"As I stand by your flame 
I get burned once again 
Feelin' low down, I'm blue.."
I got the blues by The Rolling Stones.

“For fuck’s sake, Cheryl! Stop yelling into my ear.” A grating voice twitches me out of my deep, snug sleep. I know the voice before I even turn my head to look at its possessor, yet my stomach convulses and my heart palpitates with unease, disconcerted by what will happen when he ends the call. Scared of last night's consequences.

He hums, his voice sounds muffled. “We had to leave.. Yeah, none of your business.” He indifferently states.

Shit! We left yesterday without alerting Cheryl. We were like horny rabbits hunting for a place to get it over with, and I didn't perpend the consequences enough, or I wouldn't be here, naked, and covered by an obsidian sheet. I've always been circumspect, but ever since I've met him, and I'm not myself.

He remains silent for a moment, before he huffs and mutters, “fine” and then I hear him slapping the phone on what I assume is the nightstand. I stay frozen in my place, admonishing myself to stay heedful not to apprise him of my wakeful state. I want to avoid the awkward morning after for as long as I can. I don't even have my phone on me to seek Wikihow's help.

Despite all of that, I don't regret last night. Not even a small tad.

My core agrees, tautening at the delicious memories of last night. Every sensual touch. Every carnal word. Every ecstatic release. All these memories overrun every corner of my head at once.

Abruptly, the bed squeaks, before I hear his almost mute footsteps, and I'm confounded by how the bed feels so empty and cold without him. Even though it's not the first time I sleep on this bed, yesterday was different, especially since he shared it with me.

Though we barely had any sleep.

Suddenly, I feel a warm hand on my cheek, and it takes all of my might not to blink or move a muscle, and so soon, the hand leaves my cheek, only to be replaced by a featherlight kiss. “Keep pretending to be asleep.” He whispers, and then I sense him traipsing away, before I hear the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door being slammed shut.

Oh crap! How did he know?

I hasten to leave the bed, collecting my scattered clothes from the floor, before I swiftly shove my legs into my panties, followed by my bra and dress. Just as I scour around, hunting for my shoes, the door opens.

A dark chuckle fills the room “Why, aren't you a coward, Candy?”

I whip around, my eyes widening, only for my jaw to drop open too at the spectacle I see in front of me.

He's standing there, in his naked glory, his eyes fixated on me, while his hands deliberately dry his hair with a white towel. My eyes trail down, scrutinizing the tiny lines that are chiseled into his abdomen, all the way to his morning wood.

Fuck me to tears!

Ostensibly, he notices my precious reaction, emanating a low chuckle. “Are you going to help me with that, or are you just staring?” He queries, taking a pair of boxer-briefs out of his cupboard, before he pulls them on.

His crudity makes my eyes widen even more. “No! I was searching for my shoes.” I croak out.

He cocks his head to the side. “You mean the ones I removed before I ate you out?” He asks, totally sedate.

My eyes falls shut, and I silently adjure myself to remain temperate. The guy is going to torture me for the rest of my life. “Jesus! Yeah, those.”

He nods, roaming his eyes around the floor, before he strolls toward the couch, bending to retrieve my shoes. He doesn't hand them to me, instead, he makes his way to where I'm standing, hunching in front of me. Looking up at me with smoggy eyes, he wraps a hand around my left ankle, and I instinctively brace a hand on his warm shoulder, feeling his cast-iron muscles under my touch. I assist him, raising my foot, and he finishes the task with putting my foot into the shoe, before he does the same with the other foot.

I manage to thank him, and in response, he plants a kiss on my leg, just above my knee.

“Dylan.” I sigh.

“What?” He asks, a smirk taking over his luscious lips.

“I have a class in-” I start, before I glance at the clock on the wall, snappily jolting away from him. “An hour? Crap! I need to get back to my apartment.”

He laughs, straightening up. “Sure. I was planning on playing later anyway, since you're sore and all.”

