Chapter 23: Bipolar

< Shirley >
"I quit!" Dylan announced and stood up from the couch. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a frustrated groan, walking out of the gym.
"What do you mean by you quit?" I questioned, trailing behind him with my belongings.
"I quit means I quit," he stated. "Now I don't have the patience to teach you the meaning of 'quit," he let out.
What did he mean by that? I was a good student, and I learned quickly.
"Huh? But why?" I pouted. "I do whatever you tell me to do," I justified myself.
Dylan halted on his steps and turned around to face me, his grey eyes throwing daggers at me. "You listen to me?" He laughed humorlessly. "I think I need to give you an Oscar for that joke. Oh, should I contact the Guinness—"
"What are you talking about?" I spoke up, putting a hand on my hip. "But I tried my best to do everything—"
"Yeah, right. You did everything. Everything." Dylan gasped mockingly. "Oh, no, I can already see the muscles growing. What am I saying? You are already the most muscular person on this planet," he exclaimed fakely, earning an irritated glare from me.
"Are you done with your sarcasm?" I let out
"I'm nowhere near done." He groaned, "Ugh! I feel like I'm going to burst. Where the fuck is my gun?"
I chuckled sheepishly and took a few steps backward in caution. After all, I didn't know when he might take out his gun and shoot me.
Dylan took an exaggerated breath as if he was letting out the raging fumes from his lungs and said, "You did nothing. Nothing. You were complaining about with every fucking task I was giving you, when you know I hate it as if you won't have a peaceful sleep at night without annoying the hell out of me."
Dylan was irritated—would be an understatement. He was fuming like lava, ready to burn the nearby obstacles to ashes. He thought he could take a rest while I exercised till I dropped dead. However, I ended up annoying him so much, he started helping me out with everything, doing all the workouts alongside me. Consequently, with every task he gave me, I objected and whined, saying I didn't know how to do it, resulting in him properly teaching me.
Hence, after torturing him for almost 2 hours, Dylan had given up and walked out in frustration.
"But in the end, I did all of that, didn't I? You're lying through your teeth, you liar," I spoke up, gazing into his opalescent eyes with a challenging look, without blinking. If looks could kill, I would have been bothering people as an evil spirit by now.
Dylan didn't say anything further and tore away his gaze, breaking our eye competition. He heaved a long, frustrated sigh, throwing his head back. He pointed his index finger at me and barked, "Listen, you need to stop complaining about everything. Victory won't come to you on a silver platter, and words with no action won't get you anywhere."
I understood what he was saying, in fact, he was absolutely right, but that didn't mean I had to agree with him verbally. I loved the way he huffed in frustration; it made him look hotter and cuter. "That doesn't mean I have to listen to whatever unreasonable task you give me," I said, pouting with a sad puppy look.
Dylan ran a hand through his silky black hair, letting a few of his strands fall over his forehead, and the way his veins popped on his forearm when he clenched his fists made me think—Damn, he looked so hot.
However, my subconscious warned me that it wasn't the time to think about his god-gifted features.
Dylan placed his hands on my shoulder and said, "Don't worry. Even if I quit as your trainer, I will make sure to get you another one who has a lot of patience, unlike me."
"No way," I objected, swatting away his hands, and crossed my arms against my chest, not willing to bargain. "You will remain my trainer till the last day of the tournament, and I won't negotiate." He gave a look which screamed 'You kidding me, lady?', but I continued, "If you quit, I'm going to file a lawsuit against you," I tried to threaten, completely forgetting he wasn't just some regular tax-paying citizen.
Dylan flicked his finger on my forehead lightly and stated, "You may have a death wish, but other people don't. They fear me."
"Well, I don't." I straightened my back and stood tall, but I seemed to have forgotten that no matter how high heels I wore, I still wouldn't be taller than him.
His lips curved up as he raised his over-shirt a little to show the gun on his waistband. "What do you say now, Ms. Hamilton?"
"I meant, well, I won't disobey you anymore." He squinted his eyes at me, and I corrected myself, "I will at least try to." What was with Dylan being so bipolar? One moment he was a hulk, the next moment he was intimidating, and the moment after that he was kind.
Dylan covered his gun again and said, "Anyways, if you don't listen to me starting tomorrow, I swear I'm going to quit as your trainer or whatsoever and make sure you find no other trainer as well. Also, according to our deal, you have breached a clause, which can result in the death of your parents."
My heart wrenched at the thought of the death of my family. I didn't want to picture it. "Why are you dragging my family in this again?"
"Because I want to," Dylan stated and turned around, starting to walk ahead of me.
I looked down at the ceramic floor, feeling bad for agreeing to such a deal that could harm my family. However, I decided to not let it bother me and pulled up a smile on my face and started following him unless I wanted to get lost in this gigantic mansion.
"How long do you intend to follow me?" Dylan questioned as I continued taking long strides to match with his pace.
"I'm not following you. I just want to change my sweaty clothes," I replied as I planned to ask the maids for a spare room.
"You could have just told me." I rolled my eyes again at his words. Like I would believe he was going to tell me. "You can use any of the guest rooms." Dylan pointed at the similar-looking doors in the hallway, which did seem like they would be kind of like a five-star hotel room.
