Page 71 of Playing the Backbeat

I shrug. “I think so, but I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Please, Dylan,” I huff a laugh. “I’ve never even gotten close to that level of commitment in a relationship.”

“But you would if you found the right person.”

My nerves are wired, my knee bouncing underneath the tablecloth as I skirt around the question again. I don’t know why I don’t want to answer him. It feels like he wants to know more than he’s asking.

“Maybe I’m not the one people end up with. I’m the smart-ass, too-much-to-handle mess who refuses to bend.” I spin my glass in circles on the table. “Not exactly the easiest to build a relationship with, but I’m okay with that.”

“Are you serious?” I lift my gaze to find his blazing hot. It takes me a minute to place it.

Holy shit, he’s pissed.

“Why are you mad?” I ask, shocked.

“Why do you always do that? Act like you’re this huge burden? Like being yourself is some kind of inconvenience and no one would dare to dream of tolerating you to stick around?”

I press a palm over my heart, feeling like he just stripped me bare.

“I don’t do that.”

“You just did.”

“I’m just being honest. I can be a lot. I’m single. I’ve been laid offandfired in the last six months. I can’t even get an employer to commit to me,” I say, playing off his accusation.

He’s seething, and I honest to God can’t figure out why.

“So, it’s all a joke? Jobs? Relationships? Because it seems to me like you write them all off before they have a chance of going anywhere.”

Okay, now he’s starting to piss me off.

“Excuse me? It wasn’t my choice to be laid off from the job I’ve worked my ass off for. It wasn’t my choice to get fired for sucking at something new. It wasn’t my choice to have my last date flop. If you don’t recall, that wasyourdoing, not mine.”

“Jesus, Dee. Not everyone is trying to stifle you. Not everyone is an obstacle. Do you think the worst of me? Of yourself?”

“At least I’m honest. What you see is what you get. I have no filter; there are no surprises. I’m not hiding my mess. But you? You just bury it all inside andactlike everything is fine. How about you try being honest with yourself and the people around you for once?”

Maybe that was a low blow, but he’s gotten under my skin and now I’m pissed.

“I am fucking honest. You act like you have to do things the hard way every time. It’s not a bad thing to just go with the flow. Not everything has to be a battle.”

“Yeah, well,going with the flowis about to result in you letting your dream slip away. How about you tell your boss what you want—what you deserve—and fight for it.”

“That’s different.” His face is on fire. “You know what I think?” he asks, jaw clenching.

“Oh please,” I say with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Enlighten me. I’d love to hear your astute impression of my fucking problems.”

“I think you’re too scared to let anyone get close. To let anyone hurt you. So you hide behind humor, sharp barbs, and sarcasm. Attacking first before anyone can attack you. You keep people on the defensive so you never have to be.”

“So, you think I’m funny?”

“Christ. Deanna, way to prove my point.” He runs his fingers through his long hair. “You are something fucking else. You know that?

“If it bothers you so much, then why be friends with me? We can just be roommates. And when you find your own place, you can go back to being the equally sarcastic, charismatic asshat who also uses humor to deal with the shit you’re wrangling around inside your brain. You’re a hypocrite. We’renodifferent, and that is what’s pissing you off right now. Listen, I’m sorryyour boss is fucking up your dreams right now, but don’t take your shit out on me.”

There’s a long pause between us and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. “So you think I’m charming?”