Unnamed

FIFTEEN – attempts that were made but i blew them

"I think we should do something," Hailey suggested.

She suddenly jumped up to her feet and glared at everyone to pass her message: It's enough! We need to do something. She was trying to show that she was in a super excited mood today. I would say she looked like she was ready to conquer the world only by dancing on JLo's songs and swaying her hips like Shakira. Had she promised herself in the mirror to destroy the gloom cloud hovering above Fay's head? She looked pretty resolved with an all-black outfit of skater skirt, tank top, and high-top boots.

"Like what?" Jean asked fixing an imaginary crease of her floral blouse. She looked up, slightly wary of Hailey. Luke, who was sitting behind her wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheeks.

"I think I want to eat something. My stomach won't stop talking to me." Xavier who was sitting on my left on the swing nudged me with his elbow. "It's saying he wants to taste Fay's awesome cooking skills."

After trying, all I could manage was a half-hearted smile.

"But we rather have a food fight," Chris spoke from the right side. Like Xavier, he nudged me, "You remember the time when we put caramel on Marcus' head?"

Yeah, I remembered. It happened before my little stunt of running. Marcus had fallen asleep between our fight and Chris somehow manipulated me in agreeing to massage Marcus' head with caramel. It was going smoothly until Marcus realized what was happening. Let us say it didn't turn out well for Chris while I managed to save my ass by playing 'I am innocent' look.

"Not funny, Chris," Marcus grumbled. He always looked on the verge of falling asleep. One of these days, I was going to call him Sleeping Beauty. That would have been funny. I would have shared this with Chris and Xavier who would back me up with no questions. But today, I couldn't bring myself to do anything but sigh a little every time they made an attempt to make me smile.

"Guys, you are getting distracted here," Hailey ordered. Luke and Jean sprang apart when Hailey whistled. Their innocent kisses on cheeks were blown into a nuclear of make out session. "As I said we need to do something. Fay what you say."

"Whatever you guys feel okay with," I replied not really caring. I didn't want to be a part of their adventure.

Despite my infinite protests, they managed to drag me to the swing. Truth to be told, I just wanted to return to where they had dragged me from: Dylan's bed. Sleep was hard to come nowadays, nights were scarier and the feeling of being unsafe lingered with every breath. I didn't know why I feel this loneliness seeping in my bone and consuming my body like a burning fever. I hadn't felt anything like this when Paz had left. It was intense and eerie and whatever I did, I couldn't escape it. And in the end, the dam of my control would give up an under the pressure, leaving me in a mess of tears and heart wrenching sobs. My fear of being alone had turned into a phobia where I was paranoid all the times.

It wasn't like I did not understand or appreciate what Dylan's friends were doing. I had no idea how they could be so understanding and sympathetic toward me when I clearly had broken their trust by running away like that. They never blamed me once, asked me any question, made me feel like I had committed a sin. They pretended as if that incident never happened just so I didn't feel uncomfortable and under pressure. That only made me nauseated with guilt. That's why I was hesitant to call them my friends again. I don’t deserve them. They came every day, leaving their work and priorities, to keep me company. I knew that they didn't want me to feel like I was alone after dad's death and I value it with my whole being but sometimes it didn't... work. Even when I tried to mingle with them and acknowledge their effort, some thoughts occupying my mind disturbed me and ultimately leading me to retract to that same gray of despair.

Mom left. Paz left. Dad left.

I didn't know if I wanted to let people inside just so they could depart without realizing they had left anguish in their wake.

Besides that, Dylan wasn't here. In fact, I hadn't seen him since that night. An unidentified feeling jolted in my heart, swiftly moving it a little. No, I should not feel like this. It was wrong after what he had done to me... how he was... and what he hid. I would be mentally sick to want to linger on that feeling.

"You can't always live like that, Fay. At least try." Beth was always the one who handled everything with straightforward honesty. She didn't sugarcoat everything like Hailey to make them light and happy. She didn't let it slide like Jean with ignorance of a mother who doesn't want to nag her kids all the time. She wasn't even wrong. She wasn't asking me to move on. She just wanted me to try. But I had no words or power left in me to tell, I had been trying to move on since the very beginning. I just wanted to wait for 'move on' to come to me.

"I will try," I promised because I knew I eventually had to. I would wake up one day feeling as if I had sat for so long and my legs would be numb with no blood circulating in them. I'd stretch them and would try a few steps. Maybe I'd fall too but I'd move on again. That's how life works. Just not right now.

I stood up from the swing mindful of my ankle that had a cast around it. It was hard to walk with it but I managed to limp better, "I didn't get much sleep last night," that wasn't a lie. All I did at night was to watch trees sway outside my window. "I think I am going to catch some now." That was a lie. The bags under my eyes were proof that I had not been sleeping well. I faked a yawn and slowly dragged my feet toward the cabin. Luke stood to offer me help but I gratefully refused. They were always doing something for me and I didn't want more. Besides, it hurt to watch the hopelessness on their face when they realized they were going nowhere with me so far.

