He's in her past. But she still haunts his mind.
They had it all, then it was lost.
All in September.
Dakota was trying to get over her, and Tatiana claimed she was over him.
threw them back together and they decide to give it a second chance.
Can...
(italics mean spoken in French, I usually do this but realized I should probably make sure the intention is clear)
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My parents decided they wanted to celebrate. I tried to tell them they didn't need to, but in the end they won. The outcome was expected but at least I tried. They had decided on a place that Dylan and I used to spend most of our free time. Our reasoning had been completely different, but it held many fun memories. Memories that were full of nothing but laughter.
So two taxis later we were at the doors. "Man, this holds so many memories,"
"It really does," I replied.
"You were never good with girls," he laughed.
"Says you." I tried to come up with a better reply, but my head was out of it.
"And common sense,"
"Wow, you and common sense agreeing on something, must be the end of the world."
"Dylan, leave him alone," mom cut in.
"Mom, it's okay, we do this all the time, it's how we show we care. I mean if Dakota says more than two words to someone you know he cares."
"And that's fine when it's only the two of you," she put a hand on each of our shoulders. "Dylan, do you want to find a table?"
"Given that you weren't actually giving me a choice, I will." Dylan said, before walking in the doors. Our dad followed him in.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, he doesn't mean anything by it," I replied. "Besides I give him the same treatment. But, are you? I've been worried since the call, you seemed like something was bothering you."
"Yeah, I just remembered I promised someone I was going to have something for them and I had fifteen minutes left to get it done. And I didn't start yet."
"Well, maybe we should go in," I suggested. She nodded and then we both walked in.
"They're over there." I told her, once I spotted them at a table.
"I see them now," she replied. We both walked over to the table. It was a window seat, the exact same seat Dylan and I claimed as our place several years ago.
We were all seated, mom and dad on one side, and Dylan and I on the other side.
The discussion started on a good note, but it seemed to drop lower and lower by the minute. It never turned bad, just into something I'd prefer to avoid.
"So, how is it in America?" my dad asked, in a tone that barely hid the bitterness.
I wasn't sure what he was hoping I'd say, so I paused.
"It's great," Dylan said, before I could respond. "Especially for him, he's out there losing sleep, so others can sleep soundly knowing their loved ones are safe. And he never complains about the work."
