Sooo, I just posted the prologue of Empire of Dirt, my other book, here on Wattpad! Make sure to check it out, and don't forget to vote and comment your feedback! Thanks!!

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“It's really unsettling.” Alexa vents as we tread out of the classroom, shaking her head, and it is still unsettling, seeing that blond hair as it flutters around her face, but it still looks seemly, like garlands of gold.

“What is?” I question, repositioning my satchel over the other shoulder. The thing weighs a ton of pounds, and I'm afraid I'll have bumpy shoulders soon.

“Dylan not giving us a wink of attention like that!” She clarifies, looking exasperated.

“You know he no longer wants me. That's why.” I half smile at her, trying to obscure the amount of distress I feel.

I've been already lambasting myself for the pathetic state I've been in. It's been another week, but this time I'm not the one who's been avoiding him. And the cosmic difference here is that he's not avoiding me.

He has cut me off. Completely.

Truth be told, I thought he was bluffing. I thought he was going to eventually come and see me, the way he always does. But he didn't, and I have a direful feeling he won't. Another truth is that I have a colossal ego that's been holding me back. I fear more humiliation. I fear more another turndown. I fear I might be the only fallen addict, that he's been only considering me an agreeable fling.

I'd crush my fucking heart..

He said that, and ever since that night, those words have been haunting me like a phantom that I want so much to believe, but still scared it might only be an illusion; a misinterpretation.

I did it again; I fell, and I fell hard for the incertitude. I thought I was being cautious, before my idiocy clobbered me in the head so mercilessly, that I can't get sober and stand again.

“But I'm his sister goddammit! He's hanging out with that son of a bitch Trent like you're the only faulty person here!” She spouts, her chest heaving.

“Calm down. I'm not even as angry as you.” I sigh. I am angry, but not at Trent, and not at Dylan for abandoning me like that. I'm angry at myself, for so many reasons.

“Keep hiding behind that mask, Candice. You'll have to come around, eventually, or you'll live your entire life hiding there, mourning the loss of a lot of chances you had in your grasp.” She shakes her head at me, looking at me with a mixture of castigation and sympathy.

I hold my hands up to her. “They're empty, Alexa.”

She starts to say something, before her eyes dart to someone behind me. “Huh! Finally my brother is acknowledging me! Halle-fucking-lujah!”

“You curse now?” His voice comes out lukewarm, yet playful. My heart starts to race, and for some unknown reason, his voice still sends a chill down my spine. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I've been yearning to hear it for long now, or maybe because that playfulness is not directed at me. Maybe it's because I'm so fucking lovesick and needy, that his voice alone feels like a tremendous thing.

He comes around, so he's standing between us, and I can't help but look up, my eyes very ravenous to look at him, to scrutinize every single inch of him leisurely until I get bored. What makes me lose my breath, is that I find him staring right back at me, but I don't get to feel mirthful. The look he's giving me is not the one I want. It's devoid of any emotions or warmth.

“Hey.” The word comes out of my mouth without any circumspection, so low and brittle, and if it weren't for the silence that prevails among us, I would have sworn that they didn't hear it.

He cocks his head to the side, his face not altering a tad, before, ever so hard-heartedly, he casts his attention to Alexa, whose eyes are sweeping between us. “Can we talk alone?”

I don't know what twinges me more; him disregarding my greeting so coldly, or him treating me like a complete stranger by asking to talk to her alone. According to his words, I know almost everything about him, and him jinxing my presence like that, feels like a punch in the gut.

Alexa scoffs. “Candice is not a stranger, Dylan. Whatever you have between you, sort it out already!”

“How about you mind your own business?” His sedate tone suggests that he's asking a real question, and not just trying to be crass to her. “And what I want to say is none of her business.”

That's it. I inwardly smack my own face for making a wretched ass out of myself, plastering a fake smile on my face, pinpointed to Alexa. “I have another class. See you around.” I spin, starting to walk away, just before his voice stops me.

“We should arrange a way to make amends with Claire, don't you think?” His question is not assigned to me, but the algid voice, and the slightly loud tone he spoke in, suggests that he wanted me to hear.

I can't stop myself from turning around, my eyes already trained on him, and I'm not surprised when I see him staring back, eager to watch me mouth off furious, jealous lines. But I don't give it to him.

“Grow up, Dylan.” I say calmly, the seething fire inside struggling to burst and gutter, but I tone it down.

The side of his mouth tilts up, his eyes making a small journey from my head to my feet, all the way up again, and I'm not sure if it's a condescending, or an amused look that I see on his face. You can't really be certain about anything with him. And I'm sick of it. “Why don't you grow the fuck up, and start learning how to maintain people's secrets?”

I take a deep breath. I somewhat knew he'd hit with the same quirt, over and over again. Shaking my head, I secure my satchel over my shoulder, trying not to grimace under its weight. “Whatever you want to think, Dylan.” I start to walk away again, but he speaks again, this time to me.

“We have unfinished business, Candy.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “What business, Dylan?” I question. “And by the way, it's Candice.”

His eyebrows shoot up, a smirk caressing his lips. “I thought you liked it when I called you that. Remember that night at-”

“What business were you talking about, Dylan?” I ask, interrupting his perverted question.

