The Boy I Once Loved Page 4

  “You’re lucky,” I comment. “A love like that is rare.”

  The lady nods at me. “That it is my dear. When you find it you shouldn’t fight it.” I squirm in my seat. It is as if she can see right into my very soul.

  I avert my eyes from the way she looks at me. The silence is broken when Dylan's phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and sighs. Unable to resist, I lean over and spot a girl's name on the screen.

  “You should answer it. It’s probably a booty call.”

  He frowns at me and rejects the call. “It isn’t a booty call.”

  “None of my business whether it is, or it isn’t,” I reply, folding my arms across my chest.

  He leans into my face and cocks a brow. “Thought you weren’t interested?”

  “I’m not,” I huff, and I lean my head back, trying to put some distance between our faces.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Taking the bike out. Or at least I was until some bright spark took me into the woods in the dark and bust my ankle.”

  He nods. “How long have you had the bike?”

  I fidget with the polystyrene cup in my hands. “My uncle bought it me for my seventeenth birthday. He taught me to ride. He used to let me go out with him and the boys on Sunday mornings.”

  “You love it, huh?” He says it more as a statement rather than a question, his dark eyes observing me intensely.

  “I feel free, like I can leave everything behind when I’m on the bike.” I gulp, I’ve said a little more than I intended to.

  “Have you been? To his grave?”

  I swallow my emotions and look away. “Not yet.”

  “We can go together if you like, the first time?”

  I frown and return my gaze to meet his. “I’m perfectly capable of going on my own. I don’t need you to lean on anymore, you know?”

  He sighs and gives me a sad smile. “We all need someone to lean on at times, El.”

  I shake my head and refuse to look away. “I learned a while ago its best not to rely on people, they only let you down.” Why is he pushing me like this? Why is he so hell-bent on pushing himself into my presence?

  “Ella Harrison” The nurse shouting my name pulls us from this deep conversation. Straight away Dylan is up and offers me his back.

  “Come on up, Ella Umbrella.” He winks at me over his shoulder. With a scowl on my face, I climb on his back and he carries me piggyback.

  A couple of hours later, we finally leave the hospital. I follow him to the car on crutches. “Damn, these things are impossible to use.”

  He chuckles and I am half tempted to hit him over the head with one.

  “Can I be the first one to sign your boot, Ella?” Connor asks as he takes the crutches from me and steps back whilst Dylan helps me into the front passenger street.

  “No one is writing on my boot,” I tell him firmly. As we suspected, my ankle is broken and is now in a clumpy big blue boot brace.

  Dylan drops Connor off at home and then takes me home. When we pull up on the drive, he rushes around to my side of the car before I even have a chance to get out myself. He leans in and I put my arms around his neck, whilst his go to my waist as he helps me stand. His nearness makes my stomach flutter. When I have my crutches under my arm, he pulls back and gives me space and I feel like I can breathe again. His closeness does things to my body that I do not want to even to begin to try and analyse.

  When we enter the house, the lights are out, and it is clear no one is home. My Mum has recently got herself a job in an old people’s home and she is working the night shift tonight. Dylan puts the light on, and he walks through into the kitchen.

  Hobbling behind on my crutches, I follow him in. I’ve only been back a day and had been determined to keep my distance from Dylan James, and yet here he is in my house. He goes to the fridge, clearly feeling at home here and pulls out the chocolate milk. It bugs me that even after all this time, he still knows what I like to drink before bed.

  “You know I broke up with Beth a few days before you left here.”

  I plonk myself down on a dining chair. "Is there a point to this news?"

  He leans his hands on the worktop and stares at me. “Beth was just a distraction. She was popular, and I was stupid and thought that it mattered.”

  I sigh. I didn't want to talk about the past with him. "I'm tired and my ankle is sore. Can you carry that upstairs for me before you go?"

  “I’m not leaving.” He frowns. “I can’t leave you home like this. How are you going to manage?”

  “I’ll manage just fine,” I growl.

