~ Liz's P.O.V. ~
I was woken by a cool breeze. Struggling to open my eyes, I felt a warm fabric underneath my fingertips. Adjusting to the dimness of the room, I found myself naked on top of a bed. Glancing over to the right of me, I was faced with a sleeping, exposed Dallas.
I scanned the room. There were empty beer bottles scattered around the floor, the floorboards were chipping, and there were articles of clothing thrown everywhere. Not to mention the walls haven't been washed in forever.
Slowly shifting myself off of the bed, I tiptoed around the dark room in search for my clothes. Starting with my panties.
My black thong was hanging off the doorknob. Slipping that on, I found my dress and heels in the bathroom. God knows how those got in there.
On my way creeping out, I heard a cough. Startled, I jumped and turned slightly, only to be faced with a drowsy Dal.
"Leavin' already?" He asked, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.
"Yeah, Dal, I had a great night and I gotta get dressed and showered." I smile politely, resuming my previous actions out the door.
"Why can't you just stay here." Dallas says, more as a statement then a question.
"Because I have no clothes here besides the ones I have on, and I wanna get ready over there. At my place." I smirk.
"Is that guy still staying at your house?"
The question put me to a stop. Goosebumps rose to my skin and suddenly, the room became twenty degrees hotter than it was a while ago. I shook my leg as I stared broodingly at Dallas.
"What 'guy', Dal?" I ponder, trying to play stupid.
"Don't act innocent, Elizabeth," He reaches over to the nightstand and holds up the front cover of a newspaper, "He's been in your house for weeks now. That the same guy that took advantage of you?"
"It's not like that, Dallas-"
"Not like what? Not like you leave the gang and I every night and go home to hang with this son of a bitch? It's not like that, right?" He stood up in a rage, flinging the newspaper to the other side of the room, flicking aside his burnt out cigarette.
Lowering my head, I play with my fingers as Dallas continues his rant.
"What is in your damn head that makes you think he won't do it again? He's just getting to you, Elizabeth! You know what, if you wanna leave me that's fine, but not for him to take my place, are you out of your mind?! He's just some punk! When we got back together, I thought we wiped the slate clean!"
He stood in the most broken state I've ever seen Dallas Winston in. His bottom lip quivered, his hands shaking with anger. there was a burning in his eyes that I couldn't describe, "You loved him, didn't you?"
"No." I quietly resented.
"Bullshit, don't fucking lie to me!" He knocked over the bedside lamp, slamming it against the beige wall.
"Dallas-" I attempted to step closer to him.
"Don't touch me! I hate you, I hate you, I swear to god I hate you! Oh my god, I love you!" His voice broke as hot tears ran down his flushed face, "How could you do this to me. To us! The gang? Did you not think about us? Do you not care?"
A broken sob fell from Dallas' lips as he slid his back down the wall, putting his head into his knees.
I sat on the floor, keeping my eyes on him as his sobs filled the room. It really isn't what he thinks it is.
We sat at opposite ends of the room in complete silence. It seemed like hours before Dallas decided to stand again, me following suit.
"Is there anything that you have to say?" He asked coldly.
"Dallas, you have every right to be angry, or sad, or whatever you're feeling, but I'm telling you something right now: If you truly believe, at this moment, that whatever the gossip section in that paper had to say is true, let me know. Because it's called a gossip section for a reason. To get people, just like you and the gang, all angry inside, and they make you believe things that aren't true in the slightest. Dallas, if you think for a second that I don't love you, with all my heart and soul, tell me. I'll leave. It's your choice. But, I do love you and you should know that already." I shakily told him, stepping back.
Dallas didn't say a word. He didn't move, either. In all his stillness, he just looked at me and took deep breaths. Dallas' beautiful brown eyes peered down at me, almost as if studying me.
"I think you should leave." Those three words completely shattered me.
My vision became blurred as I turned on my heel and grabbed the brass doorknob, twisting it and exiting the bedroom. Tears raced down my cheeks as I was at a loss for breath.
"Hey, you that Curtis kid that they're hangin' with?" I turned to see a man that was tall and lean, but still built.
Quickly wiping my tears, I greeted him with a smile, "I'm Elizabeth Curtis, and you are...?"
"Buck Merrill. Nice to meet ya. I seen you here often with Dal, are y'all a thing?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow and passing a wet cloth across the bar.
"No, we just know each other. Nothing, really." I claimed, brushing it off.
"Oh. well, it was nice seeing you,Miss Curtis."
We exchanged goodbyes and I continued my trek to my house.
Where I would have to break things with Marcus in order to make it right.
