The Fire In Me (Ryder) (COMPLETED) 1 ✔️

Chapter Seventy-Two Head In That Trashcan

IDGAF- Dua Lipa

     I stumble to the door and I search my pants for the keys to find that they aren't there. I giggle to myself trying the doorknob just to see if it was unlocked but it wasn't. I knock loudly and obnoxiously and I don't stop knocking until the door swings open and I almost fall forward in my face, but Dallas catches me. He stares down at me with narrow eyes but I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He sighs in disapproval. I didn't care what he thought, to be honest. That's a lie. You care about everything he says whether you want to or not.

     That's why it hurts so much. Dallas pulls me into his apartment and closes the door behind me, locking it. "You're drunk." He states, still holding my arms to keep me standing. "Why? Why are you drunk?"

     "Cause that's what happens when you drink too much alcohol," I say as if it was apparent. Well, it was obvious. Dallas rolls his eyes and drags me, stumbling, to the couch. I don't want to go to the couch, I want to go to bed. Or jump out a window. