Sabrine + Dylan

The One I Told You About

I shouldn't tell him.

But I'm going to, anyway.

"You promise you won't laugh? Or, or use it against me?"

Dylan only sighed, like he was disappointed by the notion of the question. The laughter was gone from his eyes, and he looked dead serious. If Sabrine had to label the expression, it would be... intimidating. The stare was practiced, the stillness perfected. She was seeing a side of him she had only witness once, during their first interaction, and she couldn't help but feel intimidated.

"I promise, Sabrine."

She nodded, though it was mostly to herself. She began walking toward the freshman wing, Dylan trailing behind her. I shouldn't tell him, but I'm going to, anyway.

"My parents have been fighting..." she started, not exactly sure what to add on.

Dylan must have mistaken her hesitation as a finality because he raised a brow. "Yes, all parents do."

"No- I mean, I know. But it's been..." She searched the floor like if the right word was there before looking back up at Dylan. "Brutal. And- and constant, too." Now that trickles of the truth began leaking out of her mouth and Sabrine realized how good it felt to talk to someone about it, she said the rest of the words in a rush, no longer in control of how much she would reveal. "They insult each other in a way that only people who have known each other for years can do. On such a personal level, and I just know that they're picking at each other's deepest fears and insecurities and then they'll be icy cold and ignore each other for a few days and then they'll explode again. It's bad, Dylan. Really, really bad. And some nights, Mom won't even come home, but then she'll show up the next morning in new clothes and tell my sister and I that she loves us. Or if she does spend the night at home, she'll take the guest room and my dad takes the couch. They can't even stand being  in the same room."

She finally paused to catch her breath, and to suggest the thought that had been bothering her, that she had tried so hard to ignore. "What if... What if they're cheating on each other?"

Being completely honest, Sabrine expected sympathy from Dylan. That's what her friends in Hemington, and probably her friends in Daley, would have offered: a shoulder to cry on. It's what any sensible person would offer. 

"Your mom is definitely cheating on your dad."

Dylan had obviously called in sick when God was handing out shoulders.

Sabrine stopped walking, and two steps later, Dylan did as well. 

He turned to face Sabrine, an eyebrow raised. "Well, it's what you were thinking, too. Are we wrong?"

As she stared at his self-assured face, Sabrine wanted to be mad. She wanted to yell at him, and say he didn't know her parents. She wanted to ell him he had never seen the way Mrs. Rodgers looked at her husband, how she had given up everything to move across the state and support his new job. Her parents loved each other.

Right?

She met Dylan's eyes, her stomach turning to iron. "We better be."

*

Margot waved at Sabrine as the older girl rounded the corner.

"I was worried you'd forget about me," she joked.

Sabrine smiled after a beat, not feeling like her heart was in it. Dylan had been bombarded by students and told her to go on without him, but that didn't mean Sabrine wasn't running their conversation over and over through her head. Margot must have sensed her sister's turbulence because a concerned look over took her face.

"Are you okay?"

Sabrine sighed and pulled her keys from her pocket, keeping her eyes on their car as they approached. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just had, like, a really long day."

Margot didn't buy it- that much was evident from her furrowed brows and pursed lips-  but she luckily didn't push Sabrine for more information. They both knew Sabrine wouldn't keep anything from her sister for long, especially not something that had to do with their family.

"You wanna know about my day?" Margot offered, as Sabrine opened the car door. She noticed that it was already unlocked, but her mind was buzzing so much, the detail was quickly disregarded.

"Sure. How was your day?" she asked, as they both buckled in.

Margot opened her mouth to answer, but her eyes turned to the seat behind Sabrine and her eyes widened in fear. She released a shrill shriek, her finger flying to point at whatever had scared her. Immediately, Sabrine turned, her backpack in her hand, ready to throw it at whatever was in their car.

She stopped short when she saw who it was.

"You! What are you doing in my car?"

"You know him?' Margot shouted, still shaking from the initial scare.

