Dreamy Dylan

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#19 I hate it when we fight

The next morning, I feel like a complete and total asshole. Of course Kian is pissed at me. I behaved like a lunatic. Instead of making me feel even worse when I join him in the kitchen with a massive hangover, he just makes me breakfast and hands me a glass of water and some painkillers. I gulp down orange juice straight from the bottle and then scarf down the eggs he made. My stomach churns in protest, but I don’t throw up, so I think I will be fine.

“Last night was… intense,” he starts, his dark eyes boring into mine across the table.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually like that when I get high.”

“I don’t like it when you smoke weed,” Kian admits right off the bat. “I knew you did that sometimes, but I’ve never seen you do it. I don’t even recognize you when you get like that. Petting the rug…”

Wait… what?

“I didn’t pet the rug because I was drunk or stoned. I do that even when I’m sober.” How the hell is that what he’s upset about? “It’s soft and I love lying on the floor. That has nothing to do with weed or beer.”

“That’s… weird.”

There’s that word again. It doesn’t hurt when Andre, Thomas, Tracy, Mila or any of my other friends call me that, but when Kian says it… He means it in a different way. It’s not a compliment or a joke when he uses the word.

“Yeah, I’m weird. You knew that all along. I didn’t suddenly change into a different person or anything. I like soft rugs. What the fuck is so bad about that?”

Kian looks appalled. “I just don’t get how you can go over to visit a friend and then lie on the floor. It’s so…”

“Weird,” I bite out. “Yeah, you made that perfectly clear. Guess what? I don’t care about people thinking I’m weird. I’m not an idiot, I’d never do that when we visit your mom or something, but why would I need to be on my best behavior around Thom and Tracy? They know I like to stretch out on their floor and pet their rug. They don’t mind it.”

“No, because they’re even weirder than you are,” Kian mutters.

I get up and shove my chair back to the table. “Don’t talk shit about my friends. Especially since you don’t even have any!”

Kian’s eyes go wide. “I have friends!”

“Who?” I ask, my voice colder than I’ve ever heard it before. “Who are your friends?”

No answer. I see the light go out in his eyes, the sadness settles in. Fuck. I’m hurting him, and I’m doing it out of spite. Because he’s hurting me too. I feel kind of bad, but I can’t find it in me to comfort him. I have no idea if I’m being rational or not, if I’m an asshole or not, and for once in my life, I don’t backpedal.

He despises my friends. He thinks everything I do is weird, and he hates it. He loathes parts of me that I don’t think are bad habits or shitty character traits. I have many flaws, and he doesn’t have to like me smoking weed, or love my friends the way I do, but he has to stop making me feel bad for being eccentric.

My mom was eccentric, and she stayed that way until her dying breath. In fact, she was eccentric even beyond the grave. When she got sick, she started arranging her funeral right away. It included a slide show of the most embarrassing pictures ever taken of her, a dirty magician doing a show - don’t even ask about that one - and of course a flash mob. What can I say? The woman was absolutely bonkers. I plan to be the very same way. Kian either likes that or he doesn’t.

“Sorry,” Kian groans, taking me by surprise. “You’re right. I don’t like your friends, but I don’t have to be a dick about it. And if you want to smoke weed, that’s your choice. I just don’t like to see it, to be around you when you do. And yeah, you’re a little… strange, but that’s okay. More than okay. I love that you’re so comfortable in your own skin.”

A bit of my anger leaves me and I wrap my hands around the top of the chair. “You don’t have to love everything I do. You don’t have to love my friends. But I at least need to feel like you love me, or what the fuck are we even doing here?”

“I adore you.” His voice is certain. “I love you. I think you’re amazing.”

“Okay,” I breathe. “Can we stop fighting then?”

“Please.” He sounds relieved. “I hate it when we fight.”

“So do I.”

I don’t even understand this fight, if I’m honest. Nor do I feel like I understand what happened last night. The memory is a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure it was my fault, right? Not his? I was stoned and not thinking straight, after all. I cried, made a scene, and I think I implied that he’s as bad as Andre’s ex Eric.

Couples fight. Even Thomas and Tracy do. I canceled our plans and then got high when I knew he wouldn’t like that. This is as much on me as it is on him. Maybe even more on me than him.

We kiss and make up, but things feel off for the rest of the day. I also notice neither of us broaches the subject of me moving in again, and I’m strangely glad about that. I’m not ready to give up my apartment. It’s too soon. We’ve been together almost a year now, but it’s still too soon.


Things get better after that. Thomas and I finish our intense three weeks of work, Kian wraps up his last few cases at his old place of work, and starts at Connor and Johnson. And to top off all that great news, Liv and James are finally tying the knot.

“She’s a beautiful bride,” Kian whispers to me as they share their first dance.

He’s right. Liv looks amazing in her lace gown, proudly showing off her baby bump. Five months pregnant, and glowing like the sun. James twirls her around, showing off the moves they learned in the dance lessons they got especially for today. The ceremony was beautiful, the vows made me cry, and the entire venue is amazing. They’re holding their wedding at a freaking castle in the countryside.

“If we ever get married, it should be like this,” I say without even thinking about it.

Kian’s arm goes around my waist, and he presses his lips against my temple. “Yeah, you’d like to get married at a place like this?”

“It’s a castle, so yeah.” I’m glad he’s not freaking out over my comment. “It’s enchanting, isn’t it? I’m gonna have to keep sucking up to Derrek the next few years so he can get us discounts on everything, just like he did for Liv and James.”

“I’ve got a pretty big paycheck, and your business is doing so well you can barely keep up. I think we could pay for this even if we don’t get a discount.” He’s still holding me tightly, pressing kisses to the side of my face. Kian is never this PDA-friendly, so I’m enjoying every second of it. He’s even getting along with my friends today. I think it helps that everyone is in high spirits, dressed to the nines, and already slightly buzzed from the open bar.

“Yeah, would you like a big wedding?” I turn so I can kiss him on the lips. “I’d be okay with anything, really, but this castle…”

“It’s beautiful,” he agrees.

James and Liv are done with their dance, and now James is dancing with his mother while Liv dances with her father. Others join them on the dancefloor, and I look at Kian hopefully.

“Sorry, I don’t dance,” he says, putting a little distance between us.

I don’t think it’s about dancing, though. It’s one thing to give me kisses when we’re safely hidden in the crowd, but it’s another for him to openly dance with a man.

“Dylan!” Thomas shouts, coming over with his arms open invitingly. “You, me, dancefloor. Now.”

“Go,” Kian says, sounding a little annoyed. “Have fun.”

“I will.” I loop my arm through Thom’s, for once trying not to let Kian’s opinion affect my mood. If he doesn’t want to dance, that’s fine, but I should be allowed to.

Thomas and I make complete fools of ourselves, first pretending to fight over who gets to lead. When I win, he does a great job of twirling like he’s in a dress, prancing around in the most dramatic fashion. I’m in stitches by the end of our performance, and so is everybody who’s watching. Derrek, who was dancing with Liv’s mom, holds out his hand to me so we can have the next dance. Thomas gets Tracy on the dancefloor, their bodies pressed tightly together. I spend the next half hour dancing my little tushy off, going from partner to partner.

I try to convince Kian to join me two more times, but I give up when I notice him getting more and more agitated. He deserves respect from me, so I’m giving it to him. If he doesn’t like to dance, he shouldn’t be forced to. At the same time, if I want to dance, I shouldn’t be forced to stay on the sidelines.

My cute little behind belongs on the dancefloor, so that’s where it is going.


More about the wedding in the next chapter!

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