Page 15 of Interlude

7

After our beachwalk and snack, we make lunch. Well, I make lunch since apparently it's my turn. I complain that I bought the ice creams and Dylan says this doesn't count. The relaxed banter continues, but beneath the laughter, I catch his intrigued looks. Does Dylan believe I don’t know who he is? I inform him he’s just an ordinary man with a few too many tattoos as far as I’m concerned. He seems happy with the opinion, and munches on the cheese sandwich I make him.

I spend the afternoon lazing around the house, curled up on the lumpy brown sofa with a book and endless cups of herbal tea. Dylan tries a cup of raspberry and mint, holds the tea in his cheeks with a pained expression on his face before swallowing and tipping the rest down the sink. Now he sits in the matching armchair opposite with a pen and A4 pad, scrawling words. I glance over occasionally, at the crease of concentration on his brow and the way he mouths words as he writes. The calmness of the atmosphere and not needing to fill the silence with awkward conversation are odd.

Inexplicably, after such a short period of time and the underwear situation last night, I'm more comfortable with him than people I've known years.

Who is Dylan?

Iamclueless. I genuinely pay zero attention to the music scene. I know the famous bands—the old ones who hang onto their stardom by the fingernails—but modern ones? Nope. I went to clubs when I was younger, before Grant decided the places were a waste of money, but even then, I'd only recognise the songs and have no idea who the artists were. The only time I see musicians I recognise is if they're X Factor winners. Dylan must be moderately successful if he's lived in L.A. and drives a fancy car. Plus, he felt the need to run away on the beach this morning.

Of course.

"Did you think I was a groupie when you first found me in the house?" I blurt.

Dylan looks up from his writing, blinking in as if I've dragged him back to the here and now.

"When I discovered a girl's underwear strewn across the bed, I was suspicious. Although normally, the underwear people throw at me is a little...lacier. And smaller."

Sofa, swallow me up. Now.

"That would be some determination by a girl—tracking you to a Cornish seaside town in the back of beyond."

"You'd be surprised. They've done a lot worse." He clamps his mouth shut, and returns to writing.

Okay, then.

When we finished lunch, I hoped he'd go out somewhere because I itched to sneak off with my phone and search Dylan's name on the internet. He never left and I resisted. I like my bubble with the mysterious, sexy guy; I don't want to know who he is.

But there is one big issue hanging between us.

"What do we do about the house?" I ask.

He sets his pen on the pad. "I'll leave if you want. How long are you staying?"

"I don't feel comfortable kicking you out. You’ve paid." I pause. "Where would you go?" He stares at the paper, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Dylan came here for a reason. Like me. "Are you hiding?" I ask.

"Kind of."

"And if you stay at a hotel…"

His distant blue eyes squeeze my heart. "I won't be hidden anymore."

I can't afford a hotel, or particularly want to stay in one. I'd need to go back to Tara's if I leave. "I can come back down to Broadbeach next month when you're gone."

I stand and he does too. "But you're hiding as well, Sky."

"Not from knicker-throwing harpies who pursue me in the wilds, no. I'll be okay."

"Fuck, you’re funny." I frown at his language and he puts his hand over his mouth, eyes shining again. "What if I want you to stay around? There are two bedrooms."

His voice is soft, pleading almost. Not suggestive. Unfortunately. I'm sorely tempted, partly because I don't feel like facing the no Grant and no job situation and partly because well... Dylan. Who would say no to a hot as hell, famous whatever-he-is who personifies sex on every level?

Sensible people, Sky, that's who.

"Why do you want me to stay?"

"For the same reason I thinkyouwant to stay. I feel like I've escaped to a different time and you remember that time too. We’ve rewound together." He bites his lip before continuing. "And you don't know how refreshing it is to meet a girl who'd rather talk to me than fuck me."

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