“No.”
Bree blinked at the curt dismissal, making her blurt out, “Why not?”
He raised a brow, making her feel like she was wrong for asking in the first place.
Was she?
It felt like in the space of a second, the Dylan she had spent last night with had been replaced by a cold-hearted jerk. Was this another one of his issues acting up? Or was this a new facet of the rock star asshole syndrome that she was seeing for the first time?
“I’d really like to go,” she said finally, trying not to sound like she was being whiny or demanding.
“I’d truly rather you didn’t.”
By his cold tone, it appeared like she had totally failed.
“Can you tell me why you don’t want—-”
“Can you tell me why you suddenly want to join me now? I’ve invited you a lot of times in the past but you never said yes.”
“But that’s because I wasn’t your girlfriend then,” she answered honestly. It was challenging to keep her voice even and free from the hurt she was feeling, but she managed it.
He’s fucked up. He’ll straighten out soon enough. I love him. He loves me. This will work.
Bree could come up with a hundred more excuses, but they all became senseless at Dylan’s next words.
“If you want to come with me today, be certain it is not to make it appear as if I am indeed on your leash in order to assuage your insecurities—-”
“Is that really what you think?” she cried out. Was she saying that after all these years of loving him, he really thought she was no different from a brainless groupie who only cared about the fact that he was a rock star?”
Dylan simply shrugged before turning his back on her and starting to dress. The silence was damning, the tension rising with every second that passed without either of them saying a word.
This was for the sake of their relationship, Dylan told himself as he took one of his blazers out of the closet and shrugged into it. Steeling himself, he turned to face Bree and the hurt look on her face made him feel defensive.
She started to cry, too, and it reminded him of the way he cried when he was young – the way his father cried for what was happening and the way his mother never cried.
“Is this how it’s going to be all the time?” Dylan heard himself shouting. It was like someone had taken over him, and it was bent on destroying Bree’s love before his love destroyed her.
“Things don’t go your way and you use your tears against me?”
The words had her breathing hard, trying to stop the tears from falling. “It’s not like that!”
“For fuck’s sake! If you really want to go that bad and tail me—-”
She was so mad and angry she couldn’t bear to look at Dylan anymore. Wiping her tears away, Bree said flatly, “If you’re going to put it like that, then thanks but no thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
BY NIGHTFALL, BREE had calmed down as well as come up with a hundred more excuses to explain why Dylan had been such an asshole this morning.
Technically, it was their first morning after – or at least the first they had shared together and it could have frightened him off, Bree reasoned to herself.
She just needed to give him more time and soon, he’d realize that pushing her away would never solve things.
By asking a favor from Saffi, Bree already knew that their recording session for the day was over and the entire band was already at a nearby complex, where the fans meet was being held.
The parking lot was full, and Bree had to double-park hers a block away before heading to the back exit. She showed her ID as an official Minuit Rouge employee, which Dylan had given Bree on her fifteenth birthday and replaced every year.
Inside, it was pure chaos, which Bree had expected. The fans meet had turned into an impromptu party, with everyone heating up the dance floor. The place was all gold light and dark shadows, with streaks of light from incandescent overhead lights bouncing on the walls and floor.
The music consisted of the band’s entire discography since their debut, and it blared so loudly from the speakers Bree knew it was impossible to shout for Dylan’s name or any of the other band members in hopes of finding them.
In her shirt, jeans, and sneakers combo, Bree was not just underdressed but looked pathetic compared to most other women around her.
Knowing Dylan loved being in the limelight, she simply made her way to the front and center. Sooner or later, she was sure she would see him—-
And she did.
Only, he was with her again.
They were dancing. They were just dancing. She knew that was what others would say, that others would think she was overreacting.