Page 42 of Playing the Backbeat

Fuck, is she about to cry? What the fuck, I thought she’d be stoked.

“Deanna, are you a survivor?” I whisper. It might be because I want to build anticipation. It might also be because Dee’s a little scary and I don’t know how the fuck she’s about to react to this.

She pauses before letting out a screech so loud, my eardrums ring. All that ear protection for years playing the drums, all wasted.

“Holy fuck, Dylan.” She launches herself into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her shoulder is an inch away from ramming into my jaw, her arms wrapping so tightly around my neck, I have to force an inhale. I’m all too aware of every inch of her body pressed tightly to mine, and I remind my brain to keep my thoughts in the platonic roommate realm. “Bestroommate ever. I take back all the shit-talking I did to the girls last weekend.”

“What are you talking ab—”

“Shhhh.” She slaps a hand over my mouth and I smile against her palm. “Don’t ruin the moment. I’m going to say something nice, with zero expectation for you to return the favor. A once in a lifetime for me.” She takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Dylan. This is…this is really sweet.” Her smile drops quickly and she points her finger in my face. “But don’t think that this guarantees you my vote.”

With that, she flings herself backward, a blurry Dee-shaped tornado whirling into her room before the door slams shut. “Ahhhh,” she screams. “What do I wear?”

***

“She’s a menace.”

“She’s an inspiration.”

“She’s a survivor.”

I do my best not to roll my eyes at the side conversations happening around me. Everyone…and I mean everyone…is falling over themselves to vote for Dee in this final council, like I knew they would.

There’s no world in which Dee doesn’t approach this amateur’sSurvivorgroup with the same ferocity she approaches everything.

Naturally, she was cutthroat as shit. When she saw me making friends in the second-to-last challenge, I finally became her target. After doing well in the obstacle course and trivia rounds, she sabotaged me in the event I feared the most…the stupid, fucking puzzle.

But seeing her now, downright giddy. Confident and sexy. Charismatic and charming. Playful and bold. It feels like theDee I know is still in there, underneath the one who has shown her face more recently, a little insecure, unsure, and full of self-doubt.

A part of me revels in the feeling of her showing me her genuine self. I don’t want her to think she has to act for me, but I hate seeing her doubt who she is and her value. It’s nice to see that carefree smile again, even if it’s just for a game.

A game she just fucking won.

I can’t help but smile and slowly clap, standing last to join the rest of our council. The votes were overwhelmingly in Dee’s favor because…well, of course they were.

She lets out a shriek and celebrates with a dance unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, her smile beaming. Then she directs all that sunshine at me, the sight nearly knocking the breath out of me.

Dee runs full speed in my direction, leaping into my arms and nearly strangling me with her koala-like grip. I nearly groan at the friction of her thighs wrapped around my waist. She pulls back, holding my face in her hands, and she leans in.

Holy fuck is she about to kiss me?

I dig my fingers into her skin, pulling her closer before she leans to the side, dropping a quick kiss on my cheek. My lips part on a soft exhale, disappointment nearly tipping me sideways, off balance as she jumps out of my arms.

Fucking idiot. Of course, she wasn’t going to kiss you. Get a grip.

Dee’s attention is pulled away just as quickly as the other competitors gather around to congratulate her. I step back, waiting along the fringes of the group for her to make her way to me once the celebration winds down.

“So…be honest. Did you vote for me?” she says, nudging me with her elbow.

“Dee, you always have my vote.”

“Good answer. Now, I can share my winnings with you. Dinner’s on me.” She holds up a gift card to one of the best burger places near our apartment. I mean, her apartment.

“I can’t let you buy your own birthday dinner.”

“Oh come on.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “I wouldn’t even have this gift card if you didn’t sign us up for this.” Her smile falters for a second. “Seriously, thank you. I think I probably would have wallowed at home feeling a little sorry for myself if you weren’t there to pull me out of my funk. I owe you.”

“For the record, I like ice cream. If you’re planning on returning the favor.”