Waiting for You (33 page)

Dylan stood, using a
table to steady himself, his hair bloody and wild just like his eyes. He spit
blood to the side, the back of his hand swept over his busted mouth and rushed
toward Nate.

They collided, breaking
a nearby table, glass shattering around them, and fell to the ground with Nate
under Dylan again. Dylan’s punches came quick, each blow could be felt deep in
your bones, and hurt deep inside my chest.

I knew it wouldn’t be
long before Dylan really hurt him. Eddy saw it. Reece saw it and Drew knew it.
There was too much anger in Dylan and it had nothing to do with that kiss, or
Nate.

Drew, knowing that,
finally decided it was enough when Nate was spitting mouthfuls of blood to the
side, as was Dylan. Neither of them
were
willing to give
up.

Dylan thrashed around,
struggling against Drew and Eddy, trying to free himself I could see the blood
running down his face, mixing with what appeared to be tears. You could see it,
the strain to stop and the torment in his eyes to continue the only fight he
knew.

Jody, another bartender
pulled Nate away too as Eddy pinned Dylan down giving Nate a chance to get up.
The fight was over but no one, including me, knew how to react to it.

And though he was
trapped behind Eddy’s arms of steel, Dylan remained rampant and convulsive,
fighting against them to get away.

Standing there, afraid
to make a move, I stared in disbelief at what I saw.

“Eddy,” Dylan groaned
his voice thick with tears. “Get back.”

Struggling to keep
Dylan away, Drew stepped in when he noticed Nate still standing, shitless no
less than three feet from Dylan, raging. He paced, back and forth, waiting for
another chance. The security, now making
themselves
known, stood between them making sure it was done.

“Come on fucker,” Nate
shouted. “You wanted a piece, come get it!”

He tried, though.

Nate shoved a few guys
to the side, only to be held back by another.

The crowd parted more
and I was able to get closer to Dylan. His face was red, his mouth and hands
bleeding, eyes swelling and a busted lip. Blood drenched the front of his shirt
but his eyes, those eyes said something else. I hurt him.
Deeply.

“Let him go,” I said
pushing against Eddy’s back.

“Someone get her out of
here!” Eddy yelled, trying to push me back. “I mean it Bailey, leave!”

The problem was that
none of these people in this bar would touch me now, not after that. No one
fucked with what appeared to be Dylan’s girl. He made that message clear just
now. In the way Nate was spitting blood and his eyes swelled, the message was clear.

When I got close enough
and Dylan could see me, he fought harder to get loose but didn’t and Nate
pushed forward again, not willing to give up either. Neither wanted the fight
to be over.

Dylan’s eyes found
mine, hurting, pleading. “I saw you, with him, brown eyes. I saw you,” he said,
raspy and desperate. “I fucking saw you.”

Never in my life had
words hurt as bad as they did right then. Not even when he said he slept with
Mercedes. I did this to him. I pushed like I had been for the last few weeks and
tested him. It was stupid, so incredibly stupid. I couldn’t believe I had been
so stupid.

Drew let go and Dylan
shook Eddy away leaving him to stand less than a foot from me. He didn’t wipe
the blood away but stared at me, waiting for my response, hollow, restless eyes
pleading again begging me to tell him he didn’t see what he saw.

He turned his head to
Nate.  “You want to kiss someone, Nate?” Dylan asked, taking a few steps
in his direction. Shrugging his shoulders, Dylan circled his neck and spit
another mouthful of blood before squaring up, ready for more. “Answer me, do
you?”

I held up my hands
pushing against Dylan’s chest asking him to stop. With a glare, he walked right
through me to Nate, wanting more.

“If you want to kiss
someone, kiss me motherfucker.” Dylan smirked, taunting, reaching for Nate.
“Come on, kiss me!”

Nate tried to rush past
Reece, who was standing between them, unafraid and still ready to scrap. His
eyes were wild and his fists ready for more, a fight I’m sure he had never
experienced before.

As Dylan brushed by me,
I gripped onto what was left of his shirt and closed my eyes, hoping that he
would stop.

He did stop, and I held
on until my knuckles turned white, begging.

