I couldn’t look at Dylan, not until I made sense of all these feelings.

Thankfully, Sam came to my rescue again when he suggested we go downstairs to make a start on those Desperate Housewives episodes. I quickly gathered my things, and we went to the flat. Dylan walked close beside me, his fingertips brushing mine when he bent to whisper in my ear, “Are you all right?”

I nodded fervently. “Absolutely fine.”

“You’re very quiet.”

I flicked my gaze to his for a brief second. “Got a lot to think about.”

We reached the flat, and I let everyone in. Yvonne would be at work until the early hours, so I wasn’t worried about her walking in on us. I let Sam fire up the DVD player as I went into the bathroom to scrub the soil from my fingers.

“You’ve always got dirt under your nails.”

Dylan gave me a fright when he spoke. He stood in the doorway, watching me.

“Yvonne says I’m constantly busy tending to some plant or other. Dirty fingernails are an occupational hazard.” I tried to sound casual while his words echoed off the walls of my skull.

My other two favourite things are how your eyes look like sapphires in the sunlight, and the way you laugh when someone says something really funny.

Seriously, was he trying to steal my heart and run away with it? Sell it for the money to start a life away from the Villas?

“That wasn’t a criticism. It suits you. You always smell like green things. Leaves and wet earth.”

“Bet that’s another of your favourite things,” I muttered under my breath.

“What’s that?”

I let out a frustrated groan as I dried off my hands. “Seriously, you need to stop being so nice to me.”

He tilted his head. “Would you prefer me to be mean?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “If you’re so dead set on leaving after you finish school, then I would absolutely prefer you to be mean.” A pause as my voice became a whisper. “It’ll save me the broken heart.”

I tried to walk by him then, but he grabbed my wrist. With his other hand, he tilted my chin up, forcing my gaze to his. He didn’t breathe a word, just continued to study me with his microscopic eyes. A long, long few moments passed, and I was surprised Sam didn’t come to check we hadn’t fallen through the plughole.

When Dylan finally spoke, his words created a yearning ache in my gut. “There’s a simple solution for that, you know.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Come with me.”

For the tiniest second, my heart stopped beating. I shook my head and walked away from him, dismissing the idea. He followed me to the kitchen. Conor and Sam sat in the living room, watching us walk by.

“I can’t do that. I have to stay for Gran.”

“That’s ridiculous. Your gran wouldn’t want you to waste your life in this place. I know she wouldn’t.”

I barked a laugh. “You spent one evening with her and now you know her so well?”

“Yes, actually. It’s easy to see the good in people, just as it can be easy to see the bad.”

“Well, I don’t consider a life here a waste like you do.”

As soon as the words were out, I knew they were a lie. Dylan’s speech from earlier was still burning through me. It sparked a fire, a dissatisfaction with the shitty lot we’d been handed. I hated it. I didn’t want to feel dissatisfied. I wanted to feel happy, content . . . positive. That was the person I’d always been.

Dylan O’Dea was changing me in all sorts of ways, he was showing me new ways to think, and as futile as it might be, I fought against it tooth and nail.

“You’re wrong. It is a waste,” he said, voice firm. He so thoroughly believed in his own propaganda, it was maddening.

My lips formed a thin line. “Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one.”

With that, I grabbed the stash of junk food Sam and I had set aside and walked out into the living room. I dumped the bag of crisps and chocolates down on the coffee table, then grumpily told Sam to hit play.

He raised both eyebrows and uttered a quiet, “Oookay then,” before he tapped the button on the remote.

To my annoyance, Dylan didn’t give me a wide berth. Instead he came and sat right next to me, folded his arms, and stared at the TV screen. I knew he’d probably prefer to be watching a documentary on the Discovery Channel, instead of some trashy U.S. comedy-drama. A little of my irritation faded when he watched it anyway without complaint.

And that’s what true friends did. But I had to pause at that thought, because before now, I hadn’t thought of Dylan as my friend. But he’d become one, and one so important to me. We weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend, and he wanted me to leave with him. Did he really want that?

