Searching For My Future Husband [COMPLETED]

Chapter 41 - Drunk Confession

Dylan is drunk.

His face is buried between my thighs. Under favorable circumstances, this would be quite exciting.

Considering he’s minutes away from vomiting, it’s less than attractive.

I push his head toward my knees into a slightly less awkward position, and he moans.

It’s the first time I’ve touched his hair.

It’s soft.

And that was the moment Dylan's head landed between my thighs.

>////<

Breathe, Mira. Breathe.

Pheeeeeew!!

Christian appears to be passed out. Fine. Good.

One less boy for me to deal with.

I should probably get Dylan some water. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to give drunk people? So they don’t get alcohol poisoning or something?

I ease him off my legs, and he grabs my feet.

“I’ll be right back,” I say. “I promise.”

He snuffles. Oh, no.

He’s not going to cry, is he? Because even though it’s sweet when guys cry, I am so not prepared for this.

Girl Scouts didn’t teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and squat down. I hold up his head—the second time I’ve touched his hair—and angle the bottle in front of his lips.

“Drink.”

He shakes his head slowly. “If I drink any more, I’ll puke.”

"It’s okay.” And he looks so sad that I lie down next to him. 

Dylan sighs. It’s deep and exhausted.

"Mira..."

I turn to him, and his eyes are closed. His skin is pale and tired.

“What?” I ask

Again, sitting up.Dylan opens his eyes, noticing I’ve moved.

He struggles, trying to sit up, too, and I help him.

When I pull away, he clutches my hand to stop me.

“I like you,” he says.

O_O 

My body is rigid.

My mind spins. That doesn’t make any sense, none at all. 

“And I don’t mean as a friend.”

What the fvck ? How the fvck? I just can even.... 

It feels like I’m swallowing my tongue. “Uh. Um. What about—?” I pull my hand away from his.

The weight of my best friend's name hangs heavy and unspoken.

“It’s not right. It hasn’t been right, not since I met you...”

His eyes close again, and his body sways.

He’s drunk. He’s just drunk.

Calm down, Mira. He’s drunk, and he’s going through a crisis.

There is NO WAY he knows what he’s talking about right now. So what do I do?

Oh my, what am I supposed to do?

“Do you like me?” Dylan asks. And he looks at me with those brown eyes—which, okay, are a bit red from the drinking and maybe from some crying—and my heart breaks.

I don't know what to say....

I have a boyfriend, she's my best friend's fiancee, and he’s my friend.

And friends don’t let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day.

Then again . . . it’s Dylan.

Beautiful, perfect, wonderful—

And great. That’s just great.

He threw up on me.