Page 69 of Even in the Dark

I have to do something.

I’m going out there.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Scarlett

Iam so nervous approaching Dylan in his backyard, my senses practically tweaking they’re on such high alert. I am extra aware of everything—the breeze against my skin, blowing my hair across my face and nudging the bare tree branches against each other, rustling and swaying and hopefully masking my approach. There’s a crisp sort of smell in the air that carries the faint hint of winter, and a crunch beneath my feet as I step off the deck onto the wide expanse of lawn that intersects our yard with the Brauns'. Dylan senses me approaching, though.

Of course he does.

“Jesus Fuck.” Clearly as happy to see me as I expected.

“Hey… I’m sorry for invading your privacy.”

“Then don’t.”

I’m quiet for a few seconds. The silence is… tense. More than that—it’s heavy.

“I wanted to apologize… for practically launching myself on your bed up there. It was probably weird.”

I’m trying to stack his defenses and insecurities onto my own plate and lighten the load for him right now, since I’m bringing up something he’d probably rather ignore. I don’t know what other excuse to give for following him out here, other than apologizing for making him uncomfortable.

He shifts, trailing his left hand along the step, halting once his palm covers the knife.

So stealth, Dylan Braun.

“Wasn’t weird,” he scoffs, discreetly pocketing the knife.

“Maybe. But it was still infringing on your personal space.” I focus on the waves rolling in at the foot of the yard. “It’s that stupidSleepwalkercomic. It’s been five days since I read the fifth issue—my only focus was sprawling out and diving in.”

“It’s fine.”

There’s another long silence. Longer than the last one, but not quite as heavy.

“I’ve never had a guy on my bed, so I get it,” I say softly. But still, out loud… because apparently I’m suddenly willing to divulge personal details about my life to Dylan, if I think it will make him feel less embarrassed.

Only now,Ifeel uncomfortable. Even more so when Dylan hits back with this gem: “Yeah? You and Gavin more of a back-seat-of-the-car kind of deal?”

Dylan's social skills may suck, but he gets an A-plus every time when it comes to being an asshole. And yes, I get why he does it—that it’s one of his go-to defense mechanisms. A key piece of his crudely assembled arsenal. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less when I’m the target. Especially because I am not the sort of person who divulges this kind of personal stuff to other people, the way I just did. Maybe with Seb, but that’s about it.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship with Gavin,” I tell Dylan.

“Pretty sure I know enough,” he drawls, lobbing another swift hit at my pride. And he's right. He knows more than anyone else. That I tell my boyfriend lies to get out of having to actually hang out with him.

“Whatever, Dylan,” I sigh. “You can keep being a dick if it makes you feel better. But for what it’s worth, you already succeeded in making me feel like crap.” I glance at him, and our eyes meet. “Also, that was something I’ve never told anybody else before, so congratulations—you win.”

Yes, I’m a fool, because I still decide to go for honesty, even knowing Dylan may well use it against me. But I did just march out here and trample all over his personal space; it’s only fair I let him know I just relinquished a sliver of my own. If he even cares.

Not that it should matter. My goal right now is to keep him from hurting himself—not to ask him to go easy on me. I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever hurtful comments he keeps flinging my way, if it means he’ll head back into his house half an hour from now without any fresh scars.

He’s rolling his lower lip between his teeth now, staring straight ahead at the copse of trees along the edge of the yard. The leaves have almost all fallen off, which means the first snowfall can’t be that far off. Another huge adjustment for Dylan—a New England winter versus the Californian ones he’s used to.

“Anyway,” I say, letting the backpack slide off my shoulder into my hand. The one I grabbed after an idea popped into my head seconds before rushing out here. “I brought something for you as a token apology gesture—for whatever I did that pissed you off.”

His gaze slides from the trees back to me. One eyebrow inches up, the corner of his bottom lip still tucked between his teeth. The same side as the hoop. He looks ridiculously sexy right now. I really wish he didn’t. It makes everything so much harder.

“So?” I mirror his one eyebrow lift. “You interested?”

---