“The painting. We never got to finish it, and I don't like unfinished things.” He answers with a bored mien. For some reason, a sanguine gleam illuminates inside of me.

“I thought you wanted me to get out of your life.” It's my turn to raise my eyebrows now.

His face turns stony. “I do. You'll be out of my life as soon as I finish it.” Just like that, he scrags any sign of hope I had.

Ever so slowly and confidently, I step closer to him, my eyes level with his. His hazels follow my movements intently, always curious about my impending actions. “I'm sure you're a smart boy, Dylan babe.” I proclaim. “You know where to shove that painting of yours.”

Just like that, I spin and walk away. For some reason, I don't just feel his eyes drilling holes into my back, but a feeling inside tells me that he's smiling.

Guess I'll never find out.

__________

“STOP FUCKING YELLING!” I finally shriek, the fathomless combat between Trent and Alexa finally hitting a nerve. “You either stop it, or fucking leave.”

“I prefer the latter. I actually have somewhere to go, and Dylan's matters are my least interest.” Logan blusters, rolling his gray eyes.

“He couldn't hold his tongue, and look where you are now because of it!” Alexa raves, pointing aggressively at Trent, who has an agonized look on his face.

“Aren't you fucking worried about your brother, you little idiot? He's my best friend! Of course I had to talk to him!” He yells, his green eyes blazing with fury.

“Well, in case you haven't noticed, you ruined their relationship!” She blares through gritted teeth.

“My, my, now you cherish relationships? Are you in one too already with that son of a bitch you're going out with?” He squints, and I perceive his hands as they ball into fists.

“Jelly?” She crosses her arms, a smirk taking over her face, looking out of place on her soothing, angelic face.

“That's the point of it, huh? You're going out with him to get under my skin!” He exclaims.

“Don't flatter yourself, asshole. I actually like him.” She shoots him a nasty look.

He turns to me. “That blonde weirdo, is someone I don't know.” He spouts, pointing at Alexa. “And it's all your fault!”

“Why don't you fuck already?” Logan suggests, his eyes darting between Alexa and Trent.

“What?” Alexa shrills, while Trent mutters, “Don't be ridiculous.”

Logan rolls his eyes again. “Is he on drugs or not? I don't have time for your stupid fights.”

“He didn't give me an answer, which makes my speculations grow.” Trent sighs.

“Wow! Speculations, huh? That means you have a brain!” Alexa blats. “Did you use that thing before you went to confront him?”

“Did you use yours when you decided to dye your hair blonde?” He asks in return.

“What's wrong with my hair?”

“It looks weird! Your natural hair looked better on you!”

“Well, too bad I don't care about your opinion.” She smiles at him, making him speechless.

“Enough of that! Why are we discussing that now? I'm out of his life, for good.” I point out, trying not to remember the way he talked to me yesterday, like a lay he had to make a portrait of.

“Giving up already, Woods?” Trent queries, raising one brow. “And you call me a pussy!”

“None of your business.”

“Yes, it is! He's hurt, but he doesn't want to exclude you from his life.”

“And you know that how?” I angle my head to the side, planting a curious face.

“Because I've known him for years. I know when he's in love.” He states, leaning back in his seat.

I'd crush my fucking heart..

Could he really be in love with me. Could he really feel the same things I have inside? That sudden blowout I feel in my heart when he speaks, those specks of fireworks my world releases whenever I see him. Those goosebumps that explode all over my skin when he touches me.

That love; could he really feel it too?

“You're delusional.” I counter, conflicted.

“Am I now?” He inquires, his mouth tilting up in a victorious smile. “I'm sure you'll find a way to renovate everything, and along the way, help him.”

Help him?

How can I do that when I need help myself?

A sudden applause snatches me away from my thoughts, drawing my attention to Logan. “That was so heartwarming.” He speaks so sweetly, but from the revolted look on his face, I can tell he's being sardonic. He looks at Trent. “Is that what you brought me here for?”

_________

I decide it's time I stopped being a coward, or a pussy, as Trent put it. The decision strikes so fast, that I find myself getting dressed, faster than I ever have. In no time, I'm in a cab, primed to spill the beans, but not about him. About myself; how I feel, what I want.

Whom I want.​

With my heartbeats a cluttered​ mess, I knock on his door, a part of me hankering for those eyes of his, and the way they look at me like I'm the only person alive, like I'm his only redeemer. Even when he's frosty, and even when his words are made of stone, I still feel alive. Capable of feeling different things, and not just the amount of misery that derives from my painful past.

He has hurt me. A lot. And by coming here, I'm giving him a consent to hurt me more and more, but I still don't care. In fact, the only thing that matters now, is having him back.

I hear metals clinking, and the sound makes my heart barrel even quicker. I watch my feet as they shuffle, nervousness swarming me up, before the door opens, and my eyes descry another pair of feet that aren't mine.

They aren't Dylan's either.

A pair of bare, feminine feet.

My eyes slowly move up, and it feels like my heart has completely stopped beating.

It's that redhead again, this time dressed in nothing but a loose shirt that belongs to no one, but Dylan Evans.

Melissa.