  He scoffs and smiles, folding his arms across his chest. “Come on then, let’s see you tackle the stairs.”

  Determined to show him I don’t need him. I hobble as fast as I can and stop at the bottom of our staircase. I contemplate trying to climb up there using my crutches, but I fast realise that this is unlikely to work. I plonk myself down on the bottom step and lean my crutches beside me, one immediately slides down to the floor and out of my reach.

  The smug bastard leans against the wall, arms folded and smirks, watching me. “You want me to get that?”

  "No. I can do it." I use the bannister to pull myself back up to standing and hop to get nearer to the fallen crutch. I realise then that if I try to bend to pick it up, I am likely to fall, but my pride refuses to admit that I need him. I lean forward to grab the crutch and unable to put weight on my foot I wobble, and two hands reach out and steady me.

  “Are you done being stubborn?” With a huff and a deep scowl, I nod. Before I can object again, he sweeps his arms under my knees and lifts me. “So, fucking stubborn,” he states with a grin.

  He carries me silently up the stairs. I keep my eyes firmly facing forward. I can feel his breath on me. He smells of mints and aftershave. A yummy one that makes me want to inhale his scent.

  He pushes open my bedroom door with his foot and carries me in. He gently sits me down on my bed. He then reaches for my other foot. “What are you doing?”

  He arches a brow. “What it looks like. I’m helping you get ready for bed.”

  “Like hell you are!” Hell will freeze over before I let him undress me.

  He sighs and mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out. “I’m just going to help you get your sock and shoe off and then I’ll help you with your leggings.” Before I can object further, he grabs my foot and pulls my trainer off, throwing it over his shoulder. “Aw, harry potter socks.”

  I scowl at his teasing. He stands and offers out his hands. “Come on, stand up and let’s get these off.” He gestures with his head to my leggings. Knowing I can’t do this without his help, I put my hands in his and allow him to help me stand on my feet. His hands find the waistband of my leggings and his thumb brushes against my bare skin, making my breath falter. He pauses and gulps before hooking his other thumb on my waistband and he carefully tugs them down. As he pulls them down over my hips, one of his hand’s skirts over my arse. My hands that are gripping tightly to his shoulders squeeze tighter. His hand pulls them down my thighs, his thumbs brushing down my skin, making me shiver. When he has them down to my knees, he clears his throat and tells me I can sit back down. He crouches down in front of me and he pulls them off my legs and onto the floor.

  “Okay, PJs probably aren’t the best idea.”

  I point to the set of drawers opposite the bed. “I have some bed shorts in there.” He leaves me and goes to rummage through the draw. I hear him chuckle as he finds what he is looking for.

  "Don't say a word, Dyl," I warn when he holds up my bed shorts and cocks a brow in question. Yes, my bed shorts were Snoopy ones. With that annoying grin on his face, he walks back over and kneels at my feet and pulls them over both feet. He slowly slides them up my legs stopping mid-thigh. "Okay, up again." He doesn't offer out his hands this time. Instead, he just puts them at my waist and hoists me to my feet, making me wobble slightly and grasp onto his bice
ps.

  “Can you stay steady whilst I pull them up?”

  Unable to speak the words, I simply nod. I move my hands around his shoulders as he bends down and pulls them up over my thighs and hips. His thumb brushes across my stomach slowly before he lets go, and it leaves me tingling everywhere. I hate that his touch affects me so much, even after all these years apart. Not wanting to meet his gaze, I pull my hoodie off over my head. Luckily, I have a vest top on underneath that will be okay to sleep in. I shuffle back on the bed whilst he picks my discarded clothes up and deposits them in my laundry basket.

  He comes to stand at the bottom of my bed and just looks at me with an expression I cannot fathom. “I’ll err, go and fetch your drink up.” He turns on his heels and bolts out of the room. Jesus, he couldn’t wait to get away from me. I pull back my covers and get myself into bed. I haven’t had a wash or brushed my teeth, but that could wait until morning now.

