“You wanted to warn me.”
My words hit their mark.
“Yes.” Dylan’s voice is so low I have to strain to hear it. “Because I’m not sure I can let you go tomorrow. And I want you to know what you’re getting into if we decide to continue our relationship.”
My heart’s in my throat. “Dylan. It’s okay. Let’s just enjoy tonight together.”
The idea of taking our relationship past Arizona overwhelms me, but not because of what Dylan just shared with me. It’s because a big reason why I’ve allowed myself to get close to him is that I was counting on an end point. If I know when it’s ending, then I can’t get hurt.
But right now, all I want to do is try to make him hurt a little bit less.
I walk over to my covered sculptures. “Hey, I want to show you something,” I say as I bring the sculpture over to the bed. “You want to see?”
Dylan’s eyes brighten. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Sure. Go ahead and take a look.” I know he won’t recognize himself, but I still want to share with him how much he means to me. “It’s not fired, obviously, or painted. I have to wait until I get back to L.A. to do all of that.”
I inhale quickly as his hand reaches for the cover.
“It’s rough,” I say quickly. “Very rough.”
He nods seriously, then carefully removes the paper towel layers until he can see the sculpture.
I hover over him nervously. For several long moments, he doesn’t say anything. He just sits on the bed and looks at the sculpture.
“Well?” I finally say. “You hate it?”
He reaches out and touches it with one finger. “I love it. It’s amazing.” He looks up at me as I stand next to him. “Who is this?”
“Um…” My face goes nuclear. “No one?”
“Is that a question or a statement?” he asks me. “Seriously, it’s someone right?”
“Yes. It’s someone.”
“Well, who is it? It’s not like I know your life—I’m just curious.”
“Dylan.”
I sink down onto the bed, curl up my legs, and cross my arms over them. He leans forward to see my face.
“Shit,” he says in a tone of absolute shock.
Good Lord.I’ve freaked him out. I’ve totally and completely freaked him out. He’s going to burst out the door any second, and all I’ll see is his carved-out shape in the broken wood.
This is so much worse than telling him I love him. Because he already told me that, so the L-word must not freak him out as much as this clearly has. Maybe he thinks I’m some sort of stalker type who sculpts her victims first. Maybe he thinks I’m head over heels obsessed with him. He wouldn’t be all wrong there.
Oh, no.What possessed me to show him this sculpture?
“Jasalie, I don’t know what to say,” he says quietly.
If I get up real fast and just start running, he won’t notice I’m gone until it’s too late. The person who starts first always has the advantage.
I get one foot on the ground but before I can make my dash, Dylan grabs my arm. “Hey. What are you doing?”
“Making a quick getaway,” I say with a laugh.
“To where?”
