Chapter 37: Mixed Feelings

< Shirley >
The soft smile that formed on Dylan's lip gave a warm, fuzzy feeling inside my chest. However, it soon formed into a scowl.
"I get it that you're motivated and all, but why come to my place so freaking early in the morning?" he rebuked, and I grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck.
"Actually, I didn't sleep last night at all. It was already 4 o'clock when I was done with my studying and planning, so I thought I should disturb your sleep as well. But it seems like you weren't even home. My bad," I said.
"Then you should thank God because if I was sleeping and you were to disturb me, you would have been a dead meat by now." He glared at me, and I flashed him a lopsided smile. "Gosh, just looking at your face is making me tired—"
"Let's start our training already. I don't wanna waste a single second," I said enthusiastically without letting him complete his sentence. Even though I could see exhaust traces on his face, yet I wanted him to be with me. I guess my selfishness wouldn't go away within a day, either.
"Sorry to shatter your daydream. I don't want to—" I swiftly cut him off again.
"I don't care." I grabbed his arm and dragged him along with me towards this car collection.
"Okay, I will go. Stop dragging me," he commanded and I let go of him. He took off his jacket and threw it on the couch, starting to fix his black shirt.
"Where are you coming from?" I furrowed my brows in question. I was dying to ask him from the moment he entered through the main door.
"Oh, I went to trim animals."
"What?" I let out.
He leaned closer while putting on his cufflinks and said in a lower voice, "Mafia business."
My mouth formed in an 'O' and I nodded in understanding.
"What assurance do I have that you meant everything you said right now?" he spoke up as I watched him roll up his sleeves.
I gulped and said, "I swear on my life."
Dylan twitched his lips and asked bemusedly, "Are you sure it's not my guards or my life you are swearing at?"
I looked up at him and flashed him a dazzling fake smile. "Do you want me to?" I always used to swear on someone else's life, anyone other than me, which clearly showed my insincerity. Therefore, I wasn't surprised that Dylan wasn't buying it.
"I still don't believe but never mind." Dylan put his hands in his pockets and started walking towards the north side of the mansion with me following close, still having a hard time matching his long strides. All of a sudden, he slowed down, his steps matching with mine now. I glanced at him in surprise but he pretended not to do it intentionally and said, "Earlier you said you were studying and planning till late at night. What was it about?"
It was rare of him to be curious about anything related to me. "Why—"
"Before you assume something stupid, I just want to know whether you were planning to kill me by studying ways of peculiar deaths," he spoke up on his accord. I chuckled. Could he ever admit anything directly?
"No, I was thinking about my life," I replied.
"Like how to destroy your life in ninety-nine ways?" He arched an eyebrow and I shook my head while laughing lightly
Taking a deep breath, I told him, "I'm planning to become a fashion designer, so I was revising my fashion-related books and notes. Plus, I signed up for an interview in the fashion company where I was an intern. I was preparing for that."
Dylan was quiet for a moment as if imagining me as a fashion designer. Then he placed his hand on top of my head, giving me a near heart attack. "That sounds great. You do have a great fashion sense."
"You… mean that?" I mumbled slowly.
He patted my head lightly and nodded his head, his lips curved up only a little bit; it was so tiny, I almost missed it, but it was there. And that encouraged me. I could tell that he was genuinely happy for me, which made me even more excited about my new job.
I didn't know why I just felt so happy about it. This strange feeling was just...so strange. It was hard to describe what emotions were swirling around me like a typhoon ready to blow me away. When Dylan was smiling, it made my smile wider. When he was sad, though I couldn't tell most of the time what he was thinking, it made me feel upset too.
But also, I somehow could now tell what emotions he was feeling just by looking into his eyes, whether he was happy, sad, angry, frustrated, bored, curious, annoyed—which had been quite impossible for me when I first met him. I wondered if it was a good or bad thing. Because the more I dived into his emotions, the more perplexed I felt.
Why was he the way he was? What turned him into the monster? What were the circumstances that made a teenager, who was supposed to enjoy his high life to the fullest, pick up a gun to murder someone? I wanted the answers to these questions, but I knew he wouldn't answer them so easily.
When we reached the garage, I picked up a car as usual and took the driver's seat with Dylan sitting beside me.
As I was putting on my seat belt, Dylan murmured, "Just get me back home alive, okay?"
I let out a chuckle and joked, "No, I will get you to your grave."
Once I started driving, as always, Dylan gave comments and suggestions about the starting and how to maintain the speed, but not as rude as before. After a few minutes, he spoke up again when it was silent. "Tell me more about your plans."
At first, it made my heart leap in delight, but... then again why would he be interested?
"Are you really interested or are you just trying not to sleep?" I asked amusedly and glanced at him for a split second before turning my eyes back on the road. I couldn't afford to lose focus on the roads since I was driving at 181 mph.
"Nope, just bored," he casually replied. It stung but didn't have any expectations. "However, to be honest, I'm curious to know as well," he added.
