WAKING UP IN DYLAN’S ARMS
1076 Words
✿MOANA✿
I woke up to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and a pounding headache that made me want to die.
I groaned softly, squeezing my eyes shut against the light.
Then I realized I was warm. Really warm and comfortable.
My eyes flew open.
Dark blue walls. Basketball trophies on shelves. A desk covered in textbooks.
This wasn't my room.
Panic started creeping in, cold and sharp.
Then I felt it.
The weight on my waist. An arm wrapped around me, heavy and possessive. A body pressed against my back, solid and warm.
My heart stopped.
I looked down slowly.
A muscular arm was draped over my waist, hand resting on my stomach. The hand was big, fingers spread slightly, holding me close.
I was curled up in someone's bed.
In Dylan's bed.
With Dylan.
My breath caught. I didn't move, I didn't breathe either, I just lay there frozen as memories started flooding back in broken, mortifying pieces.
The club. Dancing. Drinking way too much.
Screaming about Dylan being a dickhead in the middle of the dance floor.
Lalissa passing out. Octavia leaving.
The guy in the parking lot. The drive home.
Dylan's face when he saw me. The way he'd carried me inside.
His room. His bed. His hands taking off my heels.
Oh God.
The ice cream shop. I'd asked him about Becca. About whether he'd f****d her.
He'd said no. Said he only used his fingers.
And I'd said…
My entire body went hot with humiliation.
"You should touch only me."
"Then kiss me."
I'd said that. I'd actually said that out loud.
And he'd leaned in. We'd almost kissed.
And then….
Oh no.
Oh God no.
I'd thrown up.
Right before our lips touched, I'd thrown up all over his floor.
I wanted to die. I wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear forever.
I remembered the moment of leaning in, feeling his breath on my lips, seeing his eyes dark and intense and wanting…
And then my stomach had revolted and I'd puked everywhere.
After that? Nothing. Blackness. I must have passed out immediately.
Which meant Dylan had cleaned up. He had taken care of me and put me to bed.
In his bed.
With him.
I became hyper-aware of every point of contact between our bodies. His chest against my back. His arm around my waist. His hand on my stomach. His legs tangled with mine under the covers.
We were spooning.
I'd asked him to kiss me, thrown up on him, and now we were spooning in his bed like an actual couple.
I needed to get out.
Now.
I carefully reached down and tried to lift Dylan's arm. It was solid muscle, heavier than I expected. I managed to lift it an inch before his hand flexed, fingers pressing into my stomach.
I froze.
Behind me, Dylan made a low sound in his sleep. His arm tightened, pulling me back against him more firmly.
I held my breath.
Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, Dylan's grip loosened slightly. His breathing evened out again, deep and steady.
Still asleep.
I waited another thirty seconds, then tried again. Slower this time. Lifting his arm inch by inch, shifting my body away gradually.
It took forever. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure it would wake him. But finally I managed to slide out from under his arm and slip to the edge of the bed.
I sat up slowly, my head immediately protesting the movement with a sharp throb of pain.
Hangover. Wonderful.
I looked around for my heels. Found them on the floor next to the bed. Grabbed them quietly and picked my phone too.
Then I made the mistake of looking back at Dylan.
He'd rolled onto his stomach, face buried in the pillow, one arm stretched out to where I'd been lying a moment ago. His blonde hair was messy, falling across his forehead. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath.
He looked peaceful. Younger, somehow, without that cocky smirk or intense stare.
He looked beautiful.
I tore my gaze away before I could do something stupid like climb back into bed with him.
I tiptoed to the door, turned the handle as quietly as possible, and slipped out into the hallway.
The house was silent. My mother and Dylan's father were probably still asleep. It had to be early, maybe seven or eight.
I practically ran to my own room. Got inside, closed the door, and locked it behind me.
Then I leaned against the door and let out a long, shaky breath.
"What the f**k did I do," I whispered to the empty room.
I turned on my phone and saw about twenty missed texts.
Most were from Octavia and Lalissa in the group chat.
Octavia: You better be alive Moana
Octavia: Dylan texted me from your phone saying you're home safe
Octavia: Which is weird but okay
Lalissa: im so hungover i want to die
Lalissa: never drinking again
Octavia: You say that every time
Lalissa: I MEAN IT THIS TIME
I scrolled through, not really reading. Then one message caught my eye.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
Unknown: Hey, it's Kenzie, got your number from your phone last night while you were half-asleep. Hope that's not weird. Just wanted to make sure you got home safe. See you around in school.
I stared at the message.
Kenzie. The guy from the club. The one who'd driven me home.
He went to our school.
I hadn't even thought to ask last night, but now that I thought about it, he'd looked vaguely familiar. Different departments probably, which is why I'd never noticed him before.
Great. Another complication.
Another person who'd witnessed me drunk and messy.
I dropped my phone on the bed and put my head in my hands.
My life was a disaster.
I'd basically confessed my feelings to Dylan while drunk. I'd thrown up on him. I'd passed out in his bed. And now I'd woken up in his arms like we were together.
And the worst part?
I liked it.
I'd liked waking up warm and safe with his arm around me. I'd liked the way my body had fit against his. I liked the feeling of being held.
I groaned and flopped back on my bed.
“I'm so f****d” I muttered.
- Writer