"It's not my house. I don't know which one is a guest room and which is a bedroom. I don't want to barge in and see a sight like—" I stopped speaking as I remembered half-naked body. I swallowed the lump in my throat and added, "It's just courtesy."
Dylan motioned at a random room and disappeared from my sight. I changed into a pair of denim shorts and a light pink crop top. Freshening up, I kept my sweaty clothes in the bag and got out of the room. However, I forgot which way I came from. Just great.
I strolled around, trying to find the correct way to the main entrance.
"Leave it to me. I will handle the shipment. Don't—" I ended up bumping into someone, making the files in his hands slip, though his phone remained intact on his ear. Without acknowledging my presence, he bent down to pick up the files. He seemed to be in his late-twenties just like Xavier.
Just as I kneeled to help him, he stood up as he was already done gathering the documents. The second-hand embarrassment was real.
I was biting my lips as he stopped on his track and turned around to face me. "I will call you back later, Amenz," he instructed the person on the other side and removed the phone from his ear, putting it inside his pocket. His green eyes scanned me from top to bottom with a suspicious look. He had a business aura around him—it was probably because his hair was well-brushed and he was in a formal button-up light blue shirt.
As the brunette scanned at me, as if he was measuring the molecules inside my body, I stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to speak. "What are you doing?"
"I can ask you the same question, can't I?" I questioned back.
"Don't answer me with another question," he cut in.
It would be better if I just told him my name. He wouldn't budge otherwise. "I'm Shirley Hamilton," I introduced myself, slightly nervous.
His lips parted, hearing my name. An uncertain look of unadulterated hatred flashed in his eyes before he looked away, trying hard to remember for a few seconds before he let out, "Ah, right, Hamilton. Dylan mentioned about you." I was surprised that everyone around Dylan knew about me, but no one around me knew about him. "It's nice to meet you finally. I'm Riley Chrispher. I'm like a big brother of Dylan."
I shook hands with Riley as he forwarded it first with a smile spread across his face. Did he have a split personality? The look in his eyes earlier didn't seem friendly at all, and now he's acting all sweet. Strange.
"Yes, same here. Pleased to meet you too." I smiled back politely.
"You must be lost, I assume," Riley asked, and I nodded. "Let me guide you then." Considering Dylan's profession, he must have thought I was an intruder, but now that the misunderstandings were clear, he was being nice.
However, Riley seemed to be a calm and collected person, the complete opposite of Xavier.
I kept following Riley to the familiar living room, where Dylan was talking on the phone, sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee. I was lost, and this jerk was enjoying his coffee.
I thanked Riley, and he flashed me a small kind smile in return before handing a few files to Dylan. I wondered why everyone else except Dylan was so lively and easy to read here.
My gaze was locked on Dylan as he flipped through the files with his phone in between his ear and shoulder, failing to notice the presence creeping behind me. I could never multitask like that. I would end up speaking gibberish on the call and sign in the wrong place.
"Shirley!" I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder. I heard someone laugh, seeing my terrified reaction. It was only Xavier. The two of us started to chat chirpily which irritated Dylan as he started to scold us.
"Well, your favorite annoying person is yet to come tomorrow," Xavier remarked. A horrified expression took over Dylan's face.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"No, I'm not." Xavier grinned.
Well, I was clueless about their topic.
"You are not—" I didn't hear what Dylan said anymore as Xavier grabbed my arm and pulled me along with him.
"See you later, my boss," Xavier hollered in a singsong voice, making me chuckle. "Let me show you around. You will be coming here for the next few months, right?" he asked, and I nodded.
Xavier sure was a ball of sunlight among these grumpy criminals, although he seemed to have a twisted sense of committing murders. He loved torturing people. I wouldn't care about it as long as I wasn't the person tied to the chair in front of him. He was nice to me, so was I.
I must have burned a few thousand calories by the time I finished touring the whole mansion. My stomach was hurting from laughing at the jokes of Xavier. I had a ton of fun with him.
"I will take my leave now since it's getting late," I informed Xavier once we reached the living room. It was a quarter past nine already. It wasn't like anyone was waiting for me at home, but still, I couldn't stay.
"Why don't you have dinner with us?" Xavier offered.
I was about to agree as the offer didn't sound bad at all. "Su—"
"Please say no, Ms. Disaster," Dylan stated, coming down from the stairs. "I don't want to lose my appetite," he added, and I rolled my eyes.
"That's rude, Dylan." Xavier gave him a stern look to Dylan, who frowned.
"I mean, she has a family. They must be waiting for—" Dylan tried to reason.
"You know more than me?" I spoke up. "Mom and Dad will be home late, so I would have to return to an empty house, anyway." Dylan didn't oppose anymore and averted his gaze.
"The dinner is ready," Trisha announced from the dining hall.
"Shirley is having dinner with us. That's final and you aren't going to misbehave anymore Dylan," Xavier ordered, and Dylan sighed, giving up.
"Fine, do what you want. Who am I to say anything?" Dylan put his hands in his pocket, a childish look on his face. "You never listen to me," he murmured, walking away.
"Don't mind him. He is just salty about a lot of things," Xavier said.
I responded with a smile as I was kind of used to Dylan's rude and sarcastic behavior by now, even though I shouldn't be. All in all, Dylan was driving me crazy with his bipolar attitude.