Rock me

Part 27

Dylan

I towel off and pull on the robe Niall handed me, but I don't feel any less wired. My mind's spinning, heart still pounding with the night's rush. When I open the bathroom door, Harry is there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze hard and unreadable. The sight of him just standing there, watching me, sets me on edge.

"Feel better now?" His tone is cool, but there's something in his eyes that makes me hesitate.

I force a shrug. "What's with the interrogation?"

He raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting between frustration and something else—concern, maybe? "Dylan, you're acting totally different. You're not just 'having fun.' This isn't you."

"Oh, so now you're the expert on who I am?" I shoot back, feeling a pang of irritation. He doesn't know me like that, not really.

Harry pushes off the wall, his eyes narrowing. "I know enough to see when you're out of control." His words come out harsh, but his tone softens, almost pleading. "Dylan, what's going on with you?"

I laugh, though it sounds hollow even to me. "Nothing's 'going on.' I'm just... I'm living a little. Sorry if you're not used to that." I brush past him, but he catches my arm, gentle but firm.

"You're not fooling anyone, least of all me," he says, his voice low and steady. "This... pushing everyone away, pushing yourself? It's not going to fix whatever you're running from."

The words hit somewhere deep, a truth I don't want to face. I yank my arm back, my face hot with anger. "You don't know what I'm running from, Harry." My voice shakes, the crack in it betraying the confidence I'm trying to hold on to.

He watches me, his face softening, and for a second, I think he's going to let it go. But then he steps closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Then tell me."

Something inside me snaps. "Tell you? And then what? You'll magically understand? Fix everything?" I shake my head, the emotions bubbling up faster than I can control. "I don't need fixing, Harry. Maybe I just need to stop... feeling anything."

He reaches out, his hand hovering near my arm but not quite touching. "Dylan, feeling nothing doesn't make it go away. Whatever it is, it's still there, eating you up."

I swallow, forcing back the lump in my throat. "Just... drop it, okay?" My voice is quieter now, almost pleading. I can't stand the way he's looking at me, like he sees right through everything.

But he doesn't move. He just stands there, steady and silent, waiting for me to say something I can't bring myself to say.

I catch Harry's eye, and for a second, I think I see his usual guarded expression crack, just a little. It's enough to make me feel bolder.

"You look so serious," I tease, trailing my fingers lightly up his arm. He raises an eyebrow, glancing down at my hand on his chest, his jaw set like he's trying not to react. "Thought you were here to have fun."

"Dylan..." His voice has that low, warning tone, like he's about to lecture me.

Ignoring it, I slide my hands up to his shoulders, pressing a little closer. "Don't tell me you're too good for a little fun?" I smirk, letting my fingers play with the collar of his shirt, just enough to get his attention. I feel his warmth, the steady weight of him in front of me, and I think he's going to pull me closer, like he always does.

I go up on my tippy toes and start slowly kissing his neck. I felt him take a deep breath.

But he doesn't move. His hands come up to my shoulders, gentle but steady, stopping me. "Dylan," he says again, his voice firmer. "What are you doing?"