Here is the chapter you've all been waiting for!!!! ;)
2 CHAPTERS LEFT + EPILOGUE :'( :'(
Inspired by the Korean Drama 'Pinocchio' (2014) Episode 8 ;)
#SaranghaeyoLeeJongSuk
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xoxo,
Losalini
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[ edited 11 Dec 2015 ]
You know that moment where you think you're hallucinating or experiencing a mirage but everything just feels too real for it to be either? Or that moment where you just wish you weren't experiencing a dream even though it feels like it?
As Dylan Rush walked towards me in the thundering downpour, wearing only a pair of sweats and a white v-necked tee, I thought I was experiencing either of those two. But then again, I'd never had any mental history and as far as I know, none of my family was clinically insane and mirages only ever occurred in deserts as far as I know.
"Get in the car, Hunt," he repeated as a slight shiver ran through him.
I studied him shakily.
Even though it had taken him fifteen seconds at most to run to me from his car, he was soaked through and through. His shirt had gone see through, his toned abdominal muscles displayed. And his sweats were soggy at best. His face was pale and his hair was messy.
All in all, I think he looked worse than me.
I nodded slowly.
"Hurry up," he said as he tugged at my hands with his before disposing me into the warm, heated interior of his car.
It took him another ten seconds to go around to his side and get in.
A sneeze escaped me before I could stop it.
Dylan's face turned to me instantly before he did a once over. Anger painted his face before concern. Then he turned up the heater to maximum.
"Dylan," I said in awe as I watched him. I was still shocked that this wasn't a dream or hallucination.
Without a word, he reached over and pulled the seat belt and tugged in on.
"T-thanks," the words came out as my teeth chattered together from the cold.
"Save your energy, Hunt," was his abrupt reply before he put the car in drive and drove towards the apartment.
* * *
As soon as we parked in the garage, he got out, opened my door, pulled me out and helped me into the apartment. All without saying a single word.
He deposited me at the couch before disappearing into the bathroom.
Thirty seconds later he walked out with a towel around his neck and another one in his hand. He tossed me the second one before drying himself.
Not wanting to develop a cold, I proceed to dry myself, my energy mysteriously sapped out.
"Where the hell were you?" He asked three minutes later.
Great! He was not happy!
I pretended to be too busy drying my hair.
"Alex?"
I continued to thoroughly dry.
Suddenly the towel was ripped out of my hand and a glaring Dylan is a few inches away from me, his pale face so close I could see his chapped lips.
"Where were you?"
"I don't have to answer to you," I snapped breathlessly at his nearness.
"Considering that I just saved you, I think you do," he answered confidently.
"You didn't have to save me. Besides, I was perfectly alright." I knew I was just grasping at straws here, but somehow I still didn't want to accept that he was right and that I wasn't.
"Yeah, you were. Drenched to the bones, sniffling and exhausted. That's the very definition of alright." He smirked.
"I was about to call for a cab," I argued feebly.
"You would've gotten more than you warranted by getting into a car wearing that, Hunt!" His sharp glare was back as he looked me over again, before throwing the towel at my chest.
I looked down, confused of what he meant. I flushed with embarrassment immediately. My floral dress was a pale beige color and thanks to the downpour it was currently see through, my black bra visible through the material.
Another sneeze on my part saved me from embarrassing defeat.
"What do you think of tomato soup?" Dylan asked before disappearing into the kitchen, even before I could reply.
* * *
"I thought you were scared of tomatoes," I said as I stared at the delicacies he'd whipped up in half an hour.
Tomato soup, garlic bread, lemon tea and Greek salad.
"I'm not scared of tomatoes. I just don't particularly like them," he answered as he sat down next to me on the high chair.
"Fine. Who knew I'd see the day where Sir Jerks-A-Lot cooks for me." I said before taking a spoonful of the tomato soup.
It was surprisingly remarkable, and tasty.
"Sir Jerks-A-Lot?" He asked, brow raised.
Oh shit! He didn't know!
"Uhmm... This is delicious," I said, hoping for a quick subject change.
