The Devil Wears Girl Jeans [BEING EDITED]

The Devil Wears Girl Jeans (Chapter 24)

"How you feelin' today, Hart?" Tristan asked as I collapsed into the passengers seat of his car the next morning.

"I've been better. I just want to go home."

"Anything I can do? You need anything?" he asked, pulling out of the hospital parking lot and shooting me an over enthusiastic smile.

"Food." I announced, sending him a suspicious glance. All the hospital had given me for breakfast was a bowl of something that resembled wet toilet paper, and a large cup of what easily could've passed as pond scum. Needless to say, I was starving.

"No problem! I was thinking we could swing through McDonalds or something, and then go to Dal's? He's barricaded himself in his room, and refuses to talk to me and Quinn, so I figured maybe he'd listen to you?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." I mumbled, leaning my head against the window and closing my eyes. Every time I had tried to go to sleep last night, a nurse would barge in and insist that I needed another blood test. In the end, they hadn't been able to diagnose anything, so that was a complete waste.

Around 5, I'd given up on trying to sleep, and just lay there for a while, texting Lacey for the first time since Halloween. It was nice to talk to her again, but something about her was just different. She was more bitter, if that was possible, and seemed distant. It didn't take a detective to figure out that she was still ridiculously pissed over the kissing incident with Dallas, even though it'd been almost a month.

"Earth to Hart." Tristan sang, nudging my shoulder, "is a McMuffin okay?"

"A McMuffin sounds absolutely glorious right about now."

A few minutes later, he handed me heaven, wrapped in grease soaked yellow paper. I tore into it like a chimp tearing into a zoo keeper in some sort of morbid YouTube video, and I heard him laugh as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"You look like such a drug addict right now. Cute."

I snorted, and pushed my mop of hair out of my face with one hand, using the other one to shove food in my mouth at a steady pace. A collection of crumbs began to accumulate in my bra and I awkwardly tried to lean forward and shake them out without Tristan noticing.

"Classy." he stated, taking his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second in order to see what was causing me to flop around like a fish out of water. He smiled contently to himself as he pulled up in front of Dal's house. He was being suspiciously nice today, and I was going to find out why.

"Tristan! Hartley!" Dallas' mom greeted us, wearing nothing but a bra and a towel wrapped around her waist. Definitely not a good look for people of her age group, that was for sure.

"Hey, Mrs. Webb. How's Dallas doing?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. He actually came out about an hour ago to get something out of the bathroom cupboard, but I haven't seen him since."

Tristan and I shot each other a look, and a millisecond later, we were rocketing past her, down the hall to Dal's room. Tristan burst through the door, me following closely behind, and we slowly took in the scene before us.

Dallas, laying face down on his bed, his midnight black hair spread out around him like a fan. Dime-sized pills were scattered around him, and in a flash, Tristan had rolled him over on to his back. He stared expressionlessly up at us, and ice water shot through my veins.

"Dallas?"

His eyes flickered over to me, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Dallas, you asshole. What did you do?" Tristan snarled, but I could tell he was just as relieved as me.