Page 5 of Fueled Hate

Dylan takes a calculated step back, his eyes running down my body, then back up before returning to my lips as he says, “Anytime.”

Dangerous. This guy has danger written all over him. Not in the psycho-murderer manner like I’d first feared, but in the heartbreaker way. Like, a serious enticer. His temptation is scary exciting, and I fear once he embeds his charming allure in my heart, I’ll regret ever having known him. Because he’s too much; it would be like playing with fire. When he leaves, and I have no doubt he’ll leave, I’ll have to mend my broken pieces back together. Again.

Kyle remains rigid as we watch Dylan walk away. “What the fuck was that about?”

“I told you—it was nothing. Not that you deserve an explanation, but I ended our stupid anniversary night with a flat tire on the side of the road in the rain.” I go back to cleaning the table, and when I step over to the trash can, Kyle follows.

“You could’ve called me,” he says, his body blocking me from returning to the table.

Folding my arms across my chest, I look up to meet his furious eyes. “I did … for hours while I sat at Big Tobe’s, waiting on you in a stupid dress for our stupid anniversary. You didn’t answer. Why would I call you when I’m perfectly capable of changing a flat tire myself? Besides, I thought your phone was dead.”

“Call me next time.” He remains tense, looking in Dylan’s direction. Kyle doesn’t care that I had a flat, he only cares that Dylan was there.

“I didn’t need your help last night, and I won’t need your help next time.”

“But you sure needed his.”

“No. I didn’t. That’s why he watched me change the tire.” Stepping around him, I return to the table, plop down in the chair, and relax when Kyle finally heads out of the café.

“Interesting,” Willow says.

“No, he’s not,” I say flatly, grabbing a few of the remaining napkins to dry off my planner and notebook.

“I didn’t say he was interesting, so that makes it even more interesting.”

“Strange, weird, and annoying, yes. Interesting, no, so let’s just drop it.” Please, because he’s pulling me in all kinds of ways that I shouldn’t be wanting to go. Someone should tell that to my body, though, because I’m not sure my mind is in control where Dylan is concerned.

“Fine. But I have to say that I already like Dylan. He seems to really piss off Kyle.”

“Of course you do,” I say, jotting down some notes until a paper cup is placed on the center of the paper. Looking up, Dylan is walking away with a matching cup in his hand.

“Interesting indeed,” Willow snickers.

“Stop.” I shake my head, moving the cup aside to continue jotting down some important dates to remember while trying to forget everything Willow is correct about. “It’s just a cup of coffee.”

“Mm-hmm,” she says but thankfully drops the topic and resumes her studies. We sit for an hour, though I’m no more prepared for my next class than I was before. The only thing I usually have under control is my courses, so this isn’t making me feel good about the semester. This semester is supposed to be different. I’m supposed to be happy, participate in my life as my dad keeps telling me to do, but the only thing I feel is miserable and confused.

3

Dylan

Out of all the guys she could date, why would she be with that fucker? It’s obvious she’s out of his league in more than one way, so why is she with him? More importantly, why the fuck do I care? She’s not the reason I’m here.

The vibration of my phone pulls me from my thoughts, and I look at the screen to see the call I knew would come sooner or later. I might as well answer because my mom is not going to give up until I do. Taking a deep breath, I say hello into the phone.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning.”

Guilt consumes me because I know exactly what she fears—that something bad had happened. “I’m fine, Mom. I was in class earlier and couldn’t answer.”

“How is the new school?”

“It’s good.”

“Are you sure? You can take some time off if you need to and enroll at the university back here next semester.”

“I’m sure. I’m missing y’all, but the change of scenery has been good. How are you doing? How’s Emma?” I ask about my little sister to change the topic; anything to distract her from asking more questions that I don’t want to answer. I don’t need a semester off. I need to be here. That’s not debatable.

“She’s doing good. The only thing she keeps talking about is how much better second grade is than first.” I hear the smile in my mom’s voice as she speaks but the deep sigh tells me the smile has vanished. “She keeps asking when you’re coming home.”