Page 91
Story: Because of Dylan
Silence returns. He waits for me to speak again. But I can’t. I need to sit with this revelation.
The tapping comes back, slower this time. “You there?” he asks, his voice is so low I can barely hear it. I don’t reply before I hang up.
Chapter Forty
Dylan's caris parked in the same spot as last night. I look around before opening the door. No one is paying attention to me. I get inside.
“Thank you for picking me up so early.” The therapist’s advice flashes back in my mind, and I blush and look out the window to hide my face.
Dylan starts his car. “Eight thirty isn’t so early.”
“It is if you don’t have to get up and can sleep in, especially when it’s so cold.” I look down, avoid his eyes, and adjust my jacket under the seatbelt.
“My first class is at eleven, it’s no biggie.” He glances at me, then back at the road.
Something is different. I can’t figure out what, and I can’t stop thinking about it. “What changed?”
“What do you mean?” His hands curl around the steering wheel.
I debate speaking up and breaking this … whatever this is. Here goes nothing. “You were a dick to me.” The words are harsh, but my tone is neutral.
His eyebrows rise in response.
“You were a jerk when we first met. Now, you're not. What changed?” We come to a red light.
His shoulders drop, and his head follows. He closes his eyes, nods, and then looks at me.
“I deserve that. And I'm sorry. I owe you an apology, and I should have apologized earlier.”
“That still doesn't answer my question.”
His fingers tap on a knee. “I made a harsh judgment about you based on things I overheard and things I didn't fully understand.”
If I could poke around his brain and read his mind, I would, and then I could avoid the questions. But I can’t. And I can’t deal with not knowing or understanding what’s going on. I don’t know where we stand. WhereIstand.
I look at him. “Explain.” The car behind us beeps when the light turns green. “Please.”
He opens his mouth, closes, opens, closes, and nothing comes out.
Another beep. He drives.
I reach to him, touch his hand on the steering wheel. “Don't hold back. Tell me what you're thinking.”
His hand flexes underneath mine. “Remember the first time we met? The very first time.” His eyebrows go up.
How can I forget how he found me kissing Lucas in his classroom? “Yes, you caught me kissing a boy in your classroom.”
He glances at me and back at the road. “I didn't like that. When I first saw you two, before I realized it was you, I was annoyed, but I also remembered being a teenager in a college. I understood. My only intention was to get you two out of my classroom before the next lecture started. But when I saw it was you, I got angry.”
That makes no sense. “Why? You didn't even know me.”
“But I did. Well, maybe not in person. But I knew you, I noticed you.”
“I don't understand.”
He laughs. “You are an attractive woman. I'm a guy. I noticed.”
I'm at a loss. I've never seen him look at anyone with anything other than cold politeness and utmost professionalism.
The tapping comes back, slower this time. “You there?” he asks, his voice is so low I can barely hear it. I don’t reply before I hang up.
Chapter Forty
Dylan's caris parked in the same spot as last night. I look around before opening the door. No one is paying attention to me. I get inside.
“Thank you for picking me up so early.” The therapist’s advice flashes back in my mind, and I blush and look out the window to hide my face.
Dylan starts his car. “Eight thirty isn’t so early.”
“It is if you don’t have to get up and can sleep in, especially when it’s so cold.” I look down, avoid his eyes, and adjust my jacket under the seatbelt.
“My first class is at eleven, it’s no biggie.” He glances at me, then back at the road.
Something is different. I can’t figure out what, and I can’t stop thinking about it. “What changed?”
“What do you mean?” His hands curl around the steering wheel.
I debate speaking up and breaking this … whatever this is. Here goes nothing. “You were a dick to me.” The words are harsh, but my tone is neutral.
His eyebrows rise in response.
“You were a jerk when we first met. Now, you're not. What changed?” We come to a red light.
His shoulders drop, and his head follows. He closes his eyes, nods, and then looks at me.
“I deserve that. And I'm sorry. I owe you an apology, and I should have apologized earlier.”
“That still doesn't answer my question.”
His fingers tap on a knee. “I made a harsh judgment about you based on things I overheard and things I didn't fully understand.”
If I could poke around his brain and read his mind, I would, and then I could avoid the questions. But I can’t. And I can’t deal with not knowing or understanding what’s going on. I don’t know where we stand. WhereIstand.
I look at him. “Explain.” The car behind us beeps when the light turns green. “Please.”
He opens his mouth, closes, opens, closes, and nothing comes out.
Another beep. He drives.
I reach to him, touch his hand on the steering wheel. “Don't hold back. Tell me what you're thinking.”
His hand flexes underneath mine. “Remember the first time we met? The very first time.” His eyebrows go up.
How can I forget how he found me kissing Lucas in his classroom? “Yes, you caught me kissing a boy in your classroom.”
He glances at me and back at the road. “I didn't like that. When I first saw you two, before I realized it was you, I was annoyed, but I also remembered being a teenager in a college. I understood. My only intention was to get you two out of my classroom before the next lecture started. But when I saw it was you, I got angry.”
That makes no sense. “Why? You didn't even know me.”
“But I did. Well, maybe not in person. But I knew you, I noticed you.”
“I don't understand.”
He laughs. “You are an attractive woman. I'm a guy. I noticed.”
I'm at a loss. I've never seen him look at anyone with anything other than cold politeness and utmost professionalism.
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