Chapter 4
I wake up with a start, disoriented, sitting up bold straight in the pitch-black room. It takes me a few seconds, to remember where I am, but then it all comes back to me. I’m in a bed, with a crazy girl, surrounded by a shrine to my best friend – a best friend who said-crazy-girl thinks is my boyfriend. It’s a tale as old as time.
I practically strain my ears as I listen to the silence. No, not quite silence, there are strange, unidentifiable noises now and then, barely audible ones, and the fact that I don’t know what any of them are only makes them seem all the creepier.
One sound in particular, although not all that loud, sounds like someone – or something – trying to get into the house. Oh God, unless it’s something trying to get out of the house, which is a much more sinister thought. If I’m being rational – or trying to be, at least – it’s probably just the sound of snow slipping from the roof, falling down in front of the window, but something about this creepy farmhouse makes me feel like I can’t quite afford to rule anything out.
The darkness has its advantages, I suppose. With the lights off it doesn’t only help me to forget that there are photos of Dylan stuck to every available surface, but I could almost forget Kitty was lying in bed next to me. I can’t see her, feel her or hear her. Although would I be surprised if she levitated above the bed while she slept? Absolutely not.
I think about what Pat said, about Dylan only being in the room next door, and I wonder if I could sneak to see him, undetected. Sure, I want to shake him, and ask him what the hell he was thinking bringing us here, but more than anything I think that a familiar face would make me feel a lot less freaked out right now.
I peel back the bed covers ever so slowly, letting the chilly night air hit my skin, and it takes everything I have to fight off a shiver. I’m scared that even the slightest movement might wake Kitty up.
Finally on my feet, I tiptoe across the room, navigating the creaky floorboards, doing my best not to make a sound. It’s a relief when I make it to the bedroom door undetected, but as I step out into the dark hallway I realise I’m not out of the woods yet.
Moonlight creeping in through a landing window illuminates the hallway just enough to guide me towards the door of the bedroom where Dylan is sleeping – thankfully there is only one bedroom next to Kitty’s room, because I can’t even imagine what would happen if I crept into her parents’ room by mistake.
The floorboards seem as though they creak even louder out here, in a way that makes me suspicious, as though they’re connected to an amp, and Kitty’s parents use them as some sort of movement detection alert.
I make it to the door, then through it, before finally approaching the bed in the centre of the room. It’s dark, but I can just about make out the bump in the covers, where Dylan is fast asleep. He has this adorable snore that he does sometimes, which drives the others on the bus mad, but I’ve always found it cute and strangely relaxing. I know it can be annoying when you can’t sleep and the person next to you is flat out, but I find it kind of reassuring when I hear sleepy noises coming from Dylan’s bunk, because it sort of sends out a signal that it’s not only possible to sleep, but okay to do so. Then again, there is also that relief I feel when I know Dylan is asleep because it means he isn’t getting himself into any sort of trouble.
‘Dylan,’ I whisper as I approach the bed, reaching out for his shoulder to shake him lightly.
I gasp with horror as I feel a hand forcibly grab me by the wrist, squeezing it tightly.
‘What are you doing here?’ an almost demonic voice demands to know.
‘What the hell?’ Dylan says, waking with a start.
He must turn on this bedside light because the flash of bright light startles me almost as much as the demon did – the demon who still has a hold of me.
Of course, now that my eyes are adjusting to the light, I can see that it’s not a technically demon at all, it’s Kitty. Kitty who in in bed with Dylan, spooned up behind him.
‘Oh my God, Kitty, what are you doing?’ Dylan asks her as he jumps out of bed, breaking the hold she has on my wrist.
Dylan turns to me, I would imagine to check that I am okay, but he’s distracted by my Ghost of Christmas Past nightgown.
‘Nic, what are you wearing?’ he asks, allowing himself a little chuckle despite the circumstances.
‘Don’t even mention it,’ I insist firmly.
‘Oh, come on, it looks great,’ he insists, almost flirtatiously. ‘I’m kind of into it.’
I wonder if he’s doing this for Kitty’s benefit, joking, or if he really has unlocked some kind of kink he didn’t realise he had. With Dylan, you never really know.
‘ She’s not supposed to be in here,’ Kitty says firmly.
‘Neither are you,’ Dylan reminds her. ‘Kitty, I really appreciate you giving us somewhere to stay, and I really appreciate your support, but I’m in a relationship with Nicole. I love her. I’m so sorry if that’s difficult for you, but you have to respect my space.’
My eyebrows raise slightly. I have to say, I’m impressed. I mean, obviously he’s lying about the two of us being in love and all that but, credit where it is due, Dylan has always been respectful of his younger fans, and has always kept strong boundaries. I know, this seems like the bare minimum, but you would be surprised how many musicians (and people in the public eye generally) don’t give a damn if you’re young, if you’re in a relationship, or if you’re even that into them. For all of Dylan’s faults, and lord knows he has a bunch, I’ve got to give him credit for that.
Kitty climbs out of bed slowly – menacingly so, I would say – and walks around the bed to stand in front of us.
‘Do you honestly expect me to believe that Dylan King is in love?’ she asks, looking us both up and down.
I mean, you can’t exactly blame her for questioning this. They reckon the world might end next year, right? I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but I’ve heard all the crazy doomsday stuff being batted around. Well, even that seems more likely than Dylan King getting a girlfriend and falling in love. I’m not surprised Kitty doesn’t believe him.
I turn to Dylan, to see what he’s going to say (because I’m on the edge of my seat with this one too) only to see him moving closer to me, his face heading for mine, his arms snaking their way around my body – one around my waist while the other creeps behind my neck. Before I really know what is happening Dylan’s lips are on mine. First he pecks me softly, a couple of times, before parting his lips to kiss me properly – and I mean really kiss me properly.
If, just for a second (and I swear to God, I will deny this if anyone ever asks me about it), I pretend that it isn’t my best friend who is kissing me – and that he’s only doing it to get a crazed fan out of his bed – then I have to admit, I can see why women go weak at the knees for him. His kisses are so soft, yet so powerful. Goosebumps form on my arms, and my body starts to tingle. He is so commanding but I feel like he could pull away at any second. I desperately don’t want him to. It’s like some kind of spell.
He is one hell of a kisser – then again, he’s had a hell of a lot of practice.
Finally, he releases me and, after a few seconds, the spell wears off. Now all I have to worry about is Kitty clawing my eyes out.
‘Do I honestly expect you to believe I’m in love?’ Dylan reminds her of her question. ‘You tell me.’
Kitty huffs.
‘She can’t stay in here with you,’ Kitty reminds him as she strops towards the door, like a toddler who wants chocolate for dinner. ‘Come on, Nicole.’
‘Yeah, go on Nicole,’ Dylan tells me.
I stare at him for a second as he laughs with his eyes. Then I can just about make out him mouthing the word ‘sorry’ to me. I guess his kiss has worked as Kitty seems to believe him for now.
I mouth back to him that I will kill him before following Kitty back to her room.
I can’t say I’m surprised that Dylan finds kissing his best friend to get out of a pinch so funny, because his entire life is like a game of spin the bottle.
I am surprised by how much I enjoyed it though.
And now I have to get back in bed with Kitty, knowing how jealous she is, and that she must hate my guts.
I suppose I’ll be sleeping with one eye open tonight, but I’ll bet Dylan is already back to sleeping like a baby.