I didn’t say a word for almost four episodes, and Sam kept casting curious glances my way. I wasn’t the sort of person to have spats or be angry in general. It took an awful lot to piss me off, but the way Dylan thought I should just leave my gran so I could swan off and live an exciting life was infuriating.

I wasn’t my mam.

I wouldn’t be selfish like her and run away from my responsibilities.

I was going to let Yvonne have her chance. Good, kind, selfless Yvonne, who took me in when my mam would’ve handed me off to social services to live in some group home. She deserved to fulfil her dreams.

And I, well, I could be happy here. Once Dylan’s opinions faded and became no more than a distant, forgotten memory, I was sure I’d be happy.

I’d focus on what I had and be content, rather than yearning for things in other places.

“Well, I think I’m ready to hit the hay,” Sam said with a yawn. “No more housewife shenanigans for me tonight.”

“Yeah, I better get home, too,” Conor added. “School tomorrow, and all that.”

I walked them to the door, giving Sam our customary hug goodbye and shooting Conor a brief parting smile. I expected Dylan to leave with them, but he hung back. He looked like he had a lot on his mind.

“Can we talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Us.”

I cocked a brow. “Is there an us?”

“There is for me,” he replied gravely.

I blew out a breath and closed the door, then walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “I’ll make tea then.”

“I don’t want tea.”

I glanced at him, frustrated. “Goodness, Dylan, you don’t have to drink it. It’s only tea. You can sit and stare at the cup for all I care.”

“Okay,” he said and pulled out a chair.

I turned around, fiddling with mugs and spoons and hoping he’d talk so I wouldn’t have to. He didn’t, so I let out a weary sigh as I turned to face him, grasping the edge of the countertop.

“I was happy with my life before you came along.”

His expression was stoic. “People who think they’re happy aren’t thinking hard enough.”

“So, you’re saying I was blissfully ignorant?” I questioned as my brows drew together.

“No. I’m saying you were too accepting. You should strive for more than what you can get for free, Evelyn.”

“What if the free things make me happy?” I went on, heart racing. Something about how he sat there, so serious and troubled, made me want to close the distance between us and show him that happiness could be easy when you let it.

“It matters to me. I want more for you.”

I shook my head, exasperated. “Why?”

“Because . . .” He paused, turmoil in his expression. A long silence elapsed, and a kaleidoscope of thoughts passed over his face, like cars going different directions on a motorway. “Because I can only see my dreams clearly when I look through you first.”

My insides blared on loudspeaker, while my voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

Dylan gave a sad laugh. “I just feel like any achievements are pointless unless I have you by my side.”

In a heartbeat, I saw an entire life, a timeline of seventy or more years, with the only constant being Dylan’s hand in mine. It was a cool idea, to have someone to share your years with, no matter where your path took you.

But what if our paths weren’t one, but two?

What if I was following the yellow brick road, while he was embarking on a journey into the deep dark woods?

All these thoughts created an urgency in me. I wanted to capture this moment, drink it down like sacred water you could only ever taste once.

My body moved faster than my thoughts. I crossed the room, pulled Dylan from his seat, threw my arms around him, and kissed him like my life depended on it.

When we broke apart for air, he stared down at me, eyes glistening. “What was that for?”

“For being you,” I whispered. “Even if you do make me want to pull my hair out sometimes.”

I started to push him in the direction of my bedroom, but he grasped my elbows, breathing hard. “Wait, wait.”

“For once in your life, Dylan, stop overthinking.” I went up on my tiptoes to kiss him again. His lips welcomed mine for a brief second before he let go of me completely and backed away. He walked out into the living room, mumbling swearwords as he paced.

I frowned.

Didn’t he want me?

“What’s wrong?” I asked, quiet.

