Finally, Forever(3)

“That’s just silly,” Rachel pipes in. I want to smother my hand over her mouth. Don’t you see you’re planting the seeds of misery by inviting this girl back into my life?

“I could use a ride,” Dylan says.

Rachel nods. “Isn’t it great how fate makes everything work out?”

“It is strangely fortuitous,” Dylan agrees and meets my eyes for a second before I look away. I pretend to be fascinated by a red minivan pulling into the parking lot.

“What are you going to do with your car?” Rachel asks.

“Well, it’s not actually my car,” Dylan says. I just named it. “It’s Nick’s.”

Just as she says this, a guy is walking up behind her, holding two sweating bottles of water and smiling.

“Making friends already?” he asks and offers her a bottle. He gives her this adoring grin and it makes the muscles in my arms tense.

I stare him up and down. He’s exactly my height, 6’3”. His brown, wavy hair is pulled off of his face with a pair of sunglasses. He has these large, brown, really friendly eyes. He looks outdoorsy, dressed in a blue polo shirt and tan cargo shorts. I’m a good judge of character and Nick seems, unfortunately, cool. I automatically despise him.

Dylan turns and makes the introductions. As soon as she says my name, Nick’s eyes dart to mine like a javelin, hitting me with an unbelieving stare. I meet his gaze and hold. We’re having some kind of stare-down and I’m determined not to look away first. He definitely recognizes my name. I wonder how much Dylan told him about me. I wonder how badly he wants to kick my ass right now. But he doesn’t look angry, or jealous. More than anything, he looks curious. He actually reaches out his hand to shake mine. I grab his fingers and try not to squeeze so hard I break one.

“Gray. Nice to meet you.” He says my name like he’s referencing a famous book title and I almost smile at his lie. He shakes Rachel’s hand and regards both of us for a few seconds like he’s trying to piece something together.

“I’m Dylan’s boyfriend,” he says, specifically to me. He throws an arm around Dylan’s shoulder just to be a jackass. Even Dylan looks surprised by the possessive gesture.

I fight to keep my feet steady. I’ve seen one other guy touch Dylan in my life. Once. And I threw a baseball at him as hard as I could. The same territorial instinct is flooding back.

“I found a red eye flight I can catch tonight,” he says to Dylan and leans in closely to tell her. Their noses almost touch. “Are you sure you want to take a bus to Flagstaff?” he asks her. “I found some cheap flights to Phoenix.”

Dylan points over at me and grins like I’m her old pal from the neighborhood and this isn’t at all weird.

“Funny, actually,” she says. “Gray’s headed to Phoenix today. So, he can drop me off in Flagstaff.”

“Wow,” Nick says and he regards me again. “What a coincidence.”

Tell me how you really feel.

“I wish I could go with you,” Nick says and coos into her shoulder.

“Why don’t you guys eat dinner with us first?” Rachel offers. “Before you head out?”

I stare at Rachel. Aren’t you just full of fun ideas?

“Perfect,” Nick agrees. He reaches down for Dylan’s hand and I’m already stalking towards the front entrance. I have to make a concerted effort not to stomp. I hear Dylan commenting on the name of the restaurant behind me, and she wonders out loud if palm trees grow in Nebraska. If I weren’t currently loathing my life, I would smile.





Dylan





I watch Gray disappear inside the restaurant so fast it’s as if he has a jet pack strapped to his back. I can almost see a trail of steam shooting out behind him. I stand in his exhaust trail, stunned.

“Dylan?” A voice calls out to me through an abyss

of shock. “Dylan?”

I blink and Nick’s worried eyes come into view.

“You’re scaring me. Focus,” he says and shakes my shoulders until I meet his brown eyes. “I’m worried you’re going to lose control of all bodily functions right now.”

Fragmented words start to appear in my mind but they’re not forming sentences. They drift and float but they’re difficult to connect. My heart is pounding as if I just sprinted around a track. Only one thing is clear.

“He hates me,” I say.

“Hate can easily be confused with love,” Nick argues. “They’re very similar emotions if you think about it.”

Now I’m even more confused. “That makes no sense, Nick.”

“Love never does,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”