Dizzy (7 page)

I have to laugh at his honesty. And I’m sort of in shock because a part of me felt he’d be a guy who did nothing. I bet his dad has enough money for him to get away with it, too. But he’s not going to do nothing—he’s going to do something big.

“I’m getting into medicine because of my dad. He decided to teach instead of practicing. I want to practice. Probably pediatrics, but I’m not sure yet. I have a way long time to think about it.”

“So, we’re both after the big degrees,” he says.

“Yeah.” We both are. “But on opposite sides of what they offer.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs.

It sort of sums up Dylan and me. Not that there is a Dylan and me. But it’s like we’re similar, and we’re not. I’m okay to cry in front of him, although I’m still embarrassed about it, and we’re both unhappy about this wedding. Then he’s the big mansion, hot party guy with the model friends, and I’m…well, the opposite of that. Before I have a chance to process how much time’s gone by, the city’s turning dark, and I’m not sure what to do.

“I’ll take you home,” he says.

“What?”

“You’re looking around like you’re trying to figure out how to get rid of me,” he teases as he slides off the hood.

He stands underneath me and holds his hand out to help me down. My heart starts to beat all crazy, which means I’m completely ridiculous because it’s just a hand. I take it and land way too close to him. And his blue eyes are too close and his warmth is too close and he smells so, so good. And when he steps away, it’s like my legs are weak, proving that I really need to be careful around this guy.

“So, today we call bonding time, and maybe we’ll get together again for the museum, cross something off that stupid, damn list.” He sucks in the last word. “Sorry, I know it’s your sister’s.”

“Her lists are ridiculous. No worries here.”

“I know you don’t know me or anything, but you really should talk to your sister about all this mess with the friend and the guy and everything.”

I blow a loose strand of hair off my face. “Maybe.”

I know he’s right, and I know I’m stubborn and want her to come to me. But I’m also stubborn enough to wait on her for a while longer.

Dylan pauses looking at me more intently than I expect. He shakes his head like I do when I’m trying to get past one thought into another.

“No maybe. Dylan knows his shit. Besides, if you’re able to get them to separate for longer than a bathroom break, I’ll call you a miracle worker.”

It sounds like a challenge. “You’re on.”

Nine

~Dylan~

I can’t get over how weird yesterday was. I mean, it started because I can’t stand to see a girl cry. When Ziah was all teary and mopey, I did the only thing any guy would—I tried to distract her so the tears would stop. I’m not the best with the whole opening up thing, but I figured pizza always works with me. So I gave it a shot.

And it actually wasn’t so bad.

Not like I think we’re friends or anything, but for a little while, I actually forgot I was just trying to distract her. Granted, today I’ll do everything in my power to make myself remember it was just distraction. She’s still the angry chick whose sister is ripping my brother away from me. And who also has an idiot of an ex-boyfriend.

“Lil D! Open up.” Something pounds against my bedroom door.

“Go away!” I yell back at Derrick. I’m still pissed at him about this whole thing, and honestly, I’m not even sure what to say to him anymore. It’s weird hanging out with him now, and I never expected it to be like that.

“No.” He pushes inside.

“Don’t make me kick your ass again.”

He laughs, and I roll over to ignore him. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re hanging out for a while.”

I look up to see he’s already dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a button up shirt. “Oh, so you have time for me today? You pried your lips away from Lora long enough to talk with your brother?” Still, I find myself pushing up and getting out of bed.

Derrick rolls his eyes. “Grow up and come on. You’re acting like a five-year-old.”

I choose to ignore that. This is his fault, not mine. Once I’m in my bathroom, I strip and take a quick shower. When I’m ready, I jog down the stairs, half expecting to see Derrick and Lora surgically re-attached, but luckily, she’s not here.

“So what’s up? Why do you suddenly have time for me?”

Derrick groans. “Seriously, you’re starting to piss me off.”

I grab an apple out of the bowl and take a bite. “What a coincidence. You’re doing the same thing to me.”

He doesn’t reply, but grabs his keys off the counter. I follow him, eating the apple as we go. I’ll never admit it, but I’m excited to spend the day with him. I’m so over all this wedding stuff and just want to pretend things are the way they used to be.

We head to the driving range, which may sound like something eighty-year-olds do, but golfing is the shit. When Dad makes time for us, that’s almost always what we do.

Over two buckets of balls, we challenge each other to see who can drive the farthest. Once we’re out of balls, we head to the pizza place, and I pray to God they don’t tell him I was here with Ziah yesterday. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to know I actually don’t hate her guts. It might come in handy later.

