She Never Looked Back

Dylan Tate squeezed his glass until it shattered in his hand, startling everyone.

For a moment, the room was thrown into confusion.

"So who is he?" one classmate pressed.

Another nudged Nathan Naylor, our former class president. "Do you know?"

The more everyone gossiped and speculated, the more charged the atmosphere became.

When it was almost time to wrap things up, Nathan got to his feet and suggested a group photo to smooth things over.

Without saying a word, everyone started nudging Jessica Slater and Dylan together. Tipsy, Jessica fell into Dylan's arms. Whether she meant to or not, she left a lipstick mark on his collar.

Dylan was a complete clean freak.

Lipstick was out of the question. If I accidentally got even a drop of latte on anything he was wearing, he'd take it off in disgust and throw it away.

He also hated anyone getting too close to him, even me.

Apparently, the woman he'd never gotten over was the exception to every rule.

In the shuffle, someone pushed me next to Dylan. Maybe it was just habit after seven years together, but he instinctively moved a foot away from me.

Someone teased, "Already keeping your distance from other women, huh?"

"So Jessica's the only one who gets past the force field?"

"I ship them! I ship them!"

Just then, Nathan squeezed his way over to me.

He spoke softly, his voice close to my ear. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

I nodded. "I need some time."

After the group photo, someone started egging Dylan and Jessica on to pose like a couple for a photo.

"Let Ashley take it. She studied photography and was always great with a camera."

The camera was shoved into my hands before I could refuse. I raised it, focused, and framed the shot.

Just as I pressed the shutter, Jessica suddenly stood on tiptoe and kissed Dylan on the cheek.

Everyone burst out laughing.

I stood there, the hard edge of the camera digging into my palm.

After the reunion, Dylan drove off first. I crossed three intersections and waited for him at the fourth. That was our routine.

Half an hour later, his car pulled up to the curb.

Dylan rolled down the window. "Get in!"

The tension inside the car was suffocating. He rested one hand on the wheel and made no move to pull away.

"Why did you lie and say I'd spent ten years trying to win you over? Everyone there is well-known in our circle. What if people believe it and start spreading it around? How am I supposed to show my face after that?"

I managed a faint smile. "Are you worried people will talk, or are you worried Jessica will find out? And what makes you so sure I meant you?"

Dylan froze for a second, then smirked. "Who else would want you?"

He was joking, but every time, I couldn't think of a thing to say back.

Whenever I wore makeup, he'd say, "Who are you trying to impress? That makeup looks awful on you."

Whenever I wore a dress, he'd say, "It's too short. It makes your legs look thick."

Whenever I dyed my hair, he'd tell me, "It makes you look older. It doesn't suit you."

Eventually, I stopped wearing makeup, kept my hair short, and went out looking plain and drab.

But today, I heard him call Jessica sophisticated, gentle, and elegant. He said she looked good in anything.

So it wasn't that I wasn't pretty. He'd just never thought I was.

When I said nothing, his tone softened for once. "Everyone already knows about Jessica and me. If we go public now, it won't look good for her."

That was when I remembered that today was supposed to be the day Dylan told everyone we were together and proposed to me. He'd also promised Mom that we'd get married before her surgery.

I managed a bitter smile. "What about getting married? You promised me."

"Once Jessica leaves, we'll get married."

I wanted to ask if Mom's surgery could wait that long, but there was no point.

When he noticed the corners of my eyes turning red, he leaned closer and gently brushed away my tears with his thumb. "Come on. I'll make it up to you later."

His phone buzzed. The call connected automatically, and Jessica's voice came through.

"Dylan, I... I think someone's following me. What do I do?"