“Hey,” I say, noticing the panic on his face.
“What’s up?” he asks.
I point at the front door. “Sorry for stopping by unannounced. I just…” I try to look in his room, but he closes it tighter. “Is it a bad time?”
He slips out of the room, trying to hide whoever’s in his bedroom, and shuts the door behind him. “Yeah… I just…”
He ushers me out of the hallway. When I catch Scott’s eyes, he’s pretending this isn’t awkward.
I lean in. “I’m sorry.” I try not to laugh. “But do you have a girl in there?”
Dylan doesn’t answer that. Instead, he says, “Is everything okay? Why are you here?”
I nod. “Yeah. I just got really excited because do you remember that job I told you about? The UGC one that you could potentially model for?”
He nods, scratching his head. He turns around and looks at Scott. I look at Scott, too. “Yeah, I remember.”
“We got it,” I murmur, but I don’t think he hears me. “We got the job!”
“Okay, so, uh, I’ll see you Monday at the gym?” he says. When his eyes finally meet mine, he looks stressed.
I whisper, “Dylan, I don’t care if you have a girl in there. Don’t feel––”
He pulls back. “I’ll see you.”
I watch him walk back down the hall, and I’m speechless. I glare at Scott, but he ignores me, tending to his fling in the kitchen. She’s looking awkwardly at the floor.
Jeez.
I leave the house with a pit in my stomach.
What the hell did I just walk into?
Why would I show up unannounced?
Dylan is normally as cool as an ice cube, so seeing him like that has me flustered. I get into my car and turn it on, looking at the parked vehicles. One car has mismatched tires, and it looks really bad with its cracked windows and spray-paint job. What the hell?
I pull away from his house, concerned that Dylan is sleeping with other women while hooking up with me.
I chew on my lip, wondering who the girl is.
I’m an idiot for thinking that I could seduce my best friend without any consequences. I can’t control what he does outside of our friendship.
I hit the steering wheel.
Stupid.
Stupid.Stupid!
21
Dylan
It’s Monday evening, and I’ve already gone to practice and got my ass handed to me. I went to three different classes today, only to find I’m failing one and barely skimming by on another. Saturday was the cherry on top of the fucking cake. Sunday, I sulked in it all day.
But I walk into the gym anyway because I promised Cecily I would show up no matter what. Cecily is talking to Marina, her back to the entrance. Her long legs are shoved into tight black yoga pants that cinch her waist and a sports bra that shows her toned back muscles. She looks hot with her hair in a high ponytail. And my gut twists when Marina smiles at me.
“Hey, Dylan,” she says, and Cecily doesn’t skip a beat.
