HUNTER

"Thank you, gentlemen. I'll see you tomorrow," I said, exiting the office.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a deep breath. This was big. Very big. If everything went according to plan, which I had a good feeling it would, everything would change. Forming a partnership with VEX Productions, one of the biggest nightclub entertainment companies in the country, would expand my business further than I could ever imagine. And could possibly be the one thing to force me to leave Los Angeles and everything behind with it.

Relocating my life was a lot to think about. But what else was left here to convince me to stay?

I walked towards the front exit, stopping when I noticed a familiar face sitting at the end of the bar. The bright flow of happiness that I used to see around her was significantly dimmed. Her elbow was propped up on the wood, letting her head rest in her hand. Her eyes sadly looked at the glass in front of her. If it wasn't so easy for me to spot her, she would've looked like any other sad person, drinking alone on a Sunday night.

The last time the two of us were alone, things didn't end the way I had intended. It was stupid to ask her to kiss me. I just needed to see if that look was still there because I had a feeling it was. She was just too scared to let me see it.

Everything went downhill from there. She thought I loved the game more than her. I didn't. There was nothing in this world that I loved more than her. But, I knew her and I wouldn't work. Dylan was supposed to be with someone like Charlie. I hated how I described her to him. A clingy one-time fuck. If anything, I was the one clinging to us. I thought convincing Charlie of that would push them together and force her out of my reach.

However, Dylan was not someone who was easy for me to let go of. Because I never wanted to let go of her in the first place.

I hesitated over what to do. I could either do the right thing by leaving her alone and walking out of the bar. Or the wrong thing by approaching her and ignoring her clear desire for me to stay away. Something about the way she currently was, drowning her apparent sorrows, made me think that she shouldn't be alone.

She was dressed differently than I had ever seen her before. Normally, without even trying, she was put together. But now she looked dishevelled, compared to her usual standards. She dressed in a pair of jeans, with a large oversized sweater. Her hair was in a low, messy bun, with strands of hair falling in front of her face. And her eyes appeared swollen, almost as if she had just been... crying.

"Dylan?" I asked, leaning against the bar, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes peered up from her glass with an evident look of distaste as she caught sight of me. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

I did my best to hold back a grin hearing her snarky comment. "No, I don't. Pure coincidence, I promise." This was the first time in a while that I meant that promise.

Dylan scoffed under her breath, tapping her fingers against the glass.

"Can I sit?" I asked, motioning to the empty chair.

"If I say no, you'll just sit there anyway," she mumbled against the brim of her glass before taking a sip of her drink.

I sat down, making sure my chair was at least an arm's length away from hers. "Are you okay?" I repeated.

"Why do you keep asking that?"

"Because this drinking-alone-at-a-bar thing doesn't seem like your way of spending your night."

"Things change." She responded shortly.

"Do you want to talk?"

Dylan let a sarcastic smile show, raising her glass to her lips. "Not to you."

I need a drink, I thought, motioning over the bartender.

"Scotch. Neat," I instructed to him, "And another of whatever she's having."

The bartender looked towards Dylan, raising a brow, before working on the order.

"Thanks." I could hear her faintly murmur.

"You look like you could use another."

"How observant."

A freshly poured drink appeared in front of me. The bartender seemed hesitant to place the one ordered for Dylan in front of her.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Dylan shrugged, "Long enough," she said, bringing the new glass to her lips.

"If she throws up," the bartender quietly whispered, "It's on you."

I waved him off and checked my watch. 7:45. When I entered just over an hour ago, I definitely did not see her. She couldn't have had that much to drink already. Or at least, I hope she didn't, considering how fast she was drinking from her current glass.

"So, how's everything with Charlie?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Dylan seemed surprised by the question. "Charlie?" she repeated.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "Aren't you guys dating or something?"

"Shouldn't you know what's going on with your best friend?"

I briefly hesitated with my response, "We don't talk much these days."

"Do you two just avoid each other in the apartment?"

"He moved out."

