Dear Dylan

x. darts

A/N: changed the prologue! check it out.

25 minutes.

Yes, I've been counting the minutes of our excursion and we haven't made any progress so far. Firstly, Brandy wouldn't tell me the location of where we were supposed to be. And secondly, as I looked outside the car, I noticed that the setting was slightly different compared to before.

"Brandy, where are we?" I questioned him for the fifth time.

He simply grinned at me. "We are in Merylsteepe City."

"What are we even doing here?" I demanded while screaming in frustration.

"Just be patient, young woman. We're almost there."

I gave him a blank look. "On a scale of 1-10, my patience is at a fuck you."

He glared. "Jane..."

I went back to sitting properly and scoffed. "Fine."

After a minute or two, we were engulfed in uncomfortable silence. I tried to turn the radio on but Brandy just slapped my hand and told me that it was broken. His words, not mine.

He kept on driving while whistling an oddly familiar tune. Being the more mature portion of myself, I chose to not think about it. I sighed as I sat improperly. My legs were wide open which was one of the benefits when you're wearing jeans.

Brandy saw my posture and his eyes widened before covering his crotch area with his hand. "Jane, please sit properly."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm wearing jeans. What could possibly happen?"

He started sweating and flushing like a tomato. The sight in front of me was hysterical. I looked at the position of his hand and laughed.

"Why are you covering your crotch area?" I tried to regain my composure but only laughed more.

"Uhh." He paced and looked around nervously.

"Wait, are you having what I think you're hav-"

"Shut up." He cut me off by giving me a cold stare. I just bursted out into more laughs. He threw a hand sanitizer at me which caused me to shut up and cry in pain.

"Why do you have a sanitizer in your car?!" I screamed at him while scratching my head.

He smiled. "For hygienic purposes."

I gasped at him. "Do you have OCD?"

His smile faltered at my question. "No, I'm just a clean freak."

I stared at him blankly. "Still the same."

"There's a difference." He pointed out. "The spelling, pronunciation, number of syllables, number of letters, defi-"

"Stop." I silenced him. "Alright, I give up. You're a clean freak. Does that make you feel better?"

He beamed at me. "Very."

I completely ignored his answer and asked him a question that I've been asking since the beginning of the ride. "Where are we heading to?"

He sighed exhaustingly. "Just wait and see."

"If you're planning on kidnapping, assaulting, murdering, or raping me, I have 911 as speed dial #1." I warned him.

He scrunched his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that?"

I gave up and exhaled a sigh of defeat. "Fine. I have Domino's Pizza as speed dial #1 but 911 is just a 3-digit number and I won't hesitate to dial it."