The commons are empty now, the lights dim,
the subtle splash of the fountain the only sound in this
make-believe evening. As we follow Ellington and Maclin, Dylan’s
hand slips into mine and he starts to slow his pace, pulling away
from the others. At the fountain, he trails his fingers through the
water and lingers, tightening his grip so I have to wait for him.
“Dylan,” I say softly, tugging at his hand. “Come on, hon. It’s
been a long day.”
“Just a few minutes,” he says. He
glances up at Conlan, lost in his own thoughts as he drifts by—he
doesn’t realize we’re not following anymore. “I just need you all
to myself for a little bit.” Dylan wipes his damp hand on his leg,
then takes my wrist, his cold touch warming as he rubs beneath the
sleeve of my jumpsuit. Pulling me closer
