Chapter Thirteen
The Color of Joy
“No,” I answered.
His hand moved further up towards my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.
“Do you feel anything now?” His voice was a whisper, a flutter of words that stroked my face and muddled my senses.
“Nothing.”
His hand continued to move upwards, his fingers brushing lightly over my arm until they reached my cheek, where he stopped and rested his palm carefully. We had somehow leaned closer to one another across the table, his features overwhelmed me, there was no outside world, just him.
“Now?”
I could feel the heat of his hand on my face, his breath blowing across my face, I cleared my throat for good measure.
“Stop Dylan, please.”
But he didn’t, his thumb continued to softly caress my cheek, my nose, my lips…
I pulled away.
“You’re fighting it.”
I snorted, “What exactly?”
“This.” He grabbed my hand again, a warm feeling pulsing through my arm, warming me instantly.
“Chloe,” his voice was a growl, “Stop ignoring what you feel, you may walk around with your façade all you want but don’t lie to yourself! You like it, damn! You love it, our talks, the reason behind them, you feel understood. What keeps you away from me?”
Time stood still as I stared at him, lines of worry knitting on his brow, his lips tightening in annoyance. Yet his hand still stroked mine gently, as he waited for my answer. He had taken the risk of befriending me against all odds, and now looking in his eyes I saw something else...
Something I'd desperately tried to ignore.
“Dylan...?” We both turned, seeing Katelyn Cross watching us from the nearby table where a group of students were gathered around.
I sat back snatching my hand from his grasp.
“Oh god! It's really you and...” She raised her eyebrows in my direction.
“Reality is what keeps me away from you,” I answered him, ignoring Katelyn and her crowd as I walked outside.
Dylan Miller
She had left, again.
“Excuse me,” A waitress ambled around the crowd and set the two ice cream cups in front of me.
“Thanks,” I placed a couple of bucks on the table, grabbed both ice creams and prepared to flee.
“You can sit with us Dylan.” Katelyn suggested.
“I came with a date, and I'm sure as hell going to leave with her.”
A date. The words rang in my head as I closed the door and walked to my car.
Clhoe was leaning against the hood, her back resting on the sleek metal as I made way towards her.
“I will not be hold responsible for whatever disease you get after eating your ice cream.”
She smiled, and took the cup as I passed it to her.
After a moment of silence, the which I didn't know how to fill, I sat beside her on the hood of the car, our legs brushing together as we ate in silence.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“What for?”
“Coming after me.”
I laughed, eating another spoonful of chocolate and shaking my head.
“Ready to go beautiful?”
She nearly choked on her ice cream, gurgling coughs escaping her as she looked at me like I'd gone mad.
“Beautiful? Do you want to get punched Dylan?!”
Suppressing a chuckle I opened the car door for her, throwing away the remains of chocolate fudge. “I established you were my date back there,” I pointed towards the café we had exited, “so I guessed you wouldn’t really mind the pet name."
“You’re date?” Her eyes narrowed at me.
“Seatbelt please.”
“That was stupid.”
I shook my head, “I disagree. It’s probably the smartest thing I’ve said to Katelyn in months.”
Chloe remained silent for a while, we drove comfortably together. I found myself stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror as she toyed with her hair, or stared out the window.
“You can’t ignore me forever Chloe." I glanced at her again to find her looking straight at me.
“Back to the same old conversation?” there was a smile in her voice, which got me grinning back in return.
“We never do finish it.”
“I… I don’t want to ignore you.”
Finally.
It did well to my ego to have her say that, even if it was something I’d known all along. But I felt uneasy for what she would say next, Chloe always said something next.
“I want to ignore the rest. The people who whisper, who talk…” her voice drifted away and she ate another spoon of mango.
I stared at the contents in disgust, realizing just then that she was quite aware of it. “Want some?” she moved the spoon towards me.
“Sick."
“Delicious," she corrected, and rolled her eyes like she were truly in heaven.
I don’t know what came over me, but while I slowed the car as we approached a stoplight I threw her another brief glance, to realize she was about to eat up the last bit of disgusting ice-cream.
I reached for her hand grabbing it carefully and guided the spoon to my mouth, where I ate the strange combination of flavors. Chloe was staring right at me, her bright green eyes glowing in an I told you so way.
“Wow,” I managed swallowing.
“Was it so bad?” Her breath fanned my face, a sweet and cold smell to it. I leaned towards her slightly still holding the spoon, and her hand in mine.
“No it wasn’t…”
I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss Chloe Foster. Have her lips molding with mine, and have her sigh in contentment against my mouth. But I couldn’t, I scolded myself. Because as I focused on her eyes I knew she wasn’t ready, and who knew whether she'll ever be.
Chloe Foster
He wanted to kiss me.
