Page 28

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dylan

“ I ’m so excited for you to see Chloe and her friends dance, Dylan! They’re so so good!” Kenzie tugs at my shirt to get me to lean down, so I can hear her through the chatter in the crowded fancy-ass theater lobby we’re in, waiting to watch some dance recital thing.

Kenz places her sticky palms against my cheeks—this thing she does when she’s extra excited to tell you something. Pulls you in until her nose is almost touching yours. I would deck anyone else who wrenched me in this close. But it’s Kenz. She’s okay. She smells like the strawberry sucker Phil just bought her at the concession stand for five bucks. Five bucks —for a sucker the size of a large grape.

“Are you so excited?” she asks, eyes wider than the overpriced sucker clutched in her fist that’s now sticking to the chest pocket of my flannel shirt.

I would be more excited about a redo of the family therapy session I was dragged to a couple weekends ago than I am for this bullshit.

“Yeah. It’ll be cool,” I lie. Because no way I’m gonna burst Kenzie’s bubble.

She’s been talking about this thing all day. Spent fifteen minutes just choosing which necklace to wear, running in and out of my room with a different one every two minutes. And it wasn’t just some “pick a winner” situation. More like an American Idol-style narrowing down kind of thing. Until we finally landed on the sparkly pink beaded one with a unicorn charm, which she’s wearing now. I’m wearing the lucky six. Haven’t taken it off since she gave it to me, unless you count the time it got ripped off when I trashed my room. Which I don’t.

“You want to sit next to me?” Kenzie beams, bringing the sucker back towards her mouth. It’s collected a bunch of fuzz from my flannel, so I reach out with my unbandaged hand.

“Sure… Hey, you okay if I have this sucker and you ask Phil to get you another one?”

Yeah, five bucks is a rip-off, but Phil can swing it. I don’t want Kenz putting that shit in her mouth.

She hands it to me with this huge grin, like I’m the one giving her the sucker. “Okay, Dylan. You can have this one. It’s strawberry!”

“My favorite.” I grin, popping it in my mouth just as Phil appears next to me.

“We’ll head into the auditorium in just a few minutes, alright?” he says. “Just waiting for the Thiels to get here. They’re parking their car now, so they’ll be in any second.”

I nod, swirling the sucker in my mouth, and Kenz asks Phil if she can get another one since she gave hers to me. Which puts a huge smile on his face.

“That was nice of you, Kenz.” He turns to me. “So, you like suckers, huh?”

“Sure.” He’s probably gonna buy me a case of them now. Kinda hope he does. This thing is pretty good.

“Oh, hey!” Phil lifts a hand at a couple by the concession stand, then looks back at me. “You two come with me. I want to introduce you to the Jenzens, Dyl.”

He’s been doing this for the past twenty minutes, beaming the entire time, showing me off like I’m some kind of prized golden boy instead of a recently freed head case.

We go over and Phil makes small talk. I stand there like his mute sidekick. Wishing we could go back over by the wall. Fucking hate crowds. Piles of people pressing up against each other. The way it feels like you’re trapped when you’re in the middle of it. Also, the way everyone is ogling me. Every time I turn my head, I catch people staring. Whispering about me. Looking away as soon as our eyes meet, embarrassed to be caught gawking. Not too embarrassed to stare again when they think I won’t see, though.

Phil notices too. “It’ll die down,” he says, leaning in so only I can hear. “The fascination people have with you—give it a few more weeks, and they’ll have moved on to some new event or whatever to gossip about.”

I don’t say anything. Not sure I believe him. Still hope he’s right, though.

A couple minutes later, the entire Thiels family shows up. Scarlett’s wearing a bright green coat that makes her peach-pale skin look like it’s glowing and her eyes even greener. Her lips shiny from that watermelon gloss. She’s stunning, and it makes me even more uncomfortable. Makes me suspicious, but not sure of what. Maybe just Eli’s claws still tearing into my conscience.

She does this thing where she leans in and squeezes my bicep. Almost like she’s hugging my arm or something. I don’t hate it.

She pulls back right away. Knows I’m not a guy who likes people getting up in my personal space. Guess I blasted that message loud and clear last week in my room.

“Hey,” she says, kind of breathless, like they all jogged over from the car. Her nose and cheeks are pink from the cold. “How are you?”

“Okay.”

Our eyes meet. Hers looks happy. No idea how mine look. Probably tired and suspicious.

“So…” She wiggles her eyebrows. Kind of playful. Doesn’t seem in character for her but I like seeing her like this. Lighter. Less uptight. “Your first dance recital.”

“Yup.”

She leans in again until I can feel her warm breath against my cheek. Smell her watermelon lips. “Full disclosure…” she says softly. “These things are pretty deadly.”

