Wildest Dreams: Chapter 5

DYLAN, 18, RHYLAND, 22

Roses are red

Violets are purple blue

Your beauty is too much to take

Please let me be your favorite mistake

I tossed another one of Tucker Reid’s desperate poems into the trash, yawning into my arm. My high-school bully turned besotted stalker was no Lord Byron. In fact, most of his weekly poems had more cheese in them than a baked ziti, to the point that I was beginning to develop lactose intolerance. If this was all Staindrop had to offer in terms of eligible men, I was inclined to become a nun. I wasn’t losing my virginity to that.

Row stuck his head through the gap between my bedroom door and the doorframe, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. “Dyl?”

Whirling around on my squeaky desk chair, I kicked the trash can under my desk. “What’s up?”

“Are you going to the graduation party in the moorlands tonight?” he murmured around the cigarette. “Rhy and I wanna crack open a few beers, but I figured I’d ask you first in case you need a ride.”

Something melted in my chest like butter on a hot pan. “Sitting this one out.”

There was no reason for me to go to the graduation party, really. Everyone was going to get drunk and celebrate moving away to college, while I was staying here.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have the grades to go to college. My GPA was 4.3, my extracurriculars were stellar, and I had letters of recommendation from everyone who’d ever met me. I loved studying. It wasn’t that. It was just…I needed to stay. For Row.

Row had been the one to take care of our mother all these years, and now that he was off to study abroad, someone had to hold the fort. It was time for me to pay my dues. To make sure Dad wasn’t hurting her.

“You sure?” Row’s dark eyebrows knit into a scowl. “I don’t mind not drinking. It’s no skin off my back.”

“Positive.” I picked up a book from my desk, leafing through it. My eyeballs stung with unshed tears, but I didn’t let them loose. I was going to be brave, just like Row had been.

Brave when my dad beat him whenever he was drunk, which was every day.

Brave when, after nights of taking abuse from Dad, he smiled at me across the breakfast table in the mornings, passed me the cereal box, gave me lunch money, and pretended he wasn’t dead inside.

Row didn’t know I was aware of the abuse Dad inflicted on him and Mama. I didn’t know why I was lucky enough to escape his wrath. But it didn’t matter.

It was my turn to watch over our parents, make sure Dad didn’t kill Mama, and I was ready.

My brother drummed his fingers over the back of my door, stalling. “I invited some friends over. Rhy, Piper, and Chrissie. That okay?”

“Sure,” I said brightly. “Of course.”

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for my brother to hang out with pretty, interested girls from home when he vacationed here from Le Cordon Bleu, but I knew he’d never have any of them. He was hopelessly in love with my best friend, Cal.

“Dyl…” Row halted.

“Hmm?”

“Why aren’t you going to college?”

The question impaled my stomach like a rusty knife. I inhaled through my nose. My shoulders tensed. “Honestly? I don’t want to accumulate student debt to get a BA in bullshit. I’ll figure things out at my own pace. Decide what I want to do.”

“It’s not because of me, right?” Row asked after a beat.

It is, and I won’t ever let you drop out of culinary school. You’ve already sacrificed too much.

I snorted. “No, Row. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

The next few hours slogged by. My parents weren’t home: Dad was at work, and Mama was visiting Uncle Antonio in New Jersey. I retired from my desk to my bed, texting with Cal and skimming a book. I wasn’t even sure what I was reading. There was a murder, a cabin, and a good amount of cheating between two couples. Downstairs, I could hear girlish giggles and screeching and beer bottles popping open. Row and Rhyland were talking in their deep, authoritative voices. My ears tuned out everything other than Rhy’s voice, though. The husky, deep burr of the last guy I should be attracted to.

My stomach rumbled, announcing it was empty.

I sighed and put the book on my chest, glancing at the clock on my nightstand.

Just grab something quick. You can’t avoid him forever.

Checking my phone to procrastinate, I noticed a few text messages.

Cal: We should go to the graduation hangout. I’m leaving tomorrow for New York.

As much as I was happy for her, I was depressed for myself. Cal was my only ray of light in the otherwise gloomy Staindrop.

Tucker: Want me 2 pick u up 4 the party?