Dylan stood very still, his eyes on mine before he closed them. When he spoke, it all came out in a rush. “I want you, Evelyn. I want you badly. I can’t count the number of times I’ve imagined it, but I’m not . . .” A growl. “Bloody hell.”

I frowned, worried now. “You’re not what?”

He grunted his frustration as he levelled his eyes on mine. “I’ve never done this before, okay?”

I stared at him, agape. It was the last thing I expected. I mean, a boy who looked like Dylan being a virgin was definitely rare, but then again, he wasn’t your typical teenage boy. He was busy pondering the meaning of life, while other boys were out smoking joints and getting handjobs from girls in back alleyways.

My heart clenched as I looked at him, and I didn’t think he could claim much more of my silly, sentimental organ, but he did.

Maybe he claimed all of it.

A flush coloured my cheeks when I replied, “Well, that makes two of us, because I’ve never been with anyone either.”

He opened his eyes. “You haven’t?”

I gave a soft laugh. “No need to sound so surprised.”

He grimaced. “That’s not what I meant. You’re just so beautiful, and this place—”

“You’re beautiful, too,” I countered.

His frown formed a deep line between his eyebrows. “Men aren’t beautiful, Ev.”

“Yes, they are,” I whispered and stepped forward. I took each of his hands in mine and gave a squeeze. “You are.”

His eyes flickered between mine as he brought his hands up to cup my face. His voice was a whisper, “Who made you?”

I didn’t have answer to that question. None of us really knew who made us, but whoever made him broke the mould.

He brought his lips to mine, kissing me carefully, gently, like I was a fragile thing that might break under too much pressure. Then his tongue slipped inside my mouth, massaging in a tender dance. I moaned, and he pushed me forward until my back hit a wall. A whump of air escaped me, but I relished the way his hands moved from my face and down my neck, over my shoulders, then down again to wrap tight around my waist.

We walked backward, never breaking the kiss, until we reached my bedroom.

Dylan pulled away to suck in a gasp of air as he urgently questioned, “Yvonne?”

“At work until late.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. C’mere.”

He came, and I kissed him more confidently than before. I felt like I knew what I was doing now. I knew his mouth. I knew he liked it when I moved my tongue along his, and when I nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip.

He lowered me onto my bed and tingles skittered along my spine at the look he gave me. It was very . . . lusty, but also full of tenderness. I lay with my head against the pillow. Breath heaving as I stared at him, I pulled my top up over my head. Dylan’s gaze lowered from mine as he took in the sight of me in my bra. He mumbled something I couldn’t quiet hear then came forward and gripped my hips.

He pulled me until I was flat on my back, my thighs on either side of his torso. Biting his lip, his eyes wandered over me once more. His brow was furrowed when he murmured, “Let me . . . try something.”

“O-okay,” I stuttered and watched as he unbuttoned my jeans.

Dylan O’Dea was unbuttoning my jeans.

Half of me couldn’t believe this was happening, while the other half was very, very aware that it was.

When he had them off, he moved to my knickers. I noticed his hands shaking very slightly as he drew them down over my hips.

“What—”

“Please, don’t say anything,” he begged. “If you do I might lose my nerve.”

I squeezed my lips shut, amazed by his nervousness and how tentative he was. Dylan wasn’t normally a hesitant person. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. He slipped his fingers under the elastic of my knickers and drew them down my legs. Next, he reached under me to unclip the back of my bra.

A few seconds later I was naked under his close, attentive gaze. “You’re perfect,” he said, in awe. I didn’t bother to correct him with all the reasons why I wasn’t. I was happy to pretend. Then, a rush of anxiety flooded me, because I was completely nude. Things were getting really fucking real, but I didn’t let it overwhelm me.

“Dylan.”

“Hmm?” he murmured absentmindedly, his attention on my body.

“Kiss me.”

“I . . . have every intention,” he replied, but he still wasn’t looking at my face. Instead his gaze was pinned between my legs as he pulled my thighs apart and settled his shoulders between them. He studied me like a painting on a wall, or a menu at a particularly expensive restaurant.