  He returns a minute later with my chocolate milk and a box of painkillers and places them on my bedside table. He grabs the Tv remote and passes it to me. “I’ve let my mum know I’m staying here. I’ll grab some covers and bed down on the floor.”

  “Honestly, you don’t need to stay. I’ll be fine,” I protest. This mission to keep Dylan at arms-length is not going quite as I planned it to.

  “What if you need the toilet?”

  I chortle. “There is no way in hell you are helping me with that!”

  “Come on, El you’ll end up falling if you try by yourself.” He folds his arms and stares at me.

  “Then I’ll hold it in until mums’ home.” I know I am being ridiculous, but there is no way he is helping me.

  He shakes his head and smiles before he turns and leaves the room. Deep down I know he is right, but all this closeness is causing havoc with my body. All those feelings I thought I have long buried were still here, and it confuses the hell out of me. He has clearly decided to ignore my wishes as he comes back in armed with two pillows and a blanket. I watch silently as he sets them up on the floor before he stands and pulls his t-shirt off over his head. Holy fuckery! Dylan is ripped, his chest and stomach are chiselled and defined, and my eyes followed the line that leads down to his jeans.

  “What are you doing?” I ask wide-eyed, somehow pulling my eyes away from his delicious body. My breath catches in my throat as he pulls the zipper on his jeans and tugs them down. Fuck me sideways, his body is glorious. Toned thick thighs and white Calvin’s that sit low on his hips. My eyes are fixated on his groin.

  He walks over to my chair and places his clothes over the back, giving me a perfect view of his tight toned arse. Jesus wept. His arse is perfection, like the rest of his body. My scrawny childhood friend has grown up into a chiselled and toned Adonis.

  As he turns, he catches my eye and I quickly avert my gaze and concentrate on switching the tv on. How the heck am I supposed to sleep with him in my room looking like that?!

  I flick on Netflix and pick the latest episode of Riverdale. He lies down and places his hands behind his head, which displays the muscles in his arms. I realise from where he is lying it is difficult for him to see.

  “You can sit up here if you want? Just while we watch tv.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to kick myself. Why in hell have I suggested he come and sit on my bed??

  He smiles. “Yeah, okay.” He walks round to the other side of my double bed and sits beside me on top of the covers. What am I thinking suggesting he sit up here?? Now all his male hotness is even closer and there is no way I will be able to concentrate on my favourite show now. We sit quietly for the first ten minutes until he sniggers.

  “This show is shit. It’s so cheesy.”

  I look at him in mock horror. “How dare you call this show! Besides, you can’t talk. Who was it who used to make me watch Power Rangers!”

  He grins. "You loved it."

  “I definitely did not love it. You did though. I remember you running around our house in the blue outfit.” I giggle at the memory.

  Dylan lifts the pillow from behind his head and looks at me with deadly intent in his eyes. “Laughing at my expense, huh?”

  I hold my hand up. "Drop the pillow, Dyl. Besides, you can't attack me." I pout my lips. "I'm injured and defenceless."

  His wicked grin makes me realise he is going to show me no mercy and before I can protest again, I am whacked full in the face with the pillow.

  “Bastard,” I hiss, which earns me his naughty chuckle as he moves in again to attack. I grab my pillow from behind my head and hit back at him. He sits up on his knees, so he is towering over me and he hits me on the head again.

  “You may as well admit defeat now, Els. We know I always win these fights.”

  “Never,” I shout firmly as I attempt to kneel up on one knee to give me more of an advantage. It is stupid to try really as I end up wobbling and falling forward. The sneaky bastard takes advantage and straddles my back with his thighs.

  "Admit defeat, Els." Before I can reply he snakes his hand under my vest top and he tickles me.

  “Ah, Dyl stop you arse!” He knows I’m super ticklish. I buck my hips up to throw him off me, but the idiot is too strong for me. I freeze when I feel his breath against my ear.

  “Admit defeat.”

  I scowl to myself. “Okay, you arsehole, I admit defeat. Now get up of me, you’re suffocating me with your weight.”

  He laughs as he climbs off my back. “You mean with my lean, muscled body?”