Tucker: I rlly like u.

Tucker: You’re eyes look like 2 graceful beetles. Shiny and black.

Tucker: Your so beautiful dylan. Idk how I never noticed it before.

Flinging my legs over the bed, I padded downstairs. The lights were turned off in the kitchen, the house mostly dark in the dusky evening. I glanced past the backyard doors and caught Row and his two lady friends sitting around a bonfire, drinking beer. I noticed Row had stuck to water. Probably didn’t trust me not to change my mind about the party.

This is why you’re doing this for him.

He’s always taken care of you. He’s loyal to a fault.

The toilet in the house flushed noisily, followed by the sound of a faucet running. I grabbed a bowl from the overhead cabinet and poured some pretzels into it. I dumped a few grapes and baby carrots into the mix, my stomach brushing the kitchen counter. I was about to turn around and go upstairs when two hands bracketed me from either side, fingers splayed across the countertop. I immediately recognized those fingers. Tan, long, and rough from manual work. He worked in construction every summer when he was off from college.

I sucked in a breath. Rhyland.

An erection ground between my ass cheeks through our clothes. A hot, humid mouth came crashing down over the shell of my ear. The faint fumes of beer and the bitter bite of weed skulked into my nostrils.

Was he drunk? Stoned?

Knowing Rhyland, he was both.

Ropes of exhilaration twisted around every nerve ending in my body like ivy while my mind ran in a hundred different directions. This was shocking. Rhyland had never touched me before. Never indicated he liked me this way. Other than the lingering looks between us. The steadfast, agonizing tension that clawed my neck every time I caught him glaring at me silently, squeezing hard until I was out of breath.

We’d have entire conversations with our gazes alone, and still we’d barely talk. We scarcely acknowledged each other’s existence. All I had to go by was his gawking and that look on his face like he wanted to tell me something. But he never did.

I needed to stop this. Now. Row wouldn’t approve. And I never did things he didn’t approve of.

My mouth dropped, and I tried to push a rejection out, but then he snaked a hand up my waist, cupping the underside of my breast, brushing my puckered nipple through my flimsy white shirt with possessiveness, and I leaned into him, pathetic little sobs of passion ripping from my mouth. His thumb drew circles around my nipple, making my breast feel heavy and full in his palm.

“Finally,” he groaned into my neck, grinding his cock up and down the slit of my ass, the girth pushing between my cheeks. “I thought I’d never get you alone.”

He doesn’t know it’s you. He thinks you’re someone else.

Piper, most likely. We both had long black hair, olive skin, and long legs.

I grunted a refusal, but it came out as a desperate whimper. Of its own accord, my back arched, and my ass searched for more of his length. Honeyed warmth gathered under my navel. I was still a virgin and hadn’t even seen a penis up close. The furthest I’d gone was heavy petting. But now I wanted more. I wanted everything.

“How about we reenact all the dirty texts you’ve been sending me?” Rhyland growled into my skin, straight teeth sinking to the delicate flesh of my collarbone.

Before I could protest, he kicked my legs apart and sank his knee between my thighs, his muscular thigh pressuring my empty center, making it throb deliciously as it begged for more.

“Now what should I do to yo—”

Before he finished his sentence, his palm halted on the golden necklace. A gift from my mother. It had a distinct thin cross. I’d worn it since I was fourteen. Rhyland grunted, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around at the speed of light. His jaw went slack, his gold-speckled eyes igniting into flames.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dylan, what the hell are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” My gaze snapped up to his, confused and defenseless and emotional, and fuck, Rhyland was hooking up with Piper. It shouldn’t have hurt like this. It shouldn’t have hurt at all. Why him? I could’ve liked anyone else and easily dated them. “Not assaulting my best friend’s sister, that’s w-what.” I snatched my pretzel bowl with a haughty huff to prove I was down here for food, not to get molested by a rando.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” he spluttered, blocking my way to the stairs.

“I froze. I had no idea what was happening,” I lied. The truth was too humiliating to contemplate.

“Don’t bullshit me, Dylan. You’re not the kind of girl who freezes.”

“Yeah? What kind of girl am I, then?”

“The type to wedgie the devil to start a fight.” He crowded me back against the kitchen counter.

