1986: Why Can't This Be Love (Love in the 80s #7) Read Online Free

with.
    I studied Dylan. He was handsome, and from the way he’d stood up to Corey, he was chivalrous, too. It was a devastating combination.
    “Thank you,” I muttered, easing away. As tame as he seemed, I didn’t need a repeat of the alley scene. “Um … I came with a friend. I guess maybe I should go find her.”
    My feet felt heavy when I left him, reluctant. “Thank you again,” I repeated, my eyes locking with his, “for what you did for me.”
    “Sure.”
    Quickly, before I could overthink it, I rushed him, planted a kiss on his stubble-roughened jaw, and then stepped back. Too quickly, stumbling.
    Spinning, I left the bowling alley, winding my way through the parking lot. Shoes thudded after me, but oddly, I didn’t fear the guy who shadowed me.
    “You following me?” I asked, not looking back.
    “Just making sure you make it to your friend okay,” Dylan answered, keeping his distance.
    “And I should trust you? When it comes to men, my instincts are obviously terrible.”
    “We’re all guilty of crushing on someone, and then finding out they’re not what we expected.”
    “Really?” I kept walking. “Who disappointed you?”
    “Mary Ellen Rayburn,” he answered, without missing a beat. “Total thug wannabe.”
    His quick response surprised me, startling me into pausing. “Thug?”
    “Where I’m from, that’s what I am, babe, or what people assume I am anyway. Mary Ellen attends a private school and wanted a walk on the wild side.”
    His words struck too close to home.
    Sighing, I faced him. “Yeah, well … I guess I was looking for wild, too,” I admitted. “I just thought wild would feel better. Not scare me.”
    Neon lights washed out our faces, casting them in odd colors. We breathed in wet cement and exhaust fumes from the cars passing on the highway.
    Dylan’s eyes met mine, but I didn’t hold his gaze. I searched the parking lot, my heart sinking. “What the …?” I stumbled forward, past Dylan, to step inside an empty parking space.
    He followed me, so close his arm brushed mine. “Your friend?”
    I groaned, the sound dismal. “We were parked right here.”
    “You rode together?”
    “Yeah.” I covered my face with my hands. “Maybe she thought I left with Corey?”
    We stood for a long time not saying anything.
    “You can use the phone in the bowling alley,” Dylan offered, gently taking my elbow. “To call your parents.”
    Oh God, my parents!
    Shaking him loose, I headed for the bowling alley.
    He watched me, his gaze heavy on my back, before jogging to catch up.
    At the door, he opened it for me. “You know, you don’t have to call home if you don’t want to.” Eyes darting away, he glanced into the night. The breeze lifted his hair, the harsh lighting accentuating the rough angles of his face. “You could chill here for a while.”
    Stunned, I froze, every nerve in my body on high alert. “You’re asking me to stay?”
    It’s not that I thought I was unattractive or anything. It’s just, on any given normal day, I wasn’t the girl boys looked at first. Those were girls like Lisa, girls with a wicked fashion sense, less strict parents, and a later curfew. Girls who didn’t have the monchhichi doll their mothers gave them when they were twelve still sitting on their bed.
    Dylan’s hand slid up the door to grip the frame, his body leaning toward mine. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
    His eyes mesmerized me, the interest in their depths holding me prisoner. I heard music, the kind of music that should play right before a boy kissed a girl, her toes curling in response.
    “Dylan!” a voice hollered, shattering the moment. A burly man with dark hair and an even darker scowl stomped toward us. He was tall and broad, the sleeves rolled up on the shirt he wore, revealing hairy forearms. “What’s this I hear about a fight? I leave you alone for a few minutes, and everything goes to hell? This isn’t Cleveland. Did you get the photo booth fixed at