Chapter 51: Kiss

< Shirley >
"My name is Daniel, not any kind of darling." Dylan frowned once I addressed him as darling.
"I will call you 'darling' or any other endearment so that I don't mess up the names. You should also use endearment for me as you are acting as my husband. That would look more natural," I suggested politely.
"What shall I call you?" questioned Dylan.
I chuckled at his question and shrugged, not answering him.
"Babe?" he let out.
"Yes, darling?" I looked at him, flashing him a bright smile.
"Nope. Not sweetheart, not honey, not wifey. Calling you wifey would sound like I am trying to prove that I am your husband," Dylan said and he rolled his eyes.
I laughed, forgetting all about the incident I just witnessed a few moments ago.
After a minute, his lips curved up as he found the most appropriate one according to him. "We are here, my love." With that, the car and my heart came to a halt.
My love? Is that what he will call me from now on?
I looked in front of me to find a pub-like place.
"Wear this." Dylan handed me a navy blue mask that perfectly matched my dress. He had already put on a feathery navy blue mask. Even though his face was covered, his beautiful grey eyes were still visible which were enough for me to recognize him from anywhere.
My mask's design was the same as my dress. It was somewhat like Dylan's one; it had stones and feathers on it. I had no idea it was a masquerade party.
After putting on the masks, we got out. I cringed at the drunken people around me. All the cars nearby were expensive, letting me know that it was a rich illegal place. I could already hear the loud music from outside.
"Shall we go, my love?" Dylan asked before offering his hand. I happily wrapped an arm around his arm.
I felt secure, even though many scoundrels were staring at me with lust. I uttered, "Yes, darling."
Both of us walked up to the double door of the building. The bulky guard asked for the entry pass. Dylan handed him the entry pass which had the names of Mr. & Mrs. Trance.
The guard bowed and let us through. As soon as we entered the place, the strong smell of alcohol entered my nostrils. I covered my mouth with my palm, feeling restless. Dylan looked at me with concern.
I looked around the place, only to get disgusted. Some people were dancing, some were making out, some were talking business, and some were drinking alcohol. I had always hated places like this. Why do these places even exist?
The dancers almost had no clothes on. The dress they wore, barely covered their private parts. Some were trying to seduce the guys around by doing a lap dance and brushing their fingers over them sensually.
Some people were making out as if rooms were never even invented. Whereas some were seriously into the business, I wonder how those businessmen could concentrate on their deals within the ugly environment surrounding them.
A drunkard stumbled in front of me. I scrunched up my nose as he reeked of alcohol. Dylan slipped his hand through my waist, pulling me closer to him. The drunkard stared at me from top to bottom. He started staring at my chest, and I immediately scooted closer to Dylan.
"Are you a goddess? Because you look like one—"
' If you don't want me to chop your limbs off, get out of my sight, and never ever look back at this girl," Dylan said sternly, while glaring at him.
The drunkard shivered under his glare and walked away.
"I— I could have said it myself. You didn't hav—" I couldn't speak any longer as I felt like I would spill out my guts any moment.
"I told you this place wasn't for you. You never listen," Dylan whispered beside me in an annoyed tone.
I just nodded, being paranoid of my surroundings. Many people were staring at us. To say, I felt uncomfortable — would be an understatement in such a situation.
I had the sudden urge to puke. I instantly put my hand over my mouth. Dylan noticed it and looked around for the restrooms nearby. "Come with me." He took my hand and led me towards the ladies' restroom.
While I puked my guts out, Dylan waited for me outside. When I got out, he gave me some water and led me outside to get some fresh air. But unfortunately, even the backyard was nasty. When I tried to inhale some oxygen, all I could smell was cigarettes and alcohol.
God, give me peace.
He made me sit on a bench, far away from all the creeps. Many beers and wine bottles were scattered near the bench. Dylan kneeled down in front of me and took my hands in his. He looked at me softly and questioned, "Are you okay?"
