Rewrite The Future

Chapter 4: Dean's POV

Being 6ft 2 definitely has its perks. I never have to stretch to reach anything on the top shelf and my height is something chicks seem to like about me. But other times being tall can be a pain in the ass. Like right now, I'm sandwiched into the middle seat between an old lady who keeps elbowing me every time she flips to a new page in her goddamn gardening magazine and Ryan. I don't know what's worse, between the lady's constant jabbing and Ryan's incessant chitchatting about nonsense. My knees are pressed up against the seat in front of me. My throbbing jaw, which has turned a nasty purple colour since last night, doesn't help to make me feel any better either.

Deciding to turn my focus to Ryan instead of continuing to wallow in self-pity, I zone back into his monologue. It takes me a minute to figure out what he is speaking so enthusiastically about but I soon realise he is recalling an F1 race from last week. I should have come to that conclusion much sooner. Ryan is a huge Formula 1 fan. Any time he talks about it his smile is ten times wider and his eyes light up with excitement. This exact look has chicks swooning and lining up to get a piece of him. As a straight guy, even I can admit Ryan is good-looking. With his blonde hair, 'panty-dropping' green eyes, as he refers to them, and tanned skin, he has no trouble getting laid. Although I give out about his constant talking, I find the guy quite entertaining, and have to admit that he is definitely the funniest person I know. He is of a similar build and height to me but doesn't seem to be bothered by the tight squeeze we are currently in on this plane.

I'm going to use the fact that I was stopped at security before getting on the plane because of a suspicious bruise on my face as the reason for my sour mood. It took me an extra twenty minutes of explaining how I got the bruise to a grumpy airport security officer before I was allowed to get on the plane. The only thing the encounter achieved was to thoroughly piss me off. Seriously why is a fucking bruise any of their concern anyway!

"Dude, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think that you wanted to strangle me." Ryan chuckles.

"I definitely feel like strangling someone," I mutter. That only causes Ryan to laugh harder.

"Honestly Hunt, I still can't wrap my head around last night. That guy was fucking psycho! He straight up had steam coming out of his ears. Although if I had a girl like his, I'd probably be just as desperate to stake a claim. That girl was a smoke show, he is punching big time."

That he is. The girl from last night was out of this world. Something about her pulled me in, making me feel like we were the only two people on that beach. Other than the fight, she's the only thing I've been able to think about all day.

Four hours later, after making it through the hellish flight, security checks, and a thirty-minute drive, the taxi pulls up outside of a detached 3-bedroom house with faded paint on the walls and a creaky old wooden porch. The grass is in serious need of a cut, and it looks as though no one has put the bins out since I've been away but I still stride up the driveway with a smile on my face, glad to be home.

I'm met with chaos as soon as I turn the key in the front door. Rocket, a one-year-old chubby dachshund comes barreling towards me, barking loudly alerting the rest of the family to my presence. Isabelle squeals in delight before jumping off the couch to come say hi and Austin drops his action figures to follow suit. Reaching down I pull both my younger siblings into one-armed hugs and lift them into the air.

"Jeez, what has mom been feeding you guys? You weigh a ton!" I say, meeting Mom's eyes over the top of Austin's head, and giving her a wink.

"I am not heavy!" Isabelle shrieks, trying to wiggle out of my grip.

But I only tighten it and place a kiss on her forehead. "Of course, you're not Bella, I was only joking with you. I missed you guys a lot." I say looking between Bella's cute chubby face and Austin's smiley one.