I’m not stupid, even if my grades disagree with me I know the signals, I’ve feared them for too long, and yet, despite being aware of it I felt how the same fear began creeping over my body, felt it shaking me to the core. I slumped against the window.
“Chloe, whatever did my car do to you?”
I groaned hearing Dylan chuckle right beside me. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home.”
“What? Why…?” I shut up, aware of the disappointment that tinted my words.
“Disappointed?” he mocked.
The hell with it, I thought. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Want to come inside?” The car stopped in front of the house, the streets deserted except for a couple of neighbors walking along the path. “Coming?”
The surprised expression that adorned his face was able to make me grin; I opened the door of the car and walked outside towards the front door, beckoning Dylan to follow.
“Will I regret this?” he asked
“Maybe. You’ll never know.”
The house was empty just like expected, the lights turned off with shadows stretching along the corners of the hall.
“Dump your things wherever,” I told him, and made my way towards the kitchen on the hunt for a much needed soda.
“This house is…” his eyes traveled every length of the kitchen, taking in the metallic gleam of the polished tables.
“Boring? Tedious?”
“Clean,” he took the soda I handed him, and together walked up the stairs to my room. “I swear,” he continued, “I’ve never seen such organization in a place.”
I took a sip, “It’s not over yet, welcome to my room."
I walked towards the white plain table, accompanied by the plain white chair, and dumped by old school bag on it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I grimaced, “If you’re able too.”
The way Dylan walked around the place unnerved me, desperately trying not to knock anything over.
“Just sit,” I ordered.
“Sorry… right, sit, ok,” he plopped himself on my bed, my messy and untidy bed. It ceased to surprise me he’d chosen that spot.
“It doesn’t suit you.” he said.
Puzzled I looked at him, “What doesn’t?”
“The room, it’s not bright or vibrant, it looks like some kind of morgue.”
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and stared at him, “How do you know that I don’t like it?”
Shaking his head he stood up and came to face me, “I know you,” he snatched a marker from the pile on the table and jumped away from me, “Would you mind if…” and before I’d had a chance to react he drew a thin orange line on my wall. On my plain and boring wall he'ddrawn a thin orange line. I got a marker myself.
“My mom’s going to kill me,” I laughed, drawing what looked like an upside down bird.
“Tell her it was all me, your mother couldn’t resist to my charm,” he winked, and laughing I pushed him playfully, drawing a red zig-zaged path along his shirt.
“Woops, my bad.”
Dylan growled, he actually growled and suddenly, I was being straddled on my bed by his weight. He drew on my cheek, “Oh, my bad.” On my arm, “my bad too.”
I was laughing loudly by then, the tip of the pen tickling me as it travelled across my skin.
“St-stop!” I laughed.
We collapsed on my round bed, side my side. Looking like native Indians by the color streaks that decorated our faces. Dylan turned leaning on his elbow as he regarded me.
“Go out with me.”
My laughing stopped abruptly.
“Don’t freak out,” he warned, turning again so that his body was fully pressed at my side.
“Tomorrow, Friday after school, come with me. I promise Chloe, you won't regret it,” his eyes held so much emotion that I just found myself staring intently at them. For the first time. I was seeing the Dylan Miller every girl swooned for, yet somehow different than expected.
He stood up picking up a marker on the process, and began writing words on my arm, tomorrow, tomorrow, tom-.
I found myself sighing yet nodding my head, letting him pull me off the bed to continue with our drawing.
Mom hadn’t arrived yet when I walked Dylan to his car. We had washed some of the marker stains from our faces, yet some of it remained on our clothes and arms.
“Make sure she doesn’t go into your room,” Dylan chuckled, “for your safety.”
I shook my head thinking back to the now colorful walls. Contrasts of reds and blues, variations of colors that made the house look alive.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, his finger tracing the words he’d printed on my arms.
“Go home Dylan,” I pushed him softly on the back, making both of us step into the calm night.
The porch light toyed with his features, making them more striking than they already were. His jaw, strong and angular combined with his long neck and muscled arms. However it was his eyes, eyes a color closer to ice than fire, where I found myself getting lost in once again.
“I…” he leaned closer to me, our heads brushing one against the other, and just like before, I felt it coming. Emotions conflicted inside of me, what I felt, with what I knew.
He raised his ink-stained hand to cup my cheek, just as I lifted my head towards his, and during that fraction of a second, when his lips were a whisper away from mine.
I flinched.
“Dylan-” my voice broke, and I cursed out loud at my stupidness. But before I could run away he caught my hand in his, bringing me to him carefully.
“Tomorrow Chloe, we have a date." His tone held no choice for an argument, and so he turned around and walked to his car.
I stood on the porch thinking how I’d explain the new decorations on my walls to my dearest mother, ignoring for now the spark of joy threatening to take over.