I'll Make You Mine Page 10

  I’m positive I hear his voice in the background and I squeeze the phone so hard, I’m surprised the screen doesn’t shatter.

  “Dylan, this has been the strangest twenty-four hours of my life.”

  “Zo, you should leave.”

  “I’d have to walk.”

  “Why? Where’s the car?”

  “In the driveway,” she says. “But Keely insisted I stay. The entire drive she listed each of the reasons they wouldn’t work. But she likes Chaz too much to care. Even after what he did.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Well, when they were sexing, he said my name instead of hers. It broke her heart, and that’s why she had to come here to see if he meant it or not. To figure out if she has a shot or if he’s infatuated with me and only wanted her because she looks like me. The evil twin curse, she called it.”

  This is worse than I thought. I knew he liked Zoe, but using one sister to get to the other is a new low for Chaz.

  But isn’t that what I did? I used Keely to get to Zoe.

  Fuck.

  I’m as shitty as Chaz fucking Hennington. Only I didn’t sleep with Keely. I stopped it. I wouldn’t have slept with her no matter how persuasive she was. Not when I was in love with Zoe.

  “Where are they now?”

  “His bedroom. They’re laughing, so that means it’s going well. Right?”

  I hate that she’s stuck, waiting for someone to take her home. Keely’s a nice girl when she wants to be, but the world revolves around her. And Zoe doesn’t deserve that.

  “Do you want me to leave? It’ll take me a couple hours, but I can come get you.”

  “No,” she says, even though it sounds like she wants me to. “You need time with your mom.”

  Unlike Keely, Zoe always puts everyone else first. Her needs always take a back seat. I love that about her. “You’re sure?”

  For once in her life, I want her to be selfish. I want her to beg me to come rescue her and bring her to the cabin. I’d drive the rest of the night if it meant she’d be with me—that she’d be happy and safe.

  “I’m sure.” She hesitates for a second before she asks, “After the cabin, can you go straight to school?”

  “What about your dad, Zo? Don’t you want to spend more than three days with him?”

  “He’s working a lot. It’s too hard for him to be home, especially his time of year. I’ll end up alone if Keely’s with Chaz every night.”

  “I’m there,” I tell her. “Wednesday, right?”

  “Yeah, Wednesday.”

  “Okay, I’ll let Mom know.”

  “She won’t be mad? Christmas will be over, but I don’t want to mess up her plans. She looks forward to having you home.”

  I’m sure that’s what Zoe wishes was different with her dad—that he wasn’t drowning himself in his work and had time to spend with her. But time with her is a reminder of what he’s lost. And sometimes that’s too hard. “Mom won’t be mad. She was asking about you.”

  “Dylan?” She says my name so sweetly, it makes my heart race. Maybe she’s ready to talk about last night.

  “Yeah, Zo?”

  She breathes into the receiver and I silently beg her to open up to me. “Nothing. I’ll see you soon. Thank you.”

  “Call me if you need me,” I tell her before she ends the call and I’m left standing in the middle of the hallway wishing one of us could say more.

  As soon as Christmas is over, I’ll lay it all out there. I’ll tell Zoe how much I want her.

  I heard the loneliness in her voice, and I never want her to feel that way again. Not when she has me.

  Zoe

  I push the front door open with my shoulder, thankful as soon as the warm air hits my chilled face. It’s freezing outside and I can’t get warm no matter how many sweaters I pile on. “Dylan, are you here?”

  There’s no answer, and I’m surrounded by half empty boxes and stacks of piled-up clothing. With nothing to put my own clothes in, I figure I’ll hang up most of it and stack the rest on the shelves in the closet. My mattress will lie on the floor, without a headboard or frame.

  Dad sent me back with money for furniture, but I feel bad spending it when we need food and cleaning supplies, on top of rent.

  I’m about to peek inside Dylan’s room when he comes barreling out of mine, almost knocking me over. “You’re here,” he says with an infectious smile.

  “I am.”

  Standing in the hallway, staring at one another, I can’t believe we’re doing this. I’m sharing a home with Dylan. I’ll see him first thing in the morning and he’ll be the last person I speak to before bed, every single night.

  I’ve never slept with a guy, not even with a wall between us. Being so close sends a rush of goose bumps up my spine. I make a mental note to push my bed against the farthest wall, just in case I snore or talk in my sleep.

  “You okay, Zo? You look,” he pauses and I can only imagine what he’ll say—petrified, terrified, ridiculous. Any of them would be accurate. But he settles for, “Happy.”

  Of all the words he could use, and he sticks to something so normal. I feel anything but normal. I’m swinging from a trapeze without a net.

  But he’s right, I’m happy.

  Happy to be here.

  Happy to be out of the dorm.

  Happy to explore life as roommates.

  Dylan isn’t mine, not by any sense of the word. But he could be.

  “Zoe?” he says again.

  “I’m good, Dylan. Just getting used to this.”

  “There’s something I want to show you.” He pulls me by the hand into my room and for a second I wonder if there’s a third roommate he forgot to mention. Someone who moved a bed into the room, leaving very little space for mine.

