“You know, Nice guy, I wouldn’t object to a sympathy strip show. Just saying.”
Huh. If I could trust him, I’d be flattered. But that line sounded heavily scripted. I imagine Judy sitting by herself in a dark room, writing down things for Dyl to say to me. Is he still playing me?
Then again, what if he’s genuine? What if I’m so messed up I can’t even recognize that he legitimately likes me? The prospect makes my heart do a happy dance. “Are you saying you like men, Dyl?”
“I’m saying I like sex, Caden. And I’ll take what I can get.”
Staring into his eyes, I pull my shirt over my head and drop it to the ground. I straighten my shoulders and tense my chest, trying to make myself as impressive as possible. He’s staring at me and suddenly all I want is to know what he’s thinking. Why not ask? My first instinct is that I can’t, and that I’m stupid for even considering it, but why can’t I? Kaylee will probably think it’s weird, but Juliet isn’t here and that’s all she cares about, so there’s no real reason to deny myself this.
“What do you think, Dyl?” I ask. Suddenly I don’t know what to do with my arms. Then I remember that I’m a Nice, so I tuck them into my pockets and give him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Of me.”
He steps close to me and the air between us fills with energy. Is he going to touch me? Kiss me? God, I want him to touch me. Slowly, he looks down, his gaze moving from my face to my chest, studying me. His jaw clenches tight.
Finally, his stare meets mine. “I think you’re perfect.”
I gulp. He takes a step backward and leans against the windowsill. He’s being odd, but I’m not sure if I think that because I really wanted him to kiss me and he’s not, you know, doing that. I peer closer and notice that his eyes have filled with tears. He’s blinking, trying to stop them, but it’s too late, and he starts to sob.
“Dyl, I … Hang on, I’m going to get dressed.”
He covers his face with his hands, and I spin around, grab a clean shirt, and tug it on. Then I pull a pair of jeans over my boxers and make my way back to him. His bottom lip is wobbling, and his eyes are focused on the window frame. He’s dug a little hole in the paint, revealing the spiky white wood beneath.
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just, you just made me think about everything I’m going to miss out on. Because I’m going to die, Caden. I’m going to fucking die. And I can’t pretend I’m okay about it anymore, because I’m not.”
Oh fuck.
My heart drops. “I’m so sorry, Dyl.”
He pushes off the windowsill and moves toward me with small, hesitant steps. I don’t know what he’s doing, but then he lifts his hand and wipes his nose before looking at the floor. I think he wants me to hold him, but he’s too nervous to ask. I step forward and press him against me, wrapping my arms around the entirety of him. He feels small, and cold, and I can feel his bones through his shirt. He places his chin on my shoulder and sobs, so I move my hand up to the middle of his back and press him as close to me as possible. It feels like our ribs should slide between each other’s cracks, filling the gaps.
But they don’t.
I rub his back. “It’s all right, Dyl. Think of all the people who’ve died in all of history. If they’ve done it, you can too, right?” I wince as soon as the words leave my lips. I’m such a freaking moron.
He sniffs. “I suppose.”
After a few seconds, he steps away and wipes his eyes. “I have a question for you. Do you like me? Juliet didn’t like me. But did you like me?”
Of course I like you. I like three things: Nicki Minaj, Star Wars, and you.
“Don’t talk about yourself in the past tense. Just … don’t. I do like you, Dyl. You’re … you’re my favorite person.”
He smiles like a child, hopeful and full of wonder. “Really?”
“Really.”
He wipes his eyes again. “Okay, that makes me feel a bit better. I’ve been thinking about the fact that she chose you over me a lot. Like, what does it mean? I gave the contest everything I had, and I still wasn’t good enough. What does that mean about me as a person?”
“It means I’m a better actor than you. A better liar. That’s it. I only won because I’m a bad person.”
“I’m not sure that’s it, Caden. There’s something about you, something that’s wormed its way into my brain and hooked itself in so deep. And I can see by the way Juliet looks at you that she thinks it too. You have this thing about you, an X factor if you will. Whatever it is, it’s strong.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t feel strong. I feel confused most of the time. But I thought you wanted to do something fun tonight. And this conversation is as far from fun as possible. So, do you have something planned?”
He nods. “It’s a surprise.” He steps outside. I follow after him, treading into the cool night air.
When we reach the car he pats the hood. “What do you think they’ll do to this? Once, well, you know.”
“I don’t know.”
But that’s a lie, because I have an idea. It’ll be given to the next Bad. That car has probably gone through a few hopefuls like him. And, after tomorrow, it’ll be given to another.
“Let’s ignore all that,” he says. “From now on, okay? Let’s ignore the fact that I’m about to die and enjoy ourselves.”
“I’m here for you, Dyl. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Be careful with your words, Caden.” He’s smirking. “There is a lot of stuff I haven’t tried yet, and I’d rather not die a virgin.”
I slam the door. “Please stop with the jokes. It feels like you’re messing with me, and I can’t handle that. So please, Dyl, listen to me and stop.”
What I don’t say is how much I want him, or how much I want to believe him. I wish I could grab his hand and take him back to my room. Once there, I’d take his clothes off and kiss him and we’d just keep going until we were under the sheets, sweaty and exhausted. But I can’t. I don’t have it in me to trust him that much.
“I’m saying what I feel, Caden. Believe me, it’s not scripted. Judy pretty much gave up on me. She’s already planning for the next Bad. So I have the luxury of being able to speak my mind. But I understand that you don’t, so I’ll stop.”
I want to move past this, to forget how mistrustful I am, even if it’s just for a second, so I pick his iPod up from the space between us and press Play.
I nestle against the seat.
He drives.
The stars blur above us.
After some time, he parks the car and I open my eyes. In front of us is a carnival, a stretch of glowing yellow and pink lights. A massive Ferris wheel spins in the background. The air smells like burning toffee, mud, and mowed grass.
I glare at him. “We’re in public, Dyl.”
“So?”