“What?” He asks.
“I didn’t get in. To Yale. They waitlisted me. So it doesn’t even matter.” Sierra wipes a tear from her eyes.
“Sierra, it’s just the waitlist. And there are other schools than Yale. There’s the University of Maine, of Connecticut…” Dean tries to calm her down, but she’s furious. “It might be for the best. As long as you go to school?—”
“You justlovetelling everyone what’s best for them! You can’t do that if you’re not here!” She pushes past Dean, then me, and walks into the crowd and I immediately lose eyes on her.
“Well, fuck,” Dean sighs. “That didn’t go the way I wanted.” He dives into the crowd and I follow him.
“Let me talk to her,” I say to his back.
“No, I’ve got her, you don’t need to worry. Just enjoy the rest of the concert.” Dean’s pace is so quick, I can barely keep up.
“Just let me help,” I try to talk some sense into him. “Maybe she needs to hear it from someone else.”
“You don’t know what she needs!” Dean exclaims, and I stop following him, as we reach the exit.
“Fine. Go find her yourself. I’ll see you at the Airbnb,” I say, defeated. I can’t make him want my help. He exits The Belladonna, and leaves me standing there, my back to the crowd.
Mark drops me off at the Airbnb shortly after 11 o’clock, thirty minutes after Dean left me at The Belladonna. I haven’t even gotten a text from him, so I shrug off my jacket and dress, and get right in the shower. Washing the grime of the night off feels divine.
I put on my last clean long-sleeved shirt and pair of soft pants. There’s a large bookcase in the living room, and I select a literary fiction novel off the third shelf. Once I’ve curled up, the main door creaks open. I look up from my book, and Dean enters. He kicks off slush from his shoes onto the doormat.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” He replies, shedding his coat, putting it on the other armchair, on top of mine.
“I guess you didn’t drive her home.” I say.
“No. I think she left before I even got outside. She’s not picking up her phone.” He stands in the doorway, shaking his head.
“Do you want me to try calling her?” I ask hesitantly, afraid he might decline my help again.
“You can try, but I think she turned it off.” Dean sends me her contact info through a text, and I try ringing her. We both watch the phone go straight to voicemail. I send her a text, and try calling again, but nothing.
“I only hope it was Johnny driving her,” Dean laments. He looks tired, like he’s been up all night worrying.
“She’s not that stupid,” I say. “He has to be. He wasn’t there at the venue, was he? After she left?”
“No. You’re probably right.” Dean sits on the sofa and sighs, his head held in his hands. “She was right too. I left her.”
“You didn’tjustleave her,” I reassure him. “You left for a reason. You took the jobforher, so she could afford school.”
“I’m probably going to get fired when we get back anyway.” He leans his head back on the sofa, stretching his legs out.
“What do you mean? Why would you get fired?” I ask. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I’m not going to be able to keep you away from the pharmacy if we’re together. And I wouldn’t want to. Craig will probably be pissed,” Dean gives me a steely cold look—not that he’s angry. He’s scared. “If anything, you’ll probably be there more if I’m still working there. And I think he might try something drastic like a restraining order.”
Together.He wants to be together.
“You could just hand deliver my prescriptions.” I offer.
“Maybe…” Dean rubs his eyebrows, and fusses with his hand on his chin. “But I don’t think it’ll work for long. If I know you.” He lets out a sad laugh. “You still won’t be able to come into Martell’s. At all. Not even in an emergency. Craig would fire me on the spot. His entire reason for hiring me was to get rid of you.”
“Do you even want to work for a piece of shit like Craig?” I ask. “Someone who would comment to TMZ about me like that? Someone who would want to get rid of me?”
“No,” Dean says. “Frankly, I don’t.”