  I roll my eyes as I roll onto my back, only to find him kneeling over me. "Bighead syndrome Dyl, it's not attractive."

  “Seems to work alright for me.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Got the girls lined up.”

  I put my fingers in my mouth and mimic making myself sick. I stop still with my fingers in my mouth when I find him suddenly leaning over me, his arms on either side of my head.

  “You don’t think I’m hot?”

  I snigger, trying to pretend his nearness is not affecting my body when really all my senses are super aware of how close we are. "An arrogant hot mess."

  My stupid eyes betray me and skate over his naked chest. My eyes stop at a tattoo that I hadn’t noticed earlier when I had been shamelessly ogling him. Without thinking, my fingers snake out and stroke the tattoo. “What’s this?”

  He flinches at my touch and he quickly leans up away from me and sits himself back against the pillows. “It’s called a tattoo.”

  Rolling my eyes again, I throw my pillow at him and he catches it and places it back against the headboard. “You don’t say. It’s an umbrella.” Beneath the umbrella was a line from the song's lyrics. ‘You’ll still be my star,’

  He swallows and looks uncomfortable and trains his gaze firmly on the television show. "Yeah, it is."

  I sit there for a second with my brows furrowed in confusion. Why would he have that? Is it a reference to me? I mean, he always called me his ‘Ella Umbrella’.

  “Are we watching this drivel or not?” He asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I shrug as I settle back down beside him. “Let’s pick a movie instead.”

  I wake in the morning feeling as warm as toast. I nuzzle my nose into my pillow but stop dead still when my mind notices several things all at once. My face is definitely not on my pillow, my legs are also tangled up with someone else’s and an arm is resting across my back. Holy all things chocolate! My leg as I try to move it brushes against something that feels very much like Dylan’s dick. My breath hitches in my throat.

  “Probably best not to do that with your leg again,” he says in a sleepy and husky voice. “I’ve got morning wood.”

  “Oh, yeah, err, yeah...I.”

  He laughs aloud, making his chest bob up and down where my head is resting. “My, my, little Ella is lost for words. It’s just a dick, El. It’s no big deal.”

  I decide I need to unwind myself from his body pronto, but he keeps his arm around me, keeping me in place. “Relax, we’r
e friends. Friends can cuddle.”

  Sighing, I relax against him, but then he starts slowly stroking up and down my arm with his fingers and it does crazy things to my body.

  “I’ve missed this. Our sleepover movie nights,” he comments.

  “I think we are a bit too old for sleepovers now.”

  He squeezes my arm gently. “Never. I’ll always want sleepovers with you.”

  “I think future girlfriends might have a problem with that,” I say chuckling.

  He scoffs. "If I did the girlfriend thing it would, but I don't, so it won't ever be a problem. Besides, you come first El. Bro's before hoes and all that."

  I pinch his chest with my fingers.

  “Ouch! What was that for?!”

  “One. I am not your bro; I happen to be a girl.” I stare pointedly at him.

  “Believe me, I know,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Second, you can’t refer to girls as hoes.”

  He chuckles again; the sound sending my body all warm and fuzzy. I am far too comfortable in his arms like this. It feels the most natural and right thing in the world. “Okay, not all girls. Not you.”

  I lift my head and rest it on my arm on his chest. “Why not me? You don’t know what sexual shenanigans I got up to for the last three years! I could have been sleeping my way around my old school.”

  “Nah, not you,” he laughs. “You were always an old romantic.”

  I huff and firmly pull myself from him and sit up on my bed. “Yeah, well, people dying and letting you down can make you change. I’m not some pure virgin waiting for my Mr forever you know.”

  He holds up his hands in defeat. “Hey, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ll just always be perfect in my eyes, El, and too good for any guy around here.”

  I pick at my fingernails. “No one is perfect Dylan, especially not me. I’ve done things I’m not proud of these last three years.” Things that if I told him about them, it would smash that idealised opinion, he has of me. He still sees me as a sweet little girl, but she is long gone.