Chapter 24 Cecily
Cecily
The light turns off, so I spread my legs and arms as wide as possible on the bed. I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting to feel him on me at any moment. But as each second passes, I realize that he’s not hopping on the bed. I open my eyes and look over the edge at his figure lying on the ground.
“What’re you doing?” I ask when I see him settling on the ground with his pillow and blanket.
He answers, “Going to sleep.”
“Get up here,” I whisper.
“The bed’s all yours.”
“Fine,” I say, rolling off the edge and landing on him.
He makes a loud grunt sound like he wasn’t expecting that. “What’re you doing?” he asks as I roll off him.
“Going to sleep,” I mock.
“This is my bed down here. Go back up there.”
I shake my head, and then he’s picking me up like I weigh nothing. “Dylan!” I squeal. “Put me down!”
“Okay,” he says, dropping me on the bed.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him toward me. His hands fall on either side of my head like he’s catching himself from falling. I widen my eyes at the weight of him.
“Shit,” he breathes.
It’s too dark in here, so I can’t really make out his features, but I know how good-looking he is this close.
“Don’t sleep on the ground, please.”
He rolls to my side and grunts, “Fine.”
I smile, enjoying the tiny win. We settle under the blanket at a safe distance from each other. His pillow is fluffy, so I snuggle my face into it. It feels so nice to be cuddled up on this bed. It smells like him, and I realize now that I’m inhaling his scent, not minding it.
The silence that falls over us is comfortable, but my thoughts are loud.
I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep in this bed ever again, or if I’ll ever go to another college party, or if I’ll keep training Dylan.
And the more my mind races, the more I think I’m going to miss this version of myself.
It’s so silly because it’s only been a month, but this sliver of my life spent with Dylan has shown me another side of myself.
I like the person that I am when he’s around.
I like how he makes me feel, and when these moments are over, I know I’ll crave this feeling forever.
“I wish someone had told me how much life changes. I wish I had been more in the moment during those times. I wish I had taken more pictures––”
He chuckles. “That’s literally your job. You have your entire life online.”
I shake my head, smiling. “I know it seems that way, but I don’t. I wish I appreciated it more, you know?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. I see the shadow of his face turn to me. “What do you want to take pictures of?”
I almost smile, feeling a tinge of sadness that I have zero pictures at Rocky’s parties and that Dylan and I only have the few sneaky ones at the gym and on my couch.
The room falls silent, and it feels almost like melancholy. I frown, knowing that this too shall pass.
He grabs his phone from the nightstand and taps a few things, and the next thing I know, there’s a flash on my face.
I extend my arm and grab his phone. “That’s not what I meant, Dylan.”
“No?”
I chew my lip. “No.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “Come here.” He pulls me under his arm, turns the front camera to us, and takes a photo. I smile, waiting for the flash. After the second flash, I release my hold on him.
He looks at the photo and says, “Is this what you meant?”
I look up at him. My nose accidentally touches his cheek. Suddenly, his breath is on mine. Then another flash, and I erupt into laughter. The second flash catches me throwing my head back while his lips graze my cheek.
“Dylan,” I warn, still giggling.
“Moo,” he whispers. “I’ll put my phone on the ceiling to record us falling asleep.”
My head spins while my laughter dies. I think he’s serious. “The two pics will do,” I mutter.
He pulls me into his chest and presses his lips against my hair. “Good night, Ce.”
I wrap my arms around his torso. “Sweet dreams, Dilly.”
I love it here in his arms, but a piece of me knows that this is going to end sooner than later.
When I wake up, the light from the window feels like it’s burning my soul. My head pounds. My stomach aches. My throat’s dry.
“Dildo,” I manage to mutter, but he’s not beside me.
I blink a few times, trying to adjust my eyes to the bright light. I feel beside me, and the bed’s empty. I pull my hair out of my face and take in the empty room.
I force myself out of bed and drag my feet to the door.
I hear the guys in the kitchen area. I sneak into the bathroom and take the longest pee known to mankind.
And then I look in the mirror at the ratchet girl staring back.
My hair’s a wreck. I have sleeping lines down my face.
I laugh at myself until it turns into tears.
I think I fucked up last night. I ruined my chance with Dane.
I woke up in Dylan’s bed. I close my eyes, feeling my head spin.
I blink, trying to remember whether we hooked up.
I grab my throbbing head and walk back to Dylan’s bedroom.
I fall on the bed, searching for my phone, when I hear Dylan say, “Good morning.”
