Chapter 23. Dylan and I got back to my dorm just before midnight, having shared a wonderful evening out

Dylan and I got back to my dorm just before midnight, having shared a wonderful evening out. We had eaten dinner at Vic and Anthony’s Steakhouse downtown, where I had by far, the most amazing meal of my life. The filet melted in my mouth like butter (,)and I moaned in delight as the first bite hit my taste buds. The side dishes and dessert were just as delicious as the main course, and I proceeded to stuff myself not caring one bit about the thousands of calories I was consuming. Dylan appreciated my enthusiasm about dinner and rewarded me with his gorgeous smile throughout the entire meal. He truly was beautiful, his features were perfectly proportionate and symmetrical. I decided that I could never get tired of looking at him. Sigh.

After dinner, he took me to see Peter Pan at the Houston Ballet, and I was in heaven. Watching the dancers made me realize how much I missed dancing myself. I had spent fourteen years of my life in ballet and jazz classes, hours upon hours rehearsing for recitals and competitions, only to stop cold turkey. Around the time of my graduation the previous June, my studio had closed for the summer as it always had, but at the time I had failed to realize that I would never be back there. Since moving to Houston, I had been so busy with school, I hadn’t thought much about it, but a yearning to continue my training developed as I watched the performance. I made a mental note to look up studios close to campus so that I could enroll in an adult class. Dylan couldn’t have planned a more perfect evening for me, and I was feeling better about rethinking a possible relationship with him. He was always so thoughtful and considerate.

“Have you listened to the new Mumford & Sons album?” he asked as he changed the song on his ipod playing through the car stereo.

“Yeah, I love it. I’ve been learning how to play a couple of the songs,” I responded. I figured it was best not to mention that Ash and I had been learning them together over the past several weeks. We had found that we harmonized well together and had pretty much perfected about half of the album. The magnetic draw that I felt towards Ash was never more prominent than when we played guitar and sang together in his room, and I cherished those moments that we spent together like no others. It was the one thing that I shared with him that none of his other girls did.

“Really? That’s awesome. I love it too,” he said as he reached with his free hand to hold mine. “I would love to hear some of them once you’ve got them down.” I nodded in agreement.

Dylan walked me to my door, which felt a little odd since we normally went to the shindig after our dinner dates and said our goodbyes at the end of the night there. When what began as a sweet goodnight kiss turned into a more passionate make out session against my door, I asked him if he wanted to come in for a while since Evie would be out the rest of the night. Several people had already snickered as they had passed us in the hall and I wasn’t quite ready for exhibitionism. Despite his panting against my neck and his hard on pressed against my lower belly which indicated that he was just as turned on as I was, he declined. “Scarlett, I’m not sure that I would be able to stop myself once we got started if I followed you in there. I don’t think it’s a very good idea.” He kissed me gently on the tip of my nose and took a step back.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” I was breathing heavily and still had my back pressed against the door. I searched his eyes for answers to the mixed signals he was constantly sending.

“Scarlett…” his voice faded off and he looked away. “I just can’t. Not now, it’s not right for you.”

“Don’t I get to decide what’s right for me?” I was almost whining at this point, but damn it, what was the problem? “What’s really going on, Dylan? I swear, sometimes I don’t understand you at all. You know I really don’t want to have this conversation out here. Can we at least go inside to talk without an audience?”

He looked down at his phone and then back up at me. “I can’t, I’m really sorry, Scarlett.”

“What? Do you have another date tonight or something? Why are you acting so damn weird all of a sudden?” I tried hard not to raise my voice, but the hurt from the rejection of my invitation and the confusion about why the hell he was checking his phone at the end of our date won out. “You know what, just go. Whatever. Wow. What an awful way to end what was the perfect first date; I sure won’t forget it now.” I spun on my heel to open my door, vowing not to let him see my cry.

“Scarlett, wait…” he said as he reached for my shoulder. I shrugged out of his grasp as the door unlocked and opened. I turned and looked in his dark sapphire eyes. “Dylan, up until ten minutes ago, I had an amazing evening, thank you so much for dinner and the ballet. However, until you are ready to tell me why it is we only see each other on Saturdays, why every time things start to heat up between us you stop it, and why you are acting like you are running late for something while dropping me off after a date, which by the way is incredibly rude - I’m sorry I kept you for so long from whatever else or whomever else it is you need to attend to, I don’t really think we have much to talk about.” I turned from him, walked into my dorm, and allowed the door to close in his face. It was then that I allowed the tears to flow freely. Stupid nice boys.

After a scalding hot shower, I changed into my usual cami and panties sleeping ensemble and went to the kitchenette in search of alcohol. My mind was consumed with thoughts of Dylan and I couldn’t stop thinking about how things had gone from so great to so bad in a matter of minutes. Every so often, an image of Ash or Mason would float by, only adding to my confusion. Did I really have any right to get angry at Dylan for hiding things when I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about what I had done just the night before? I hoped we had some wine or something that would help me calm down and get some sleep. The chime of my phone indicating I had a text message rang out just as located a bottle of wine in the fridge. I quickly poured a glass and then hurried into my room, hopeful that it was Dylan wanting to apologize. It wasn’t.