"Yes. He's the one I told you about," Sabrine said, wishing immediately that she had worded that differently, but she couldn't exactly think straight. Her ears were ringing from Margot's yell and she was still thrown off by this boy being in her car.

"Oh!" Margot started, before Sabrine could explain further. "This is him? The one you- Well, nice to meet you. I hear you're a great painter."

Sabrine thought someone was lighting her cheeks on fire, the way they burned. She turned from Margot to Dylan, who had a smug smile across his mouth.

"No. No, not him. This is Dylan Marandola."

"Oh- oh man. Um, my bad," Margot stuttered. She looked embarrassed, but it was definitely nothing compared the how Sabrine felt. She was staring out Margot's window, hoping a careless driver would come by and put her out of her misery. Or maybe the ground could open up and swallow her. Anything would be better than having to sit there while Dylan laughed in little fits, like he had stumbled upon a map leading to gold.

Exhaling once, Sabrine turned back to him. "You have five seconds to tell me why you're in my car," she said, making her voice as serious as she could.

Dylan's laugh turned into coughing fits as he held a hand forward, signaling to Sabrine to give him a second to catch his breath.

"You were there, remember?" he answered, once his coughing died down. "Those kids jumped me. And so, while I was running away, I saw your car and thought, 'Hey, might as well.' So I hid in here, proving to you that you should learn to lock your car door."

The sisters glanced at each other. "So, you're going to be, like, leaving soon, right?" asked the younger one.

"What- You- I- I expected that from this one-" he said, pointing to Sabrine, "But you don't even know me."

Margot furrowed her brows. For a second, Sabrine thought about how much Margot looked like their mother before she pushed that thought out of her mind. "Right, but you scared me to death. I think that's a good enough reason to want you out of my car. Like, now."

Dylan looked between the two girls like they'd just shot him. Finally, his gaze settled on Sabrine. "You're just gonna let her talk to me like that?" He crossed his arms, and Sabrine couldn't tell if he was being serious so she shrugged.

"You scared her pretty bad. Maybe you should head out. The adoring crowd is gone, after all."

"But-"

"Plus, we have to head home." The word left a sour taste in her mouth.

Dylan gave a heavy sigh before looking down at his feet. For a second, Sabrine thought he would ask to stay nicely, but she knew him better than that.

"And here I was," he started wistfully, "thinking you'd invite me over. Fine, fine, I don't go where I'm not wanted."

'Must leave your options very limited," Margot muttered under her breath, turning to the mirror in her sun visor to pick up her short brown hair.

Dylan made a face at the back if her head before turning to Sabrine.. "Please?"

Sabrine sighed and Margot whipped her head to look at her. "You're not actually thinking about it are you?"

When Sabrine didn't answer, Margot raised her brows. "You are! Sabrine you said it yourself: he's ugh!"

Sabrine's cheeks flamed. She had only told Margot that because she hadn't had a full conversation with Dylan. And now, while he wasn't exactly her favorite person,  she would've used a different word to describe him.

"Oh, I'm ugh?" Dylan asked. Sabrine wasn't sure if he was holding back a laugh or genuinely offended.

Either way, she couldn't help but laugh herself.

"Well, that was before..."

"Before what?"

Sabrine couldn't say what she was thinking; that would only inflate his ego. Before I found out you weren't a jerk. "Before we talked. When you still thought I was a... what was it? A fan?"

Maybe Sabrine had imagined it, but she thought she saw Dylan blush. "Yeah, okay."

Sabrine smiled lightly before sighing in surrender. "Dylan, do you need a ride home?"

He beamed, despite Margot's protest. "Yes, if you really want to give me a ride, you totally can."

"Fine, just put your seatbelt on."

"Thanks, Sabrine, I owe you one!"

"Do you not have your own car? What's the point of being rich if-" Margot started.

"Actually, kid, it's none of your-!"

"I think it is my business, you're in my car-!"

"Can you guys," Sabrine started, pinching the bridge of her nose, "just be quiet? Just, like, please?"