Oh boy, am I!

“Keep dreaming​.” I mutter, starting to search for my purse, before I realize that I left it in the car.

He shakes his head, hitching my gaze with his murky one. “No, Candy. That's called planning, not dreaming, and plans are made to be carried out.”

Oh crap, indeed.

______

Just as we grab coffee from the coffeehouse, we chance upon his folks, along with Hannah, who happens to be all over Trent. Alexa looks like she has a frog lodged in her throat, and Claire's face doesn't look any better; however, she's the first to spout. “Is it some kind of habit now?”

I don't respond, entrusting the battle to Dylan. The lack of sleep and my nonplussed brain are making everything look blurry, and I have no spunk to deal with her. “What habit?” Dylan asks.

“You coming together.” She answers. “Do you seriously drive to her place every morning to come together?”

Trent chuckles, and Hannah imitates him, her amused gaze alternating between me and Dylan. “Actually, she never made it to her place yesterday.” Trent declares, winking at me. “I was there, and I never saw her. Not even this morning. Wondering where you've been.” His teasing voice makes me want to give him a bloody uppercut, and I don't have to look at everyone to discern their shell-shocked countances at his revelation.

“None of your business.” Dylan mutters, grabbing our coffee cups, and Trent laughs in response.

Just before we leave toward the building, Claire asks Dylan. “Emerald tonight. You in?”

Instead of answering, he glances sideways at me, raising his eyebrows. “What are you doing tonight?”

I try to stay composed as everyone's gaze perforate holes into the both of us. “Nothing.”

He nods, looking at Claire once more. “We're in then.”

Between classes, I wander into the restroom to freshen up. Looking at myself in the restroom mirror, I gape at my enervated posture. My eyes look woozy, and I can already feel the effect of caffeine fading away. Looks like I'm already getting used to that stuff. I should really take a break from Dylan. How dare he decide for me to go to Emerald? He needs to pull his shit together and stop acting like a despotic douche, and I should make sure he doesn't get used to ordering me around. Being controlling in bed is something, and in real life is another, which brings me to my decision.

I'm not going to Emerald.

“I like how you're staring at yourself in wonder. I don't understand what he sees in you either.” Somehow, I manage not to look stunned at Claire's sudden appearance, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Careful, Claire, or I might think you're bullying me because you're-” I frown, faking a surprised look. “-jealous?”

That gets her already, and she looks at me with a pestilent look. “Nothing lasts, honey. Dylan is a guy, and guys can barely keep their dicks in their pants. A guy can't resist a willing hole, eh?”

I have to admit it, that fucking hurts. She knows how to slay, I can give her that, but she's got nothing on my mischief.

“Doubtful, since he resisted yours.” I shoot back.

Her eyes flare up. “Don't be so cocky, Candice. When he gets bored, you'll be thrown away like a used-up toy.” She stops in front of me, faking a sympathetic look. “Have some dignity and run now, while you can.”

I'm wondering why a part of me believes her.

Maybe because I don't trust him.

“Thanks for the tip.” I respond, parading toward the door.

“Wait.” She calls, and I stop, waiting for her next strike. “If you don't believe me, ask about his ex girlfriend.”

“You mean the dead girlfriend?”

“Why, aren't you diligent. That very one, yeah. Ask about their relationship.” She counsels me, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh! And her brother too! Quite the interesting family, and we all know that Dylan is notorious for his choice of acquaintances.”

I turn to look at her. “Why don't you start helping Alexa, instead? Looks like she needs it more. Oh wait! Are you even that tight anymore? Because I doubt it, since Hannah–your friend–and your cousin are a thing now.” I tilt my head to the side, giving her the same sympathetic look she gave me. “I bet she needs a new friend now.”

With that, I walk out, leaving the last sentence hanging in the air.

Who else is interested in fucking with me?

__________

*Where r u?*

I frown down at my phone. What's with the strange numbers?

*Who is it?* I fire back.

