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“Uh-huh.” My friend taps her foot impatiently.
“I promise.”
“I'll wait.”
“Dylan, I have to go. It's girls' night and Kara's waiting for me.”
His sigh is full of disappointment, but I'm relieved to end our conversation. I have no idea what we're doing and my confusion level is at an all-time high.
“I guess I'll let you go then. Promise me you'll dream about me tonight.”
Does he have any idea what he's doing to me right now? Does he know he's giving me hope that will probably end in my heart shattering into more pieces than it has already?
“Good night, Dylan.”
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
“I'll call you tomorrow.”
There's no doubt in my mind that he will, but as to what this all means between us – well, I have plenty of doubt about that.
34
Dylan
“Hi, Dylan.”
It's becoming increasingly obvious to me that Lana doesn't know how to knock on a door and wait for an answer before she opens it. Perhaps she's trying to catch me undressing, or perhaps she was raised in a house where there were no boundaries. Whatever the reason for her lack of respect for my privacy, I'm getting tired of it. She's clearly here to corner me since she didn't succeed in doing so last night when we went out with the rest of the camp counsellors. I avoided Lana for most of the night, despite her attempts to get my attention. It was easy enough to make sure there was someone between us at all times. She just hasn't figured out it was all deliberate.
“Lana, what can I do for you?”
Her eyes widen at my tone and I question whether I'm being needlessly harsh. It's not her fault photos of the two of us were posted on Facebook and hurt the person who matters most to me. It isn't her fault because I've never told her straight out I'm not interested, but I need to do that now.
“I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
“No, I'm the one who's sorry. I'm not in a great mood today.”
“Homesick?” she asks.
I was going to shake my head but nod instead. “Something like that.”
Homesick is one word for it. Is there another word to describe the way I miss Claire? I've spent every night talking to her this week, hoping it would be enough. Hoping the sound of her voice every evening would be enough to get me through thelonely days without her. Instead, I miss her more and more with every conversation. And when I spoke to her last night...
I would have given anything to be at Brody's last night, with my friends and with Claire, to see her in that dress and make love to her again. It killed me to hear the confusion in her voice before she hung up. I told her we're friends and then went and possibly messed it all up with my inability to think about anything but getting her naked underneath me.
Last night, I hardly slept. I tossed and turned all night, working out how quickly I could see her. While I'm still afraid to label things between us, it's suddenly glaringly obvious that it isn't over between us. At least, it isn't over for me. I'm not done with her.
I'm not sure I'll ever be done with her. Seeing Claire again has become a new priority. Living abroad and keeping a girlfriend in another country seems crazy, but I want to continue what we started months ago, in whatever capacity she'll allow.
Also, I don't want her searching for Dylan 2.0. I don't want her moving on and finding someone like me.
I want to be her one and only.
Because she's mine.
She's always been mine.
