Chapter 14

MACKENZIE

"W hat do you think of this one?" Kristen thrusts yet another page of her bridal magazine under my nose, interrupting my view of the sketch pad in front of me.

We're both sitting on the couch, me working on a drawing inspired by my underwater adventures last week, her flipping through the pages of her wedding planner as though her life depends on it. I didn't have to work today, so we've pretty much spent the day together.

"I guess?" I say unhelpfully. I'm not sure I'm qualified to give an opinion on the subject of weddings.

"Ugh!" She groans in frustration. "There has to be something good in this magazine, but seriously, it all just seems so unrealistic. I mean, look at this. This woman is supposed to be having a backyard wedding. Where the hell does she even live? In the middle of a forest? And her hair! There's no way it's actually going to stay like that all day."

I look up in mock horror. "You mean to tell me that the elaborate photo shoots in magazines that require an entire team of professionals and hours of work don't simulate the real-life wedding experience?" I finish my rant with a 360-degree eyeroll which earns me a dead-eyed stare from Kristen.

"Okay, okay. I get it, smart ass."

"Sorry," I say with a sigh, not looking up from my sketch book. "I thought Liv was coming over to talk wedding stuff with you anyway."

"She is," she replies, slapping me on the knee with her rolled up magazine. "I just thought I'd ask my sister's opinion too."

"Hey!" I cry. "You bumped me!"

"Oops." She winces, leaning over my shoulder to get a look at my work. "Hey, that's actually really good. I wish I had your talent."

I scoff. "And I wish I had your brain. Look, I'm really not the best person to be asking about wedding stuff. Liv's married. She'll be way more helpful than me."

As if on cue, the doorbell chimes. "Oh, that must be her now," Kristen says as she rises from the couch, her coffee cup in hand. "Would you mind getting the door while I toss this in the sink."

"Sure," I say, placing the sketch book aside.

I wander over to the door, rubbing the kink in my neck that's most likely been caused from staring into my lap for too long. When I pull it open it isn't Liv standing there to greet me.

Instead, I'm met with eyes the colour of freshly melted chocolate and flawless, bronze skin, and what looks like an expensive dress shirt stretching over toned biceps. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Picking you up," Dylan answers with a megawatt smile that could power Luna Park. His grin fades when he sees my genuine confusion. "For the party, remember?"

"The party? I didn't think you were serious about that." I fold my arms across my chest, falling back against the door frame.

It's become a habit for Dylan and I to rib each other every now and then, but for me to go to his parent's party with him? That's taking things too far. It serves no purpose having me along for the ride.

Still, he persists, like having me there is something that he actually wants. "What do you mean? You have to come."

"I'm sure you'll have a whole lot more fun without me." I straighten and then begin to close the door.

"Wait!" His palms come up, pressing against the timber to hold it open. "That's really not true. To be honest, I don't even want to go. The only thing keeping me sane the last couple of days was knowing that you were going to be there with me."

I stop in my tracks, my forehead creasing in a frown. His words are so honest, so open.

So not what I'm used to.

There's a pleading in his eyes, only thinly veiling the hurt behind them. For whatever reason, he's decided he wants me at this party. I'm taken aback by the way my own body responds to seeing him upset, my heart sinking with the weight of knowing it has something to do with me.

Then he smiles and warmth spreads through my chest. "Please?"

"Fine. Whatever," I say nonchalantly, throwing my hands up in the air, an eyeroll deliberately employed to mask my growing enthusiasm. "Wait here and I'll go get changed."

His face lights up as he fist-pumps the air. "Yes! Okay, I'll wait out here."

I turn, closing the door behind me and march up the hall to my room. "Hey, where's Liv?" I hear Kristen call out.

"It was a salesman!" I call back.

"Selling what?"

"Solar panels or some shit." The last thing I need Kristen to know is that Dylan is outside waiting to take me to his parent's anniversary party. I'll never hear the end of it.

It only takes me five minutes to swipe on some lip gloss and slip into a sundress. I guess getting ready for a party takes less time when you aren't spoilt for choice.

I give myself a once over in the floor length mirror, smoothing out the skirt of the ditsy floral sundress I purchased from Target on a day out shopping with Kristen and Liv. It's the nicest one I own, so it will have to do. I throw my curls on top of my head and secure them in place in a messy updo and head back to the front door.

