Page 34 of The Hardest Fall

My next brilliant move was to pat his arm and discreetly squeeze it as a warning, but then I felt his muscles flex under my touch and I forgot what I was going to say.

Holy shit…

I looked up at Dylan and our gazes met. I had no freaking idea what he was thinking, but I quickly looked away and pried my fingers off of his arm.

If we both wanted to get away from Ms. Hilda’s endless chatter, I had to focus on one thing at a time. I thought telling a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody if it meant we’d get back to the apartment and I’d get to my dinner sooner.

“This is who you must’ve seen leaving this morning, Ms. Hilda. His name is Dylan Reed and he’s my new roommate.”

Both Dylan and I watched Ms. Hilda take him in from head to toe. Shamelessly, I did the same. He was wearing black and gray Nike shoes, light gray sweatpants—which killed me, because gray sweatpants on a guy was heaven on earth, especially when they wore them in the morning—and a white t-shirt that stretched across his impressive chest, the sleeves hugging those arms I had touched only seconds before. He was also toting a big-ass bag that hung low on his hip, the strap crossed over his chest.

Ms. Hilda must not have been impressed because she released another grunt. Excluding our old Hilda, if any living, breathing female wasn’t impressed when they clapped eyes on Dylan Reed, I was ready to give up pizza—for a week—and that was the biggest commitment one could make.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms…” Dylan trailed off.

“Hilda,” I jumped in before he got her started. “I forgot to mention her to you, didn’t I? This is Ms. Hilda. I was just helping her out with something and she mentioned how she had seen a young man leave the apartment and was confused about who you were.”

“Oh?” Dylan asked politely, glancing between me and our neighbor.

“I wasn’t confused, Miss Clarke. I gave you my exact thoughts on how I felt about another boy living with you. This one”—she turned to look at Dylan as she pointed her thumb at me—“should’ve been a juggler in a circus instead of fiddling away with that camera she can’t seem to part ways with.”

“Oh, but, Ms. Hilda, you didn’t hear the best part yet.” I put my arm through Dylan’s, stood a little bit closer to him, basically plastering my front to his side, and had to forcefully suppress the involuntary shiver caused by standing too close to him. I leaned toward Ms. Hilda as if I was about to give her the world’s biggest secret. She leaned forward too—she lived for gossip. “I’m afraid he’s not into us girls,” I whispered loud enough that she could hear, which meant Dylan could hear me perfectly clearly, too. Ms. Hilda’s eyebrows furrowed and she gave Dylan another long look.

“Uh, excuse me?” Dylan spoke up after a few seconds of silence.

I angled my body toward him and this time patted his chest area, completely ignoring his lined forehead and questioning gaze. I had no idea where I was going with the whole petting thing, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” the old woman answered, mistaking Dylan’s question as an apology.

“Yes, nothing to be sorry about, Dylan,” I repeated.

Dylan’s eyes jumped from me to Ms. Hilda. “I don’t—”

Before Dylan could finish his sentence, I discreetly stepped on his foot with my heel and applied as much pressure as I could. Points to him for not even letting out a grunt. Slowly he turned his head toward me and raised an eyebrow. I gave him the sweetest smile I could come up with and pulled my foot away.

“Ms. Hilda is a very open-minded woman,” I explained, gesturing toward her with my head. “Nothing like her peers, right Ms. Hilda?”

She stood a little taller. “Yes, yes, that I am. Those old farts are nothing like me. Keep your head high, young man. There is nothing wrong about love. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Uh…”

“You can tell me.”

“Come on, Dylan,” I urged, lightly shaking his arm. The sooner he went along with it and appeased her, the sooner we could get away. “Don’t be shy.”

He turned his head toward me yet again and gave me a long look that melted the smile right off my face, not because his expression promised a violent retribution, but the opposite, actually. He looked amused, a little confused maybe, but still amused, which was weird and unexpected. I frowned up at him and his lips twitched.

Still keeping his eyes on me, he finally said, “Actually, I do have a boyfriend.”

“Is he a nice boy?”

With an easy smile, he broke our eye contact and turned back to her. “He’s really nice. I’m lucky to have him.”