Dizzy

Chapter 23

~Dylan~

I've spent the past couple days in two places: in the bed or on the deck at our house on the coast. It's embarrassing to be in this kind of slump, and I'm thankful no one is here to see me, but the sad part is, it's all I can do. It's all I want to do. Still, I can't wrap my head around this. After everything Mom did, she came back. There are no words to describe how that makes me feel, but it's nothing compared to knowing they knew. They chose her over me. Kept it from me. What does that say about me?

And Ziah chose James.

What was she doing with me this whole time?

Putting my feet up on the wooden porch chair, I pick up my sketchbook, my eyes taking in the foaming waves in front of me. Salty air hits my skin. It reminds me of the rain when it swam around her. How she made me want to try when she knew she had James in the background.

Suddenly, I'm pissed. My hands shake as I start ripping drawings out of my book, the one of her eyes in Dad's office building, the one of her smiling as she looked up at the wet sky. It's so stupid, and I know it. But I can't stop myself from ripping the pages over and over again, watching them fly away with the wind.

How long was she hanging out with James? How long was Mom back? How long were Derrick and Dad lying to me?

Totally aware I'm throwing a tantrum, I push to my feet and chuck the sketch book as far as I can. It lands at the edge of the water, one big wave away from being gone.

"Wow... good arm."

I whip around, my heart somewhere in my throat. "Dude, warn a guy, would ya?" As much as I don't want to admit it, I'm glad Paul's here.

"I knew you'd be here. Just wanted to give you some time, but now we're running out of it." He walks over to me and leans against the railing. "So what's up, man? You have everyone all stressed about where you are. The wedding's tomorrow."

"I texted Dad to let him know I'm okay." I look over at my best friend. "You tell them I was here?" I don't acknowledge the wedding bit. I can't deal with that right now.

"Of course not. Bros before... you know what I mean."

I let out a small laugh. It's almost a real one. Then I want to kick myself in the ass. It's almost a real one? When did I start talking like this? Thinking like this? My head is so screwed up, it's like I'm not me anymore. I don't do this moping shit. I don't let people get to me. This is why I go for girls like Chastity, who only want one thing.

I turn to Paul. "Let's get drunk."

"Umm... okay?"

"Seriously, we haven't partied here in a while. I know we can find some people who want to chill." I'm pacing now. Why didn't I think of this before? It's the perfect way to get my mind off stuff, to get back to just having fun and being me. "A few phone calls, and we can get this place packed. Think we can get beer? Yeah, I'm sure we can. My cell's dead, but we can call some people from home on yours. I know some people here, too."

"Hey." Paul steps in front of me. "Is this a personal conversation or can I join?"

Without replying, I shake my head at him.

"Dylan, let's just chill. You know I'm down for any reason to party, but," he shrugs. "I mean, I know about everything."

"Nope. Not going there." I push open the sliding glass door and go inside. Paul's right behind me. "We're not Dr. Phil'in it."

He grabs my arm as I try to walk into the kitchen for the phone. "Dude, I'm your best friend. I know you, Dylan. Anyone would feel screwed up after all this. I mean, shit, she's really back after all this time?"