"Sun gonna shine though
Some day in my back yard.."
Runaway Blues by Ma Rainey

Sometimes, my brain fails to apprehend Dylan's expressions and looks, and the look he gives Trent is one of them, before he casts his attention to the monolithic wall who's making his way to us, never offering me any of his scant attention, as if avoiding me altogether.

“Evans.” The bulky guy–Chavez–greets Dylan, before his eyes make a quick run over us, his eyes terminating their journey the moment they fall on me.

He stares at me with a vicious, dissolute gaze, his eyes openly scrutinizing every part of me. “Now I remember you.” He drawls, and all of a sudden, I feel several eyes landing on me, before I feel Trent's arm sneaking around my shoulder.

“Oh Chavez, you met my girl already?”

What?

His hand tightens around my shoulder, urging me to play along, yet I still don't get why he's doing it in the first place. Just before I pinpoint my raddled gaze at Dylan, I remember the strange look he gave Trent, and everything suddenly sinks in.

He wants me to act like I'm with Trent. But what's the reason behind it?

“Your girl?” Chavez’s quizzical gaze moves between me and Trent, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You let your girl hang out with him-” he beckons with his hand to Logan, a displeased look on his face. “At midnight?”

My eyes involuntarily move to Dylan this time, failing to stay reticent, only to find him looking at me with wrathful eyes, leaving me to wonder what I've done wrong.

“We're all friends, and I trust him with my life.” Trent affirms, looking insouciant, yet I still feel how uptight he is through our contact.

Chavez lets out a dry chuckle, looking at me with a dark, revolting look. “I wouldn't trust anyone with a girl like her.” He admits, staring into my eyes for a few laborious seconds, before he trains his attention on Trent. “Feel free to call me when you get bored of her.”

“Watch your mouth, Chavez.” Trent threatens through gritted teeth, and I can't help but gawk at him, only to find him drilling frizzling holes into the massive wall standing next to Dylan. “You're talking about my girlfriend.”

Chavez holds up his two boxcar hands in surrender. “I was just joking.” He professes, tilting his head to the side. “Who would've known? Trent is finally in a serious relationship! Congratulations, man.”

Trent only nods in response, his eyes wary, before he lets go of my shoulder, only to lace his fingers with mine instead, while I sit here, utterly stupefied.

Dragging his eyes away from me and Trent, Chavez orients them on Dylan instead, whose enigmatic eyes have a thousand ward, protecting his impenetrable thoughts. “Let's get down to business.” He motions with his head to an empty table in the furthest corner.

It's almost unnoticeable, but I see how Dylan's jaw clenches, before he obliges, and follows him away.

He looked.. pressured. Almost helpless.

“What was that all about?” Hannah questions, her confused gaze moving between Trent and me.

Trent looks at her with an apologetic countenance. “I'm sorry. I really had to do that. I'll explain to you later.” He assures her, yet the bafflement never leaves her face.

“You okay?” Logan asks me, his voice weaved with concern.

I nod, before I shake my head again. “I don't understand anything.” I confess, swallowing the chunk in my throat.

Trent squeezes my hand. “Don't worry about it. It's Dylan's business.”

“No, it's not.” Alexa speaks for the first time, her voice hard like steel. “If they're together, then he has to tell her everything.”

“We're-” I start to say, but Trent interrupts me.

“It’s none of our business, Alexa.” Trent's voice comes out just as hard.

“I agree with Alexa.” Logan speaks, his eyes poring into Trent's. “No one likes to be kept in the dark, and we can all see how conspicuous she is to Chavez's eyes.”

“Actually, if you ask me, he likes her.” Claire avouches, looking at me with a weirded-out look, before she levels Trent with a challenging look. “And I have a feeling he didn't believe your little game. Everyone knows you're not that.. into commitment.”

“My my, is it Claire shaming me for sleeping around? Aren't you the one who was fucking Logan minutes ago in the restroom?” He queries, sarcasm spewing from his voice.

Claire and Hannah gasp, both looking horrified. “How dare you say such a thing in front of outsiders?” Claire splutters.

“Outsiders? You mean me?” Hannah asks, her face full of hurt.

“No, she means me.” I state, tittering.

“Why don't we move back to the main subject?” Logan suggests, sounding impatient.

“Why don't you mind your fucking business?” Trent hisses.

“Someone has to tell her, and I don't mind volunteering.” Logan shrugs.

“Let's be honest here. You want into Candice's pants, just like you got into Linda's. Can't you fucking let him sort his shit out without ruining everything?” Trent almost yells, his face red with pent-up anger.

“Don't compare Candice with Linda, bro. We both know they're nothing alike.” Logan avers. “Besides, what can I say? Linda was a whore.”

“She was.” Claire agrees.

“Claire.” Trent warns through gritted teeth.

“What? He was stating a fucking fact, and we all know he's right. Dylan was brainwashed, and now he's being selfish by keeping her in the dark.” She spouts, beckoning to me.

“Wow! Are you really concerned about Candice's well-being?” Trent mocks a stunned face.

Alexa snorts. “No. She just wants Candice to run for the hills, so she can have Dylan to herself.”

Claire gasps. “Alexa!”

Alexa, on the other hand, doesn't pay her any attention. “However, I agree that Candice has to know.”

I lean back in my stool, watching them as they all talk about me like I don't exist.

I watch their friendship falling apart, or was it even solid?

The amount of malice they're looking at each other with, suggests one thing: There's no such a thing as the Folks. It's a false name. They all act like friends.

And acting eventually comes to an end.

I finally slap my hands against the table, unable to listen to any more of their tussles. “I'll go to the restroom, and you can go ahead and continue talking about me like I don't even exist.” With that, I stand, making my way to the hallway.