If someone ever asked me why I loved Dylan, then this would be my answer. This was why I loved him. He might not show it that much outwardly, but he genuinely cared about me, at least that's what I saw in his eyes. Just look at this cute action of his — kneeling down in front of me, asking whether I was okay or not with such concern.
I couldn't have asked for a better person to love.
"Yes, I am fine." I forced a smile and tried not to look at the creep, who was waving at me with a toothy smile.
"No, you are not." Dylan placed a hand on my cheek and continued, "I shouldn't have brought you here. It was a bad decision. I shouldn't have listened to your endless pleads. I am such an idiot. I am so sorry. I was in such a fix. I had to kill that person and there were no other women in my gang, who were younger or slightly older than me, to act as my wife. I am really sorry to have you dragged into—"
I put my finger on his lips, shutting him up. "Don't blame yourself for everything. I was the one who wanted to come here. Everything isn't your fault. So, stop taking all the blame on yourself. Give others some share as well. Don't be stingy."
His eyes widened slightly when I flashed him a genuine smile.
"Don't blame yourself. You're not at fault always," I said and kissed his forehead, running a hand through his silky black hair.
"But—" he was about to speak but I interrupted him.
"It is fine. I am fine. Everything is going to be fine." I smiled.
He breathed out, "You are so kind. You are so so nice that you even think everything isn't my fault."
My lips parted and my eyes widened at his words. I cupped his cheek and brought my face closer to his.
"No, I am not nice. You are the one who is nice and caring," I said softly, looking into his grey orbs. His eyes locked with my blue ones. It was a moment that I hardly wanted to pass by. Just looking in those eyes, I could drown myself.
After a few moments of silence, his eyes fell on my lips.
He inched closer, his hands moving up to cup cheek. When his lips were mere inches apart from mine, he gently asked, "May I?"
Must he be so perfect?
Dylan was asking for my permission, I didn't know about others, but I found it extremely cute. He wanted to be sure if I was ready for it, unlike my other boyfriends in the past. It showed to me that he wasn't a wrong choice for me, that he was worthy of being my last.
"Yes." I smiled, making him smile as well.
Dylan kissed me and the world stopped around me. The disgusting people around me, the smell of alcohol, everything vanished. It was slow and soft, comforting in a way words would never be able to.
Only me and him.
His hands rested below my ear, his thumb caressing my cheek as our breaths mingled. My arms were wrapped around his neck as a reflex. I closed my eyes, feeling the pleasure bubbling inside me.
His lips were brushing against mine, delicately like butterfly wings, just long enough to calm our raging hearts. Yet, I could feel his fast heartbeat just like my own. For once I knew for sure, our heartbeat synchronized.
He could inhale my breath, feel the warmth of my lips, and taste the lipstick that lingered on my lips.
We pulled apart after a couple of minutes to grasp oxygen. When both of our eyes met, we both looked away in embarrassment. I was blushing hard. I was sure that my cheeks were red as a tomato.
"Uh, we should go inside now. I need to complete my work," Dylan said awkwardly and stood up.
I nodded and held his hand.
Both of us walked inside again. But this time, the disgusting sights and smell didn't bother me anymore.
If the cost for our first kiss was this, well I didn't mind. Because it was, undoubtedly, the best kiss in my entire life. It was like a drizzle on a summer evening, as in, the best feeling ever.
Even so, there was a disturbing thought in my head. We weren't friends. We weren't just a mentor and trainee. We weren't two people tied in a deal. We weren't dating, and he didn't love me.
Therefore, what were we?
I think my question was answered by the words that Dylan uttered next.
"I'm sorry for what happened," he mumbled, and my daydreams shattered as I put on a fake smile for him.
He shouldn't know about my real emotions which were bottling up inside me.
I was a fool, really. To him, it was a mistake, in the heat of the moment. But for me, it was so much more than that.
But his answer to my question was—we were nothing.