Luckily, Hank’s at lunch, which is ironic as hell, if you ask me, since he works at a pizza place. We have our specialty, drink way too much soda, and then I beat him at a few video games. It feels like old times.

I can almost forget there’s a Ziah or a Lora. I can pretend he’s just here on break and not taking time off from school. I can forget that the one person who was there for me when our family fell apart has hardly had the time of day for me. I can almost forget that I’ve ever doubted the Gibson Boys.

Right now, it’s still just us, and no
thing is going to tear
us apart like it did when I was younger.

“Where do you want to go next?” Derrick asks as we drive through town.

“I don’t know.” It makes me sound like a pussy, but I suddenly want to think of something else so we can keep hanging out. “Wanna hit the mall? Dad’s birthday is coming up. We need to get him something.”

Derrick nods as he pulls onto the freeway. The car is quiet for a few minutes before he says, “Listen, Dyl, I wanted to talk to you about something real quick.”

“Yeah?” I ask, flipping with the knobs, just assuming it’s going to be something stupid.

“Lora’s having a really hard time with Ziah being so against the wedding, and you treating her like you do… She thinks you don’t like her or something. I was thinking—”

I fight a groan. “That you’d hang out with me like old times just to suck up before you pounce on me to make your girl feel better?” I shake my head, suddenly feeling like punching my brother more than I ever have.

“What? No. I just thought this would be a good chance to bring it up.”

“Yeah… sure.”

It’s stupid, but I feel like I’m locked out of what’s going on again. That I’m in my room alone while Dad loses it, Derrick tries to cover for him… and Mom is just gone. No one ever tells me what’s going on. All I know is they’re out there, and I’m in here. Alone.

Hell, maybe I am a wuss.

“You know that’s not how it is.”

Actually, I don’t, but whatever. “You know what? I forgot I had something to do. Let’s just go home.”

He doesn’t even argue.

***

Ziah’s ridden the whole way to the museum in silence, and even though I’m trying not to be, I’m pissed about Derrick. I don’t say a word to her because I’ve been known to be a jerk when I’m in a bad mood. Of course she has her hair up again, and I not only have to see that little strand hanging down but also her neck. It’s a nice neck. I like kissing necks, and I suddenly want to kiss hers. What the hell is wrong with me?

I slam Mary’s door and then just get mad at myself. It’s not her fault Derrick’s a jerk. I walk to the other side of the Hummer and wait for Ziah to climb down. Silence still weighing on us, we head inside.

“Hey.” She touches my arm.

I may or may not enjoy that innocent touch way too much. It’s like ever since I first noticed that piece of hair, followed by our semi-normal day yesterday, I can’t stop thinking insane stuff about her.

“Are you okay?” She smiles.

No, no I’m not. “Yeah, just wondering who the hell would want to get married in a museum. I didn’t know people did that.”

“You didn’t? If I agreed with this wedding, I would actually think it’s cool. It was my idea.”

Oh. Leave it to me to insult her. “I mean, it’s cool… Actually, unique. Yeah, unique.”

Ziah laughs all high-pitched. “No, you think it’s lame, and that’s okay. Stop trying to be nice. Two days in a row is going to scare me.”

This time, I laugh with her. I don’t know why, but I enjoy the little reminder that I helped her feel better yesterday. Me. And not because I’m rich or because I’m a good kisser, which is usually the way I help girls. It just…was. “Yeah, I definitely don’t want to look like a nice guy. Thanks for saving me on that one.”

She smiles at me again and then does this girly, hip-bump thing to me. “Come on, let’s look around.” Umm, who is this, and what happened to angry Ziah?

Obviously in her element, she leads me around. I snap pictures here and there for my loser brother with Ziah’s phone because I left mine in Mary. She wants shots of every angle and every freaking inch of the place. It’s crazy because I know she’s not any more excited about this wedding than me, but she’s one of those girls that if she’s going to do something, she’s going to do it right. I can understand that. Kind of. After an hour, I’m not sure how much more there is to photograph.

“You’d think you were the one getting married. You’d be one of those bridezilla girls wouldn’t you?” I say it just to get a rise out of her because I know she wouldn’t be like that.

“What? I can’t believe you would say that! You know I think this whole thing is stupid.”

I laugh. “Truth hurt?” For some reason, joking around with her like this kind of helps me forget about Derrick.

“No, but I’m going to hurt you.”

I pull her hair like a twelve-year-old and run. She chases me. When did I stop being mad?

“Get over here, Lil D!”

I zip by her and pull her hair again. “Don’t call me that.”

I take a corner and collide into something. “Umph.”

