seven

—

dallas helps me out of the car, and we head inside. not having the energy to walk up the stairs, i sit in the red lit room at the bar.

"i'll be back" dallas says as he jogs up the stairs and into his room, grabbing the alcohol that i had used before to help him.

buck hands me a cup of water while i wait.

"sheldons friends?" buck asks while drying some glasses. people will be in soon, it's getting late.

"yep" i say, popping the p. i drink the water in one chug, and put the glass down.

dallas finally comes back down with the towel and bottle of alcohol.

"alright, this is gonna hurt" he says with a smile, mimicking me from earlier.

he puts his fingers on my chin, lifting my head so that he can access the wound.

i gasp as the towel is pressed on, feeling the burning from the cleaning alcohol.

"i'm sorry, doll" he whispers while patting my neck. he finishes, bringing the towel down.

"let's go upstairs" he say, putting his hand out for me to grab.

i feel like some old woman as he helps me up the stairs.

he opens the door and throws the towel to the floor, and puts the bottle of alcohol on his dresser.

i stand there awkwardly.  he leans against his wall, crossing his arms.

"you gotta lift your shirt up" he says, motioning his hand upward.

"nice try, winston" i say laughing.

"nah, man, i'm serious. i gotta look at them bruises."

my eyes widen, and i realize he's right. i sigh and begin lifting my shirt, stopping it just under my bra.

he walks over and puts his cold large hand on my waist, looking at them.

"they aren't too bad. i've had worse" he says as he stands. i put my shirt down.

"no kidding" i reference to his bullet wounds. "speaking of, how are those healing up?"

"good, man. with the stitches they heal up pretty quickly."

i hum in response. i can hear the music downstairs being turned on, for customers will be in any minute.

"the next question is," dallas starts "will you be going to school tomorrow?"

i shrug my shoulders "i don't think so."

"good, you can sleep here tonight. i don't feel like taking you home anyway."

i've never slept over at dallas'.

"okay.." i say with a bit of a smile.

i've always been attracted to dallas, he's a good looking kid, but nothing more than that.

for the remainder of the time, we had gone down to the bar and drunk a little, not getting carried away.

i had gotten myself on a bit of a buzz, but that's it. dallas? i'm not quite sure. he drinks a lot, he's not a lightweight, that's for sure.

"god, i'm awfully tired" i say as i down the last of my drink.

"i could use some sleep too" he responds, getting out of the chair and heading upstairs. i follow behind.

he rummages through his drawers for a moment before he pulls out a black t-shirt. he throws it over to me and tells me to put it on.

he takes his shirt off, along with his jeans. he then throws on a pair of navy blue worn sweats.

i find myself struggling to avert my eyes from the wounds on his chest and stomach.

though, like he said, they are healing quite quickly.

i walk into the bathroom and take off my clothes, tossing them to the ground. i examine my body in the mirror, and the bruises that have begun to form. i lean in, looking at the cut on my jaw from ryan's punches. i look pretty rough.

i put on the top dal gave me, and head back inside his bedroom.

he's already lying in bed, messing with his blade.

once he notices me, he looks me up and down, licking his lips, and then away, back at his blade.

i feel my cheeks heat up instantly.

i take a deep breath and rub my head, and go over and lie next to him.

i pull the covers over me, and face away from him. he leans over me, turning off the lamp on his nightstand.

he shuffled around in the bed to get comfortable. i feel his arm snake around my waist, and he slowly pulls me in closer to his chest.

my breathing becomes rapid as i feel his hot breath against my neck. i think he noticed, so he rested his chin on top of my head instead.

he falls asleep quite quickly, but i lye here, feeling his body warmth against mine. butterflies in my stomach.

—FRIDAY

i wake at 8:47am, dallas' arm still snaked around my waist, but loser than before.

i carefully get out, not trying to wake him. once i get free, i stand up and look at him.

i watch his chest as it rises and falls.

he is so gentle looking while he sleeps. it really reminds you how young he is, that he's only a boy.

i really don't believe that he's as cold and mean as he acts toward others. whenever he gets locked up and put in the newspaper, they say horrid things about him.

of course, it doesn't bother him.

every time he's there, he gets let out pretty quickly. "good behavior" apparently.

i smile to myself and grab my clothes off the dresser n bring them to the restroom to change my clothes.

i finish and walk back into the bedroom. not knowing how to wake him, i throw his t-shirt at him that i had been wearing.

he grumbles, pulling it off of his face and throwing it on the floor.  "christ, smells like you already" he says as he rolls over, pulling the blanket over his head.

i narrow my eyes, and walk over to him, pulling the blanket off.

"you have to take me home, dallas" i say.

he groans loudly, but to my surprise, gets up quite quickly. he changes quickly then asks "how are you feeling?"

"oh, just peachy" i reply sarcastically.

he walks over to me, and just like last night, puts his fingers on my chin to examine my neck.

he hums, then opens his bedroom door, motioning his hand telling me to go out first.