"It's just a party, Case. What's the big deal if Luke misses it?" I take a break from painting my toenails a bright yellow color to glare at my brother.
"The big deal is that we've been talking about going all week. Rob's house is huge, Dyl. His pool is crazy. His parents are out of town. It's a big deal." He runs a towel over his damp hair, a little more outgrown than he usually wears it.
Oh, who fucking cares? Rob's got a big pool? That's nothing compared to my big deal. Luke and I did it last night for the first time and tonight, I want to see him again. To make sure it wasn't just a crazy, amazing dream. To make sure it was really real.
"You go to lots of parties, Casey." I sigh deeply. "This one won't kill you." I roll my eyes, resuming my second coat.
"Dyl." Casey snaps, his voice so sharp it makes me jump, smudging my pedicure. "Luke's coming with me to the party. You can come too. But he's not staying here and watching some stupid movie with you and-"
"God, Case, what the hell is your problem?" My voice rises as his does. "Ever since Luke and I started dating you've been such a baby about it if we don't spend Luke's time evenly or something. He's a big boy, he can decide for himself."
I put my hands on my hips stubbornly.
"Fine." Casey shrugged. "Let's ask him. We were just talking about how sick tonight is going to be." He raises a brow, challenging me to go through with it. Handing me his cell, he provokes me again. "Go on, call him."
I grind my teeth, Luke's face from the night before vivid in my mind. So sweet and loving staring at me across the pillow, promising me it's how he wanted to spend every night. It seemed real. I believed him.
But Casey's smug certainty stings, the closeness of their bond not something I'm sure I can compete with.
Something he knows. Something I admitted to him when we first talked about me dating Luke at all.
Rolling my eyes, I smack his hand away, shoving past him as I make my way upstairs. "God, you're being such a selfish asshole."
A knock at the door grabs my attention. I take one of my headphones out, rolling my eyes as Casey's dark mop of hair pushes through.
"Hey, Pickle." His voice is kinder than it was this afternoon. Guilty. "Can we talk?"
Damn his sad, big-brother-puppy-dog eyes.
I could forgive him right away, make things right. It would be easy - it usually is with us. But he knew what he was saying when he said it. I purse my lips tightly, concentrating hard on my next song selection.
It's easier to seem just angry than to admit how bad it stung.
"Okay, I'll talk. You listen." He smiles, nudging my knee so he can sit on the edge of my bed. "I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it." His eyes, dark like an angry ocean, plead with me. "Luke likes you, like, a lot. An annoying amount, actually. He tells me way too often."
I crack a smile and his face brightens.
"But try being me, okay? My best friend, practically my brother, starts dating my little sister?" He shivers. "It's ... weird."
Especially since we both know how much of a charmer Luke is. Or, was, I suppose.
"But I want you guys to be happy. Why don't you call him and ask for a movie night? Screw Rob's." Casey grins half-heartedly, his remorse clear.
Maybe I shouldn't have called him a selfish asshole. He really isn't, at all. He was acting like one, though.
I shake my head, sighing stubbornly. "I already told Luke to go. He's probably gotten ready by now. You should go."
Casey's smile fades. "Dyl, come on."
"It's fine." I insist, eyes flickering back to my playlist.
"You're not mad?"
"You're not completely off the hook," I frown. "But go ahead."
"Why don't you come with us?" Casey checks his phone. "Yeah, there's still time for you to get changed."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Like I said, you're not completely off the hook yet."
Casey frowns, his dark brows knitting together before breaking into a smile again. "I'll make it up to you. Breakfast on me tomorrow, at the Waffle Shack?"
I roll my eyes, unable to resist their chocolate chip stack. "Fine."
I wake suddenly, clutching my chest and breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat covering my skin. Tears wet my cheeks, my vision fuzzy as I search for my clock.
I shouldn't have said it.
I sit up shakily, finally making out the numbers. Two A.M.
I should've been there.
About the time Mom's cry - no, her scream, her fucking wailing - woke me from my already restless sleep that night and completely changed my life.
I gasp for air.
Fuck, I should have fucking been there.
thanks for reading lovelies!
so... who's Dylan really mad at?