Page 60 of Playing the Backbeat

I can’t get a read on him, but I swear he’s not breathing, waiting for me to answer. That’s when I realize I’m holding my breath too.

“She’s beautiful,” I say, staring at my hands as I wring them between us. “Really kind. Accomplished and sweet.”

He steps closer, mere inches between us, and his words are quiet, just for me. “I asked if you like her. Do you see yourself waiting for her call? Will you be up tonight wondering what she’s doing or if she’s thinking of you or what it’d be like to have her hold you? Do you want to know her favorite food so you can make it for her or her favorite song so you can add it to every playlist you ever make? Are you dying to meet her family just so you can know her a little better, and the people who built her into the most incredible person you’ve ever met? Someone who pisses you off while also jump-starting your heart so you know you’re alive?”

His breathing is ragged and we’re impossibly closer now, just a breath away from touching.

My pulse is racing and I watch his neck as he swallows, finding myself speechless.

That’s got to be a first.

“No,” I whisper. “She’s a wonderful person.” I shake my head. “But she’s not my person.”

His face shifts, determination overriding every confusing signal he’s sent me in the last five minutes. “Let me go ahead and apologize for keeping you.”

He walks briskly past me and I stumble, shocked, staring after him, confused as fuck for a moment. Long enough to realize he’s walking right past his date…and straight toward mine.

That motherfucker.

He wouldn’t.

I hurry back, making a direct line for my table, overhearing the last of his conversation with Stephanie.

“So yeah, she’s really messed up in there.” His hands rest low on his stupid, muscled abdomen. “She texted me from the bathroom. She’s really embarrassed. Didn’t know if she’d make it back out here to tell you. I came as quickly as I could. She waslucky I was here with my own date.” He gestures to his table, where I’m fairly certain his date is on a video call with her ex.

Yikes. Big swing and a miss, Deanna.

“What the fuck are you doing, Dylan?” I snarl, yanking hard on his arm till he’s forced to lean down to my level.

“Getting us out of here.” His eyes lock on mine. “We’re going home.”

Stephanie reaches out and takes my hand, clearly concerned for my well-being given Dylan’s theatrics. I’m sorry. I meant Dylan’slies.

I should be mad. I should be furious. But fuck…am I relieved?

While Stephanie is a wonderful person, I was hoping to get through the night keeping things between us firmly in the friend zone. But hearing Dylan say the date is over and insisting that he’s taking us home? My heart swells and trips over itself.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is happening to me?

Dylan excuses himself to his own table, talking to his date, I assume blaming his roommate and some bullshit sickness for why he has to leave early. I pay the bill for Stephanie and me, and we say our goodbyes as he settles his own tab and wishes Vanessa good luck on her date tomorrow with her ex.

My heart is pounding out of my chest and I have no idea why I’m not spitting mad that Dylan fucked up the first decent date I’ve had in months. Instead, I’m looking forward to being alone with him for fuck knows what reason.

Any warmth I felt for Dylan vanishes the instant I remember myself. Dylan wants a date to Bec and Aiden’s wedding. Dylan insisted we spend all this time finding the perfect dates for each other. Dylan was the one who wanted this. And just because his date wasn’t honest with herself about being ready to move on, now I have to pay the consequences?

No, fuck this.

Chapter twenty-seven

Dylan

“This wasyouridea,” Dee shouts as she stomps into our apartment. “You’re the one who wanted to find dates to the wedding.” She throws her purse onto the couch before turning to face me, fists firmly planted on her perfect fucking hips.

Goddammit. Eyes. Look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

I’m not sorry.