This was more than we’d spoken the entire year. The entire decade, to be honest.

“Are you victim-blaming right now?” My brows pinched into a V. “This gives strong ‘but she was wearing revealing clothes’ vibes.”

His eyes flared in horror. I had him there.

I didn’t feel even a little guilty for lying. My lust-filled gut swam with warm liquid, and I felt empty, my skin tingly, begging to be touched. My chest rose and fell with my erratic breaths. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He glanced down at my tits, then back up at me.

“This was a mistake,” he conceded, sounding serious and regretful for the first time in, well, ever. “I’d never—”

“Yeah. Me either. Gross.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. He didn’t make a move. Neither did I. There it was again—that look. Like he was holding back from saying something.

“What?” I rolled my eyes to stop them from watering.

“Nothing.” His voice was strained. “I’m sorry.”

“That you were born? Yeah, so am I.” I plastered the bowl to my chest, sidestepping him to go upstairs.

He moved in the same direction, trying to give me space. I stepped to the other side. He did the same. I growled in frustration.

“Get out of my way,” I said. I had to go upstairs and flick the bean before I exploded.

“Trying to.”

“Well, just stand still, and I’ll go around you,” I snapped.

I didn’t mean to be this harsh, this awful, to him, but my ego had taken a huge blow, and I was trying to salvage whatever was left of it. Rhyland’s ego didn’t need stroking; it needed its own freaking zip code. He’d gained notoriety for being the hottest player in town. And he went to a good college. He’d survive.

Rhyland stood stiffly, his jaw so tense I thought it was going to snap out of his mouth. I sidestepped him with a headshake.

“Enjoy Piper,” I spat out, taking the stairs up.

He snatched the hem of my shirt, pulling me to him. The pretzels flew into the air, landing on the floor. My chest slammed against his. He grabbed my hips, sneering down at me, disgusted with himself.

“Fine. I lied. I do want you.”

“Join the line, loser,” I huffed, determined not to thaw under his touch.

“I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in my fucking life.” His voice was thick and dark. “I know I’m a pig, but I can’t stop fantasizing about fucking you.”

“Show me,” I dared him, my voice barely trembling.

He clasped my jaw and tilted me against the wall as his lips collided with mine. A strangled gasp escaped me, and he swallowed it whole, opening his mouth. Our tongues touched, electricity zinging between them, and my eyes rolled over in their sockets, fluttering shut as fireworks exploded against my eyelids.

My whole universe shrank to this moment—to the sensation of his lips on mine, the stroke of his tongue, the way his hand fastened itself around my waist when he held me. His lips were firm, smooth, perfect. He tasted of debauchery, of decadent sin. I wanted more of it. I threaded my fingers through his hair, the sound of my heartbeat drowning out the moans and gasps we exchanged between us. All my blood rushed to my clit, to the tips of my nipples, to my toes as they curled over the cheap plywood. For the first time, I understood the term “falling in love.” This was what it felt like: plunging into something dark and delicious and unknown. Gravity abandoned me. My knees buckled. Our kiss deepened, becoming faster, more desperate, urgent to steal more, more, more before we got caught. His hands tightened around me like a belt. My hands fluttered all over him like a butterfly. And I already missed him. Missed this. Most of all, I missed the part of my heart he’d taken from me the moment his lips touched mine. I knew, with depressing certainty, I was never getting it back.

That I would compare every other boy to him, and every other boy would fall short, because that was just what they’d be: a boy.

Rhyland was a man.

“What the fuck?” a feminine voice shrilly demanded.

A bucket of ice water doused the flame between us. Rhyland pulled away, righting me against the wall, wiping his swollen lips with the back of his arm.

Piper was standing at the backyard door holding empty beer bottles by their necks between her fingers, wearing a white tee and a pair of black leggings, just like me. Figures. It was all the reminder I needed that Rhyland hadn’t meant to kiss me. He’d meant to kiss her.

“Rhy?” Piper demanded, her saucer-size eyeballs shifting between us frantically. “What’s going on?”

“You can’t tell Row.” Rhyland’s flat voice was eerily scary. It held a threat, a promise of something bad. I liked that he cared more about Row than about salvaging whatever they had together, even if it made me a bad person.