Dylan's eyes went wide, a nice change from the glare she had been sporting since my arrival. "Oh." She said, quickly adding, "If it was because of-"

"You?" I couldn't hold back a smile, "Don't worry. Not entirely. I guess we just have that type of friendship that's better when we aren't around each other all the time."

"Well, if it makes a difference, we don't talk much anymore either."

"Oh?" I did my best to suppress the joy that wanted to escape. "So is this why you're here? Sad over your breakup?"

She rolled her eyes, "No. I have bigger things to worry about. And while you're at it, you can cross yourself off the list too."

I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket and grabbed a spare napkin.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing my name down so I can cross it off," I said, writing down both mine and Charlie's name, striking a line through it. "How's Abby?"

"She's fine." Her eyes narrowed once again, "Why?"

"Just wondering if she could be the reason you're here." I pretended to study her expression. "I'm going to say I can cross her name off too."

"I'm not playing this game with you."

"What game?" I innocently asked.

"This." Dylan leaned forward, tapping on the napkin, "You trying to use some lame detective skills to figure it out." She leaned back in her chair and motioned to the bartender for another drink.

"You might want to slow down with those."

"And you might want to shut up," she snapped, "Ever think about that?"

"I quite like the sound of my voice."

"I promise, you're the only one that likes it."

A smirk twisted onto my lips, "If memory serves me right, I'm pretty sure we both know that's not true."

"You must have a shitty memory then."

I couldn't deny it. I liked it when Dylan was feisty. I was aware this wasn't going to end the way I would like. But it was still enough for me to enjoy. However, the amount that she was drinking, just in the short period we had been sitting together, was starting to become a growing concern.

"Does Abby at least know what's going on?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Because I-" I quickly cut myself off, changing my answer, "Because I know this isn't you."

"Are you done now?"

"Done what?"

"Caring." She spat, anger dripping from her tone, "I know you only show it when it's convenient for you. But if it's alright, I'd like to wrap up this session."

As much as her words were painful to hear, I knew they were true. If I honestly cared, I would have stayed away from the beginning, just like I had promised. I wouldn't have sent her that drink. I wouldn't have gone up to her and started talking. And I definitely wouldn't let my feelings get the best of me countless times over the past few months.

"So, if you're not stalking me," the sound of her voice pulled me from my current thoughts, "Why are you here?"

"I had a meeting."

"A meeting?" She mocked, "What are you doing to do this time? Open up more bars around where I live?"

I was glad to see some of the anger had disappeared.

"Wasn't my plan." I leaned forward, "However, now that you mention it, maybe I should just open one up in your building. Save us both some travel time."

"I wouldn't waste your time."

"Why not?"

"Won't be there much longer," she huffed under her breath.

That piqued my interest.

"It has something to do with your apartment."

"What does?"

"Why you're here," I said, taking a sip of my drink, "Don't your parents own your apartment?"

Her eyes avoided mine, which told me I was onto something.

"Are you moving?"

Silence.

"To a different building? No. To a different state?" I paused, carefully watching her expression. "Did something happen? Did your dad lose his job? No. Did your mother spend all his money on botox? Plastic surgery?"

"Would you stop?" She snapped.

"Oh, come on! I know I'm close!"

"I dropped out of school!" She yelled, causing the few patrons in the bar to turn their heads.

"You dropped out of school?" I repeated, "When?"

Dylan lowered the sound of her voice, "Beginning of the year."

"Then why are you moving out?"

"They just found out," she whispered, "And that apartment was conditional on me being in school. So now, I have a week to move out."

"Oh."

"Aren't you going to gloat over it or something?"

I raised a brow, "Gloat over what?"

"You were the one that wanted me to drop out. You brought it up constantly."

"Yeah, but, not so I could gloat about it. I told you that because you were good at art and you loved it, and you hated being in school." I paused, "You thought I'd gloat over that?"

"You're pretty fucking arrogant sometimes. So I wouldn't put it past you." She drained the last remaining drop from her glass. "Well, this has been fun," Dylan said, stumbling to her feet, "I'm assuming you'll be covering my tab."

