“That’s right.” Dylan turned to me, his gorgeous mouth now stretched into a mega-watt smile as he beamed at me. “Tomorrow is the twenty-second.”
My insides melted when his hazel eyes met mine. Sometimes, I could almost swear his gaze lingered when our eyes locked. But that was ridiculous, right? He knew I loved him. I’d made the unfortunate mistake of confessing a few months ago, fully aware my feelings were the embodiment of the word “unrequited,” but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“So,” Dylan sat next to me on our couch, his beautiful arms resting on his knees as his puzzled eyes met mine. I invited him over under the ruse of “asking him something.” The truth was that I loved him so much it was clouding my vision and making me dizzy. I refused to believe it was a clichéd crush on my brother’s best friend. This was too all consuming to be childish and fleeting.
“What did you want to ask me?” He scooted closer, and I swallowed the boulder-sized lump in my throat. This had to be said in person, not over text. Although it would’ve been a whole lot easier. It was go big or go home. Get this out once and for all, and deal with it.
“Well,” I breathed before my eyes fell to my jean-covered thighs as I wiped my damp palms back and forth in a furious motion. “I wanted to tell you something.”
Dylan’s dark brow furrowed as he inched closer to me. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, Patricia,” he rasped and reached over, draping his strong hand over my tiny one. My fingers dug into my knee so hard I almost punctured a hole in the frayed fabric. I loved when he called me Patricia. By using my first name instead of the baby name everyone else called me—when he said Patricia it was … intimate … special …ours.
Oh God, this was killing me.
“You can tell me anything, I promise.”
Well, we’d see about that.
“Dylan … I… I love you,” I blurted out in one breath.
At that, he’d taken his hands from mine and backed away. His face fell, his jaw clenching before he exhaled a long breath. The minutes it took for his eyes to come back to mine seemed like hours. I expected a rejection, and I expected it to hurt, but preparing for it didn’t impede the crushing blow.
“PJ, I …” He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. “I’m … flattered … but—”
“Flattered?” I scoffed. “Okay, I get it. You don’t have to say any more.” I pushed off the couch, biting the inside of my cheek so I could sob behind the privacy of my bedroom door when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
“Patricia, you are a beautiful, amazing girl.”Girl.He’d meant “little girl” and my stomach lurched as if I was about to vomit. Dylan needed to make the brush-off quick before I made a horrendous mess of myself and upped the humiliation even more.
He let out an audible sigh, wincing as if it was painful and uncomfortable to be in my presence. The friendship we had died before my eyes, along with any silly aspirations of being more.
“But you’re Jack’s little sister. I … can’t …” His eyes raised to the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “I can’t think of you any other way.”
He’d let me down easy and kept a comfortable, but polite distance. My subconscious had been cruel and wanted to read into the stares and shoulder squeezes that were brotherly, not affectionate.
“Big plans?” Dylan asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets before making his way over. That insignificant move made his biceps appear even bigger. Every inch of him was gorgeous, and I needed to somehow escape this crippling infatuation. Until then, I covered it up with a combination of indifference and snark. I hoped it hid the pathetic pining I didn’t know how to stop.
“My friends are dragging me to some club. Nothing big.” My gaze dropped to the ground as I inched toward my door. “I bet Jack wouldn’t mind a phone call. Especially now that he doesn’t spit out his words; at least, for the time being.”
Despite myself, we shared a laugh. I missed talking to Dylan. I missed our easy friendship, the one that had nothing to do with my brother, before I opened my mouth and ruined it.
“I’ll do that. Have a very happy birthday if I don’t see you tomorrow, PJ.”
Maybe the universe would be benevolent and spare me from my plight for just one day. I highly doubted it, Dylan always showed up anywhere I happened to be. The street, the store—he lived so close that running into him was a daily given, but I could hope.
My phone buzzed in my purse after I muttered a thank you and ran inside.
RILEY: Hey, almost birthday girl. It’s SO on tomorrow night. There are about eight of us … including Liam.
Liam was a nice guy and had been hinting at a date every time we were all together. He was cute and funny, but I shied away every time. He was sweet, but he wasn’t Dylan.
Tomorrow was my cutoff point. No more yearning for a man who would pat me on top of the head like a child instead of kiss the ever-loving shit out of me. I deserved heart-stopping passion from a man who loved me, and depriving myself for what could never be was stopping right the fuck now.
ME: Sounds fabulous. I need to figure out what to wear.
I smiled as I punched out the text. Fake it until you make it, right?
RILEY: That off-the-shoulder blouse, the skinny jeans with the holes at the knees, and those killer black heels I wish I could walk in. You know who can eat his heart out. It’s time to move on, and as your bestie, I promise to give you a nice big push.
I expelled a long breath from my lungs, and I felt lighter. For the first time in my life, when it came to Dylan, I felt—done.
