Type 1

Chapter 12

Type 1

Dylan's Pov

Would it be wrong of me to lie and say I hadn't looked inside her pink purse filled with random stickers?

It's not as if I did it on purpose. When I was holding it, the zipper was slightly open, giving me a quick glimpse. I couldn't see much, but from what I could tell, there were objects that looked like needles? And I think I saw a chocolate wrapper; I'm not sure what kind it was, but I know it was chocolate.

After that, I went home and did some research. I was curious as to what kind of secret she was keeping.

These things intrigue me.

She became even more intriguing after I discovered what she was hiding. Type 1 Diabetic. Despite my efforts to learn more about it, I'm still not sure what it is or how it works.

That all changed when I discovered when their blood sugar drops and what symptoms they experience. Hungry, shaking, sweating, dizziness, and a racing heart.

That immediately reminded me of the first time I saw her and what I said to her.

Hey, you look sick, and I suggest that you leave before you make me and my friends sick.

Fuck, why the hell did I even say that?

I can't get my mind off her reaction that night when I said that. Knowing why she looked sick that night makes me feel like shit.

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I lean against the stone wall, holding the red cup in my hand, my gaze fixed on my drink. I sighed heavily and looked up as I took a sip. Hailey walks out of the kitchen with her sister, her hand resting behind her back. My eyes narrowed as I noticed her sister looking uneasy. I sipped my drink and looked over to see a random guy staring at the girls, especially Aria.

She appears uncomfortable; I should probably go find the girl she swapped clothes with.

I sculled my drink and set it down on the coffee table. I sniffed and wiped my nose as I walked away in search of that girl.

It took some time, but I eventually found her laying on her back on the grass in the backyard. Her hand was clutching the red cup, and her eyes were droopy. Clearly inebriated. I scrunched my nose and looked around at other people doing their own thing.

Before speaking, I cleared my throat. "I need that pajamas back."

She smiles sheepishly at me and waves her other free hand around."I-ita minne," she slurs her words and laughs at herself.

I stretched my nostrils and returned her gaze, my jawline tensing. " It isn't fucken-"

I closed my eyes and tried to stay calm. Dylan, she's intoxicated.

"It's not your pajamas," I said, and she continued to giggle to herself while attempting to take a sip from her cup.

Nothing comes out because she has already consumed all of it. I look around, sighing heavily and growing increasingly impatient by the second. I knelt down, grabbed her arms, and struggled to pull her up. She grumbles softly, closes her eyes, and mumbles something quietly. She gags, and I freeze in the middle of pulling her. I dropped her back down on the grass and watched as she gagged violently. She turns around and pukes on the grass.

As I sighed heavily, I scrunched my nose in disgust, turned away, and covered my face with my hand. I looked over and noticed she had vomit on the pajamas.

"You're kidding me," I said, putting both hands on my head and sighing in frustration.

Puke on the grass, not on her clothes.