glanced toward Layne. “Look at our plans for tonight and tomorrow. Why wouldn’t I think about her?”
“Plan on making a trip down the aisle?”
Dylan closed his eyes, again, shutting out the world, the car, and the sunshine filtering through the clouds. “Yeah. The day she steps out of my dream. Until then, I’ll deal with bachelorhood.”
Another snort echoed through the car. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not at all,” Dylan shot back as his eyes flew open. “It’s just that some of us actually want to settle down.”
“Why settle for one when the world can be your playground?”
“I’m getting too old for the playground.” Dylan’s cheeks tightened at the thought.
“Bro, you’re in the wrong profession for the white picket fence dream. You gonna give up the band, too?”
“If I had to choose between her and the band, then yes. I’d give up the limelight in a heartbeat and not have any regrets.”
“Do you still have a set?”
Dylan flipped him off.
“Screw you.”
“How can you be so infatuated with a chick that isn’t real?” Layne questioned. His eyes switched from the road, to Dylan, and then back, again.
“She’s beautiful. That’s all.”
Dylan sighed. If he confessed the details to Layne, his best friend would think he was nuts.
“Man, don’t lie to me. What’s a best friend for if you can’t divulge your darkest secrets? God knows, you know plenty of mine.”
Dylan did know Layne’s secrets. Like how he had slept with a groupie when he and his ex were still together. Still, he didn’t want to get into the specifics of his dream with Layne.
“Drop it, Layne. You’re making something out of nothing.”
“Bullshit!” Layne barked. He smacked the steering wheel. “You jumped up from a dead sleep earlier. What’d she do? Bite down too hard?”
Dylan growled. “That’s not funny.”
If only he could wipe that smug look off Layne’s face with his fist. Maybe he’d release some frustration in the process of teaching him some manners.
As Layne’s body quaked with laughter, Dylan knew that beating his ass would be pointless. Layne was a player. Probably always would be. But he’d had Dylan’s back since they could walk. They couldn’t be any closer even if genetics were involved.
“If I tell you, you better not laugh, or I swear I will kick your ass,” Dylan warned, emphasizing the last three words.
Layne drew an “x” over his heart.
Dylan’s gaze left the car and ran along the guardrail. All thoughts went back to her . “The dreams seem real. I don’t know I’m sleeping until I wake up. I can feel her, smell her…I almost had her name before I woke up earlier. She said I’d find out soon enough.”
Silence claimed the space between them. Only the hum of the motor or swoosh of a passing car intruded into the awkwardness.
Regret nudged Dylan like a dog seeking its master’s attention. Layne thought he was nuts. That was the only explanation for the crooked smile his best friend tossed his way.
“Damn!” Layne finally spoke. “That is…the gayest thing I’ve ever heard. I swear, I think you’re turning into a chick.”
“Oh, you’re dead!” Dylan said, gritting his teeth. “If you weren’t driving my vehicle, I would kick your ass. The minute this thing goes into Park, you had better run. Fast!”
“Sorry,” Layne said as he shook with laughter. “I couldn’t help it. Lighten up, dude.” He punched Dylan’s arm.
Dylan brushed off Layne’s fist and scanned the passing buildings. His stomach dished up some smack talk as the scent of basil and garlic filled his nose.
Italian.
There was nothing like fresh baked garlic bread and a hearty slab of lasagna. Not to mention pizza. He could probably eat pizza every day.
“Wanna grab a pizza or something?” Layne asked as Dylan turned in his direction.
“You read my mind.”
“Cool. I’ll buy. Take it as a peace offering.”
“You can buy,” Dylan laughed.