My pulse skyrocketed when he ran a finger down my centre, one eyebrow twitching, head tilted. Intrigue, curiosity, and stark arousal coloured his expression.

I took a mental picture for my memories, at the same time starting to hyperventilate.

“What are you—?”

My words became a sharp, surprised yelp when Dylan lowered his mouth and kissed me in my most private of places. He made a deep, raspy sound in the back of his throat. Then, capturing my gaze in his, he dragged his tongue right along my centre. It flicked at the place where the pleasure was centralized, and I let out a high-pitched whimper.

“God,” I breathed.

He paused, unsure. “Am I—?”

“Don’t stop.”

He heeded my request and lowered his mouth to me once more. He licked and sucked, swirled his tongue around my clit until I was fisting the sheets, hips tilted upward, needing more.

His hand moved along my inner thigh, sending sparks of electricity right through me. Every touch from him, no matter how small, set my entire body alight. He groaned, like he was enjoying this just as much as I was. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on what he was doing. I didn’t want to miss a moment. His soft, wet tongue licking me was by far the best thing I’d ever felt in my life.

It was a flippin’ miracle.

“The last time”—he breathed in between licks—“when you . . . came under me. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Funny he should mention that, because I was very close to coming again, this time on his mouth.

I trembled and clenched my thighs around him.

“I never said—”

“I know what I felt, Ev. Don’t try to deny it,” he countered and I shut up. He was right. There was no point denying it. He made me come from nothing but a few kisses and some carefully applied friction.

I let out a loud, erotic moan, a sound I’d never made before. It seemed to turn Dylan on even more because his licks became more aggressive. He swirled his tongue around my clit, and I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.

Gripping his shoulders, I stared at him, unable to take my eyes off the way he worshipped me.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Never,” he said, a sexy grin tilting his lips. “But, um, I’ve had a lot of mental preparation.”

That meant he’d been thinking about it. Thinking about it a lot.

I emitted a shuddering breath as pleasure gripped me. Dylan’s large hands were on my thighs, massaging me, exploring my skin, when my orgasm hit. It was swift and intense, much more so than the last time, and there were several waves of it. The first was exquisite, with each one petering out until I was no more than a sated mass beneath him.

Dylan rested his chin on my stomach and stared at me. His mouth glistened with my wetness, his hair askew. It must’ve been my doing, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember. His mouth was like drinking a whole bottle of vodka. You blacked out, but you knew you had a bloody good time.

“I could watch you do that on repeat for the rest of my life,” he said, awed. He seemed fascinated that he had the ability to make my body do things. Amazed that the stuff he’d thus far only imagined in his head actually worked in practice.

“That’d be a pretty sweet existence,” I said, gazing down at him tenderly.

We remained locked in one another’s gazes for a while, and Dylan seemed content to just lie between my naked legs forever.

“Not interested in moving any time soon?” I asked, playful.

He shook his head. “I think I’ve found my happy place.”

I laughed at that. “Well, it doesn’t seem fair that I’m the only one without clothes on.”

He smirked. “You’ll get over it.”

I laughed again at his cheekiness and reached down to pull his shirt up over his head. His wide, defined shoulders were a sight to behold, but he acted like his body was nothing to brag about. He didn’t seem to understand that his nakedness was just as much of a turn-on to me as mine was to him.

I was fairly sure he didn’t work out, but he’d been blessed with a natural shape. He wasn’t hugely muscular, but his biceps stood out, as did the cut lines of his obliques. I swept my hands over his shoulders and down his impressive back. He was perfect.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

“I told you, Ev, men aren’t—”

“You’re beautiful, Dylan,” I said firmly, making sure he knew it was true.

He shook his head. “If you say so.”

One day I’d make him believe it, but right now I just wanted to be close to him. Resting my palms flat on his chest, I ran them down his abs until they reached his belt buckle. I never broke eye contact as I carefully undid it, looking up when Dylan’s breathing became erratic.

