Then he’d seen her—Cat Sheehan, the high school sophomore who’d fired his imagination and awoken every angsty teenage hormone in his body. She’d been the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen and her smile had literally made the breath leave his lungs.
So he’d stuck it out, somehow making it work, if only so he could catch glimpses of her throughout the day. Could feel his heart skip a beat when she smiled that smile. Could share, if only from a distance, in her delightfully wicked personality.
And after the night of the bonfire, he’d made it his personal mission to find out why there seemed to be another side to Cat that no one else in the world ever saw.
He never had. But maybe now, he’d have another chance.
Eventually, he’d found a way to fit in at Kendall High. He’d built his own group of friends. He’d done the brain thing—chess club, honor roll, debate team. He’d made his parents proud, devoting the entire year to more “appropriate” pursuits.
And he’d kept his promise, staying away from his guitar. But that hadn’t stopped him from writing songs in his head. Songs about the blond angel who barely even knew he existed.
“I mean, it’s not like you two had any classes together or anything, right?” Banks asked, still apparently thinking he needed to make Dylan feel better. “You were the same age, but you were a couple of years ahead of her.”
“Right.”
“So it’s not like she knew you and then forgot about you.”
“You don’t have to try to cheer me up,” Dylan said, surprised to realize it was the truth. “Like you said, I don’t look anything like I did then.”
Definitely not. Then he’d been a skinny runt, a geek and a freak. Nowhere near the realm of Cat Sheehan and her crowd.
Her crowd…well, actually, she hadn’t had one. She’d fit in everywhere. Not a stuck-up cheerleader, not a druggie, not a jock, not a brain. She’d just been this nice, smart, funny girl who happened to look like a goddess. One who had a caustic wit and a strong sense of justice that could either get her out of trouble or—probably more often—deeper into it.
She’d been the girl everyone wanted to be like. The girl who’d told off the football squad. Who’d organized a blood drive when one of their classmates had been in a serious car accident. And who, on one occasion, had come to the vocal defense of a nerdy kid who’d made the enormous mistake of sitting at the jocks’ table at lunchtime.
That’d been him.
She’d swooped in right before he’d gotten himself pounded. Taking him by the arm, she’d smiled brightly, saying, “You promised you’d sit with me, cutie.” Then she’d pulled him up and tugged him away, the determination in her eye and the firm set of her lips daring anyone to try to stop her. Beelining to another corner of the cafeteria—a safer corner—she’d pushed him into a seat and plopped down next to him, staying for a good three minutes, to keep up appearances.
He hadn’t been able to get a word out of his sawdust-dry mouth. But that’d been okay. She’d chatted nonstop about inane things—teachers, grades, the unfairness of the dress code.
Personally, Dylan had blessed the dress code. Because if her skirts had been any shorter, he’d have been unable to function at all in school.
Once the beefy crowd had left, she’d stood, saying, “Stay away from the fatheads, kid. Just remember, you’ll be buying and selling them a hundred times over in ten years.” Then, with a wink, she’d snagged his apple off his lunch tray and sauntered away. Leaving him sitting there, gaping, staring after her.
He’d loved her from that moment on, even knowing he’d probably never see her again after he graduated from high school. And he hadn’t.
Until tonight.
“So are you going back in there to make something happen?”
“Why the hell are you so interested in my love life?” Dylan asked with a frown. “Weren’t there a half-dozen women slipping you their phone numbers tonight?”
Banks shrugged. “A dozen, at least.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Which was nothing compared to the ones trying to slip you their phone numbers. By the way, thanks for the spillover.”
Dylan just shrugged, saved from replying when Josh and Jeremy returned from inside. They quickly finished loading the gear, then closed up the van.
“See ya tomorrow night,” Josh said as he got into the driver’s seat.
Dylan nodded, then glanced at Jeremy, who was climbing onto the enormous motorcycle he’d bought a few months back. Since Dylan cringed every time he saw Jeremy on the thing, he could only imagine what his parents thought. “Don’t kill yourself, kid,” he called as the younger man rode away.
“Now, go back in there and make your move,” Banks said as he unlocked his car.”
Dylan shook his head. He wasn’t ready yet. Wasn’t ready to deal with the repercussions of what would happen when Cat found out the truth. “It’s late. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
Face it, you want to enjoy it a little longer.
He did. He wanted just this weekend—tomorrow and Sunday night—of being the dark, dangerous stranger Cat Sheehan had been so attracted to. Then he’d tell her the truth. And go back to being the invisible guy.
But not now. Now it was time to go home and process everything.
Unfortunately, Banks, the bastard, had something else in mind. “By the way, Spence, are you missing something?”
Dylan raised a wary brow.
Banks’s expression screamed mischief. Dylan had seen the look enough in college to know his friend was up to something. Something he wasn’t going to like. Like the time he’d taken Dylan’s clothes out of the bathroom while he was showering in their coed dorm, stranding him there.
Of course, Banks’s plan had backfired. Wrapped in a towel and dripping with righteous anger—not to mention water—Dylan had gotten the attention of a lot of girls as he’d stalked down the hall toward his room. Including one Banks had been after throughout their junior year. Whenever his friend got too obnoxious, Dylan mentioned the name Karen Dennison and it shut him right up.
“What did you do?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know.
“You forgetting you need something to get in your car?”
Patting the pocket of his ratty jean jacket, which was slung over his arm, he winced when he did not hear a familiar jingle. No keys. “You sack of…”
“She’ll be happy to let you in to look for them, I bet. She’s just all alone in the dark,” Banks said with a wave of his hand. Then he got into his own car, revved up the engine so he couldn’t hear the names Dylan was calling him, and took off.
Leaving Dylan stranded, with no way home and no keys. Not unless he entered into Temptation and found them.
3
EXHAUSTED