With his hand circled
around my mine, he forced my fingers away. He held my arm up, glaring at me.

“Please don’t do his
right now,” I said, almost like a whisper. I wasn’t just thinking of myself
here either. I was thinking of Drew and his bar and the mess Dylan was causing.

Dylan cracked a
sarcastic smile, his fingers tightening. “Yeah?” he asked, drawing my stare to
his eyes, still wild. “What did you expect to happen? How did you expect me to
react?”

I stood straighter,
almost touching his chest with my own as I tried to get him to look me in the
eye. “Please.”

Dylan’s eyes fell from
mine, to my nose, to my lips—lips that were kissed by another―and then
fell to the floor.

He tilted his head in
Nate’s direction. “You don’t want him?”

“No,” I say without a
thought. “You know that I don’t.”

He laughed but the
sound is off. Dylan let go of my wrist and took a step away. “Yeah, well, you
fooled me, brown eyes.”

He turned, and I
yelled, “Dylan!”

He stopped again, and
when he turned, it wasn’t the same. He finally wiped his open lip on the back
of his hand, and he moved blood-caked hair away from his face. Everyone was
standing back, waiting for Dylan to move, including me. “Don’t you think you
should have thought of my reaction before you broke my fucking heart?” he
asked. “Or did you? Was that your plan?”

“Dylan, please let’s
just leave.”

His lips curved and he
gestured to the crowd. “Nah, look around. It’s a fucking party, princess.”

There was that fucking
word again.
Princess
.
I wanted to punch him
when he said that word and he knew it. It’s why he said it.

My eyes shifted away
from him for a half-second looking for Drew.

Eddy lurked in the far
back against the wall, because he knew this was coming. Nate was staring right
at me, watching silently and Drew was there, watching too. Everybody was
watching, waiting to see what Dylan would do next.

When I turned back to
Dylan, his eyes were on mine, his smile was bitter.

“Let’s just please
leave,” I said with my heart in my throat, shaky hands and wet cheeks.
“Please.”

Dylan rubbed his face
in his hands, and when he dropped them, he was no longer smiling and the
seriousness of his face gave me a head rush.

I couldn’t feel him,
the warmth, his touch, his love, it was gone right now.

Dylan spit more blood
on the floor and faced Nate. “Go near my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

I couldn’t believe how
out of control he could just off someone touching me, or in this case, kissing
me.

Nate didn’t reply, and
no one else said anything. They knew, just as well as I did, it would only
ignite him further.

Drew reached for him as
he walked by but Dylan laced his fingers behind his head and walked away
outside. I kept my eyes on him, uninterested in looking at anyone else, until
he pushed open the back door to the bar.

I ran after Dylan,
through the side door, into the alley behind the bar. A few people talking in a
small circle, surrounded by a cloud of smoke, stared once I was in sight. I
spotted Dylan right away, walking to the GTO at the end of the street. I called
his name, but he didn’t turn around.

Ignoring whispers, I
ran toward him.

I wiped my eyes on my
forearm and yelled for him again, “Dylan!”

Beside his GTO, Dylan
finally turned. I stopped running, struggling to breathe between gasps and
sobs. Patting his pockets to find his cigarettes in his back pocket, he found
it and lit up a smoke before chucking the lighter. It hit someone’s car before
landing in the street.

He watched me the
entire time I was walking toward him as he smoked a cigarette with an unstable
hand. The closer I stepped, the better look I got of his face. Swollen and
wounded, black-and-blue, cuts scattered across his flushed cheeks. His knuckles
were raw, and his eyes were bleak, with no trace of Dylan behind them at all.

“Were you going to
leave without me?” I asked reaching for him.

Dylan blew smoke into
salty air before flicking the rest of his cigarette into the alley. Half of his
face was lit by the street lamp and the other half was darkened by the night.
It made me want to laugh. It was the perfect metaphorical glimpse into his
personality. 

“I don’t know.” His
voice was dark just like his eyes. “You looked pretty comfortable with Nate to
me.”

Turning from me again,
he walked to his car. He looked as he unlocked the passenger’s side door,
scrutinizing me, taunting me with a smug smirk and a condescending wink.

When Dylan opened the
door and got it, I thought for a moment he might actually leave me.

