In which Dallas Winston has a soft spot for more than one Cade, and Gloria's kid brother gets caught up in a murder rap.
𝑭𝒂𝒔𝒕-𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 • verb
\ ˈfas(t)-tôk \
to influence or persuade
by fluent, facile, and u...
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I HUG THE COVERS tighter, enjoying the warmth of the soft bed and cuddly person next to me before my eyes flash open and I jerk awake.
Wait – what the hell?
Confused as to why I'm actually in a bed, and actually got decent sleep, I look around the room trying to get my bearings. Sunlight filters in through the blinds, illuminating the room with a golden glow. Nevertheless, dread washes over me as I remember why I'd spent the night with Dallas Winston, of all people.
As if on cue, Dally props himself up on his elbows beside me, wide awake, and still shirtless. It's as if he'd been waiting for me to wake.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty." Dally ruffles my hair as he teases. I smack his wrist away, and collapse back into the comfortable sheets.
"Can it, Dallas Winston."
"Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey."
"Don't make me slap you," I groan, face buried in his pillow. It smells nice.
"Well aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?"
At that, I roll over and glare up at him.
"Yes. Yes I am. Ya know why?"
Dally sighs, preparing for my anticipated rant.
"My kid brother is in deep shit right now, and I'm not there to help him, and it's all my fault, and some butthead won't tell me where he–"
"–Butthead?"
"–is, and I'm–"
"–Really? Butthead? I don't think you know how many broads'd kill to spend the night with–"
"–You shut your trap this instant before I–"
"–Before you what?"
"I–"
Dally grins, his eyes glowing.
"–What are you gonna do, huh?" Slowly, he leans towards me. "Fight me?"
My eyes widen as I realize what's coming.
"Do not – and I mean it – do. Not. Tickle me, you sick bastard."
Right before he leans over me, I manage to swipe the pillow from beneath me to use as a shield, but it's no use – Dally smacks it away. Before I can blink, I'm laughing in agony as he tickles my sides. Dally chuckles deviously as I struggle to fight back.
"Daaal," I whine, pleading through laughter. I try to ignore the sparks that scorch my skin where he touches me. Accidentally, I try to push him away with my injured hand.
I wince, and immediately, Dally stops.
"Shit," he mutters, sitting back up next to me. "You okay?" Dally reaches for my hand, so I hold it up for him to see before he can take it.