I managed to make it safely up to my room. It was only when I locked the door; ignorance took the form of grief and tears started falling. These days I was never out of them. They were always ready at the horizon of my eyes and whenever they sense that I was weak, there was no stopping them from diving without an extent. Though I hadn't gained control over them, I had learned how to not or make any sound. I fell on the bed face first as tear slide down my cheeks quietly.

As I lay with my one hand under my hand and another falling off the edge of the bed, almost grazing the floor, my mind veered back to the night when I was somewhat in the same position and same state of mind.

It was the second day after I learned the truth about my dad's death. I remember not eating anything since last night. I wouldn't have eaten if Dylan hadn't basically forced me to eat. Today, I started crying as soon as he tried to push me into anything. He would instantly back off. I could see that he wanted me to get back to the old routine of nagging him and fighting him. He was so impatient that when the dinner time came, he tried to handle things his way. I didn't know if what he did was his way. Dylan was too serious and no-nonsense kind of guy that I was surprised he didn't have a long white beard with a face full of wrinkles from frowning.

I didn't hear the soft opening of the door and closing above my numbness. It wasn't until something soft brushed against my fingers; I realized someone was in the room. My first reaction was panic, as I startled, pulled my hands back. When I raised my head from the bed, I realized it was only Dylan.

"You almost gave me a heart attack." I accused with a fast racing heart. I pressed my one hands over it to calm it down.

Without answering me, he picked up all the pillows and cushions from the bed, including the one under my head and set it on the floor. He had brought a small shoe box too but set it aside. I was confused at this as I tried to understand his odd behavior. He left with the same hurry he had come with and I had not to wonder too long when he came back with a small foldable table. It was one of the height adjustable ones and he set low amid the pillows. He left again and returned with a tray of food in one hand and dishes in other. I understood what he was doing now and I crossed my hands around my abdomen, making my mind to not to give in. I had already told him that I was not going to eat. He couldn't always force me into stuff I didn't want to.

"I am not hungry!" I snapped loudly.

He ignored me and arranged everything on the table in a fashionable manner. When everything was up to his taste and gave a small nod of approval to himself. Then, he turned to face me. I cautiously waited for him to attack, that he did but not in the way I expected.

"Hello," he said with a smile. It was like someone was pulling his cheeks. Too forced, too fake. "My name is Dylan Clifford."

My thoughts were something like this.

Was he out of his mind?

I already knew that.

What was he trying to do?

"What are you doing?" I asked because I needed him to be done and out so that I could try to sleep.

He overlooked my small insult of not acknowledging him and continued, "I just saw you here alone and I thought that I could join you for a while. Actually, my friend and I were supposed to meet today but he had some emergency with his girlfriend. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Thank you," he said before occupying the place beside me as if I had not just rejected him.

"I don't know what are you doing but I do not want to play this game. Please le-"

"So, what's your name?"

"Dylan, please stop whatever you are trying to do." I requested. I didn't understand him a bit. Usually, I tried to solve this puzzle named Dylan but today I had no power left in me to play along with him. I had not slept for two nights and it was taking a toll on me. I didn't want to be mad at him unnecessarily.

"I just want to know your name." He said with a mock hurt on his face.

"You know it." I whined throwing my face in my hand.

"No, I sure don't. It's the first time I saw you." If I were living a life little normal and if he had met me like this at a café, I would totally have shared my seat and coffee too with him. He looked just that cute and sweet with an innocent lift of his lips and silent laughter with a half-concealed amusement in his eyes. Dylan could be easily the hottest specimen I had come across in my life and that was saying a lot since I had grown up among all sorts of finest of faces of the fashion industry.

With all the fights, arguments, scowl and frowns, I didn't give much appreciation to his appearance except a respectful acknowledgment that he was so hot and intense that he would reduce anyone to ashes with just one glance. Today he looked a little different. I wouldn't be shallow and objectify him as hot. He looked genuine. He looked trying. He looked real. And for more than a brief moment, while I stared at him, I wondered if the Dylan I knew was real or not.

"Fay Madison. That's my name." I whispered unexpectedly. I had no idea what prompted me to do so. I stubbornly set on that I did it so that we could get over it sooner and I could be alone again when I knew the real answer wasn't anything close to that.

"That's a pretty name," he complimented as if he wanted to say that since the moment he had seen me. There was a moment of silence between us and he pretended to look around him. I only looked at him.

"It's quite a fine place. Do you come here often? It's my first time," he said turning his face toward me.

"Yeah, I do come here often. It's my favorite ice-cream parlor." I had no idea where he was pretending to be but since I was playing, I could add some stuff of mine. Besides, I loved ice cream and I remembered one time when Paz had taken me to a small parlor that made their own delicious ice creams.

"I am new here. In the US, I mean. I from Perth, Australia and I have moved only a few weeks ago." Okay, so we were pretending to be in the US.

