Byron's Secret (Slenderman Romance)

Chapter 45. Distance

Saturday

【Joy's POV】

'Joy . . .' Byron whispered into my ears as he pushed me against the wall.

Silence floated around us, and it's as if time itself froze. I could only look up at him as I grew alarmed and embarrassed by the closeness we have.

He pushed my hair behind my ear, gazing into my eyes with an intense look. I found myself mesmerized by his black eyes. I think this is the first time he looked at me seriously. Without indifference. Without disdain.

With his hand on my shoulder, he leaned in. I could feel his warm breath on me as he came closer. I lulled my eyes close, awaiting his lips.

I gasped as I sat upright. What the fuck kind of dream was that?

My breathing was ragged and I feel hot all over, but that doesn't numb me to the heaviness I felt. Surprisingly enough, this hangover did not cause me headache, but my body is twice as sore.

What the hell happened? And what's with that dream? That's just wrong . . . Oh, God. Just recalling it is embarrassing.

I can't remember anything after spending a couple of hours with Rachel and the others. Why did I even drink so much－Oh, wait, I remember that. It's because of Byron.

Byron really left me hanging. I guess he has the right to do that, but still, thinking about it is pissing me off, even in this state of mess.

How'd I even get home? Maybe Rachel brought me here?

Well, shit. Whoever it was, they definitely saw Dylan. How else would I be able to come inside? They found out that I was lying.

Growing panicked, I tried my best and got up. Feeling slightly tipsy, I reached for the wall and leaned on it for support, just until I get used to the shaky ground.

"Dy－" I tried to call for Dylan, but ended up coughing. My throat is extremely dry and it hurts to speak.

Eventually, I left the bedroom and carefully went downstairs. Come to think of it, where is Dylan? Knowing him, he'd still be asleep by now. I bet he knows who took me here last night.

I should apologize to whoever it was－mostly for keeping Dylan a secret from them. They might end up hating me like Byron, the douche who can't be bothered to reply so I could've at least went home instead of waiting for over an hour like a complete idiot.

I'm really mad right now, but maybe it's because of my hangover. As I got to the last step, I caught a glimpse of Dylan, laying on the couch with a blanket over him. Huh . . . So he slept there instead.

He must've sensed my presence and fluttered his eyes open. He gave me a dazed look before it turned into a look of disgust, "Shame."

Not being able to speak, I looked at him in confusion. I hurriedly walked over the fridge and took out a bottle of water before chugging it. Surprisingly, my stomach didn't feel like it would explode. I don't even feel sick, I just feel tired and sleepy.

"What?" I turned to him, clearing my throat as I spoke.

Dylan had his arm over his eyes as he sighed, "Shame."

"Cut it out." I frowned, not finding it funny. "What is it?"

"I . . . am ashamed of you." He sighed again, "What do you remember?"

"Basically, uh, nothing." I sarcastically replied, "Duh."

"I wish mom's here." He turned his back to me and covered his head with the blanket, "So she'd deal with you instead."