Angel

55

I’D SEEN THE effect of Dylan’s singing before. It would stop a rabid dog in its tracks. And it had the same effect now.

“When I look in your eyes, I see the ocean,” he sang, and the food fight started moving in slow motion.

“When I look in your heart, I see myself.

When we’re apart, I’m just a shadow.

Can’t you see, oh can’t you see,

We were meant to be…”

Glancing around quickly, I saw that the kids had stopped, freezing in position as if they were playing statue. The security guards had stopped too, and were standing still, listening to Dylan, mesmerized by his beautiful voice. The diners who had been fleeing the chaos paused and turned around. Then Dylan locked his eyes on mine.

“You and me, we’re a team,” he crooned.

“You and me, we’re a dream…

Is this real? Are you what you seem?

I can tell you, you can count on me.

Can’t you see, oh can’t you see,

We were meant to be…”

I can’t describe the effect his voice had on me—it was like soothing honey, calming my nerves. And it wasn’t just me—people were clapping, the food fight was forgotten, the security guards were beaming as if they expected Dylan to whip out an engagement ring and pop the question.

The only person decidedly not mesmerized and charmed was… Fang. He watched Dylan solemnly, not angry, not tense. But definitely not like honey had just dripped all over his heart.

Dylan reached down, took a rosebud from the vase on the table, held it out to me, and smiled. His stunningly good looks made me weak.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

I couldn’t even speak. I took the rosebud and made my way carefully through the tables out of the restaurant, while behind us people clapped. I didn’t even glance back to see if anyone was coming with us.

Dylan pushed through the revolving door, then we were out in the balmy San Diego air. I turned to him.

“Thank—” I began to say, but he gently put his hand on my neck, bent down, and kissed me, smothering my words.

“I’m here for you,” he said intently, looking into my eyes.

And I couldn’t speak.