"That's cool. I have been to Sydney once. It's a beautiful place." I said as I collected bits and pieces of what I remembered of our trip there. "You have a prominent accent too. I wondered if you were from there once."

He nervously rubbed his neck and the smile that never left his face changed into a sheepish grin. "Ah, well, yeah. There can't be done anything for that."

"That's pretty cute, I guess." I blurted before I could stop myself. Our eyes crashed, my full of embarrassment, his full of humor as he raised his one eyebrow. I hoped he hadn't taken it literally. I should not mingle truth with drama.

"Thanks. You're pretty cute too." While I blushed the brightest shade of red, he looked pleased with himself.

"So, uh," I racked my mind for some question so that we could keep this conversation going. "Er, how come you decided to move here?"

"I got a scholarship to one of the finest art school here. I couldn't miss the opportunity. Its name is LSFA. You might be familiar with the name."

"Actually, I go to the same school." At least, I did, I thought remembering my old school, Loxve School of Fine Arts. A lot of my dad's friends' kids went to that school and he assumed it'd better for me too, not realizing it would only fuel my dream of becoming like him one day. He would probably have homeschooled me.

"That's wonderful," he exclaimed, sounding really pleased with this small information. "It was my second day today but I didn't see you. I had no idea how I missed that unique hair of yours. Are they natural or you colored it?"

"Uh, they are naturally like that," I told self-consciously even though he wasn't judging me. I ran a hand through my hair, subconsciously pulling them back so that there would be less attention on them.

"Hey," Dylan's hand shot forward capturing mine. "They are pretty just like you. It compliments your green eyes and the blush." On the cue, the blush returned back furiously. What happened to the Dylan I knew? Was he saying all this to make me better or he really meant it? I didn't know what I would do if he wanted to say all those things to me.

"T-thank you." I smiled hesitantly while avoiding his gaze.

"Do you wanna come with me somewhere?" He asked unexpectedly.

"Where?" I asked, not knowing if he was seriously planning to take me somewhere with my broken ankle.

"Just a park not far from here."

"I can't walk. My ankle is broken."

"I can carry you, you know." He said with a mischievous smile that challenged me to say no.

I didn't take it well and in the end, Dylan succeeded in doing what he wanted. He made a big deal of showing me the park that was just his living room while he carried me in his arms around the house and brought me back to the room. Instead of setting me on the bed, he made me sit on the cushions.

"What're you-"

He cut off my question by putting a thumb on my lips. "I have just kidnapped you for a dinner date. You can't say no. By the way here's the apology for not telling you this before." He once again caught me off guard by kissing my lips with his finger between as a barrier. I had no idea something like that would frustrate me for all the wrong reasons. When I should be mad about him kissing me, I was more annoyed why he didn't remove the finger. It was like the death of Lord Canterville in the book The Canterville Ghost. He died out of starvation when he couldn't reach the food that was just a whisper away because chains were tying him back. I didn't want to die because I couldn't kiss Dylan. That would be pathetic.

Still a little stupefied by our almost kiss, I missed Dylan serving food on my plate and filling my glass with orange juice. I even forgot that I was not supposed to eat anything. I took one bite and everything was put behind the magical taste of the casserole dish. It wasn't until later, after he washed the dishes and returned, I realized what he had done. Actually, what he had made me do.

As soon as he entered and spun around, a pillow greeted his face. I was absolutely mad to contemplate my moves before throwing a pillow on his face. But who cared? He always did it. Manipulator jerk! Everything he said, he did was just to get me to eat. I thought I was going to be sick.

"You tricked me again! How could you?" I pointed my finger at him. All he gave me was a shake of his head.

He good-naturedly picked up the pillow that quite didn't hit him because he had dodged it swiftly in time and tossed it back toward me. I caught it out of reflex. He put out the lamps before turning on the Christmas lights and slid in the bed beside me. It was the first time when Dylan had sat on a bed with me already occupying it. The distance, or lack of it, was more unnerving than that thought.

"No I didn't," he refused calmly as wrapped his fingers around his muscle tee and took it off. I didn't get the time to protest before his sweatpants came off too.

"What are you doing?" I shrieked, already putting the matter of lying behind me. What he was doing right now by taking off his clothes was my main concern. Dylan without clothes on the same bed as me under the same covers was not a good idea. It all was happening too fast that I didn't even know if my reactions were working right on time.

"Nothing that you should be worrying about," he said but I was not convinced. I had every reason to be. We were alone in a room on the same bed with him minus clothes. No one would even listen to me if I screamed for help. With a broken ankle, I was more helpless than ever. How far would I make or before he'd catch up with me? Not much far. Dylan had kidnapped me and though I didn't know the reason, I should not trust him. Maybe he had brought me for the same thing I was thinking right now. What was stopping him? No one. Who would blame me that I was terrified? No one.

"I-I won't sleep with you." Tears that were hard to hold back fell before I had thought of crying. I had no idea how this was coming to this end. For all the bad things Dylan had done, never in my wildest dream had I taken him for a-a...