I nod once. Great.

A few minutes later, we follow the rest of the crowd into the auditorium, which is as stunning as the lobby. Soft wine-red seats. Ornate gold details everywhere. Feels like I stepped into an old movie or something.

Our seats are with the Thiels towards the front of the theater, right in the middle of the row. Don’t love that. Not gonna say anything, though. Kenz ends up sitting with Sadie, so Phil sits next to me on one side and Scarlett on the other. Feels really close. Our arms keep brushing against each other.

Then our feet.

Thighs…

Knees.

Scarlett leans in. “Buckle in,” she whispers. “It’s a whole hour before intermission.”

Think I’m supposed to smile. I don’t. Feels like there’s not enough air in the room. Like there’s so many people sucking it in, there’s hardly any left for me. Or could be the way Scarlett is so close. Our bodies touching.

“They’ll reel you in… Use their soft little bodies and plump lips and wide eyes to distract you, so you won’t see what they’re really doing. Slowly luring you in…”

Music starts up, so loud it rattles the walls. My nerves. My composure. Lights flood the stage. A swarm of girls file out and do this whole dance routine which, honestly, is pretty impressive for a bunch of eleven and twelve-year-olds. Kenz is right—Chloe’s a good dancer. She looks happy up there. No scowl or scheming eyes trying to catch you doing something she can rat you out for. The dance ends. Music fades.

Then the lights go out.

It’s pitch black. What the fuck?

I wasn’t prepared for this. Should have occurred to me they’d turn the lights out in between numbers.

It’s fine, though. It's just a fancy theater. An audience. Kids waiting to file back out on stage.

Feels like another place, though. ’Cos that’s the thing about total darkness—it hides what’s real and makes it easy to feel like you’re in the worst places with the worst people, doing the absolute worst kinds of things. The kinds of things people only do under the cover of total black.

I feel sweat starting to pool against my lower back. My hands going clammy.

Turn. The fucking. Lights on.

“You alright?” Phil whispers, and I almost deck him, I’m so on edge.

“Fine,” I say, jaw clenched tight as my nerves.

“Your knee’s shaking… Sure you’re okay?”

I still my leg, but it takes all my concentration. Makes me sweat even more. Pretty sure the back of my shirt is drenched. My heartbeat starts doing that thing where it feels like it’s gonna burst right through my ribcage. Makes it even harder to breathe.

The music starts up again. Upbeat drums. Thumping bass.

It’s better. Sort of. Only all I can think about now is how they’re gonna turn the lights out in between every goddamn number. And no way I’m sitting through another hour of this. Two hours, since there’s more after intermission.

“Gotta use the bathroom,” I whisper to Phil, getting to my feet before he can say anything.

People in the row whisper at me as I walk in front of them to get to the aisle. I catch Phil getting to his feet too… Scarlett saying something to him. Phil sitting back down.

I burst through the doors at the back of the auditorium into the lobby area. Empty, thank fuck.

I gulp in air like I just crawled out of a wind tunnel. Let my body slide down the wall next to the door, raking my left hand through my hair.

“You alright there, son?”

I glance up. Some old guy behind the confection counter is looking over at me with this worried expression.

I give him a thumbs up. Still having a hard time breathing, so it’s the best I got. He keeps watching me. Comes towards me a couple minutes later with a bottle of water, just as the auditorium door opens and Scarlett appears.

“Did you see a tall blond guy come out a second ago?” she asks Water Guy. Then follows his gaze down to where I’m sitting on the wide black-and-white marble tiles, knees bent, head tipped back against the wall.

Her footsteps still. “I’ve got it.” She takes the bottle from him. “Thanks.” She slides down next to me.

“He gonna be okay?” Water Guy asks.

“He’ll be fine… He’s a bit claustrophobic. So all the crowds, you know…” Scarlett tells him. “He just needed a breather.”

Glad she picked up on that issue and not the fact that I’m practically a grown-ass man afraid of the dark.

“Okay, well, give me a holler if you need anything.” He makes his way even farther across the atrium towards the ticket booth, where a couple of women are standing behind the counter.

It’s just Scarlett and me now, and the low thrum of the music seeping through the auditorium doors. We sit there saying nothing for a bit. I’m sure she can tell my breathing is shot to hell right now, but she doesn’t mention it. Makes me twice as grateful. First, for getting rid of Water Guy. And now, for not prying.

“I told you these recitals are deadly,” she finally says, taking a swig from the water bottle then offering it to me.

The corner of my lip twitches upwards because, fuck me, I wasn’t expecting that. Was gearing up for a question pile-up I’m not ready to deal with right now.

“The worst,” I breathe out. Then take a couple swigs of water. Drop my head back against the wall. Focus on inhaling.