“Wait!” Alexa yells. “I'll come with you.”

I halt for a moment, watching Trent as he stops Alexa with a hand around her forearm, but she wrenches her arm away, before she flips him off, and traipses to me.

Straying into the restroom, I don't fritter away any time, splashing water all over my face. Everything feels wrong. Ever since I've met Dylan, and there's a constant turmoil I'm encompassed with, and in exchange for every shred of trust I feel for him, there's more than tenfold of doubt.

“Are you okay?” Alexa inquires, her voice not louder than a whisper.

I looks up, and meet her eyes in the mirror, spying her glossy, hazel eyes. “Are you?”

She stares at me for what feels like a lifetime, before she shakes her head, wiping away a tear that has escaped her eye. “Never been okay, will never be.”

I don't know what to say. Sometimes, even though you can relate so much, you still don't find the right words to console others. You just watch them hurt, the way you always do.

She treads toward the vanity unit, giving me her full attention. “Sometimes, I just envy Dylan for having a loyal friend, for having the charisma, and for his ability to have everything and everyone whenever he wants.” She sighs, dragging her hand down her face, and that mere movement makes my head jaunt to every time Dylan did it. “But then again, I remember how fucked up his life is, and how it's going to affect everyone he solely considers to be with.” Her eyes look dead, entirely out of any chords, and just before she drops the bomb, the door bursts open, displaying Dylan with a ferocious look on his face.

“Leave us alone, Alexa.” He orders straightway, his voice fresh from the North Pole.

“Dylan-” She starts to talk, but he doesn't even let her finish.

“Leave. Us. Alone, Alexa.” He looks at her, his eyes filled with so much hardness and malice, that she conforms, opening the door to leave.

She stops momentarily, looking at the girls who were about to step into the restroom; however, Dylan doesn't bide, slamming the door in their faces, before he turns around to look at me with a gaze hard like bullets, approaching me. I don't move. There's no place to go, and if there's someone who's supposed to be furious, it's me. He stops in front of me, his intimidating height transcending mine with at least one foot, but I don't let him see how affected I am, plastering an astute look on my face. “When did you hang out with Logan?” He asks, his voice arctic enough to freeze an entire city.

I intend​ to laugh, but somehow, the sound comes out choked. “Seriously, Dylan? Do you think you're in a position where you can question me and act jealous?” I ask, shoving my index finger at his face. “Who the fuck is that guy? And why is everyone ranting about me being in danger because of him? What are you hiding?”

“What I'm hiding is none of your business.” He fires back, his voice cutting like a sharp scimitar.

“It is! What is it to him if you want to see someone?”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I don't want to date you or anyone else, so everything is good.” He shoots, and his words slice through my ego, and shall I say my heart? “You were right. We should forget about last night, and every other night. If you don't want to be played, steer clear of me and my friends. Follow what you came to Seattle for.” With that, he gives me his back, parading toward the door, before he stops, not looking at me. “Oh, and by the way, I didn't ask about Logan because I was jealous, you just like to flatter yourself, like any other girl.” He shoots the last arrow, before he turns the knob, and leaves.

I don't fall in a heap onto the floor in tears like any other girl would. I don't walk after him to hurl insults right back at him. I just run into the toilet and throw my guts up.

I was just like the rest of the girls he slept with and painted, before he dumped them.

I was one of those girls, who thought she wasn't like the rest, only for a guy to come and crush her ego upon her head.

_________

A knock against my front door startles me, and I look away from the TV screen, pondering whether I should get the door or ignore it, and then remember that Hannah always forgets her keys. Emitting a loud huff, I leisurely walk to the door, before I turn the knob, only to be faced by Logan. He immediately flashes me a flirtatious smile, one that doesn't incite anything but disgust. “Aren't you going to invite me in?”

“Not really.”

He looks perplexed for a second. “Now, Trent's words have stirred up some wariness toward me, right?” He asks, shaking his head. “I just want to talk.”

“About?”

“Chavez.”

I consider slamming the door in his face, but after brief contemplation, I realize that he's irreproachable. My problem is with Dylan, and I'm not going to say 'yessir” just because he warned me against interacting with his friends. With that thought established, I step aside, pulling the door open with me.

He strolls to the couch, before he takes a seat, looking at me from afar. “Why didn't you tell me that you saw him at Nights?”

I sigh, taking a seat in front of him. “Why don't we skip the initiations? Who's that guy, and why would Dylan hang out with him if he's dangerous?”

“I wouldn't call it hanging out, but he's kind of forced to do so.” He explains, leaning back against the back of the couch.

I frown, angling my head to the side. “What do you mean forced?”

“What exactly do you know about Linda?”

What does Dylan's ex-girlfriend have to do with this?

“That she's dead?” It comes out as a question.

“She committed suicide.” He declares, a dark look flitting over his face for a heartbeat.

“Suicide?” I whisper, the blood draining from my face.

He nods. “Yeah, she committed suicide, after Dylan-” He doesn't get to finish, before the doorbell rings.

Huffing, I stride to the door, ready to castigate Hannah for forgetting her keys again. However, when I open the door, a pair of hazel eyes are what I'm met with.

He looks impeccable, just like he always does. Groomed, expensive clothes. Crisp, woodsy cologne. Spiffy, silky hair. Impassive, calm face.

A dark, dangerous aura.

Perfect, yet so flawed.

"Hey.” He dares to greet me with a smile.

A fucking smile!

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice curt and unfriendly.

He winces, his beautiful face contorting in discomfort. “I came here to-” He looks around, as if searching for some heavenly help, before his eyes stop dead on something behind me.

Or shall I say someone?

His eyes immediately darken with malice, the feral wolf in him emerging. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

__________

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