Page 24 of Dirty Like Dylan

When I saw her up close, camera in hand, trying to get into Dylan’s dressing room—I could see how right I’d been.

She was far too fucking cute.

She was also far too much Dylan’s type, not nearly enough of mine, and she had an attitude problem to boot. I wasn’t gonna claim that I didn’t have attitude of my own, but I wasn’t the one who was the problem here.

The fact that she was a photographer only made her more of a problem. And the more I’d seen her in action, the more of a problem she was becoming.

This girl had to go.

For some reason, though, everywhere I turned, there the fuck she was. In Dylan’s dressing room. In Dylan’s house. In my fucking bathtub.

I swiped another beer from Dylan’s fridge and went to stand in his front doorway, looking out.

So what’s your problem with her? he’d asked me, last night, when I came back to his place and told him I’d just found her in my bathroom.

Liv’s fucking sister is in my house, I’d announced, after slamming the door behind me and heading downstairs to find him in the gym.

She’s here already? he’d replied casually, from where he stood swinging a giant kettlebell.

Say what? I’d stopped dead in my tracks, staring at him.

I told Liv to send her over.

Why the fuck would you do that? I’d demanded, as if I didn’t know.

He’d set the kettlebell down and took a slow drink of water, and looked at me like I had no reason to be irritated. You never use your place anyway. You always just end up crashing here.

I couldn’t argue with that. But it was at that moment that I realized how bad this was shaping up to be.

And it was getting worse.

As I stood here, drinking my beer, I watched Dylan walk Susanna out to her car, stuff her inside, and send her on her way. Punctuality was suddenly important to him; he seemed pretty motherfucking bent on getting her onto that six o’clock ferry.

Amber, on the other hand, was parked in his living room.

Dylan had invited her to stay for dinner.

Though she’d tried, half-assedly, to turn down the invitation at first, she’d of course accepted, right in front of Susanna, which was at least part of the reason she’d accepted. Because when Dylan asked Amber to stay, he sure as shit didn’t ask Susanna. Susanna didn’t like that. Amber liked that Susanna didn’t like that. She probably also liked that I didn’t like it.

She probably also liked Dylan.

Why the fuck wouldn’t she?

Then Dylan walked Susanna out, acting like he was oblivious to the whole dynamic. Either way, the message was clear to all.

Amber had snagged Dylan’s interest. Susanna was on the next ferry.

At least, it was clear to all besides Amber. The girl didn’t seem to have the first clue what she was really doing here, besides getting a free meal.

Dylan strolled back to the house as Susanna’s car disappeared down the road, her HONEY license plate vanishing in an angry cloud of dust. He gave me a crooked, annoying smirk and patted my ribs as he strolled on past me to collect Amber from the living room.

I followed them, grudgingly, into the kitchen, barely able to resist rolling my eyes when he opened the fridge and asked her smoothly, “What can I get you to drink? I’ve got Prosecco.” As if he ever drank anything besides beer and hard liquor.

“I don’t know,” Amber said lightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.” I noticed her voice was a lot lighter when she spoke to him that it had been with me.

“Italian white wine,” Dylan informed her, pulling a bottle from the fridge. “Bubbly. Kind of sweet. Perfect for you.”

Now I did roll my eyes. At least my back was turned when I did it. I didn’t wanna see it if he actually winked at her.

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