  A beautiful four-poster antique sits in the center of the room, waiting to be pushed against the wall. The carving is ornate and detailed, and expensive looking. “Where did you get this?”

  “Mom had it in storage collecting dust. It was at the cabin until last year when she redid the one guest room.”

  “But why is it here?”

  “Because she wanted you to have it. She knew you didn’t have furniture of your own to bring. Not unless you planned on cleaning out your bedroom at home.”

  “How did she know?” I can’t believe she’s giving me a bed.

  “Your dad told her.”

  “When were they talking about furniture?”

  He shrugs. “They talk a lot from the way it sounds.”

  Considering Dad’s barely speaking, I’m thankful Dylan’s mom got him to talk. She’s always been easy to talk to. When you’re in her presence, you’re comfortable and relaxed. And I know she’s the reason why Dylan’s always so understanding and patient.

  I open my purse and pull out the envelope of cash Dad left for me on the kitchen table. His note contained more words than he spoke in the three days I was home.

  He cares.

  He loves me, I know he does.

  But I remind him of Mom.

  “Give her this.”

  Dylan pushes the money away and shakes his head. “She won’t take it. And neither will I.”

  “I need to pay my way, Dylan. You can’t do everything for me.”

  “I’m not doing everything, Zo.”

  “You are. You found this place. I have a bed because of you.”

  He smiles and steps around me, leaving my room. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  I’m so screwed.

  I silence my phone again—the fifth time since I’ve been here. But as soon as one call ends, the screen lights up with a new one.

  “Who keeps calling?” he yells from his room where he’s bent over, digging around in a box.

  I glance at my phone and see Keely’s name flash across the screen. She’s been trying to get me to her apartment all day. I can’t figure out why because the last time I saw her, all she did was swap spit with Cha
z and declare her love. I was the third uncomfortable wheel.

  “It’s Keely,” I tell Dylan. Only I can’t be sure it’s her. The last time I answered a call from her, it was actually Chaz.

  I’m guessing she has no idea he called me from her phone. Whatever game he’s playing with us, I want him to stop. I need him to stop. Because my sister will get hurt.

  “What’s she want?” Dylan carries a couple things that belong in the living room and dumps them on his favorite recliner.

  I wish I knew what Chaz wanted. He never leaves a message, that’s how I know it’s not Keely calling. She loves leaving dirty messages that make me blush.

  If Dylan found out Chaz was playing games, he’d find him and punch him in the face. Keely wouldn’t understand why, and assume it was about her. I see it now, one giant explosion of twisted facts and hurt feelings. I can’t do that to my sister or to Dylan. I’ll have to deal with Chaz on my own.

  “Keely wants me to come over.”

  “You don’t want to see her?”

  I turn my head and stare at the wall because what I’m about to tell Dylan isn’t what I want. “Yes and no. Since Chaz is off the market, she found me someone else to date. A friend of Chaz’s.”

  Dylan’s entire body tenses. He doesn’t like that idea at all. “If he’s anything like Chaz, that’s a bad idea.”

  “I told her I wasn’t interested.” Because I’m interested in you.

  “If you want me to talk to Chaz, I will.”

  A talk with Chaz will end in a fight, I’m sure of it. “I’ll keep ignoring her. She’ll tire sooner or later. Plus, we have a house to set up, even though you’ve already done most of it. Thank you.”

  “All you need to worry about is your room. But I think you should sit and relax for a little. The rest can wait. I got you this.”

  He tosses me a book from one of my favorite authors and I can’t hide the smile on my face. I’ve wanted this book from the moment I saw the author post on social media about it. With as busy as life has been, I didn’t even remember it was being released. Dylan did.

  “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  As I thumb through the first few pages, he watches with a smile on his face. If I was already unpacked, I’d be in my room, under the blankets, reading from cover to cover.

  A blanket lands on the couch by my feet. He knows me so well. Dylan turns the TV on and I decide unpacking can wait a little longer.

  But I read the beginning of the first chapter ten times and between the constant phone calls and Dylan’s staring, I can’t concentrate.

  When I can’t take it anymore, I close my book. “Why are you looking at me?”

  Climbing out of the recliner, Dylan sits on the couch next to me. He pulls the black plastic-rimmed glasses from my face and places them on the table.

  I’m instantly self-conscious because I think I look so different without them, weird even, but he smirks and shakes his head. “Don’t even,” he says.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Your eyes are gorgeous, Zo. Just like the rest of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Talk to me,” he says.

  “About what?” We never struggle with conversation, but with the way Dylan’s been acting, I feel like he has something specific he needs to discuss. For all I know, he’s discovered I fart in my sleep.

  “The phone calls are bothering you, aren’t they? You don’t have to date him, Zo. Whoever he is.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you still have the crazy pact with Keely?”

  “Probably.” Since Keely’s been with Chaz, we haven’t discussed it. She’s having so much sex, she doesn’t worry about all the sex I’m not having.

  With my arms wrapped around my knees, I curl into a smaller ball. I assume Dylan will move back to the recliner, but instead, he stays close. So close I can smell his cologne. He must have gotten something new for Christmas because it smells sweeter than normal, like citrus in the woods.

