Road Trip - Chapter Thirteen

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[This chapter is split in half, so please remember to follow my instructions at the end to continue reading! Don't forget to still leave a comment and vote to show me your support and encouraging me to keep writing!]

[Derek's Point Of View]

"I'm only staying for like two days."

Dakota glared at me as he dropped my suitcase next to his bed, kicking it gently while starting directly at me. I felt threatened. I dropped the two backpacks I was carrying on my shoulders and sighed loudly.

"You should get that checked," he said.

"Get what checked?"

"You sigh every five seconds."

"Funny," I said, not laughing.

"Is this our first fight?" Dakota said as he closed the front door. "We aren't even married yet."

Why was everything actually triggering me? I shuddered thinking about actually verbally fighting someone. I knew he was joking, but I already started getting a headache and war flashbacks and had to sit down.

"You blow me and you're already planning on marriage?" I said, hoping he'd caught on that it was a joke but he didn't. His jaw dropped. And if we were in a cartoon, it would be on the floor.

"With how much work I put into it I think I deserve a fuckin' ring!" he said, stomping away into the kitchen. He popped his head out a second later. "You want anything to eat or should we order pizza?"

"I'm not hungry. Do whatever you want," I said.

He came out, full body, just so I could see him place his hand on his hips. "You barely eat, why is that? Are you okay? Oh my GOD, Derek. You know I'll support you and be there for whatever you're going through but you gotta eat, man."

I knew what he was hinting at but that was not the case at all. "No, I'm just used to not eating."

"But . . . your body? Like, I don't want to even talk about what happened but it's gonna happen whether I want to or not. You have . . . a bomb body. You can't get that not eating."

I shrugged, waving my hands like I had no idea what emotion I was even trying to portrait. "It's all . . . just construction. I'm always moving, whether I'm working or home."

"Yeah, no, that doesn't make sense to me."

"So you like my body?" I said, changing the subject.

"Uh." He looked around uncomfortably and dove back in the kitchen to hide.

"What else do you like?"

Dakota took out a spatula and he waved it at me. "I'm not talking to you."

Was it bad that I loved messing with him this much? There was something funny and hot about getting him all flustered up with bright cheeks. I was thinking of more ways I could torture him and maybe make him laugh.

"You don't have to be shy. I obviously liked it . . . a lot."

He showed half of his face and the other kept hidden behind the wall. "Like . . . how much is a lot?"

"Were you not paying attention to how much I ca-"

"NO!" he screamed, going back into the kitchen, but he came back again. "That's not even a good answer. Your . . . thing is huge. It's family size!"

I gulped at the mental image. That was . . . so wrong. Why Dakota? Why.

"It's n-"

"Don't you say it's not that big, because yes, it is. You could cut it in half to give me my own dick and it would still be too big. Why is it that big? That's not normal!"

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