Did I Mention I Need You? (The DIMILY Trilogy Book 2) by Estelle Maskame Read Free Book Online

due to the fact that by now it’s 7:45PM. Rush hour is long over.
    “Here it comes,” Tyler says, and he has to raise his voice in order for me to hear him clearly over the sound of the train as it approaches. The ground is definitely shaking now. I can feel it vibrating beneath me as the noise drills in my ears, and when the battered train pulls to a stop by the edge of the platform I’m scrunching my nose up.
    Tyler pushes me onto the middle car of the train the second the doors slide open. There are several people seated and a few hovering by the doors. Tyler remains standing, so I shoot him a puzzled look.
    “We’re getting off in three minutes,” he says. “Literally.”
    “Where at?” The car is awfully silent, so I keep my voice quiet in fear of disrupting the peace of the people around us. “Grand Central?”
    “Yeah. And then we get the shuttle to Forty-second.” He’s holding on to a railing and I’m holding on to the one opposite, and we’re both staring at each other. The corner of his lips pulls up into the smallest of smirks. “So, dinner first?”

5
    My eyes glaze over the moment we step out onto Forty-second Street. In fact, I think they do everything they possibly can: glisten, squint, widen, stare. There’s so much to take in, and as Tyler places his hands on my shoulders and guides me around the corner onto Broadway, the first thing I notice is how bright and vibrant everything seems. It may still be light out, but it all still looks incredible. At first, I’m not too sure what to do or say. I’m stunned into silence as my eyes drift from left to right and back again. It seems not all movies set in New York are misleading, because the sight before me is an exact replica of all those scenes set in Times Square that I’ve seen so many times before. And that’s exactly what this all feels like: some sort of incredible movie, like none of this is actually real.
    The huge neon illuminated advertisements are flickering around me and it makes me wonder how you can come here if you have epilepsy. There are people everywhere. It’s mesmerizing, and I don’t even care that I totally look like a tourist right now. I’ve been drunk on the image of Times Square for so long that I can barely contain myself now that I’m actually here.
    For a second I must forget the fact that Tyler’s still standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, because I pull out my phone and immediately start taking pictures. They’re not the best, my hands so shaky that half of them are blurry, but I’ll send them to Mom and Dean later nonetheless. I snap some shots of the LED billboards, some of the bustling crowds, some of the sky, which only seems cool because it’s the New York sky. Everything seems cooler over here.
    Even the yellow cabs fit my perception of Times Square perfectly. They’re skimming past each other dangerously, screeching to halts as the drivers slam on their brakes for potential passengers. The traffic lights are shifting between colors, pedestrians rushing to cross over to the other side of the road. There’s a strange smell in the air, like a mixture of hot dogs and peanuts.
    Times Square.
    It’s real. It’s actually real.
    With a grin on my face so wide that it’s beginning to hurt, I spin around and pull Tyler toward me, ensuring the neon lights are behind us. I bury my body into his warmth and hold my phone up. I’m much smaller than him; my eyes are in line with his mouth. He tilts his head down, resting the side of his face against my own.
    “Smile,” I breathe, and as I do, I take the picture. The flash dazzles us for a few moments, but when my eyes return to normal, I glance down to admire the image.
    Tyler’s smile matches mine. It’s just as wide, if not wider, and there’s something so attractive about it that I could turn around and kiss him right now if I was brave enough to even attempt something like that. I think being here in New York with him has made me go