Falling for Dylan Day

My Muse

Okk so for some reason my latest chapter has about twenty more views than the chapter before it? Some people must be pretty confused...

{}

Chapter 7: My Muse

What the hell are we doing here? I thought to myself.

Dylan chuckled dryly beside me and said, "I have my ways."

Apparently, I had voiced my disbelief out loud.

I turned to face him and crossed my arms, simultaneously leaning against the limo. The driver, as if sensing the uncomfortable moment Dylan and I were about to have, hastily sped off without even bothering to give me a warning. I gave an unpleasant shriek and stumbled, falling into Dylan's muscular form. Go to hell, you limo-driving jackass. I continued to mentally berate the limo driver until Dylan interrupted my inner-monologue.

"Get the hell off me," was his clever, inner-monologue ruining statement.

I glowered at him and pushed him off, gesturing for him to follow me up the stairs to the studio. I didn't even bother asking how he knew about this place. He would most likely either ignore me or come up with another cryptic, unhelpful response, so there was really no point in trying.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and reluctantly started shuffling behind me, pulling up his hood in the process. Probably to protect himself from the hoards of screaming, hormone-crazed fans he seemed to attract everywhere he went. Actually, scratch that. He would need a flamethrower and tear gas to keep those drooling girls off of him, at the absolute minimum.

Once we were both inside, with the door shut and locked behind us, he seemed to physically relax. His broad shoulders hunched over in exhaustion, and he tugged his hood off as he collapsed on a nearby wooden chair.

We were silent for a couple of moments while I gathered my supplies, but the wonderful, peaceful silence was broken when I attempted to escape his presence and go up the stairs to the painting studio.

"Where are you going?" He mumbled in my direction, in that goddamn husky sleepy voice of his. I swear he did it on purpose.

"To paint," I replied curtly. I had to stop letting him get under my skin. The emotions that I had tried to bottle up on the way here were frighteningly close to breaking free and wreaking havoc in my head.

He drowsily nodded and absentmindedly began to suck on his lip ring again; a habit of his.

"Are there any good places to sleep here?" He asked.

The corners of my mouth turned down as I pondered this request. Didn't he sleep enough? Well, most likely not...his job is pretty demanding.

I gave him a sympathetic look. "You can sleep on the love seat upstairs in the drawing studio if you'd like. I'll show you."

He muttered his thanks and slowly heaved himself off the chair and trudged towards where I was at the bottom of the stairs. He gestured upwards with his chin. "Lead the way."

I brought him up to the drawing room, where he immediately flopped over onto the plush love seat in the middle of the drawing circle. When I knew he was for sure asleep, I hurried over to the cubbies on the wall opposite of him where all of the regular artists kept their work. I was one of only three consistent artists, one of the other ones being Jem. I quietly ripped off the label that marked my cubby so Dylan wouldn't find it. I didn't want to risk him seeing my work if he woke up. That would be so embarrassing...

I silently trod over to the painting studio next door to work on Aislinn's portrait again. I had finished all the basics that I actually needed her to pose for, so now I was just relying on memory to complete small details. It was actually turning out really well. I was pretty proud of it, not to brag or anything. Hell, it looked like it could be a picture!