Tonight, I have to act like he never broke my heart.
How did Dylan Drake cease to be my hero and get relegated to an imaginary mouldering trunk in a spider-filled attic?Was it that I simply grew up and moved on?
Nothing so ordinary…
The cloying taste of mulched up cornflakes and curdled milk mingles with the peppermint of the recently crunched pills in my mouth.Early September, the start of the autumn season on TV.There he was onBreakfast AM, smiling away delightedly about his new role in raunchy historical dramaOldrich Halland out it slipped, the confession that killed my hots for him in one fell blow.
All that time we’d spend together and we’d never stood a chance, even if circumstances, as they have now, happened to throw us together.
Dylan Drake is gay, and the string of high profile broken hearts he’s left behind between then and now has confirmed that fact many, many times over.
He’s not the man of my dreams.
He can’t be, because he only fucks other men.
He’s fucked a lot of other men.
Like really, a heck of a lot of them.
Excuse me for wanting a man who’s actually going to want to fuck me.
It’s a minor thing for some people, but an import one to me.If I’m going to put the effort into a relationship, then I bloody well want some adoration coming my way.I never want to be just good enough, or, god forbid, an afterthought.
His “I’m gay” announcement meant I got instantly friend zoned.
Or it would’ve meant that if we’d been actual friends to begin with.Which we weren’t.Having never met and all that… Basically, I was just a crazy stalker lady.
Well, now someone has it in for him, and I’m supposed to keep him safe.
Falchard probably ought to put me on his watch list, as I may as well be protecting Dylan from myself.
Physically and mentally I pat myself down, checking for concealed weaponry, while I pick amongst the shattered dreams of yesteryear looking for signs that I’m hiding something.
I don’t think I’m hiding anything.
That’s almost as worrying.It means the crazy is out there on the surface where everyone can see it.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I mentally pull on Kevlar panties.The twinkly bit of nothing masquerading as a dress precludes the wearing of actual undies.Mental armour is more important, I chant mantra-like.I can do this.It’s just one night.Less, really.The dinner only lasts a few short hours.
Falchard shoots me a bristly smile as I head through the lobby to rendezvous with Johns in the car park.“You look radiant, exactly the way an A-lister’s plus one should.”
“Except I’m the wrong gender.”I wonder if he realises that.
A gruff chuckle escapes his lips.“The purpose of the mission is to keep him out of trouble, not to hand deliver him temptation.”
“And assigning him one of the guys from the team would have been that?”I ask innocently, despite the gnawing feeling in my guts that tells me I’ve been set up.Rumour is Drake enjoys the challenge of seducing supposedly straight men.
“Hm.”Great!I landed this assignment because Falchard knows Drake’s not going to attempt to do the nasty with me.
“As I said earlier, you were the best choice for the job.”
Fact: I hate my boss.
I also hate the very notion of gender identity right at this moment.
How in God’s name is anyone supposed to kickass in these shoes?
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