“It’s a Claddagh necklace. The Swarovski crystal represents your birthstone. April is actually diamond, but until Toxic Gods makes it big, I rob a bank, or win the lotto, that’s all I can afford,” he half-jokes.
“It’s perfect. I love it.” I fling my arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.” I dust kisses all over his stunning face, and my heart is fit to burst. “Help me to put it on,” I say, easing out of his embrace. I remove the silver diamond choker around my neck, stowing it carefully in the inside zip pocket of my purse. Dillon looks at it, frowning, and I can guess where his mind has gone to. “It was a birthday present from my parents,” I softly say, and his puckered brow smooths out.
I hold my hair up so he can fasten it around my neck. “All done.” He presses a kiss to my temple as I finger the delicate chain.
“Take a picture of me wearing it. I need to show Audrey.”
Wordlessly, he takes my phone and snaps a pic, and I send it to my bestie.
Grabbing more drinks, we join the rest of Toxic Gods and our friends, spending an enjoyable few hours dancing and listening to music. Dillon is attentive, and he never leaves my side. He even insists on coming with me to the bathroom, keeping me company as we stand in the long line. Back outside, I burst out laughing as he and Jamie search through some large bushes at the side of the field, emerging with twigs and leaves stuck to their suits. “Laugh all you want, but we have tequila,” Jamie says, waggling his brows and raising the full bottle.
“They have tequila at the bar,” I remind them.
“We have to pay through the nose for that,” Jamie says.
“Not all of us are loaded Americans,” Dillon says, and his words slice a layer off my happiness.
He makes the odd cryptic remark about money at times that irritates me. I mean, it’s not like he grew up poor. Ash has explained the challenges that come with running a farm and supporting a large family. I know things haven’t always been easy, but none of them ever went without, so I don’t understand why Dillon has such a chip on his shoulder. It’s unfair I should be punished for growing up in affluence. It’s not like either one of us has gotten to choose our families.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess we just have different outlooks on money.”
“If it bugs you that much, maybe you should pursue the band’s interests more thoroughly.”
“It’s not about being rich per se.” He sways to the music with me in his arms. “And we get by. We’re lucky we have a regular slot in Whelans, and we’re starting to earn decent money from streaming our EP.”
“Then what is it?”
He shrugs. “My own hang-ups, I suppose.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I know it’s not fair to take it out on you. You didn’t choose your upbringing, and you’re not flashy with your money or mean either.”
“I know I’m fortunate, and this is cliché, but money doesn’t guarantee happiness. Look at my ex. He had every material possession, yet he would’ve given it all up to have his mom back, his dad present, and a loving family environment.”
Dillon snorts, and a sneer pulls up the corners of his mouth. “Please don’t use him to make a point. That dickhead had everything handed to him, you included, and he doesn’t fucking appreciate it.”
“Woah.” I run my hands up his chest. “Where is all this coming from?”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and air whooshes out of his mouth before he tightens his arms around me, burying his head in my shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just pissed on your behalf. He hurt you, and that’s not okay with me.”
I relax against him, running my fingers lightly through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
He lifts his head. “It’s okay. I know he was a big part of your life. I know you don’t intentionally do it. I understand he’s tied to a lot of your memories.”
Dillon’s mood swings give me a headache sometimes. He seems to veer from one emotion to the next and back again all within the same minute. I don’t call him on it, though. I don’t want anything to ruin this incredible night. “Thank you for understanding.” Stretching up on my heels, I kiss him. “But let’s not talk about him anymore.”
We drink shots of tequila and dirty dance in the crowd, kissing and groping one another, while drunken revelers party hard around us. By the end of the night, bodies litter the ground and groups of disheveled students sit on the grass outside tents, smoking, drinking, and laughing.