Oh, gosh, what was wrong with this guy? One moment, his words made me want to throw him out of the car. And the next moment, I just wanted to hug him.
"At least, you want to listen," I let out with a smile blooming on my face.
Dylan was a really good listener, except when he threw sarcastic comments, which was very often. His interest was glinting in his eyes yet he acted like he couldn't care less. As I said earlier, I could understand his emotions better now. It made me wonder who it was that changed more. Was it me, or was it him?
"I have to admit your plans are perfect. I wish you luck," he said. Aww, he could be really sweet someti— "Although you have got really bad luck." Never mind. He was still a douchebag.
"Even though my plans seem perfect, I'm really nervous," I murmured, my teeth clattering in anxiety. But calmness washed over me as he placed his hand on top of mine and gave it a light squeeze.
"You will do fine. Just be you," he told me. Subconsciously, a smile crept on my lips, listening to his soothing voice. "As you don't have luck supporting you, don't depend on it. Have confidence in yourself like you always have."
Dylan shouldn't say it like that. It would make me think that he really cared about me when the sad reality was that he did not.
As I didn't talk anymore, it was getting too quiet for my liking, so I played some music on the radio. I felt the sun almost blind me when I got out of the shades of trees from the woods. The sun was shining with all its might as if wishing me good luck as well. The sky was clear and the weather seemed perfect.
"It sure is sunny today," I commented. Getting no response, I glanced at my left side to find Dylan's eyes closed, a peaceful expression on his face.
I slowed down the car just to look at his face. Not to be creepy, but I couldn't help but admire him. Now that I observed carefully he had that naturally charming handsome face unless he was shooting death glares at someone. He should always have this sort of expression, instead of being grumpy and expressionless.
Dylan just looked so cute yet handsome. I wanted to touch his disheveled black hair and run my fingers through them.
Too lost in ogling him, I dropped the speed even more until I remembered his orders were to maintain a steady speed. Shit, he would totally kill me.
I pulled the gear lever in a panic, boosting the speed drastically from 70 mph to 180 mph. The speed rose up so suddenly, I almost bumped my head on the steering wheel and since Dylan was sleeping, unintentionally his head fell on my shoulder, and my heartbeat spiked up.
Could it get any worse? I couldn't even concentrate on driving when Dylan was away from me and now that his head was resting on my shoulder, was I even supposed to be able to focus?
I couldn't muster up the courage to wake Dylan up as he looked like he really needed to rest. But what about me?
I started taking rapid breaths to keep myself calm. Saliva was forming in my mouth and I was gulping it down continuously. What was going on with me?
Stay calm. Just drive and let him sleep, I told myself. But it was easier said than done. Should I have made a stop somewhere and waited until he opened his eyes? No matter how I looked at it, driving at 180 mph without full concentration was suicide. I didn't want to risk Dylan's life by that.
I pulled the gear lever back to decrease the speed.
What the heck did you just think? my subconscious pointed out and a gasp escaped my mouth. Did I just value his life more than mine? I always thought about saving my own life first, then why did I think of him only?
And the damn weird sensation in my stomach wouldn't go away; it rather got more vivid. Also, I just wanted to rip my heart apart cause it was annoying me with its fast beating.
I decided to ignore my overwhelming emotions and continued in a circle around the woods. It had been one hour since Dylan had fallen asleep. I was enjoying the start of the bright day, letting the window open and its breeze in, until I heard a whimper.
"Dad… I am sorry…" My ears perked up at his sudden murmur. I glanced at his head which was on my shoulder to find his face twisted in fear. His breaths were shallow and rapid. "P-please… don't kill… my little…"
"Your little what?" I couldn't help but want to know. I knew Dylan was trapped in a nightmare, yet I was curious about it.
"Mom, it's cold…" His teeth were clattering as if he was actually feeling cold in this warm weather.
As I tried to hear him clearer, he grabbed my hand, his nails digging into my wrist. I winched and bit my lips. "Dylan, wake up. You are dreaming."
"Someone, please save us…" he continued mumbling, tightening his grip on my arm.
I pressed the brake and parked the car on the roadside. Then I shook his shoulder to get him to wake up. His eyes fluttered open in fear and sat up straight, panting. He put a hand on his chest and pulled down the visor as if he couldn't tolerate the sunlight.
I placed a hand on his shoulder which startled him but he calmed down when he realized it was only me. "Did you have a really bad dream?" I inquired in concern.
Dylan nodded and drank some water from the bottle, calming down. "Sorry for that," he said and averted his eyes to the window as if ashamed to see his weak side to me.
"Was the dream really scary?"
He nodded again and crossed his arms against his chest in a defensive manner. "I don't want to talk about it. Start driving."
I forced a smile on my lips and drove off. I just hoped whatever Dylan saw was only a dream, not some flashbacks from his past. Otherwise, it would be too pitiful.