Four eyes are staring back at me. Okay, not four but a woman old enough to be my grandmother with glasses so thick I think they’re the same as my windshield.

“Sir and miss. You cannot run in the museum. If I catch you again, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Oh no! We’re so sorry,” Ziah says before I get the chance to tell the lady if I run again, there’s no way she could catch me. When I open my mouth to say so, Ziah gives me this look that makes me snap my mouth closed before she grabs my arm and pulls me away.

“You’re no fun.”

“You almost got us kicked out.” She lets go of my arm and turns to face me.

“Which would have been the fun part. Don’
t
you ever break any rules, Hanes?” I give her a wink and a smile. Then lean a little closer. Maybe too close.

Her feet plant themselves to the floor. Her breath hitches. I actually see the pulse beating in her neck, and I know. She’s looking at me all funny, and suddenly I’m breathing faster, too. I notice a tiny scar by her lip and can’t help but wonder how it happened. Wonder what it would feel like under my finger.

As if we both realize this moment is way too strange, we jump apart.

What the hell was that?

I step away, and she’s still watching me. “Wanna look around for fun now? I think you got enough pictures.”

She nods, looks at the floor, and I can’t help but feel like I just let her down somehow. “What do you want to look at first? I’m game for anything.” And I’m totally trying to make up for the fact that I’m a jerk.

Ziah leads me to display after display. I’m pretty sure we’ve looked at everything twice, and as boring as the museum should be, it’s fun because she keeps making me laugh. I’m making her laugh, too. I wonder if this is what it was like for her when I helped her forget about James. If we can somehow make each other forget all the shit that’s going on while we plan this stupid wedding.

Is this what it’s like to be just friends with a girl? I like it a lot more than I thought I would.

“How you doing?” I finally ask her as we walk along. “You know, with Alyssa and the jerk?”

“Who? Oh. Right. Yeah. He is a jerk. I like your name for him better.” She shrugs. When she does, her arm brushes mine, and I’m way more aware of it than I should be. It’s an arm, for God’s sake.

“I’m okay, I guess. Still trying to sort it all out in my mind. It sucks. She was my best friend… I lost them both at the same time.”

I love how she opens up to me. I’m not sure any girl has ever been as honest with me as she is. It makes me want to give her the same thing.

“You remember Paul? He was the one dancing like an idiot in my kitchen that first night. Anyway, he’s an idiot, but he’s my boy, too. We’ve known each other since we were little. I can’t imagine what I’d do if he screwed me over like that.”

She gasps a little, and I worry I said the wrong thing. We’re still walking, and it takes her a minute to reply. “Yeah, that’s why it hurt so much. It was Alyssa, and having her be the one who hurt me sucked.”

“Sucks. You don’t need her, though. Not if she’s like that. I know my shit. You should always listen to Masta Dylan.”

She drops her head back and laughs. God, this girl is killing me. I stare at her neck and wonder what it would feel like to kiss it, but then I see Derrick and Lora, Dad on the ground crying, and me wondering what the hell was going on. I shake my head and notice the painting on the wall.

“He’s incredible.”

“I love this artist,” we say at the same time. Okay, we really need to stop having things in common. It’s screwing with my head.

“Yeah, he’s great.” I step closer.

“I love art… mainly because I’m so terrible at it. I can’t help but respect people who can do so well what I could never in a million years accomplish.”

I don’t know what makes me open my mouth and say it, but I do. “I draw. Sketch, paint a little. Nothing like this, but…” Now I feel like an idiot. Like I’m trying to impress her or something. “Yeah, drawing isn’t the same thing, I guess.”

But she’s looking at me with those wide eyes, and I can tell, she thinks it’s something. “I’d love to see your stuff sometime. I mean, if you don’t mind showing me.”

“Yeah? I have one of my sketchbooks in Mary. Want to come see it?” What the hell is wrong with me? It’s just because you brought up her friend and her ex… you’re trying to make her feel better.

Five minutes later we’re in the Hummer, and she’s looking through one of the books I never let anyone see.

“These are great, Dylan.” Her fingers slide across one of my drawings like it’s a treasure. “You’re really good. Seriously, you should be proud of yourself. I could never do this. It’s amazing.”

“Umm… Thanks.”

She’s still looking at my picture, picking the edge of my paper. I totally want to tell her to be careful with it, but I don’t.

“I guess I should take you home.” The words come out of nowhere, but I suddenly need some space from her.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

It doesn’t take us long to get to her house. We’re all quiet again until I can’t take it anymore. “So… should I pick you up tomorrow? I think they have some other wedding crap for us to do.”