You, A Friend Of Mine

4

I can hear Dylan's light snoring, and I can't help but think about whether or not he's been sleeping. He hasn't slept well and some nights not at all since his mom died. He's left at around what I could guess was 9, since that's when visitor hours were up, last night, and came back this morning I'm guessing. I hear light footsteps come up to where Dylan is sitting.

"Sir?" She asks quietly. I hear him grunt and he removes his head from next to me, sitting up. "Are you planning on staying the night, sir?" She asks quietly. It's not like she can wake me up, just talk normally.

"Uh-yeah, I guess if it's okay?" He asks. I can hear the hopefulness in his voice.

"Yeah of course, she hasn't had anybody else come and stay the night, so that's okay. Do you want me to bring you a blanket?" She asks politely.

"Sure," he says, lightly stroking the back of my hand.

I hear the footsteps walk away and return moments later. "Here you go," she says, "sleep well." Yeah not bloody likely, we're in a hospital.

"Thanks." I can hear the grogginess in his voice. The footsteps softly fade and the door to my room closes. "Your mom looks almost as bad as I do. She's just in denial, won't even come see you." I can tell he's disappointed and shaken at the fact that my mom wouldn't come see me. I'm shaken at the fact she wouldn't come see me. "Goodnight bright eyes," he mumbles out before falling back asleep. I remember the first night I stayed over at his house.

"Hey, bright eyes," Dylan said when he opened the door to his house. He still used that nickname, but there was no denying it was cute.

"Hey handsome," I said, and kissed his cheek as I walked towards the kitchen where his mom was making dinner. "Hey Mrs. Jackson," I said as I sat down at the island, and dangled my feet.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, not turning away from the pot on the stove. "Are you staying for dinner?" She asked.

"Yeah, if that's okay with you." Dylan had invited me but apparently hadn't relayed the message. We'd only been official for about a week, but I'd been to his house several times since the after-pool incident before we were official.

"Of course sweetheart," she smiled softly at me, but didn't stop stirring the presumable soup in the pot. She made really good soup.

Hands were placed on my hips and spun me around to face Dylan. "Gotcha," he said playfully.

"I wasn't hiding," I retorted, and raised my eyebrows while propping my elbows back on the island.

Dylan leaned in closer, pinning me under him, and placed a quick peck on my lips.

"I'm standing right here," his mom said jokingly, "take it upstairs."

Dylan blushed and I laughed. It didn't take much for him to get embarrassed when it came to his mom. "Let's go," I whispered in his ear. He nodded eagerly and led me upstairs, not like I hadn't been there before, (obviously).

"Hey so I was thinking," he started as he closed the door, "maybe we should go on a date. Like a real date, not just chilling out up here." He had a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Sure," I said smiling, and wrapped my arms around his neck, my feet barely touching the ground. He placed his hands on my waist.

"You're beautiful," he said, and didn't break eye contact.

"You're not too bad yourself," I said. That was a lie. He's totally hot, and an athlete. I'm the legitimate cliche of every teen fiction book out there.