First impression

    Mars’s schedule was pretty empty, since he retired as a dancer. Dylan devised a plan to “coincidentally” meet Mars. The only place he would be other than his bedroom would be at the pool at one in the afternoon, so he brought out his swimming suit and towel and searched for his sunglasses, but couldn’t find them. He must have lost them. Dylan figured he should just go and buy a new pair, now that he didn’t have to pay for rent.

    Dylan eventually found his way out the gigantic property. He strolled down the street, and as he was nearing an intersection, a car made a sharp turn, almost hitting him. Angry, Dylan walked over and knocked on the car window. The driver did not open it.

    “Hey!” Dylan shouted. “Hey, can you hear me? You almost hit me! You should be more careful on the road!”

    The windows were all shaded, and he could not see who was in the car, but when the driver finally rolled down the window, immediate regret set in. It was Mars. Mars McKenna. 

    “My bad,” Mars said, half heartedly and kept driving. Dylan ran in front of the car to stop him. How dare Mars sepak so impolitely? Shouldn’t rich people have class? “What is this? Do you want to get hit?” 

    “Forget that,” Dylan said. “You almost cost me my life, now you owe me. Give me a ride to a convenience store.”

    “Fine,” Mars replied. “Get in.”

    As Dylan opened the car door, his heart began to beat faster. He was wondering what Mars McKenna’s face looked like up close. Was he just as good-looking? He closed his eyes, not wanting to admit he was curious.

    You’ve got to be kidding me, Dylan Cha, he thought. Why are you curious about that? Are you in your right mind- 

As he opened his eyes, he saw that there was a scar covering the left side of Mars’s face. The scar made his skin paler and his eye lifeless. Meanwhile, the ride side of his face was still gorgeous. Tanned skin and a dark olive green eye.

“What,” Mars said. “Don’t want me to give you a ride anymore? Thought so.”

“No,” Dylan replied. He had to make a good impression in front of Mars. He had to prove that he was a genuinely kind person. “I was just thinking about how pretty your eyes are.” 

Dylan screamed on the inside, asking himself why he said that. If Sicilia heard that, she would officially conclude that Dylan was gay. But the truth was that he meant what he said. Mars’s eyes, even the left one, were both so insightful, as if they held so much knowledge and sadness at the same time. Dylan smiled the same smile he gave to Michelle and sat down in the car.

Why was his face like that? Were all his photos photoshopped? There was definitely something strange going on here. And… was Mars really gay?

Mars cooly drove with only one arm which added an unnecessary amount of white\-boy privilege to his look. His other arm was covered by a plaid luxury brand scarf. Dylan tried not to look at Mar’s face too much, both because it would be rude and because he wanted to forget the fact that his jawline was also so very stunning. This left the car ride silent for a while, with Dylan thinking about the scar and Mars just sitting there  effortlessly looking handsome.

“To let you know, I really am not some sketchy person trying to steal your car,” Dylan said, trying to break the silence. “Here\- my business card.”

Dylan stayed there, holding out his card for Mars, but Mars did not take it. 

“Haven’t you got a brain?” Mars suddenly became impatient, even though it seemed the one who should have become impatient was Dylan. “This isn’t a self\-driving car, you know. I can’t just let go of the steering wheel!”

“Could you use your other arm? Or can I put it somewhere else?”

“I don’t have a left arm, happy?” Mars closed his eyes and scrunched up his eyebrows. “Just put your card in the cup holder.”

Why did guilt have to chase Dylan down at this moment? He felt so small, thinking about what he had done. He was hired to be a friend, not an enemy! But still, this was not new. So many love stories he had written had similar fights. 

*Think*, Dylan! *Think*! 

Then, the perfect line popped into Dylan’s head that would resolve this and possibly even uncover some secrets.

“I’m so sorry. Could I treat you to a drink to make it up to you?”

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