DYLAN
Stuck in between submitting my new screenplay to Netflix through the flimsy excuse I have for an agent, I barely squeezed time to check on the stunning woman I saved. My mother raised a lot more than an eyebrow at the rumor that I was sheltering Kiera in my home, next to my bedroom, of all places.
Today had been beautiful, and remained so until Mom called me this evening just poke her nose in my affairs as usual. I did intend to keep our conversation dominantly private, that's why I came all the way to this floor because it's rarely frequented by servants, or my few friends. How did Kiera stumble across it?
At first, I was infuriated but I understood that she was naturally curious and I was to blame for treating her to my conspicuous absence.
"I'm sorry, Kiera," went the first apology I remembered ever offering anyone, since it was terribly difficult to admit that I was wrong.
However, with her, I felt free to be myself, she was a weakling and I was not pressured to act stronger than necessary.
When I held her hand, she childishly grasped onto mine like it was her sole lifeline. And then, in this darkness, void of spectators and social boundaries, she showed me exactly how weak and vulnerable she was inside. I listened to it in her cunning wit, her whimpering. She invited me into her inner self through her embrace.
"You're really scared, aren't you?" I scoffed as Kiera clung to my shirt.
"I hate the darkness," she complained, "It makes me afraid. I should be sorry as well. It was wrong of me to jump on you like that. What if Miss Joanne crashes on us in this compromising position?"
"I think the real question is, why are you sensitive to the dark? There's nothing harmful here. No spiders or white faceless ghosts. Just me and you."
Slowly, she eased backwards, breaking free of our contact but not quite willing to let me go. I, on the other hand, missed the softness of her pink velvety skin, like a baby's after it's morning bath. The lights flicked on, washing our surroundings glorious amber.
"I can't..."
"Tell him what? That you're very glad to become his personal slut? Come on, Dylan, I thought you were better than this. Locking yourself away with a fugitive in your own home? Didn't have courage to make out with her in the open, right?" Joanne spat, panting and carrying a pair of black stilettos in her right hand. Solid proof that she tiptoed gingerly all the way!
"What are you doing here?" I bared my teeth like they were vampire fangs.
"Oh baby, since you were too busy to reply my texts, I decided to check on you."
"Am I not welcome to visit you whenever I want anymore? I can't believe I was stupid enough to think that you'd be happy to see me."
"Not now, okay? I'm in the middle of something, " I protested.
Joanne followed the direction of my gaze and landed on Kiera hugging herself, calm and unfazed. Unlike the hysterical woman I got to know few minutes ago.
"Of course," she sniffed cynically.
"With the hopeless mute. Does she even have a name? bet she hasn't had a proper bath in days."
"Miss Joanne Whitney, that's not very nice. She can hear you." I tried to play it cool but on the inside, I raged like a pit-bull in a ring fight. Kiera deserved better than this, not insults after insults from another woman.
"Well then, I expect her to say something. Oh, I forgot. She suffers a chronic case of ASD, but can't stop throwing herself at someone else's boyfriend? I didn't know you had a thing for useless mutes, Dylan," Joanne pours out her torrential rain.
"What are you, a sixteen-year old girl jealous for her crush's sake? So I shouldn't help people because I'm with you now?"
Frustrated beyond understanding, she groaned to the heavens. "Hugging a hopeless mute in the dark is your style of helping?"
"Is this about a hug? Okay, I'm sorry. I will never do it again, I promise. Satisfied?" I queried sarcastically, fed up to my fill of Joanne's childish tantrums.
"You know I hate it when you look at me that way," she scoffed.
"But how do I look at you?" I let out an irritated sigh as I waited for her answer that took ages to come.
When we first started dating, I was undeniably attracted to her short plump legs which made me hankering for more of her body. More I craved, and more I got, until the entire mixture became too toxic for me.
She used to confess to loving my acute stare renown for stripping down women without exactly removing their clothes but making them feel I'd done exactly that. And which girlfriend complains of her boyfriend's beautiful eyes raking her body?
"Like I'm a piece of meat you can't wait to grab. Yet you wish you could also toss it in the trashcan."
"Could you please stop comparing yourself to meat every time? It's extremely cliché. Not to mention boring."
"You think I'm boring now? You meet a lonely thing that is supposed to be dead only if you didn't poke your nose in her business and you start thinking I'm boring? So tell me, you've been spending all your evenings with her, right? God, I can't believe I fell for your stupid excuses."
"Joanne, would you please lis__"
"Since you don't want to be a man and give it to me straight, I'll tell you what's on my mind. From now on, it's either her or me."
I blinked thrice in quick succession. Alright, I knew we were having problems but, how did it escalate to this level?
"What?"
"You heard me, Mr. Award-winning Screenwriter. You choose who you want to be with. I refuse to be played for a fool like female leads in those shitty romances you write."
In that case, I cleared my throat, softened my pupils to their sexiest shade of brown and pulled Joanne closer by the hand.
"I always had to choose you over everything. You call the shots all the time here. And I wouldn't even dare take over that role from you."
Smiling from ear to ear, she claimed my lips in a needy, hungry kiss. I forced my body to cooperate with her whims and kiss her back, but my mind was lost in it's own world entirely. Was this right? If Kiera found out, how would she feel? And then I heard faint, feminine sobbing and the scampering of feet up the stairs.