When I pass the living room, Kristen is back in her position on the lounge, the bridal magazine once again spread open in her lap.

"Hey, I'm going out," I call.

Thankfully, she doesn't question where I'm going, barely looking up from the magazine. "Oh, okay. See you when you get home."

I never thought I'd see the day that Kristen turned into Bridezilla, but here we are.

I throw the door wide open, almost walking straight into Dylan where he stands on the porch waiting.

"Come on, let's go." I grab his hand and drag him down the steps, eager to get away before Liv turns up and blows my secret.

"Wow," he breathes as we approach the car. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"Yeah." I shrug. "Why? Is it okay?"

"Yeah. It's perfect," he replies, his eyes wandering over the fabric down to the sandals I'd borrowed from Kristen's wardrobe. "I mean, it's fine. It's nice."

"Okay," I say, slowly drawing the word out. "You're being weird."

"Sorry." Dylan directs me to the passenger side, and I can't help giving him a curious look as he opens the door for me.

"You don't have to do that," I say. "It's not like this is a real date or anything."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry. I know." He sounds almost sheepish as his hand goes up to rake through his golden-brown hair. "It's just that… Sometimes the handle gets stuck."

"Oh, right," I say, strangely disappointed that he had another reason for appearing so chivalrous.

I climb in as he slips around the other side into the driver's seat. The car takes a while to click over, and Dylan breathes a sigh of relief when the engine finally roars to life. "Thank fuck," he sighs. "I swear this car likes to test my patience."

A small smile twitches my lips hearing him curse so brazenly. Maybe we have more in common than I realised. He throws the car into reverse and backs out of the driveway and within minutes we're merging onto the highway.

Several vehicles overtake us as the car struggles to reach full speed and it occurs to me now that I have no idea where we're going. Dylan had never answered when I'd asked.

"So, where is this party anyway?"

"Cape Charlton," he replies.

"Huh." I'm not originally from this area. I've heard of Cape Charlton, commonly known as ‘the cape', but I've never ventured out that way. Hell, before Henley found me, I'd never ventured anywhere.

"We'll be there in a little less than an hour. I can't push this baby too far or she might die on me." He chuckles as he gives the dashboard a playful slap.

"An hour!" I complain, although somehow the thought of being in close proximity to Dylan for an extended period of time doesn't irk me quite the way it should. "Does this thing at least have aircon? It's so stuffy in here my skin is about to melt off."

I reach forward and begin twisting random dials on the dash when Dylan's hand shoots out to stop me. A bolt of electricity arcs up my spine when his hand connects with mine, his fingers pulling back too fast the only sign I get that he feels it too.

"It doesn't work," he says, his eyes locking briefly on mine.

"Oh." Did it just get even hotter in here? I reach downward, gripping the winder and attempt to lower the window to allow airflow. "You must have the only car left in the world with manual window winders."

The window has barely budged when I hear a crack. "Shit," I curse, pulling my hand away from the door, the winder still gripped between my fist. "Um, sorry?"

Dylan glances over at me to see what the problem is. I tense, fearing he's going to be angry when he sees me clutching a small chunk of his car in my palm, but instead he lets out a roar of laughter. "Damn. This car is such a bomb."

I relax, sinking into the seat, relieved that he can see the funny side. If this had been Ethan's car, I'd have been dragged from the passenger seat by my hair and left behind on the side of the road somewhere.

In fact, that very thing did happen once. Not because of a broken piece of plastic, but because he had slapped me over something trivial, causing my drink to spill into my lap, soaking the front seat and leaking down onto the floor. I can still hear his voice as though it happened just yesterday.

"Look what you've done, you clumsy bitch."

"Hey." I flinch at Dylan's touch as his hand brushes my elbow. My head snaps in his direction. "Where'd you go just now?" he asks.

I exhale a shaky breath, brushing the thought away. "Nowhere."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I say as convincingly as I can.

He looks as though he wants to question me further but then thinks better of it. "Okay."

His concern fades into a smile. A smile that makes me forget all about Ethan and the horrors of my past.

At least, for a little while.