"Hey, Ash, should I text Dylan? Or is it too soon?"
The “too soon” feels ridiculous as soon as she types it. She’s overthinking again. But she can’t help it. Every time she tries to make sense of what’s between her and Dylan, the uncertainty creeps in.
As she pulls into the driveway, she sighs in frustration, her eyes scanning the empty spot where Ashley’s car usually sits.Of course, she’s not here right now.
A heavy sigh escapes her lips. She could really use someone to talk to, but Ashley’s not home. Ali turns off the engine, staring blankly at the steering wheel for a moment.
She’s tired. Summer at the firm isn’t slow— it’s tax extensions, mid-year reviews, and clients who think “quick question” means an hour of unpaid work. Her brain is fried from numbers and niceties, her shoulders sore from carrying everyone else’s bottom line. Her mind exhausted. She doesn’t even feel like dealing with the texts or the anxiety or whatever’s going on between her and Dylan right now. She just needs a shower. A minute to clear her head.
The humid air hits her as she steps out of her white Grand Cherokee and heads inside.
Her phone buzzes in her hand. She doesn’t check it, though— she can’t. The weight of the day is too much, and right now, all she wants is to feel the warm water wash away the tension. She walks toward her bathroom, the uncertainty of the day still hanging over her.
The sound of the water still echoes in her ears as she steps from the shower and wraps her hair up, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
A few stray tears streak down her face, leaving damp trails against her skin. She’s embarrassed—so embarrassed— that she let herself get carried away with Dylan last night, that she let him talk her through such an intimate, vulnerable moment. And now, this. The silence. The waiting.
Why did I let him do that?
Her chest tightens as she recalls the phone call, the way his voice had guided her, calm and steady, through the waves of desire, and how, at the end, she’d been so honest with him,telling him she hadn’t been with anyone else. That she’d only ever had sex with him.
Why did I say that?
She never wanted to admit it, not to herself, let alone him. But last night, in the midst of everything, it had slipped out. And now, she felt exposed.Too much.
Ali’s breath catches as the weight of it all crashes down on her. The phone call had felt like such a connection, like a moment where they were reallytherewith each other. But now, as the tears start to trickle down her cheeks, she feels foolish.
Why had I let him push me? Why had I let him into that part of me so easily?And now, he’s gone quiet. She hasn’t heard from him since, and the silence eats at her.Did I scare him away? Was I too much?
With trembling hands, she grabs her towel from the bathroom hook and wraps it tighter around her body as she walks into her bedroom, her steps slow, heavy. The weight of the day still lingers— work, the anxiety, and now, her emotional mess. She crosses the room and sits cross-legged at the edge of her bed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her towel.
I’m such an idiot.
Her phone buzzes again, the vibration on her nightstand sending a small shock through her. She glances at it, but the moment feels too fragile. She doesn’t want to look. Not yet. Not until she’s figured out how to fix whatever it is she’s messed up.
Her shoulders slump, the tears still streaking down her cheeks as she stares at the floor, feeling the weight of everything, the vulnerability, the desire, and the fear of rejection. Her heart aches— not just for Dylan, but for herself.
She wonders if this is how it always goes. She gives so much of herself, and then it’s always the same: a moment of connection followed by a silence that feels louder than anything.
Ali wipes her face quickly, feeling embarrassed even in her own space. She feels like she should have known better, like she should have held back. But how can you hold back from someone who already knowsall of you?
Ali’s phone continues to ring, the vibrations on the nightstand relentless. Each buzz echoes in the quiet of the room, a reminder of the one person she’s trying so desperately to ignore. Dylan. She won’t pick up. She can’t. Not now. Not when everything feels so raw.
Her hands tremble slightly as she wipes away the last of the tears, but they keep coming. She doesn’t want to be weak. She doesn’t want to seem desperate.What the hell am I even doing?
And then, as if the universe decided it had other plans, she hears it. That voice— so familiar, sohim— cuts through the stillness.
“Are you going to answer me or not, babe?”
Ali jerks upright, her heart lurching in her chest. She hadn’t heard him come in. But there he is.
Dylan.
He’s standing barefoot in the doorway, his phone held out toward her like a lifeline. The concern on his face is immediate, his brow furrowed as he takes in the sight of her, still sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel barely clinging to her body, eyes red from crying.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. Time seems to slow. Ali’s pulse races as the shock of seeing him so suddenly sends a wave of heat to her face. She doesn’t know what to do with the mix of emotions crashing through her— the confusion, the relief, the vulnerability that she’s never been able to hide when it comes to him.
Before she can say anything, Dylan’s across the room in a few long strides, his arms wrapping around her. He doesn’t wait forher to respond. He just pulls her into his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, his body warmth immediately surrounding her.