*Lemme give u a hint. You kept screaming my name last night.*

I gasp loudly, and the cab driver hastily looks at me in the mirror with a flurried visage. “Everything okay?”

I nod repeatedly. “Yeah, thanks for asking “

*How did u get my #?* I text him back, my face flushing deep red as I recall last night's memories. My eyes watch the three dots as they bounce up and down, hurdling the wanton memories that keep sojourning my head, and not even noticing that the cab has come to a stop. I step out of the cap after paying the driver, my eyes still glued to my phone.

*I can get whatever I want, whenever I want.”

I snort, knowing already how he got it. *Hannah, again?*

I mosey into the place, where the air fails to make my hair drift. It feels weird to have my hair down, but I have a plan, and it needs to be executed in the best way possible.

*Tbh I was a bit embarrassed when I asked her for ur number. We've already fucked, yet you never gave me ur number*

Does he have to talk about it every chance he gets?

*Can't you just forget about last night?* I text back, finally getting to the table where they're seated. I don't find Claire and Logan. Only Trent, Hannah, Alexa and Dylan are present, but barely speaking.

“Looking smashing, babe.” Trent is the first to notice me, giving me one of his saucy winks

I perch myself onto an empty stool between Trent and Alexa, opposed to Dylan, who's giving me an amused look, his twilit eyes barely twinkling.

“She always looks good.” Hannah chirps, grinning at me. “Don't you guys agree?” She asks, her attention moving between Alexa and Dylan.

Should I hug her or slap her?

I choose neither, giving her a little simper instead.

Alexa doesn't say anything, only smiling. On the other hand, Dylan leans back, supporting his back against the stool, and drawls out, a smirk tracing his lips. “Can't agree more.” Just like that, he looks down at his phone, typing away.

*With how you look right now, I can't. I was waiting for that part tho.*

*What part?*

*The “last night was a mistake” part.*

*It wasn't. We got it out of our systems. Let's move on.* I respond, lowering at the screen of my phone.

I feel his burning gaze on me, but I still don't look up.

*You see, you may be convincing to others, but I see through you. You should consider being honest with me.*

I try to keep my face neutral, but he fires another text, draining the blood from my face.

*Did you really get it out of your system, Candy? Was last night enough for you?*

Before I get the chance to respond, he send a third.

*Because it wasn't enough for me, and I can't get last night out of my head.*

I swallow, utterly speechless, and just before I cogitate responding, Claire's arctic voice freezes me inside out.

“I wonder why you didn't come with Dylan, Candice.” She asks, occupying the stool next to Dylan, and I discry an unusual sloppy look to her hair.

“I insisted to come alone. Unlike you, I have a job.” I say, winking at her.

She doesn't look affected at all. “Not working night shifts anymore?”

“Actually, I no longer work there.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Working at a strip club now?” She laughs.

“I wish. They earn a lot of money.” I shrug nonchalantly. “But no.”

“Shame.” Logan's voice comes from behind me, and I turn my head to the side to look at him. He has a somewhat disheveled look to him. It's almost unnoticeable, but my hypervigilant eyes discern every detail.

He sits next to Claire, and I perceive her body tensing up. It's the uncomfortable look on her face that makes everything sink in. They were both absent when I arrived, and they definitely weren't on the dance floor. Both look somewhat disheveled. And above all, she looks uncomfortable.

Interesting.

“Careful, Logan. Dylan has called dibs long ago.” Trent jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“I'm not a piece of property.” I state straightway, looking at Dylan, whose face contorts in a lethal look.

“Dylan!” Claire suddenly calls, an appalled look on her face. “Chavez is coming over.” She gapes at someone behind me for a second, before her eyes zero on me, giving me a brief smirk.

I frown, wondering why she's giving me that look, before I choose to find out for myself, expecting some hot chick Dylan has slept with in the past, but I don't find any girls making their way toward us.

It's him, again.

The guy with the falcon tattoo.

___________

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