Finish Line

3

I spend my afternoon listening to Katie whine about Dylan. Paris is continuously rolling her eyes and Kendall has soft eyes, trying to show sympathy for her but clearly struggling. It's no wonder that Dylan treats her the way he does. It seems like being in an actual relationship with her would be torture. 

"Did I mention the secrecy? He goes out every other night, doing god knows what! I want us to be so much more than this, I mean it's been a year," She cries out. Our afternoon of shopping and such has come to an end. Paris is dropping off Allison and I at the cafe. 

Paris has finally had enough, "Hey, Katie, shut up. We get it already! Dylan sucks sometimes, we all already knew that! It's your own damn fault for falling for a guy like Dylan. You can't handle a guy like Dylan Katie." I crack a smile at this. I try to cover my laughter however have little success. Katie shoots me a glare before speaking again. 

"Whatever Paris, I can handle Dylan. I have an idea," She says, turning her eyes to me. I'm praying that Paris stops her or gets to the cafe at this very moment. She doesn't, "you're living in the same house as him! You can figure out where he's been sneaking off too!"

My jaw drops at her suggestion. This means betraying Dylan's trust before I even have it. I am not willing to sacrifice my summer and my relationship with my father for Katie. "Not a chance, Katie. This is your fight not mine," I laugh it off, trying to be nice about shooting her down. Before she gets the chance to beg, we pull into the cafe parking lot. I spot my car from the previous morning and jump out of Katie's reach. 

Allison climbs out behind me. We both thank Paris and Kendall for the afternoon, wishing Katie good luck with her Dylan troubles. I happily seat myself in the driver's seat and plug in my phone to the aux. I drop Allison off at her aunt's house before speeding off to my dad's house. I've thought about talking to him, about what happened. Maybe talking about it can help us move past it because it sure as hell doesn't feel like we're getting anywhere. He just kind of gives me busy work or sends me off with Dylan or Jake. 

As soon as we get to Ally's destination, her aunt invites me inside for some homemade chocolate chip cookies. They sound incredible so I take her up on her offer. Her name is Jemma and she might be one of the nicest people I've met in my life. She has always had a special place in her heart for Ally and I. When we were kiddos, she would take us out and let us drive her husband's four wheelers around some random fields. We would spend hours out there just going in circles. After they moved, our adventures came to an end. Shortly after, Ally and I moved so I haven't seen Jemma and Scott in a few years. 

Jemma asks me all about Santa Barbra. I tell her I'm a journalism major and that I'm there on a volleyball scholarship. I tell her about my professor Boston and she seems to think he knows what he's doing. She tells us all about Seattle. She and Scott have been working to create a program that allows kids to express themselves freely without judgment from other kids. She made it sound like a very successful project and she seems to know what she's doing. 

I decide to ask about the Keely's and Cole. Maybe they'll know something that I don't or maybe they can fill in some blanks. "Have you heard of Dylan and Emma Keely," I ask in the sweetest tone I can. I've probably thanked them for their hospitality a million times now. 

"Emma Keely and I used to be very close when we first moved to the city," Jemma starts, "she drifted away though, she was going through something with her husband a couple years ago. I heard she and her son moved in with another family and they've become very close."

This did not help as much as I'd hoped but it fill in one blank. Something happened with Dylan's father. My curiosity is clawing at my mind, wanting to dig further. However, I know it's best if I keep my distance and let things play out. I don't want to start anything that could cause us more trouble than we need.