“Don’t be naive.”
She pulled her fingers from his and sat up. She hated when he acted like he was so much older than she was. Hated when he made her feel like a stupid little kid. “I’m not naive.” She pulled her knees in and pressed her forehead to them. “But sometimes, you just have to believe in something.”
He blew out a sigh and sat up beside her. She felt his hand brush over her hair and wrap around her and he pulled her in closer. “I’m sorry, Tee. I’m an asshole.”
“You’re not.” She turned her face to look up at him. “You aren’t like your dad, Dylan.”
His expression hardened at the thought. “And I’m never going to be.”
“Good.” She hesitated because he didn’t like to be told what to do. Hated it actually, because so many of his choices had been taken from him. And she didn’t want to make things worse but she really wanted to say something. “And just as you don’t have to be the dick your dad is,” she said carefully, “you also don’t have to follow his chosen profession. You do whatever the hell you want to do. And you’ve got me at your back. You know I’ve been helping out at the café in the mornings and Quinn insists on paying me. I’m going to save every penny in case you need it. Do you hear me?”
A ghost of a smile twitched at his mouth. “I hear you. So do the people in China. But I’m not going to take your money, ever. I’m saving mine too, I’ll be okay.”
“So why would you go be a laborer when summer hits? Why wouldn’t you do something you love? Like work at the rec center and help coach the little kids in baseball?” He’d been a baseball superstar until he’d had to quit the team for his job. “Or you could be a lifeguard. Lots of kids are doing that this summer and they’re hiring.”
“The class to become a certified lifeguard is three hundred bucks,” he said. “The rec center won’t hire me because I had to have a recommendation from my coach and the principal, and though the coach said I would be great in the job, the principal said I had a bad attitude and a temper.”
This pissed her off. “That’s not fair.”
“I trashed his office when he accused me of stealing money from the cafeteria,” he reminded her.
“Wrongly accused.”
Dylan lifted a shoulder. Didn’t matter. The damage was done. And now he would be digging ditches for his macho, sadistic father all summer and she’d be worried for him every single second of every single day.
“Did you study?” he asked.
In spite of wanting to cry, she smiled at him because he cared about her so much it hurt. “Yes.”
“Good.” He stood and pulled her up. “You’ve got to go home before you get in trouble.”
She stood close to him, very close; the toes of their battered sneakers touched. But since he was so much taller than she was, that was about all that lined up and she ached, ached, to be as tall because then she could feel him, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. Her breathing hitched just thinking about it.
Kiss me, she wished with all her might. Please for once, kiss me . . .
And maybe it was her turn for a miracle because he did. He bent and kissed the top of her head.
“Dylan,” she whispered with all the longing in her heart that felt like it might burst.
He stilled. “Tee—”
“Please?” she whispered, tipping back her head.
He groaned and crushed her to him. For the most perfect moment in all the moments of her entire life, he lowered his mouth to hers. Soft. Gentle. Patient.
But Tilly wasn’t feeling any of those things, so she tugged him in even closer. Then, on a mission, she touched her tongue to his and . . . the kiss exploded.
It was like nothing she’d ever felt in her entire life as he hauled her in tight and kissed her deep. Her heart pounded, her skin felt too tight for her body, and she loved it.
But then he pulled away.
With a little mewl of protest, she tried to wrap herself around him, but he gripped her arms and held her off. “Tee. Tee, stop. We’re not doing this.”
“Why?” she demanded, and if he said it was because she was too young for him, she was going to—
“You deserve more.”
“I don’t. You’re all I want,” she told him with all the fierceness of her entire soul. “I love you, Dylan. You’re mine, and you know what else? I’m yours.”
He sucked in a hard breath and she realized he was shaking. Shaking with the effort to not kiss her again. Her hands came up to his chest and she fisted her fingers in his shirt, aching, aching . . . for more.
But it wasn’t going to come because he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and brought her hands down and stepped back. “’Night, Tee.”
“’Night,” she whispered. Dammit. She took longer going home, dragging it out another good ten minutes, in spite of everything smiling to herself the whole time.
He’d finally kissed her! It had been a life-changing kiss, the kiss of all kisses, and no matter what he said, there’d be more.
Because he loved her too.
She knew that now, and because she did, she could wait for the rest.
She moved around back to the kitchen door, which was much quieter than the front door. Not wanting to wake up Quinn and alert her sister to the fact that she’d sneaked out, she quietly tiptoed in and . . .
Found Quinn leaning against the counter eating out of a gallon ice cream container with a wooden spoon.
Chapter 32
I made it through the day without beating anyone with a chair. I’d say my people skills are improving.
—from “The Mixed-Up Files of Tilly Adams’s Journal”
Quinn had been up late, unable to sleep, wishing she’d talked to Tilly, wishing she wasn’t such a big, fat chicken that she’d pushed Mick away instead of letting him know how she felt about him. The only thing she had going for her peace of mind was knowing Tilly was sleeping, safe in her bed.
Turns out, the joke was on her. She’d been halfway through a carton of ice cream when her sister had come sneaking in the back door and Quinn stared at her in shock. “What the hell?”
Tilly froze and then made a recovery attempt, taking her time shutting and locking the door.
Tink, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor watching Quinn eat with the single-minded intensity only a cat could pull off, didn’t even spare a glance at the teen.
But Quinn spared a glance. And a second. And a third as she visibly searched for signs of what Tilly had been doing.
What do you think she’s doing, sneaking in at midnight with that guilty look all over her face? Don’t you remember fifteen?
Tilly leaned over and peered into the ice-cream carton. “Hey, isn’t that mine?”
“Nope, I ate yours yesterday. Let me repeat. What the hell?”
“I went to go see Dylan,” Tilly said, sounding very fifteen. “He needed me.”
“We’ve had this discussion, Tilly. You tell him to come here. I don’t like you out at this hour alone. Hell, I didn’t even know you were out. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble happens after midnight?”