"I know," he smirked cockily. "I made it. Is that what you dubbed me? Sir Jerks-A-Lot?" An amused smile dominated his face.
"Yes. No. Maybe," I said hastily before I bit into the garlic bread.
"Yes then. Where did the inspiration come from exactly?"
I pondered over that. Where did I get that name from?
"You were a jerk," I answered before chewing into some lettuce.
"I was a jerk... A lot?" He chucked.
I nodded. "And you acted all pompous and noble... Like a duke."
"Thus the name 'Sir Jerk-A-Lot'?"
I nodded.
"You surprise me even more, Hunt."
I smiled at him childishly before finishing off the soup. "Who knew Mr Arrogant could cook?"
"Your nicknames aren't that creative, you know? Mom made sure all of us knew how to cook a full course before she let us leave the house."
I nodded before I placed the dishes into the sink. "Thanks for dinner."
He smiled back warmly. "Where were you?"
"Again? With this?" He was persistent and persuasive!
He nodded. "I just want to know if you were safe, Alex. I got here and you still weren't back. It was getting late so I called around and no one knew where you were. So I'm sorry for being persistent, but I thought you were dead in an alley."
I watched him, shocked that he would've worried about me, even after the cold way he'd treated me since two days ago and the scene today at the set.
He pulled my phone out of my handbag. "And do you even know why this was invented? You should answer the phone when someone calls no matter how pissed you are." His voice level was rising dramatically.
"The battery ran low," I replied as I grabbed the phone and showed him.
"That's why you should've let me buy you another phone."
"I don't need another phone, or anything else from you, Dylan. You've given me enough." Besides, that would just make me like you even more.
He sighed. "I get it." He stood up from his seat. "I'm not even your boyfriend or your friend why should I worry right?"
I nodded. "You shouldn't."
"Fine. Noted," he walked towards his room. "By the way, your father was there today because the director called him for some last minute decisions. Not because I called him and wanted you to give him a second chance."
"Wait," I called out, before he disappeared into his room.
He looked up, brows arched.
"I'm sorry for misunderstanding and thinking the worst," I apologized, embarrassed by my assumptions.
He nodded. "I was wrong too." He turned around. "I've been in this thing for a long time and yet, I still believe everything the tabloids write."
"What do you mean?"
"I thought you and Tyler were..." He paused. "...dating."
"Oh that."
He nodded.
"Why would you care if we were?" I asked.
"You know the answer to that, Alex," he replied, looking me directly in the eye.
"Because you supposedly like me?"
He walked towards me, stopping just three feet away. "Not supposedly, Alex. I do like you."
"And yet that still doesn't change a thing," I said.
"And why not?"
"Because you're you."
He chuckled. "That would be the first time I've ever hated those words put together." His eyes darkened. "Me being me is not a reason, Alex."
"It is to me."
"What if I give you a fifty reasons it would change?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll give you a fifty reasons why I like you, and then I'll let you decided if me being me is not enough."
"Fine," I said, confident. "You won't find at least three."
He closed the space between us, and leaned in.
Already expecting what he was going to do after the two surprise kisses from before, I covered my lips with my right hand.
Dylan looked frustrated momentarily before he smirked.
Then he leaned in and pressed his lips against my hand for ten seconds.
I studied him.
His eyes were daring and determined, yet curious. His scent was intoxicating and I fought myself to maintain my current pulse rate.
And then he pulled away.
And then I did the stupidest thing I'd ever done since I moved to L.A.
I removed my right hand.
He smirked arrogantly before he leaned in again and pressed his lips against mine.
You know when people say they felt fireworks, and electricity pulsing through their very veins when they kiss someone? Obviously everyone who hasn't experienced it themselves find it hard to believe.
But when Dylan's lips met mine, I felt it.
And I savored it even as my breathing came out with exasperation and I became breathless.
And just before I thought I could die from happiness, Dylan pulled away.
His signature smirk on his face. "Reason number 1. I like kissing you."
Then he turned around and went into his room.
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