Chapter Eight

I wanted to believe that I heard Dylan wrong, I desperately wanted it to be my mind playing tricks on me. I wanted to believe that Dylan hadn’t just told me to not leave, he hadn’t just told me to stay. I wanted it to be my ears playing tricks on me but it wasn’t. Dylan had really told me not to go, he had really begged me not to leave.

But, why?

Was my massage really that good or did he want me to stay for other reasons?

If so, what’s the reason?

“Um, I’m not sure I heard you correctly, sir.” I said.

“Hera, you don’t have to use that word with me. I’m not that much older than you are.” His eyes were still closed and I found myself wondering what word he was talking about.

“I’m not sure I get what you mean, sir.”

“Stop addressing me as ‘sir’” he breathed. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

My lips formed an ‘o’ shape and I just sat there thinking about what to do. I mean do I continue massaging his temples or do I leave like I initially wanted to do?

“I, um I thought you were asleep.