Love Her Wilde

Take Out or Make Out: Asher

I practically bounced up to Dylan's door, my body alight with a mixture of nerves and excitement. The fact that I was even standing here was more than I anticipated getting, and anything from this point on would just be icing on the cake. I knew we had some things to hash out, and I knew the battle with my father and Bridget and the firm was far from over, but I refused to let it darken my mood. Not tonight.

Dylan opened the door and gave me a hesitant smile. I had gotten so used to seeing her in Hawaii: bikinis, party clothes, tiny shorts and barely there dresses, that seeing her here, in the frozen Chicago tundra, took me aback a bit. She was in a dark, tight park of jeans with the knees ripped out. The top half of her body was hidden beneath an overly bulky White Sox sweatshirt, and her hair was in a sloppy bundle atop her head. Her face was clear and fresh, her big doe eyes blinking at me from behind a thick framed pair of eyeglasses. Her expression looked almost as nervous as I felt.

For a moment, we both just stood there, kind of awkwardly staring at each other, neither one knowing exactly what to do. I wanted to hug her, touch her. Even in only twenty-four hours, I missed her. However, the second I decided to make some sort of move, I heard a sharp "Yip!" from the floor.

I laughed as I looked down, my eyes landing on a white and tan bulldog, who was glaring at me like I'd just intruded on his territory. "Well, hey there, buddy."

Dylan giggled as I sat down my takeout offering and crouched to scratch the little guy's head. "Sorry, Noodle is nervous about newcomers."

"You named your dog Noodle?" I laughed, looking up at her with an arched eyebrow as I continued giving the pup's head scratches.

Dylan issued me a nonchalant shrug. "I like noodles."

"Makes sense," I chuckled, giving my head a wave. "You gonna let me in, pal?" Noodle barked again in return before scurrying off deeper into the duplex. "Is that a yes?"

"I think so," Dylan smiled. She took a step back and opened the door wider. "Come on in."

I grabbed my dinner offering and rose and followed her into her home. Her place was almost exactly like I had expected: kind of dark and goth-looking, a lot of black and deep red features. It had slight Halloween vibes, but it fit her. There were ornate picture frames, candles, creepy little statues. It honestly was the most Dylan thing I had ever seen, and so polarly opposite of anything in my life, but then... that made it even more Dylan.

She led me into the living room, the walls a dark, almost graphite like color, and her furniture the color of an expensive red wine. Noodle was rolling around on a fluffy, black rug, a stuffed cow in his mouth as he snorted and begged for attention, and her television was paused on what looked like a still from a murder scene.

I eyed the screen and then looked to the still silent girl. "You doing some research or..."

She laughed softly and shook her head, grabbing the remote from the arm of the sofa and shutting the television off. "Murder shows are kind of my weakness."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Not immediately," she retorted with a smirk.

"I'll keep my guard up," I responded before setting the takeout bag on the coffee table. I began unloading the still warm cartons inside. "You said Chinese food, so I got a little bit of everything."

"As long as there's crab Rangoon, I'm happy."

"Well, then, I guess I did okay." I watched as she sank onto the rug, positioning herself so that her back was against the burgundy couch, and her knees were under the coffee table. I followed suit, sitting across from her and crossing my legs over each other, back straight against the base of an armchair. We both sat silently for a moment as Noodle sniffed around, but the silence felt heavy, and it made me uncomfortable. "Are you sure you want to do this?"