"Where are you going?" I asked, looking over my shoulder, to see her walking towards the door. "Dammit," I cursed under my breath, pulling out my wallet. I quickly took out some cash and placed it on the bar before hurrying out of my seat.

Stepping outside, I quickly looked around, catching sight of Dylan only a few feet away.

"You are a slow walker when you're drunk."

Dylan groaned, "Can't you just fucking leave me alone now?"

"I'm not letting you walk home alone, Dylan."

"Fine. But, I don't want to talk to you."

Less than thirty seconds of silence passed before Dylan spoke, "Why haven't you called me Angel this entire time?"

I smirked. "I thought you said you didn't want to talk."

"Okay, well now I do. Shit changes. I think we've made that discovery plenty of times tonight."

Shrugged my shoulders, I let an honest answer slip, "I know it bothers you when I call you that. And these days, my presence alone seems to bother you. So I thought I'd try to limit how much I pissed you off tonight." I grinned to myself, "Why? Did you miss hearing it?"

"No."

"You sure about that?"

"You're pissing me off now."

"Would you like to go back to not talking? That would be a shame, considering how much you love hearing my voice. In fact-" I looked to my side, cutting myself off when I didn't see her. "Dylan?" I called out, looking to either side of me. Turning around, I spotted her only a few feet behind, standing in front of a restaurant.

"Dylan?" I asked, approaching her, "What are you doing?"

"You took me here," she said quietly, "On our first date."

I followed her gaze, unsure of what to say.

"Life was so much easier then," her voice whispered, "Now everything is all fucked up."

"It can't be that bad."

She turned to look at me, "Really? My parents are forcing me out of my apartment and giving me a week to move out. I'm getting cut off. I have no place to live, no job," she paused. "And I'm the only one to blame for it." She turned her head back to the restaurant. "I wish I could go back and do everything all over again."

Me too.

I placed my hands on her shoulders. "Come on," I said, turning her body, "Let's get you home."

I guided her down the street in the direction of her apartment, placing my hand on the small of her back. Begrudgingly, I let my hand slowly fall back down to my side as we continued to walk in silence. After Dylan's recent admission of wanting to go back in time, I knew there was a lot more going on in her head than she was expressing. And pushing that was something I did not want to do. I had done enough of that already.

Feeling something touch my hand, I glanced down to see Dylan's fingers intertwined with mine. By the plain look on her expression, she hadn't noticed. Or, maybe she was too drunk to care. Either way, this small amount of touch was not something I was willing to give up. I was quite sure this would be our last time seeing one another. Given everything that had been revealed tonight, Dylan needed less drama. I knew that included me.

Sadly, when you love someone, you need to know when to let them go. Or some bullshit like that. I fucking hated that saying.

"Do you have your keys?" I asked as we stood outside her apartment complex.

Dylan reached into her pocket and placed them into my hand. I unlocked the front door, as slowly as I possibly could, wanting to saviour every last moment with her. We walked inside, through the lobby and up the stairs. I was surprised that her hand found its way back to mine. Maybe she was having the same realization I was.

This was finally the end of us.

Standing outside her door, I remembered all the times I had sat on the floor, waiting for her return. I couldn't help but smile to myself. I was even going to miss doing that. If that was even possible. Slowly turning the key, the sound of the bolt unlocked the door. I turned towards Dylan, forcing a smile.

"Thanks," she said quietly, placing her hand on the doorknob, "Hunter?"

"Yeah?"

The look in her eyes was much softer than they had been the entire night. That angelic glow of hers appeared to shine once again as if a halo of light was surrounding her body.

Damn, now I was the drunk one.

Her teeth pulled on her bottom lip, driving me wild. How I wanted to kiss her, touch her, feel her skin against mine. I pulled my eyes away in an attempt to restrain myself.

All hope was lost when I heard her ask,

"Do you want to come in?"

Who was I kidding? I could never let her go.

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hehe sorry to throw you off with the gif. no kiss... yet. maybe? who knows?! i don't! ;)

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