An impish grin lit Taryn's face as Dylan followed suit and ordered a drink, resting her chin on her upturned palm as she waggled her eyebrows at him tauntingly. The good mood that had settled over he was comforting, for she was getting sick of constantly second guessing herself and being anxious with worry.
The waiter and his opinion truly held little weight for Taryn, and she ignored him as gleefully as she had ignored Dylan when she'd first met him. Rude people weren't worth her time, or effort.
Inclining her head, Taryn's dual-coloured eyes flashed across the room before they returned to Dylan patiently. “Holiday,” she explained shortly, combing her fingers through her own hair comfortingly. “At least that's how it started. Now...” she paused, trying to figure out how to explain it, “Now I can't fathom leaving. It would feel like I was leaving everything behind, when it's quite the contrary.”
No matter how many times Taryn told herself that it had nothing to do with Dylan, if she were to be completely honest she didn't want to come to terms with the fact that she would never see him again if she left. It brought a stupid, nonsensical ache to her chest that wouldn't let itself be willed away.