C - 4.1
1121 Words
You grab a beer and find a quiet corner to sit in. With nothing else to do, you scan the room—only to see Dylan still in that same corner, but now he’s with a very pretty girl. She looks mature and sexy, especially compared to how you feel in your flowery dress. From where you are sitting, the view is devastating. Because they are in a dim corner, it looks like they are leaning into each other, whispered words shared between them. From your perspective, it doesn't look like an accident—it looks like they are flirting, maybe even seconds away from making out. A sudden pang of disappointment hits you.
Risa had planned the whole thing. From the corner of her eye, she watched to make sure you saw every second of the "accident." Dylan, unaware of her audience, was purely annoyed. He felt a flash of disgust. He was no innocent; he knew exactly when a girl was trying to flirt. He pushed her away, and turned to leave—but not before he saw you look away.
He swore mentally. He glanced at Risa, who was looking in your direction with a slight smirk. He was pissed, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself. He couldn't just walk up to you and explain; what if he was misreading your reaction? He hoped you were jealous, but he wasn't ready to gamble on that yet. Instead, he found Martin and asked to borrow a shirt.
Martin raised a brow. "How old are you?"
"Risa spilled it... by mistake," Dylan muttered.
"Man, you are so done," Martin laughed, excusing himself to lead Dylan to his room.
Dylan was over the whole situation. He told Martin he was just going to crash in the room until the party was over. Martin, not wanting Dylan to go home and ruin the birthday mood, brought him a bottle of wine and some food, then headed back down.
Meanwhile, you had finished three cans of beer—enough to make you feel a heavy buzz. Sally and Sunny finally found you in your corner.
"Girl, you aren’t supposed to have this much fun without us!" Sunny teased.
"Yeah, we just went to get a few more bottles and you’re wasted already," Sally added.
"I’m not... I’m still okay," you slurred, giving them a sleepy grin.
Martin came over and chuckled at the sight of you. "I think you guys should take her up to a room."
"No, I’m not ruining your party," you protested.
"You won't," Martin assured you. "But for our own peace of mind, you should go up."
"Yeah, otherwise you’ll fall asleep in God-knows-where," Sally joked.
"You guys just need to stay with me!" you insisted, making the three of them facepalm.
Eventually, Martin went back to his guests while Sunny and Sally stayed by your side. You cracked open another beer, and for a moment, you felt completely free. The second you started yawning, Sunny and Sally knew you were done. They helped you up the stairs, and halfway to the rooms, you ran into Dylan, who was just coming back from smoking on the balcony.
"What happened to her?" he asked, his voice low.
"Too much to drink," Sunny replied. "She’s out for the count."
"Better put her away," Dylan said, his eyes drifting to your flushed face. He couldn't help but notice how the red crept down your neck toward your cleavage. He cleared his throat and looked away.
"Yep, otherwise, she’ll fall asleep right here." Sally said
"Why are you up here anyway?" Sunny asked.
"Too many annoying people downstairs."
"Oh, I thought you had your 'girlfriend' down there," Sally teased.
Dylan glared at her, and Sally quickly held her hands up in surrender while Sunny laughed. "So, you’re running away from Risa?"
Dylan had almost managed to forget about Risa until they mentioned her. He felt that spike of annoyance again. Little did they know, you weren't actually asleep yet. You heard every word, and a small, relieved smile touched your lips. They finally got you into Sunny’s room, which was right across the hall from Martin’s.
"Okay, get some sleep," Sunny said, tucking you in. "Call us if you need anything."
"Don't worry... go have fun," you mumbled.
"We will!"
You are just about to drift off when a desperate thirst hits you. You look around for a glass of water, but find nothing. Dragging yourself out of bed, you head for the small kitchenette on the second floor. In your hazy state, you walk straight into a side table, let out a loud swear, and collapse onto the nearby couch to rub your throbbing shin.
Hearing the commotion, Dylan steps out of Martin’s room. He finds you there. He chuckles softly, walking over to ask if you’re okay. You freeze, only to see him wearing one of Martin’s shirts; it’s slightly too big for him, making him look surprisingly relaxed.
"I’m okay," you mutter.
"Do you need anything?"
"No, I can handle it myself."
"I don't think so," he says, raising a skeptical eyebrow. You glare at him, but Dylan just finds it cute. He smiles, watching as you stand up to continue your mission to the kitchen.
Of course, the "stupid" table seems to jump into your path again. You swear, bracing for the impact, but instead, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you back up.
"Stubborn kitten," Dylan chuckles. You look at him with annoyance, but the feeling quickly melts away as you realize how close you are. You are practically glued to him. Between his body heat and the alcohol, you feel like you’re burning up.
You try to pull away, but Dylan’s fingers tighten around your waist. Flustered, you give him a much harder push than you intended. Dylan, caught off guard by your sudden burst of strength, loses his balance and falls backward.
Your eyes widen in horror, but luckily, the couch is right behind him.
"Ugh," Dylan grunts as he hits the cushions with you landing right on top of him.
You realize instantly that this position is far worse. As you look down at him, you lose the ability to speak. He is devastatingly handsome, and you’d bet anything he knows exactly how to use it. You’re straddling him, your legs on either side of his hips, and the silence in the hallway is suddenly very loud.
- Writer