Neither of them spoke for the entire ride, except for Dylan's occasional directions. Sabrine finally relaxed in her seat, a small smile creeping up on her face. This is totally working out in her favor.

Her smile faltered.

Hopefully.

*

Dylan's house looked exactly like how she had envisioned it: massive.

Not only did he live in a gated community, but his house was at the end of the street, taking up two lots for itself. Parked in the arched driveway were two cars, partially obscuring a few neatly-cropped rose bushes. Two more cars were parked in front of a small garage to the side of the house, though Sabrine only managed a glimpse as she was driving up; they were now being covered by a pair of smooth, white, marble columns. There was a fountain, a large patio, and sculptures that looked authentically Grecian. Sabrine could count two balconies from where she sat in her car, trying her best to not look as amazed as she felt.

"Dude," Margot said, finally interrupting the stretching silence, "you're rich."

"Thanks," Dylan replied, getting out of the car before thanking Sabrine again. Before he shut the door, however, he hesitated

"What's he doing here?" he muttered. Sabrine followed his line of sight, leaning back in her car to see past the marble columns. There, in front of the garage, a black sedan was pulling up. One her car's bumper was all too familiar with.

"What's he doing here?" Sabrine echoed, for once interested in Dylan's life.

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Probably here for another-" then he glanced at Sabrine, as if he was just remembering she were here. "Nevermind. See you at school."

"Dylan-"

"Look, Sabrine thanks for the ride. Now go home."

Sabrine wanted to protest, wanted to remind him of the 'one' he owed her, but the humor was gone from his eyes. And when he slammed the door, he wasn't leaving much room for debate, either.

"Who's that?" Margot asked, finally getting out of her seat to get a look at the painter.

Sabrine watched him as he walked past the columns and onto the front lawn, headed straight for the door instead of rounding to the driveway to meet with Dylan.

"That's the one I told you about," Sabrine answered, scared he might hear her if she raised her voice above a whisper. She knew it was impossible, but his presence made her irrational like that.

When his face finally came into the sun, Sabrine found it impossible to tear her gaze from him. And not because he's gorgeous, like the case had been in the past, but because it was so... not. A cut ran from his left temple to just under his cheekbone, another slashed across his nose. His right eye was swollen shut, his right hand bandaged and his left one bruised.

"You've got to work on your descriptions," Margot mumbled.

"Shut up," Sabrine shot back. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Margot said something else but Sabrine was already out of the car and making a beeline to Dylan.

"What's going on?" she asked, eyeing his knuckles. Of course, she remembered noticing them before; bruised and bloody.. "Did you do that?"

Dylan avoids her eyes. "Go home, Sabrine."

"Dylan, did you?"

Dylan sighed, eyes still on the ground. He opened his mouth to answer, but then a woman's voice interrupts him from the door.

"Oh! You're here! It's so good to see you!" Sabrine turned. An older woman- a fragile and paper-thin woman with thin hair and sunken cheeks- was standing at the door, arms around the painter's neck. She didn't seem to notice his beaten face. When she let go, her eyes met Sabrine's then Dylan's and her smile widened. "Dylan, honey, look who it is! Look! Come say hi! Oh, your father is going to be so happy."

Again, Sabrine got the sense that the woman didn't notice her.

Dylan sighed. "Let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

Before Sabrine got the chance to answer, he ran toward the woman. As the three of them entered the home, Dylan gives the painter a not-so-subtle shove with his shoulder.

On the drive home, Sabrine decided Dylan isn't the type of friend she would want to have, anyway.

*

This is hardly any better than watching the boys fight, Sabrine thinks to herself, as she throws herself onto her bed and covers her ears with her pillow.

She thought about asking her parents what the problem was. If she could help in any way, but then her father shouted a particularly harsh word at their mother, so she instead invited Margot to her room where they watched a movie together.

That night, as Sabrine drifted to sleep, she had one thought on her mind, the word Vienna had muttered to her when she had stormed out of the classroom.

Fake.