Page 45 of Sweet Chaos
He nodded. “But buying something for sentimental reasons is typically a bad business decision.”
“I wish there was something I could do.” I stared at the bottle in my hand, once again reminded of how little regard my father had for anything but the almighty dollar.
“Not your problem. I’ll figure it out.” He sounded so confident, but I got the feeling that he’d say those words no matter what the situation. “What happened with Ollie?”
“He said he can’t be my friend anymore,” I said, my stomach sinking as the finality of those words hit me all over again.
“He’s still in love with you.”
My spirits sank even lower, and I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. Had I really been so blind, so stupid that I hadn’t seen what was right in front of my eyes? A stab of guilt lay buried in my heart and I didn’t think it would ever go away. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Come here.” He patted his lap.
Tempting but dangerous. Whenever I got too close to him, it only made me want more. I shouldn’t even be talking to him right now, not after what had happened tonight.
“Why did you insist on coming with me tonight?” I asked again, my voice tinged with bitterness.
“I told you,” he said, sounding exasperated that I would question him. “I didn’t want you to go to that bar alone.” His tone softened. “I wasn’t trying to fuck up your friendship.”
I heard the sincerity in his voice but still. Maybe he hadn’t intended to fuck up my friendship but it had happened anyway. In my heart, I knew I had nobody to blame except myself. I’d let Dylan come with me tonight. I’d done nothing to stop him when he’d wrapped his arms around me. He hadn’t forced me to do anything, I’d encouraged it.
I sucked.
“I did a pretty good job of that all on my own.”
He set down his beer, stood up and scooped me up in his arms like I was featherlight then sat down, holding me in his lap, my legs hanging over the arm of his chair, his arm around my back. I squirmed, trying to get away, my beer sloshing from the bottle and seeping into his hoodie. He held onto me and he didn’t let me go.
“Stop fighting me. Just relax.” He rubbed his nose against the side of mine and kissed the corner of my lips. “Look up, Starlet.”
I tipped my head back and looked up at the stars reeling in the sky. When I was a kid, I used to think they were close enough to reach up and touch. Now they looked so impossibly far away.
“Do you still wish on stars?” he asked, bringing his beer to his lips.
“No.” I searched for the brightest star and tried to remember when or why I’d stopped wishing on them. “Did you used to wish on stars?”
“Never.”
My gaze settled on him. He was watching the stars, his head leaning against the back of the chair, his throat exposed. I wanted to lick it. Bury my face in it. Instead, I took a sip of my beer. “Why not?”
He shrugged one shoulder, eyes still on the sky. “Couldn’t see the point.”
“What about when you blew out your birthday candles? Did you make a wish then?”
“Nope.”
“That’s just… really sad.”
Dylan laughed softly. “You think?” I nodded. He squeezed my thigh. “Did any of your wishes ever come true?”
“Yes.”You kissed me.
“They say to be careful what you wish for.”
“Maybe I should have listened to them.”
His lips curved into a half-smile as if he knew what my wish had been. I didn’t know if it was good or bad that I’d gotten my wish. It had felt inevitable.
In the moonlight, his edges looked sharper, his hair darker and skin paler. Like a black and white photo with all the color leached out of it. It was surreal to be here with him, sitting on his lap on the rooftop of a 1950s hotel on a starry February night. For so long, this had been my dream, my wish on a star, and now that it was happening, I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