“We probably shouldn’t—”

“I just want to lie here with you. We don’t have to do anything.”

Honestly, after the intensity of him going down on me, I wasn’t sure I could handle sex. But I craved intimacy. When I went to lower his boxer shorts he grabbed my hands to stop me.

“You’re eager,” he said, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

I flushed, embarrassed. Was I being too forward?

Dylan must’ve read my thoughts when he reassured me, “Don’t worry, Ev. There’s nothing about any of this I don’t like.”

I swallowed down my self-consciousness then watched as Dylan took off his last item of clothing. I stared at him a second too long perhaps, but that was only because I’d never seen a naked boy before. Naked man. And his penis was erect, but that made sense, considering what we’d just been doing. I had no idea if it was big or average, but it definitely wasn’t small.

I decided it was probably average, because it didn’t frighten me. I imagined a large penis would be pretty scary to a first-timer. And anyway, what would I do with a huge cock? I’d need a giant vagina and . . .

Jesus, Evelyn, think about something else. Anything.

My mouth dried up, and I directed my gaze elsewhere. Turning, I went to climb under my covers. I focused on the picture of Jared Leto on my wall when Dylan climbed in and spooned me from behind. I could feel all of him.

He was warm and solid.

It felt like being hugged by a bear with no fur.

Okay, that was a weird thought.

Anyway.

My racing mind mimicked my racing nerves, but when Dylan placed his hand flat on my stomach and rubbed in a soothing rhythm I started to relax.

“That feels nice.”

“You feel nice.”

I smiled to myself and turned my head a little so I could nuzzle the underside of his jaw. His hand moved to cup my breast, and I heard a light rain patter against the window. The nuzzling quickly transformed into kissing and I sighed at the melty sensation of his body surrounding me. My eyes were closed but I was very aware of his erection rubbing against the back of my thigh.

It was warm here.

And safe.

I loved kissing him.

I could kiss him forever.

If only I could.

He groaned into my mouth, and a gruff breath escaped him when he rolled us over. He grew impassioned as he settled himself between my legs and I gasped at the feel of his cock against me.

“Evelyn,” he breathed, kissing my neck and moving down to my breasts.

I yelped when he circled his tongue around my nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers.

“Oh God,” I cried.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes! Don’t stop.”

“Christ.”

“Dylan.”

“What do you need?”

“Make love to me.”

My name was a growl on his tongue. “Ev.”

He rose up and held himself above me. Breathless, he asked, “Are you sure?”

I nodded fervently. “I’m sure.”

Then I dragged his mouth to mine. Our kiss was slow and languid as his hips began to move. His erection nudged at me, and I loved the hard feel of it. He started to push inside and there was a stretching sensation. His expression was agonised. I could tell he wanted to push harder, but I was too tight. I felt a sharp pain when he slowly pushed all the way in.

“Jesus,” I gasped and gripped his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, nibbling at my ear.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep going.”

“God, this feels incredible. You feel fucking incredible, Ev.”

I was happy it felt good for him, but all I felt was sore. The pain held a pleasurable edge though, and the longer he was inside me, the more the pain faded. It was still there, but it was duller now.

I focused on his dark blue eyes, his masculine mouth and defined jaw as he moved above me. I thought about our little lives and how it took me so long to find him, even though he’d been right under my nose the whole time.

I wondered how many other people there were in the world like that. Their soulmate could be living three doors down, but the idea just never occurred to them to say hello.

I ran my fingers through his close-cropped hair. It felt soft, similar to what I imagined a cloud might feel like. My hand wandered down his neck and over the moving muscles in his back. His expression was intense, brows drawn, like he was concentrating really hard.

Concentrating on me. On us.

I think I loved him.

Something about the moment, feeling the connection between us, made me realise it was true. The words were on the tip of my tongue when Dylan let out a raspy groan, his body stilling. Heat filled me and I gasped with the realisation. He’d just come.