I hide my face. “Hi,” I force myself to say, but it’s muffled.
“Here,” he says, sitting next to me.
I keep my face hidden for a few more seconds, and then the smell of food hits me fast. I look over, and my stomach churns at the smell of eggs and bacon.
“Are you serious?” I ask, sitting up.
He’s not fazed by how bad I look, which is relieving. He nods, handing me the plate. He points at the nightstand and says, “Water and medicine.”
My chest tightens at the sight. “Are you serious?” I whimper, feeling tears drop down my face before I can stop them.
His eyes widen as he watches me wipe my cheeks.
I laugh, taking the plate of food and eating a bite of bacon. “Are you serious, Dylan?”
“Why’re you crying?” he asks, confused.
I blink, making more tears fall. “I’m just thankful I get to wake up to this.”
I take a few more bites, and then I grab the water and medicine. I take the pills and finish off the water.
“Don’t ever let me drink again.”
He stares at me as I keep eating.
“How long have you been up?”
He tilts his head. “A while.”
I cover my mouth. “Was I ugly snoring?”
He chuckles. “No, you look cute when you’re sleeping.”
I shake my head at him and start on my eggs.
Once the food’s all gone, he takes the plate and walks out of the room.
I reach for my phone and see that Alix texted me. It’s literally paragraphs, and my brain can’t read through it right now. I open social media, look at my notifications, and decide I can’t deal with that either.
And then I leave the room because I decide I need to go home.
Westley and Dylan are in the kitchen. Dylan’s cleaning, and Westley’s scrolling on his phone.
“Hey,” Dylan says.
“I need a shower––”
“Shower’s all yours. I have a clean towel in my room, and you can borrow my clothes.”
I gawk at him for a second because he cut me off. I was trying to tell him I needed to shower so that I could go home.
He points. “Shower is across the hall.”
I nod, turning on my heel. Looks like I’m showering here.
After a fifteen-minute shower, I sneak across the hall and back into Dylan’s room. I close the door quietly and jump at the sound of his voice behind me.
“Shit, I didn’t know you were in here,” I say, clutching my chest.
He looks at me in the towel and says, “I found some clothes that could fit you. Maybe. Here.”
I smile, walking over. I sit on the bed and tug the towel tighter around my body. I hold it under my arm as I check out the shirt he gave me.
“You wear this shirt all the time,” I chuckle.
He nods.
I throw it on and let the towel slide down now that I’m basically in a t-shirt dress. I stand, knowing that the shirt covers my bottom half. The towel drops on the floor, and when I meet Dylan’s eyes, they’re dark and full of heat.
“What’re you doing?” he asks, like I’m doing this to taunt him.
I grab the shorts and walk towards the door. I bend over to put them on. I quickly slide my feet in and pull them up. I grab the drawstrings and tighten them around my hips.
He inhales, looking at my body.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He shakes his head slowly as he watches me.
I sit back down. “What’s going on?”
He stares at my shorts, tilting his head as his eyes travel up my body. I smile, lifting my brows.
“I can take you home,” he says after a minute.
I relax a little as I nudge his shoulder. “If that’s what you want,” I joke.
“It’s not.”
My eyes meet his. “Then why’re you saying it like that?”
He lifts his hands, reaching his fingers towards my face, and stops right before he touches me. “Because I…”
My eyes flutter, reacting to his fingers as if they’re touching me. My breath catches. A few moments pass, so I close my eyes and say, “You need to find your words, otherwise…”
When I open my eyes again, his hand is gone. “Otherwise, what?”
“I can’t read your mind.”
“But you can read my body language, can’t you?”
I smile, shaking my head.
“You can’t?”
I shrug. “Actions mean something, sure, but words are important too.”
He whispers, “Words are important too?”
I nod, nudging him with my elbow. “What’s going on?”
He searches my face as if it holds the answer. “If I kiss you right now––”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth––”
He shakes his head. “I don’t care.”
“I care,” I say, but he doesn’t deflate. He keeps his eyes on mine. “But why do you want to kiss me?”
He runs a hand through his mullet and says, “I always want to kiss you.”
“Always?” I scoff, surprised by that.
He nods.
“But we’re just friends.”
“Friends that fuck,” he corrects.
My heart races. “But if you want to kiss me whenever you want…” I trail off, unsure if implying something more is a good idea or not.
His eyes stay on mine as my heartbeat pulsates through my body. I think his might be too.