaring, that part I understood. “You said
it.”

“My god, you’re so
frustrating.”

“Yeah
well.”
He finally stepped back creating a few inches of distance. His
hands patted his pocket looking for his cigarettes. When he found them, he
pulled one out placing it between his lips and squinted at me. “You’re
annoying.”

“I am not.” I glared
trying to let him know this wasn’t exactly helping us move past this.

“Yep, you’re annoying.”

“What are you, like
five-years-old?”

“Shut up,” he said
taking his lighter from the pocket of his flannel and tossing it around in his
left hand before lighting the cigarette in the non-smoking room.

“Okay, so four then.”

Dylan pushed against my
shoulder and I fell against the bed, he smirked as he walked toward the balcony
but added. “More like two.”

I wasn’t finished with
our argument though and had a few things I needed to say so I followed him. He
sighed when I came outside. “
Haven’t
had enough
princess?”

I did what I thought
was necessary for the situation. I kicked his shin. “Don’t be a fucking jerk
about this.”

He laughed a little
darker this time. “Well then, go ahead,” he said blowing smoke out with another
chuckle. “Tell me he touched you so I can lay that motherfucker out.”

I wasn’t laughing.
“That’s not nice, Dylan. You’ve got some serious anger issues. We were dancing.
Don’t blow this up into something more.”

“Whatever,” he grunted
kicking his legs up onto the railing and leaning back in the plastic chair that
was out there.

“Fine Dylan, take me
home then. If this is the way this shit is going to go, take me home!” It was
the first time since we left where I didn’t want to be around him.

“So
what?”
Dylan snapped jerking his legs from the balcony to sit a little
straighter, his posture tense. “You fucking hate me now because I was trying to
protect you from being raped by a fucking douchebag?”

“I wasn’t going to be
raped Dylan.” Losing a little steam, I sat down beside him in the other chair
next to his. “You’re exaggerating.”

“You don’t know that,”
he mumbled taking another drag from his cigarette. “You’re so fucking naïve to
all this shit around you. There’s so much about this fucking world that you
have no idea about. Do you know how many times Josh has been in and out of
jail?”

“Stop trying to protect
me Dylan,” I said ignoring his comments on Josh. It meant nothing and wasn’t
part of this argument. “I don’t need you to. You’re not my father and please
don’t act
like it.”

“Yeah,
princess.”
He gave another scornful glare my way. He called me princess
just to pour salt in the wound his words left. “You can be goddamn sure I’m not
your fucking dad.”

Just as I was about
ready to walk away, he grabbed my hand when I stood, the fire in him simmering
down slightly. “I refuse to sit back and watch you get hurt. I won’t do it. I
watched for years and I won’t anymore.”