His body fell on top of me, and he nuzzled the crook of my neck, whispering sweet things.

“You are . . . so incredible.”

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t want to let him go. I knew I had to, but not yet. With that thought in my head I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up Dylan was gone. My bed felt empty and the space between my legs was sore. The faint morning light told me a long few hours had passed and Yvonne would be home. Dylan must’ve left before she got back though, because if she caught him I was sure I’d have been woken by the drama.

Sitting up I glanced at my bedside locker, but there was no note. I checked my phone, but there were no messages either. Nothing to show that Dylan had been here at all, except my messier than usual bed sheets.

I left my bed, took a shower, and got dressed. Some early morning gardening might help to settle my frantic mind. We lost our virginity to each other last night. It would’ve been nice to wake up with his arms still around me. Then again, I knew he had to leave. Yvonne sometimes came into my room to check on me when she got home from work. And like I said, if she found a boy in my bed, all hell would’ve broken loose.

It was a cold but bright morning when I reached the roof. No Mrs O’Flaherty or Seamus today. She was more of a mid-morning gardener and it was only six thirty. I worked for a good while before I heard footsteps approach.

When I looked up, the morning sun shone on the back of his head. It made the golden flecks in his hair glint, giving the effect of a halo. I pulled off my gloves and he smiled at me, his attention wandering from the haphazard bun atop my head, to the rumpled hoodie I wore. I’d never been much of a glam girl, not unless I was going somewhere fancy.

“Hello,” I said, my voice unexpectedly hoarse. Last night had been a big deal. It had been a big deal to both of us.

“Hey,” Dylan replied and came to sit beside me. He had a small paper bag in one hand and a thermos in the other. “I thought I’d find you up here.”

“It’s my happy place,” I said, then blushed when I remembered him saying something similar last night as he lay between my thighs.

His mouth twitched ever so slightly as he set down the bag and thermos. “I brought breakfast.”

I raised an eyebrow. That was sweet of him. “Oh.” Twisting open the thermos, I found tea, but I gasped when I opened the bag. I glanced at him, mouth agape, “Are these—?”

He nodded. “Miracle berries. I had to traipse all the way over to the south side to find them. The only place that sells them is this fancy gourmet food market.”

I smiled so wide my face hurt. “Dylan, I can’t believe you did that for me.”

His expression was serious. “I’d do a lot more than that for you, Ev.”

Those words warmed my chest as I picked up a small red berry and placed it in my mouth.

“You need to chew it up and hold it for a minute, and make sure you spread it around with your tongue,” Dylan instructed.

I did, then I pulled the wrapper off one of the sour candies he’d brought. Usually, I hated these types of sweets. My taste buds weren’t fond of sour, but when I ate the candy it tasted miraculously sweet, not at all tart.

“It’s so sweet. Incredible. You try one,” I urged, pushing the bag at him.

Dylan ate a miracle berry, followed by a candy, smiling at me all the while. “Yep, you’re right. It’s a miracle,” he said fondly.

“So cool. I can’t wait to show Yvonne and Sam.”

Dylan nodded, and we were both quiet a moment as we stared into the distance, watching the city wake up. You could see most of the Dublin skyline. The familiar buildings had always been reassuring to me. I’d never been anywhere else.

Dylan’s idea of another life, a better one, nipped at the walls of my heart, working its way into my desires. What were other cities like? The people? The culture? What if all I ever knew was this one place? Would that be that enough?

I looked at him. He still gazed outward, giving me his full profile. I studied him a moment, tracing the lines of a face I adored in spite of everything.

“Dylan?” I whispered.

“Yes?” he replied, turning to face me. I wondered where his mind had been just then. Perhaps it was years ahead, in a far-off place, enjoying a life currently out of reach. Like a child eager to hear a bedtime story, I wanted to know where that was, who he would be in the future. And I wanted to know if there was a place there for me.

“Tell me about your dreams.”