The One Who Shot Me - Sequel To Bulletproof Love

I Insist

I so didn’t want to go to Sydney.

Usually, I was someone who would seize any opportunity in sight to go on a vacation, or just to leave town for a short while. I loved getting away. However, this time around, I felt as though something less than desirable was in store for me. I could just feel it. But Drew and Ashley and Jessica wouldn’t take no for an answer. After virtually unwittingly agreeing to the spontaneous adventure at lunch that one day, I tried to come up with every excuse possible to buy my way out of the situation. They simply wouldn’t buy it.

And so, as a result, at five in the morning on June 2nd I was sitting on my front porch with two suitcases, a carry-on bag, and a major attitude waiting for a cab to come and take me to the San Diego International Airport. Our flight left at 7:00, and there was a six-hour flight to Honolulu, then an eleven-hour flight to Sydney. An all-day itinerary toward a vacation on which I didn’t even want to go failed to make my mood any brighter.

Finally, after roughly ten minutes of reviewing my current situation over and over again in my head, a white cab finally pulled up in front of my house, and a handsome-ish guy of about thirty years old stepped out. “You call for a cab to the airport?” he called to me from over the roof of the car. He had an accent that hinted he was from the east coast, as I was.

“I don’t sit on my front porch with luggage at the crack of dawn for nothin’!” I responded with a chuckle, trying to give off the hint that my sarcastic tone was meant to be taken lightly.

The man stepped onto the curb and up the short pathway that led to my door. He grabbed the two bags at my feet, one in each hand, and he regarded me with a slight smile. I returned the smile, which felt genuine, and stood up to follow him to the taxi.

A mere twenty or so minutes later, the cab ride, having been filled with small talk and awkward chuckles, was over, as we had arrived at the airport. The taxi driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, and I pulled out my wallet while asking, jokingly, “what’s the damage?”

He looked at the mirror, then back at me, before saying, “well, it should be $37.95, but because you’re so pretty, it’ll be $25.”

I blushed intensely. This guy wasn’t bad looking. He wasn’t bad looking at all. And nobody had really complimented me since, well, before Tony left me. I shuddered at the thought. “Are you sure? $38 is no big deal.”

“Miss, I insist.”

I blushed again and reached in my wallet in order to pull out a five and a twenty, and, upon giving the man the cash, I stepped out of the car, He met me on the curb with my two luggage pieces. “I’ll walk you inside.”

We walked into the main entrance of the large airport, and there, as expected, we saw Jessica, Ashley, and Drew waiting for me. They began running over to where we were. “These your people?” He asked. I nodded in response. “Well um,” he began again, nervously.” You should call me sometime or something. My name is Jonah, by the way.”

“I’m Dylan-“  

“She’s taken,” Jessica interjected, grabbing my arm and starting to pull me away. Ashley and Drew silently agreed and took my bags out of a very confused-looking Jonah’s hands. “Thanks, Joseph!” Jessica called to him while we were leaving.

“It’s Jonah!” He yelled back. I mouthed a sincere ‘sorry’ before being taken out of view by my kidnappers.

“Why did you tell him I was taken?” I asked Jessica while we stood in line to go through customs.

“You didn’t really want that guy’s number, did you?” Drew interjected, standing up for Jessica. “He’s like 35 or something.”

Ashley began to speak here. “Besides, he was a cab driver. That would have been a serious  down-grade from-“ Jessica hit her on her arm to shut her up, but we all knew she was going to say Tony.

“I guess so,” I let myself agree. I was hoping to get a number at least, regardless of the guy’s occupation. I couldn’t admit it at the time, but I had been very lonely in those six months since Tony had left me.

After nearly two hours of the usual airport stresses, the four of us were finally cleared to get onto the first plane to Honolulu. For once, my companions could see that I wasn’t in the greatest mood in the world, so they at least let me have one of the two window seats that we had bought. I was sitting next to Jessica, and Ashley and Drew were sitting together behind me.

After some brief instructions from the flight attendants, the plane took off, and I watched the sunrise as we ascended into the air. Jessica had tried numerous times to strike up a conversation with me, but I somewhat blew her off, and eventually, she left me alone and allowed me to put on my headphones and, as I’d been doing for nearly six months, sulk.

I put my phone on shuffle, which was something I hadn’t done in what felt like ages. Usually, I listened to a playlist that consisted mainly of slow, sad songs – songs that seemed to further dramatize my breakup. But today, I was feeling somewhat adventurous, I figured that listening to some of the music I used to listen to, music that would make me happy, on the way to a vacation that should be exciting to me, then maybe, just maybe, my mood would improve.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window, and started to doze off, allowing my mind to drift off into daydream world while I silently and stilly rocked out to a song I hadn’t heard in months.

Daydream world had almost completely taken over my mind before I’d heard one of the most recognizable guitar riffs I know. My eyes shot open and I stared at the back of the seat in front of me in disbelief. I almost started to skip the song, but I had to just listen first.

This song reminded me of him. It was my favorite song by his band, and he would play this riff for me whenever I wanted him to. I even on one or two occasions got him to sing the words, although he never considered himself to be much of a singer. To me, for whatever reason I did not know, this song held every scent, every smile, every laugh of his that had ever been mine, and it didn’t even have anything to do with our love.

“Can we create something beautiful, and destroy it? Nobody knows I dream about it, this is my imagination.”

On second thought, maybe Disasterology did have a bit to do with Tony and I. The song seemed to connect oh too much with what we built, a love we created. Only for it to be destroyed by my stupidity.

“Dylan? Are you okay?” Jessica took my headphone out of my ear to get my attention. “Why are you crying?”

“I-I-I’m fine, Jess. I just need a minute.” I ignored her concern stares as I got up and speed walked to the small airplane bathroom. 

(A/N: I know this is a bit short, but we really get into Dylan's mind here. And I promise the next chapter will be more exciting)