“Seb’s dad forked up most of the money to re-furbish this theater,” Scarlett says. “It was totally run down for years… It used to be an opera house or something. Graham would come here every few days when they were renovating and sometimes Seb and I would tag along. We were maybe thirteen. Old enough that he left us alone the whole time he was talking to the foreman or whoever, so we had free rein to explore.” She glances over at me, her eyes scanning my face. “You want me to shut up?”

I shake my head. Her low-key reminiscing is helping distract me from the weight against my chest making it so hard to suck in full breaths. She takes the water from me and sips from it, hands it back, then resumes telling me about the stuff she and Seb got up to here when they were younger. The rooms they found with old costumes, dusty but mostly intact, all the weird props, vintage posters, huge cracked painted backdrops…

She tilts her head towards me, still tipped back against the wall. “Let me know when you’re feeling up for it,” she says, eyes wide and conspiring. “I’m going to show you something seriously awesome.”

I take the water from her and down a few long gulps. “Something better than the pine nut muffins?”

“Way better.” She grins.

“Give me a few minutes,” I tell her, and she motions with her chin towards the auditorium doors.

“We’ve got fifty minutes until intermission. And a whole hour after that. No rush.” She pulls out her phone. “I’m going to text Phil and let him know we’re just chilling for a while, so he doesn’t start worrying and come looking for you.”

I don’t say anything. Fucking embarrassing that she knows he checks up on me every fifteen minutes. Worries if I’m not where I say I’m going to be. Stresses if I’m not within eyesight.

She sends a quick text, her thumbs flying across the screen in a way that is so frantic I can’t watch for more than a couple seconds. I go back to staring at the massive chandelier dripping from the ceiling. Will away the weight that’s eased up a bit, but is still fucking stifling. My breaths still sound like I came up from a deep-sea dive.

“Can I do something my mom used to do that helped calm me when I got anxious?”

I can see from my periphery that Scarlett’s watching me, but I don’t turn to look at her. Not sure how I feel about her request. Probably gonna need more details.

“Just… Here, give me your hand.” She reaches over before I can stress about it anymore. Slowly. Consciously . Like I’m a scared rabbit or something, which is even more embarrassing than the intense hovering situation with Phil. She takes my unbandaged hand in both of hers, eyes on my face the whole time.

Can’t help it—my body tenses on instinct. My hand jerks away from hers for a second before I force myself to relinquish control. I still don’t meet her eyes, but let her pull my hand into her lap. She smooths her fingers across my palm, back and forth. My breath hitches. Not because of the weight against my chest, though—because of something else entirely.

Not sure this is a good idea. Definitely not convinced any kind of touching from this girl is gonna help slow my breathing. More likely to speed it right back up to an unsteady gallop.

I’m about to pull away when she starts tracing the pad of her thumb in lazy circles. Slow… really slow. But steady and softly.

I relax my hand into her lap. Close my eyes. Focus on the steady round… and round… and round of her thumb against my skin. Match my breaths to that same rhythm after a while. Slower… Easier. Almost normal. Almost more relaxed than I was before the auditorium and the crowd and the sudden darkness.

“It’s relaxing, right?” she says softly.

I turn my head a bit to the side, my eyes dipping to my hand in hers. Large, tanned, and calloused against delicate, pale, and smooth. She keeps circling her thumb. I keep watching. Feels weird, being touched like this. Totally different from any way I’ve ever been touched before, and it makes every part of my body react in a way that’s just as foreign. Heightened, but not out of fear. It feels good.

Too good. It’s making me react in places that have no business reacting in the atrium of a theater with a crowd of hundreds just a few feet away.

But fuck…

Holy fuck. I don’t want her to stop.

I look back up at the ceiling. Close my eyes, so the only thing I’m aware of is the feel of her thumb against my palm.

“This okay?” Scarlett asks, her voice almost as soft as her touch against my skin.

I inhale… Exhale… “Yeah.” My voice comes from somewhere lower in my throat than usual. Extra deep after hers. Ragged. Almost a moan. I want to tell her not to stop, but don’t trust myself to say a thing.

She keeps tracing her thumb along the creases of my palm.

I breathe.

Neither of us says a word after that.

“Intermission’s in ten minutes.” A man’s voice startles us both, and the circling stops. I look up. It’s Water Guy.

“Okay, thanks,” Scarlett says, her fingers curling softly around mine. “We’ll get up, then.”

Once Water Guy is back behind the confection counter, Scarlett squeezes my hand lightly. “You up for a little adventure now?”

My eyes meet hers. “Sure.” A few seconds later, we both get to our feet. Scarlett’s hand is still holding mine. I don’t pull away.