  “Don’t be reckless like your sister, that’s all I ask. She doesn’t value her worth, and you’re so worth it, Zoe. You have to know that.”

  “Dylan.”

  “No, let me finish. You want more than a meaningless fling. You don’t want to rush through guys to prove a point to your sister. Because if it’s not the right person, you’ll still feel alone.”

  He has to be talking about the time he spent with Keely. Did he feel alone when he was dating her for those two short, yet painfully long weeks of our lives? Maybe.

  “Serial dating won’t work for me, even Keely recognized that. I want more, Dylan. But look at me, I’m a joke.”

  “I am looking at you, Zoe. Every damn day.”

  My stomach flip flops and my pulse pounds in my ears. His confession is unexpected and I don’t know what to do with it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” he says before pausing, and I think I might pass out. “It means the chance of you turning into a cat lady just because you didn’t have sex in college is slim to none.”

  Oh. That’s not what I was expecting him to say. Maybe all this time I’ve misread him, just like I did now. Maybe Keely has too. “I appreciate you saying that, but I’m more of a dog person.”

  “That’s not what I meant, either. God, why is this so hard,” he mumbles as he brushes his hand over his face. Dylan’s always so confident, and right now, he’s acting like talking to me is the most difficult thing he’s done all day. Maybe it is.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” I tell him. “Someday, I’ll figure it out.”

  “No, I need to say something. I want you to know love and sex don’t always go together. And I . . .”

  Before he can finish, I hold up my hand because I don’t need a lecture. I’ve already gotten more than a few from Keely. There’s no such thing as romance in college. This is about the physical, and that’s probably why I’ve never had a relationship. I need more than actions. “I’m not stupid, Dylan. I know love and sex don’t always go together. Look at porn stars. They’re not in love with everyone they bang.”

  Dylan tries not to laugh, but he does. “I’m not sure porn stars are the best example. Sex isn’t a hobby.”

  “Technically, a porn star is a career, Dylan.”

  He rests his head against the back of the couch and covers his face with a throw pillow. Though muffled, he says, “It doesn’t matter. I’m still not letting you do anything you’ll regret. Not with a complete stranger.”

  “I dunno,” I tell him. “Maybe I should have some random sex. Get the awkward over with, so that when the right one comes along, I’ll know what I’m doing.”

  “That’s the worst logic I’ve ever heard.” Dylan lowers the pillow and messes with the tag, crinkling it between his fingers. “You don’t think the guy you’re meant to be with for the rest of your life wants to be your first and your last?”

  That’s something I’ve never considered. I never thought much about dating or sex until my sister drug me into the salon to have my crotch waxed. Nothing like torture to gain a little perspective.

  “Let me ask you this. Say you meet a girl and she’s everything you’ve been looking for, but she’s boring in bed. Would you want to deal with that? Or would you rather have the best sex of your life without giving directions or having awkward conversations?”

  I can’t believe I asked him that, but the words are out and it’s too late to take them back. Dylan doesn’t look as horrified as I am though. He takes a minute and then says, “If she was the one for me, I’d take all the time she needed. I’d want her to feel comfortable and special. It wouldn’t matter how we got there, only that we did.”

  Dylan makes sex sound so sensual, like an act of love between two people, full of meaning and purpose. Not a desperate plea to feel more like an adult. Or a chore you need to complete thanks to your twin sister.

  “I still think most guys would want a girl who knows how to please them. And that’s
not me, Dylan. I’m always full of questions. I can’t risk being laughed out of bed if I say the wrong thing or mess up.”

  “Mess up?” he says with a strained laugh. “What could you mess up? You can’t get sex wrong, Zoe. I sure as hell wouldn’t laugh you out of bed. You need a guy with patience. And I’d answer all of your questions. I’d be as thorough as you needed me to be.”

  My heart beats a little faster when Dylan throws me into the equation. Before it was all hypothetical—or so I thought. “Thanks, I think.”

  “I wish you’d give yourself more credit. Sex is a feeling, it’s so much more than an action.”

  “Well, my pros and cons list would differ,” I tell him. “Because for someone who hasn’t experienced it, sex is an action.”

  I make the mistake of glancing at Dylan’s crotch. He notices and covers himself with the pillow. “Jesus, Zo,” he blurts. “You can’t look at me like that.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” But that’s a lie. My body may not have the first clue about sex, but my eyes, they have it all figured out. And Dylan’s body is where they want to begin.

  “Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But you said I did.”

  “No, what I was trying to say is that you should stay away from Chaz’s friend. He’s not the guy to get involved with.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll keep looking.” I’m more confused than ever. Dylan says one thing and his body language says another. His comments he lets sneak out don’t make sense. If he doesn’t want me and he doesn’t want me with Chaz’s friend, will anyone ever be good enough? I can’t help feeling like there’s so much more he isn’t saying.

  “I mean it, Zo. I don’t want you near him.”

  “Okay. I get it, Dylan.” I glance at his face, and temptation stares back.

  He swallows and blinks twice, and then he turns and walks into the kitchen.

  A few minutes pass, and I expect him to come back with a snack—maybe some popcorn for us to share. Instead of popcorn, all I hear is the sound of his bedroom door closing.