But he didn’t. He
couldn’t.

He started the engine
and pressed on the gas, shattering silence with the rumble of his engine.
Flipping the lights on, he motioned for me to get in. When I hesitated, he
swung open the door. “Get the fuck in the car, Bailey,” he said, righting his
position.
“Now.”

Scared he would do
something stupid, I did. The emotion, the fear, the hatred for myself and my
actions got to me and I sobbed into my hands.

“What the fuck are you
crying for?” he asked never looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said,
filling my palms with sadness. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Put your fucking seat
belt on!” he yelled, his car roaring through a red light.

I didn’t. I cried.

Frustrated, Dylan
reached over and pulled on the belt. Deciding not to push anymore, I grabbed it
and strapped myself in fearing I would instigate him further.

Heading back to Drew’s
house, Dylan’s cell phone started ringing as soon as we pulled onto the
highway. He ignored it, driving with both hands on the steering wheel. The
GTO’s headlights filled the route in front of us, lighting up the passing
billboards for each exit. I watched the dashed yellow lines between the lanes,
counting them as a way to think of anything but what Dylan was thinking.

Dylan didn’t talk, and
I didn’t expect him to.

Unable to keep my eyes
open any longer, I let them close.

I didn’t open them
again until Dylan stopped the car.

When I open them,
Dylan’s hand was on my knee, his gentle touch soothing.

I opened my thighs,
hoping he would touch me higher. But he didn’t. With tired eyes, I sat up and
looked around to see that we were back at Drew’s house only his Mustang wasn’t
in the driveway.

“Wake up,” Dylan said
lowly, sitting back in his seat, looking straight ahead with his hands on the
steering wheel again.

I rubbed my eyes,
taking in my surroundings l looked over at Dylan. He was crying, slowly,
quietly.

“Dylan?” I questioned
reaching out for him and clutching his flannel. I’d never seen him cry before.
I wasn’t sure he could.

He took control of my
wrists holding them in his hands looking at me with red-rimmed eyes and a
quivering chin. “Brown eyes,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

I sat up on my knees
and moved closer but said nothing. Keeping his grip on me, he turned his face
away. “Don’t.”

Taking in his
appearance, his eyes were swollen, his left one worse than the right, bruised
and bleeding from a small gash above his eyebrow.

Biting his lip
nervously, the tears mixed with the blood.

Desperation moved me,
and I forced myself on his lap. Kissing the side of his face, he kept his grip
on my wrists trying not to let me too close. Then I kissed him, open bleeding
lip and all, I kissed him. I kissed him until he moaned and let his grip loose.

When he gave in, I felt
it everywhere. His shoulders sunk and his breathing sped up, body molding to
mine, connecting completely as if there was no space between us.

His lips pressed into
the side of my neck, whispering, “I’m sorry.” Kissing the side of my throat and
the corner of my mouth, he than angled my face to kiss under my chin and my
throat again. “I’m sorry,” he cried against my lips. Bloody and raw fingers
touched my face and kissed each freckle. It didn’t feel like a sorry. It felt
like he was saying goodbye, trying to let me go. “I’m constantly fucking up.”

“I’m sorry Dylan, it
didn’t mean anything,” I cried against his shoulder.

Unable to stop myself,
I cried harder as tears started to build and spill again. Desperate to keep him
near me, I pushed myself closer to where I wanted to be.

No mattered how much he
was hurting right now, he couldn’t keep his body from reacting to mine in the
ways it always did. He was right when he said he couldn’t take it anymore and
he wanted me. Breathing uneven breaths right below my ear, I felt his body
react, respond and want me in all the ways he had earlier today.

Dylan tried to still my
hips moving against his own, but didn’t try hard enough.

Pulling me forward
until our chests were touching, I felt it when he gave in completely.

Closing his eyes, I
closed mine
too,
slightly reassuring myself this was
what I wanted.

Our mouths moved, messy
and hard, and my hands found his hair. Dylan circled my hips this time instead
of trying to push me away, the hardness between my legs pushed my breath out on
contact and I moaned around his tongue. He repeated the motion, this time
lifting his hips at the contact searching for the friction.