Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed. (Dream x Reader)

Chapter 11 - Are you serious?

You woke with a start. For a moment, you thought everything that happened last night had been a dream, but it couldn't be. You could still feel his lips on yours. His hands on your waist. In your hair. You couldn't have dreamed all of that up. It was impossible.

You pulled yourself into a seated position and ran your hands through your hair, but found that it was knotted. You threw your head back and sighed, remembering Clay running his hands through your wet hair, tangling it. At the time you didn't care. Remembering it brought heat to your face and you brought your pillow up to cover it.

Movement at your side sent a jolt of panic through your body, but you relaxed when you noticed it was Patches. She was curled up on your side and you realized that your door was open.

When had that happened?

Checking the time, you jumped up when you realized that it was already half past noon. When was the last time you slept in this late? Why hadn't anyone woken you up yet?

It was Saturday morning, you supposed. No one was really in a rush to do anything today. You weren't aware of any plans that'd been made. You got ready for the day, but that just consisted of putting on a thin, light pair of joggers, a t-shirt, and a pair of socks. You did some makeup and attempted to do your hair, but got frustrated with it and threw it into a quick bun on the top of your head.

You checked your phone, but the boys weren't streaming. They weren't in the living room, either, apparently. Or the kitchen. You checked both of their rooms, but they weren't there either. Or in the theatre room. You didn't have any texts from either of them. You had absolutely no idea where they could be.

In one last ditch effort, you trudged your way back up the stairs. You didn't think they were up there, but you wanted to take a peek anyways. The only room you'd been to on the second floor was Clay's bedroom. You took the opportunity to venture around the upstairs, exploring what you hadn't seen yet.

You stumbled into a room that looked completely different from the rest of the house. Clay's whole house was white walls, white furniture; the picture of modern. But this room was nothing like that. It was nearly antique, but new, with dark oak bookcases and as many books as you'd seen in one small room. The harsh white lighting of the rest of the house was absent. The room was almost completely illuminated by a soft luminescence coming from outside or the glow from the yellow lamps in the corners of the room.

The room was covered in bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling. On the farther wall, there was even a fireplace. You didn't think that a Florida home would need a fireplace, but you appreciated it for the aesthetic regardless. In the window, there was a little nook covered in cushions and a large knit blanket laid out.

There were books scattered around the room, some opened face down, some with several bookmarks, some with dog-eared pages, and some just stacked, waiting to be read. The rest were lined neatly on the shelves. None collected dust, though. It seemed completely neat.

It was a little, corner office type space. It wasn't meant for a whole library, but maybe just a library of one.

A voice behind you made you jump. You turned around to see Clay.

"You found my lair," He teased, his body leaned against the doorframe. He stared at you with curiosity. Was he concerned to find you wandering around by yourself?

"Lair?" You asked, turning back around to continue examining the room in awe.

"This is like, my room of guilty pleasures, I guess." He chuckled, looking at the floor. "I come in here when I'm stressed out, or when I want to write."

"You write?"

"Yeah, I've written a few things. Started a book or two. Never really got around to finishing them, though."