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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE " SEE A THERAPIST "
"DYLILAH THE BELL RANG," HER MOTHER CALLED FROM UPSTAIRS. "Are you expecting anyone?"
She hated when her full name "accidentally" slipped from her mother's mouth.
"No but I'll get it!"
Dylan left the record she had spinning, assuming it was a telemarketer or someone looking for her father who wasn't there, and figured it would only take a second.
As usual, she was wrong. Dylan should've learned to stop assuming things when Billy Hargrove was involved.
"Billy?" She greeted him, equal parts irritated and confused.
Dylan looked back into the hallway to see if her mom had descended the stairs. When Marsha Holland was nowhere in sight, Dylan stepped out onto the front steps, shutting the door behind her.
She folded her arms. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh," he fiddled around in the pocket of his denim jacket it was much too cold for. "I got you something."
It was a pack of Camel cigarettes. She almost laughed, what had she been expecting? Flowers? Dylan reached out and took the gift, shoving it into her back pocket.
"That it?" She was well aware of how cold she was acting. But they were both aware of how much he deserved it.
"Would you for a drive with me?"
She lifted a brow. "Uh, no. Definitely not."
He smirked. "Then may I come in? I'm sure Mrs. Holland would love to meet me."
Dylan wasn't sure if he had said that just to annoying her or his older woman fetish was showing through. She didn't care to find out.
"C'mon, for old time's sake."
Dylan coughed at his audacity. "The old time's weren't all that great."
"Come on."
"As much as I'd love to," Dylan said, making her sarcasm as obvious as could be. "I have plans."
Anger flashed his eyes but as soon as it has come, it was gone. "With Steve."
"No, actually, Tina. But I don't see how that's your business."
"She's one annoying broad." Dylan opened her mouth to defend Tina but quickly closed it. The girl had a heart of gold but it was indisputable that she was annoying.
"At least Tina's in your league," Dylan said. "You're here and you just keep striking out."
"I don't like weak girls." He told her matter-of-fact as if what he had said was in anyway academic.
Mentally, Dylan saw her eyes roll in the back of her head. Outwardly, Dylan let out a frustrated breath. "You don't like strong women either. I think you have a problem with all women actually, maybe all people."
