Lost and Found

30 | blake

I'm studying at my desk for upcoming finals when my phone rings out of nowhere, startling me.

I set aside my notes as I reach for my phone, finding that it's Dylan calling me. I'm a little shocked, considering he and I have hardly talked over the past week. I wait for the butterflies that usually begin to dance in the pit of my stomach at the thought of talking to Dylan to appear, yet I notice that I don't feel much at all. I hate to admit that part of me doesn't even want to accept his call, though I force myself to anyway.

"Hey," I say casually once I pick up.

"Hey," Dylan repeats, as calm as ever. "I wasn't sure you'd pick up."

Intrigued by this revelation, I spin around in my chair, pulling my knees to my chest as I ask, "What do you mean by that?"

"It's just . . ." Dylan trails off. I can tell that he is choosing his words carefully. That's the thing about Dylan: his every move is calculated. He's not the kind of guy to explode when he gets angry, not that I've ever seen him angry. Maybe this is because he is training to become a doctor and needs to be able to remain calm in almost any given situation, but Dylan's mood hardly ever changes from tranquil. This trait of his makes for a pretty pleasant guy to be around, especially during rough times.

I feel guilty for even thinking this, but part of me has to admit that it also gets pretty boring.

"We haven't talked in a while," Dylan finally says. "I thought you needed some space."

Confused, I question, "Why did you think that?"

"After the dinner at your parents," Dylan clarifies, "you seemed really . . . I don't know, embarrassed? I wasn't sure if I had something to do with that. And when I was leaving, you could hardly even look at me. So I thought it might be best to give you some time."

"I was embarrassed," I admit, rushing to add, "but not because of you. Because of my family. I mean . . ." I trail off, face flushing at just the thought of how my family treated Dylan. "I thought you were for sure going to break up with me by the end of the night."

"Why would I do that?" Dylan sounds genuinely curious. "You had nothing to be embarrassed over, Blake. I liked your family. They were very . . . lively."

I wince at Dylan's word choice to describe my family, knowing that he's lying. I think both of us know that him meeting my parents didn't go the way either of us expected, which has put a strain on our relationship. I can't stop myself from bitterly thinking that I never had this problem with Noah, once again comparing the boys.

"I don't want to break up with you, Blake." Dylan's voice coming to me from the other line has me realizing that I've spaced. "I love being with you. But if that's what you want . . ."

"Of course that's not what I want." Even to me, I sound much less enthusiastic than I should. I can tell that Dylan senses this too, as he remains silent, waiting for me to continue. "I like being with you, too."

I'm not sure what's wrong with me. It's like I'm unbothered by the thought of ending things with Dylan, which is completely unfair to him. Yet the thought doesn't break my heart, and I'm not sure what exactly to feel.

"I guess that settles it, then," Dylan clears his throat before adding, "neither of us want to end things."

"Right," I say. "I hate to cut this short, but I'm studying for finals and—"

"I'll let you go, then," Dylan cuts me off. "Do you want to do something tomorrow, maybe? Grab a coffee or something?"

The hopefulness in his tone sends guilt seeping through my veins, pumping into my heart.

It's the guilt I'm feeling that pushes me to say, "Actually, my friend Mia is having her bridal shower this weekend. Do you want to come with me? As my date?"

Dylan hesitates to respond, which causes my guilt to morph into nervous anticipation, worrying that he'll decline my invitation.

I guess that's why it's all the more relieving to hear him say, "I'd love to."

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a/n: i should gts. will i? prob not.