Sweet Revenge [In progress] ©

Chapter 6

I stood in the elevator, with my head in my hands, and let out a sigh. How am I supposed to face him now? The immediate ding of the elevator is enough to jolt me back to reality. A hand on my hip, I walk out of it once it stops. A distressed-looking Dylan greets me. Or rather very angry. What is wrong with him I wonder?

"Where were you?" He raised his voice. "We are late." His expression is very stoic. Not how anyone angry would act. Throwing me the keys, he stalks off. I fumble with it for a few measly seconds before following him out the door.

In the car I tried to apologize and explain, but he just kept dismissing it. "I truly am, I just had to ask Mr. Baxter about something," I said, but again, he gives me the silent treatment. So I decide not to provoke him, and just drive his car to the spot where his next shoot is going to be.

He leaves me alone in the car, and I stay there. Trying to guess what went wrong. I had the perfect opportunity to tell him that— A few knocks on the car door jerked me back into action.

"It's over already?" I ask, disoriented. I expected to be there for more than an hour, but here I am, in a car. Dozing off.

"No, they rescheduled it to next week," he replied, as he got back in the car. Starstruck, I sat there. Not until he poked me did I start the car. I pulled out, and he sat staring out the window. I made a mental note to apologize later.

Driving straight, I asked what was on my mind. "Do you... want to... go somewhere?"

Dylan stared right at me. Then he smirked. "Pull over," he said, while a smug smile crossed his face.

We switched our seats. So he would drive and I could be the passenger. The quick twists and turns spun my head. Round and round, until we finally got on the narrow road. Buzz.

"Shouldn't you get that?"

"Huh?" I said, and felt around for where the sound came from. Oh. My pockets.

I immediately answered the call, "Hello?"

"Is this the mystery girl from the hotel?" The familiar voice came through. Oh. It's him. I was wondering where he went.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he declared.

"Me neither... where—?" I replied. He seemed to have fallen for me and my answer, cause of his laugh.

"I am coming tonight"

With nothing else to say I told him 'ok' and cut the call like a lovesick idiot. I was giddy through our whole ride. Dylan stared at me and I just shrugged, with a huge smile that could break the most toughest of scales.

"Hmm?"

"We are here. The spot you wanted to—..." Dylan said and that finally broke me out of my Reverie.

That night, my thoughts kept wandering to the handsome stranger. Dylan was nothing like him. He is so nice. I don't know why, but I felt like I could trust him, more than Dylan. My Romeo is coming tonight. I fell asleep that night, with the hope that I would get to see him again.

  Morning after was choas. The alarm rung as it always does, and I was out of bed. I headed to the kitchen to make some coffee and then jumped when I saw Dylan standing there. Half-naked. Making coffee. And eggs.

  The devil was up already, so I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom. I opened the door and went in. I was so nervous that I forgot to bring the towel. Slippery and wet, I slowly opened the door.

  "Dylan? Could you...uh... do me a...favor?" I asked, still dripping wet.

"What?" He shouted back. Oh great, he's so mad at me now. He came over to me and his back faced me. The towel I forgot was hanging on his hands. I hesitated for a moment and then grabbed it.

   "So forgetful," he mumbled. I was about to thank him. But you know what? Forget it. Its futile to waste my breath on him. I'm going to see my Romeo.

  He should be here soon. I can't wait. With that, I get dressed and leave with Dylan two steps behind. We reached the studio relatively early, and no one else except us was there. So, the more we stood around and waited, the more awkward it became. My phone rang, and so I picked it up.

  "Hello?" I answered.

"Is this Miss Baxter?" a female voice asked. "Fred Baxter just collapsed."

My heart dropped. Dad. Hanging up the phone, I stared at it. What should I do? Should I go see him? I'm his daughter, I should be there. Should I–....