Dylan (18+) [ON HOLD]

chapter nineteen: P I T

Gabby

. . .

Gorgeous is the first word that comes to mind as Dylan drives us to his new house. Barren is the second as we park.

Don't get me wrong I'm sure it's not empty, he at least has to have a bed and a fridge. But, you can tell from the way the windows lack curtains, and from how pristine the exterior is, that this is not a house that's been lived in. The realization causes me to frown.

Perhaps I should actually help him rather than myself. 

Could this be it? The distraction I've been looking for? Worldbuilding in the Sims can take hours, in real life it could take weeks—months even! This could be great.

The smile I can feel forming dissipates in an instant as anxiety rears its ugly, but honest, head. When all is said and done where will the two of us be left?

Dylan will have a fully furnished home and I'll have what? My childhood bedroom?

Returning like it never left, my convoluted little plan from earlier returns.

I've always liked Dylan, and he's a good guy. If we were together then I know he'd make sex enjoyable for me. Perhaps he wouldn't like to stay with me, even so, at least then my only memories of sex wouldn't be drugged flashes of a crime that I wish I didn't remember.

It's wrong of me to even think of using him like this. A tool with which I can help myself. Shaking my head at my own callousness, I brush the thought aside, just as I did before.

It's not something I should do.

"What should we do first? Stella has to come and get her boxes, but at the very least we can get started on ideas." Dylan reaches behind me, and into the backseat, the action causing him to brush against me and I stiffen, partly in irrational fear, partly in also irrational anticipation.

I berate myself mentally once again, for my reaction, still clinging to a teenage crush.

"Sure, I guess," as I say the words, Dylan plops a white box on my lap. I let out a quiet 'oof' at the sudden weight and a closer look at the box causes my eyes to bulge. "What the damn?"

Dylan laughs, his eyes crinkling softly around the corners. "Forget how to curse, squeaks?"

"No. But, this... this is a Derek-level purchase! How did you hide this back there?"

"Well it's not like you looked behind your seat," Dylan chuckles, his cheeks tinging a faint pink.

"This is a nine hundred dollar tablet!" Excitedly, i pulled at the sealed box until I opened it revealing a brand new Huion Kamvas Pro 24; one of the best drawing tablets that doesn't need an external computer. "I could've done this with an iPad!"

"Nah. We're doing the entire house. Bathrooms, basement, attic, panic room, backyard. I want the 'Gabby touch' all over this place."

I want to touch all over your places. I shake away the unsolicited thought with a wary smile, it's shaky but I manage. "Okay."

With that said, we make our way out of the car, Dylan letting me out whilst I struggle under the weight of the expensive electronic. I won't ask him to hold it. Contrary to what I said, I love the purchase, and the fact that Dylan got it for me makes it all the more special.

"Where should we start? It's eight bedrooms right?"

"Right, or nine bedrooms, but, I want one of them to be an office. Eight bathrooms, two half bathrooms—we can leave those plain. Then the living room, kitchen, dining room, and more. I had the store people upload the floorplan onto your tablet already."

Dylan leads me through the massive foyer, passed a horde of boxes stacked halfway up the wall, and into an even more massive living room. There are floor length windows on every wall, and a TV that might as well be a cinema screen hangs suspended from the ceiling. The room has no couch but it does have a pit in the floor, filled to the brim with cushion.

"What is that?" 

Dylan chuckles, and sprints to the pit, jumping into it, and sending a few cushions flying. He almost sinks and it causes my eyes to widen at the hidden depth of the pit. "This is a conversation pit. Three feet deep, with extra cushions for custom comfort."

"Why..."

"Why would anyone want a conversation pit instead of a sofa? The seventies, Gabs. The seventies." Dylan crawls to the edge of the pit and folds his arms under his chin. "Can't you imagine movie nights here?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Come sit, we can brainstorm in here."

Fighting the urge to blush, I lower myself, with much more grace than Dylan had, into the pit and shove the cushions around until it's more comfortable for me to sit.

Dylan crawls over to me and props himself up on some pillows as well. I stiffen, expecting him to scoot closer, but he picks up one of the firmer pillows and flips it over to reveal two circular divots. When he flips open a panel behind our heads and reveals a hidden mini fridge, containing two large bottles of wine, I realize the pillow will serve as a cup holder.

Also in the mini fridge are two chilled glasses. 

"Now," Dylan smiles, handing me an empty glass. He takes one for himself and also  "Let's get to brainstorming."

. . .

"No, you can't have your bedroom painted entirely black. You asked for a mural, you have to pick something." I snort out a giggle. I'm not even close to being drunk, hardly even buzzed, but I feel warm, though perhaps that's less from the bottle and a half of wine and more from laughing with Dylan.

Over the course of our working, the sun has gone down and we've turned on some music, using the large tv as a second screen to bring up reference photos.

"Then what color would your room be?"

"Well this isn't my room we're talking about, is it?"

"Well, how about you just move in with me? I was already planning on having the office be yours. We can watch One Piece, and you can paint the house, and Chapa can have an entire yard full of fun." We've also moved during the time we've sat here. We'd long ago ditched our shoes, with our jackets following. At some point Dylan had even claimed to feel warm from his wine and tugged off his shirt, and then reclined even further, his head on a pillow beside my thigh, our cup holding pillow shoved aside.

"Why would I do that?" I continue looking at my screen as I reply. I've avoided looking at him since he took off his shirt, for obvious reasons.

"Cost efficiency. You wouldn't want me to spend all my money on this place then grow old and live alone would you?" He pouts prettily, nudging my leg with his chin.

I close my eyes shaking my head with a smile. It dips at the resonation of his words. Old and alone. That's what I'll be. If I can't trust anyone than I can trust no one and if that's the case then how will I ever...

"Dylan," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Will you have sex with me?"

. . .

I'm sorry. I'm not dead. In all honesty, this chapter plagued me for months as I tried to figure out how they would get to this place.

I didn't mean to be gone for this long with no explanation. You guys deserved better than this.

I'm going to try my very best to be more efficient, but with college coming in the fall, I may have to bid you all farewell for a while. 

1200 words, give or take.

Unedited as always.

Stay safe angels.♥

😊✌🏽