Dylan (8:30 PM): Cool, you too. No more texts about you showering though, sweet dreamsUnable to withhold my excitement over mine and Dylan’s back and forth texts, I squealed as I ran across the living area to Evie’s bedroom. “Evie,” I yelled. “Guess who I just talked to, or texted with, or whatever you call it.” “Who?” she asked, looking up from her e-reader. She had already showered, as was evident by her wet black hair pulled into a tight bun, and she was propped up in her bed by the extra twenty pillows she had brought from home. Okay, maybe it wasn’t twenty, but it was at least like eight or nine king-sized pillows. When we were younger, I had always thought she looked like a porcelain Asian doll sitting in a cloud when she would surround herself with the white downy-soft pillows on her bed, but now she looked more like the angel that she truly was. Evie had always been my guardian angel. I couldn’t help but smile brightly when I saw her. I let her read the conversation on the phone and then she handed it back to me with a silly grin on her face. In her sing-song, little girl’s voice she started, “Scarlett and Dylan sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love…” She was unable to finish the song because I began to pummel her across the head with one of her pillows. “Okay, I surrender, I surrender! No more songs, I promise.” Evie could hardly contain her laughter enough to get the words out. “So do you want to go back there this Saturday?” I asked trying to figure out when I was going to see Dylan again. “Sure, and this time I plan to have much more fun, especially now that I know you’ll be there with Dylan to watch over you. I’ll text Jess tomorrow to make sure it’s cool if we stay at her place again.” For a brief moment, I allowed myself to think about staying at Jess’ house last Saturday and the memory of sleeping in Ash’s bed ~ of how his hands felt on my skin and how his lips melted against mine, but I quickly replaced it with the anticipation of seeing Dylan again. As difficult as it was, I could not torture myself with false hopes and mixed signals; I needed to focus my energy on actual possibilities. And Dylan Stephens had definitely become an actual possibility. Evie and I hugged each other goodnight and I took a quick shower before hopping into bed. I opted for a hot, smutty book with as little angst as possible to join me and B.O.B. for a much-needed therapy session before going to sleep. Dylan had been right, my dreams were sweet indeed.
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