Schooled

Chapter 17

You still up?

Yeah

Can I come over?

I didn't wait for his answer but pulled a sweater over my tank top and skirt, intending to walk the ten blocks from home. It was still warm out for fall. I thought absently about how happy the surfers would be.

Dylan's reply came when I had already locked up and was heading down my driveway.

Sure

When I knocked on his door a few minutes later, Dylan opened it right away. I wondered which Dylan it was—the one who listened and calmed me down, or the one who made my head explode because I couldn't make sense of what seemed to be escalating between us.

He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. His hair was all over. On him it looked sexy and not messy. Bottomless brown eyes were sleepy and warm on mine. It all just made me more irritated.

"Come in." I did.

"How'd you get over here? I didn't hear your car."

"That's because I walked."

His furrowed brows told me he wasn't happy. "Seriously? Shit, it's late. You shouldn't be out alone." I leaned back against the closed door. His obligatory chastising done, Dylan waited for me to make the next move. He probably wants you to tell him why you texted at 1:00 a.m. on a weeknight.

"So ... do you want to talk?" Dylan hadn't moved from where he was leaning against the railing of the staircase. He was giving me lots of space. It annoyed me, along with everything else from his perfectly imperfect hair to the fact that he'd obviously gotten out of bed so I could come over.

"I want to know what the hell is wrong with you." I said it without preamble. Seeing him in the flesh made me realize I wasn't quite ready to let go after all.

Dylan's eyes widened slightly in surprise, then reverted to calm and assessing. "You want that alphabetical or chronological?"

"I'm not playing games, Dylan. What was that? At homecoming?" I took a step toward him. Balled my hands in fists to keep from shoving him.

The muscle worked in his jaw. He took a long breath. Let it out. "I meant what I said."

"We can't be ... whatever it is you want." I didn't know if I was trying to convince myself or him.

"What do you want, Lex?"

Apparently that was the million-dollar question.

"I want to be your friend, but you won't let me. You get me more than most people, and just when it feels like I get you too, like I know where I stand, you throw up these walls or change the rules entirely. It's not fair. Like one moment we're laughing like we have the world's biggest shared joke, and the next it's like something's eating you from the inside out. What I want is no more games, Dylan. No more secrets."

He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I get it. Why you feel that way. I guess I'm used to keeping secrets. But the thing is, they usually serve a purpose. The truth can be messy."

I waited, not sure where he was going with this. But at least he was talking.

"Besides, you know most of my truths already. I can't seem to say no where you're concerned." He said it almost under his breath, like he was trying to make up his mind about something.

Dylan took a step toward me so we were only a few feet apart. My head tilted back to keep eye contact. "Which truth do you want, Lex. The truth about rehab?" His eyes bored into me with an intensity and a vulnerability I hadn't seen in him before.