Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,35
still waiting.”
I nod and follow her, stepping through the door once she’s opened it.
“Gemma,” she says suddenly, as if unable to stop herself. I turn around. She looks down at the ground, considering, before looking back at me. “I know you didn’t ask, and I don’t know what went on between Dylan and you, but if it’s worth anything, I know him well. Well enough to know that he cares for you. More than you probably realize.”
The words make my heart flutter a little, and I feel a weird blush come to my cheeks. I’m not sure why; there’s nothing in Ramona’s words that should interest me after all the shit I’ve been through with Dylan, including his latest abandonment and my resolve to avoid falling for him completely…yet my body seems to react to the idea in a way my mind can’t process. I nod, wave a cheerful bye to Ben, and make my way back to my car.
I drive like a maniac to Malibu. Without my car’s GPS, the motel would be impossible to find, but even with it, it’s still tricky. I see a building on the horizon, two stories of faded pink stucco and chipped clay roof tiles, run-down and shitty-looking – just how Ramona described it. I push the car slowly towards it, gazing around for clues that it’s the right place.
And that’s when I see him. He’s far away, a speck in the distance, sitting atop a rock on a viewpoint set against the dusty-orange glow of the sun about to set. There’s no way to tell that it’s Dylan at this distance, and yet there’s the tingle in my body that’s always there when he’s near me. My mouth parts, my heart pounding. It’s him. I’m sure of it.
I park the car in the small lot and start walking toward him. He’s facing away from me, but I can tell by his posture that he’s lost somewhere deep in the abyss of his thoughts. As I get closer I slow my steps, giving myself time to think of what to say, to figure out how I might be able to get through to him, to place a loving hand on the pain inside of him and make him let me soothe it.
He’s the one who speaks first, though. Without looking. As if he can sense my presence as easily as I sense his.
“I killed him. I can’t get over it, and I don’t deserve to.”
“Dylan.”
I reach for him, praying he doesn’t turn away. Praying he doesn’t run again.
Chapter 12
Dylan
I feel her hand press against my shoulder as she sits down next to me, her perfume wafting toward me in the evening breeze.
“I know what happened, Dylan.”
I turn to face her slowly. She’s more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her, or maybe it’s just that memories can never do justice to really seeing her in the flesh, here under the orange sun, her hair gently playing along the curve of her cheek.
“I figured you did some research. How else would you know I was here?” My voice comes out harsher than I mean it, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m too torn up right now to apologize, and part of me wants to jump off this cliff into the ocean and never look back.
Gemma looks toward the horizon, as if embarrassed at her intrusion. Taking her hand from my shoulder, she clasps her fists in her lap.
“I’m so sorry.”
I pick up a stone and fling it into the ocean, just to do something with the jolt of nervous energy that’s buzzing inside of me.
“Who told you? Ramona, right?”
“Yeah. About Cal, the Oscars, the kid – everything.”
“Not everything,” I say, whipping another rock at the sun and watching it fall into the tumultuous waves. “So she told you about the Oscars?” I ask, turning to her, searching for something in her eyes.
Gemma nods. “Yes.”
“Did she tell you about the call?” I take a breath. “No. She couldn’t have. She doesn’t even know about it.”
“What call?”
I turn back to the sun and close my eyes, letting the fading brightness cast an orange glow in the void. Letting the memories appear as vividly as photographs.
“The night I won the Oscar, Cal called me. I was in the limo on my way to the red carpet.” I can hear the tremors in my own voice. Heat rises behind my eyes, and I rub them with my thumb and forefinger, trying to push the memory back