Dylan (18+) [ON HOLD]

chapter twelve: H O U S E

Dylan

. . .

I managed to make it out of Gabby's house just as the sun was rising. The red tinted sunrise painted Gabby's skin an almost scarlet color, causing her drool to sparkle slightly.

Unwillingly, I smile down at her as she continues to snore. She's adorable.

Prying my hand out of hers takes almost Herculean effort, and when I do, Gabby groans in frustration, turning over and cuddling her stuffed bee just as she had last night.

Making sure to refold and put away the blankets, I prepare myself for the climb down.

And then I remember.

The branch broke last night, so there won't be a climb down.

Cursing under my breath, I smack myself in the forehead. My options are either jumping out of the window or trying to sneak out through the front door.

Yeah... I don't see that ending well for me.

"Leo's going to kill me," I mutter, thinking of my poor agent who works their ass off for me. I shake my head as I do so, but with little hesitation, I throw myself out of the window and onto the grass, narrowly avoiding the branch that fell the previous night.

I groan in pain, feeling my muscles tighten up just a second too late to avoid feeling the impact.

Or would that have made it worse?

Dragging myself off of the ground, I wave farewell to Gabby's window and amble toward my car.

Safely inside, and with a glance at the little cottage house I grew up in, I contemplate simply driving up and claiming to be there for breakfast but I'm almost certain Leti would notice that I hadn't changed my clothes.

Heaving a sigh that turns into a yawn, I head home, preparing myself for the verbal onslaught that will undoubtedly come from Stella.

I did it.

I actually did it.

I can't believe it slipped my mind.

I told Stella to leave and— And then I left and she told me to sleep on the couch.

"Fuck," I growl. I smack my steering wheel, accidentally hitting my horn and scaring a squirrel that had stopped in the street. 

Perhaps I'll have to be more direct? Though how much more direct can you get than 'Let's break up. I don't want you here'? 

I mentally run myself through all the potential scenarios that could come into play the second I step through my front door. Even as I'm in the elevator, I'm still running through possible conversations we could have.

But, when I step inside, Stella is nowhere to be seen.

I look through all of the bedrooms, even the closets and the bathrooms, hell I even check the pantry, but she's nowhere to be seen.

I sigh in reluctant contentment.

Whilst I'm grateful she's gone, her things are still here, and it doesn't appear she's made any attempt to pack her things. Her not being her puts off the possibility of conversation between the two of us, and we need to talk to be clear on where we stand.

I brush it off, figuring that she's likely gone to find a moving company of some sort. Stella isn't the type to do heavy lifting. Yawning, I flop into bed, needing at least a few more hours of cushioned sleep before I can fully function.