“Are you hooking up with his baby sister?” Piper’s eyes pooled with tears, and I felt bad for her—and for me—that we’d caught the attention of a mythical creature as lovely and devastating as Rhyland.

“Would you keep it the fuck down?” Rhyland snarled gruffly, grabbing her by the arm and walking her over, away from me. His eyes frantically searched for Row outside. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Piper and I asked in unison.

I snorted. “I’ve met actual cereal boxes more decisive than you. Pick a lane, my guy.”

“Dylan.” He turned to me sternly. “Can we have some privacy?”

Sure can, in your own house. Truth was I wanted to pull myself together after what had happened. “Looks like you two wanna kill each other.” I shrugged. “I wish you both success.”

I took the stairs up and rounded the first corner of the stairway, staying close by. I hoped they’d stay in the kitchen.

“I’ve been waiting for our hookup for ages,” Piper whined.

The knowledge they hadn’t been together yet shouldn’t have filled me with relief, but oh, it did.

“I feel bad for her,” Rhyland explained, as cool as a cucumber and just as phallic.

I felt myself dwindling into something small enough to fit inside a pocket, becoming smaller still when he added, “I thought she was you.”

Piper snorted. “I’m hotter.”

“Okay, Pipe, no need to kid yourself.” He chuckled.

I blushed. Rhyland was a party animal, a fun guy, but he could sometimes be cruel.

“Anyway, it’s sad, you know, that she’s staying here. Taking on a waiting job. She’s not a dumb kid, just impulsive and overly emotional.”

“She’s not your problem,” Piper all but mewed.

“Let’s not get carried away here. I was just copping a feel, not filling in her college application.” He laughed.

Bile coated the back of my throat.

“Mistake or not, you have to keep your mouth shut about this, Pipe,” Rhyland warned. “Row can’t find out, and history isn’t kind to people who fuck me over.”

“Okay, okay,” she huffed, flustered. “I won’t say a word.”

“Good girl,” he said in that derogatory way. “You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”

“What secret?”

“That pink coke bag that disappeared from Allison’s locker senior year?”

“So…are we off?” Piper asked finally.

Girl, he just blackmailed you. Have some self-respect.

“We’re off,” Rhyland confirmed. “This was a bad idea anyway.”

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly. “Totally.”

The conversation seemed to be over, with the sound of beer bottles clinking, dishes being washed, and trash bags being filled. My blood simmered with rage as I perched on the stair on the second floor, my heart in my throat.

He felt bad for me.

My life was sad to him.

In one careless moment, he’d shattered years of pining and teasing and daydreaming about the what-ifs. I’d always burned for Rhyland Coltridge. Now all I wanted was to burn him down.

But I was Dylan Casablancas. Fun. Witty. Creative. Unhinged.

And Dylan Casablancas never cried.

So I did the only thing I could do to ensure Rhyland knew I was over our so-called misunderstanding. I went to my room, put on my most sexy, cute getup, did my makeup, curled my hair, spritzed on a small pond of Libre by YSL, and took the stairs down two at a time, barreling through the backyard doors. I looked like a million bucks and felt like fifty cents, but I kept my smile intact as Rhyland, Row, and their girlfriends all hung their stunned, awestruck gazes on me. Rhyland’s expression darkened into something feral when he gulped at the sight of me.

“You gonna let your sister go out of the house like that?” he growled at Row.

Row shot him a puzzled look. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I don’t own her. Wrong era, asshat.”

“She looks like fucking prey,” Rhyland countered, scowling at my brother.

“How she dresses is none of my business,” Row maintained. “And you know I make a lot of her shit my business, so let it go.”

“Sorry, Rhyland.” I patted his shoulder with a sweet smile. Something dangerous rippled up and down my spine. “I know you want me, but I’m too much for you to handle. Not gonna happen. Take the L. Row?” I snapped my fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Drive me to the moorlands. I’m going to that party.”

And I was going to fuck Tucker Reid and his bad poetry and his dubious intentions and my entire freaking future, all at once.

After all, I was Dylan.

Impulsive.

Overly emotional.

And a very sore loser.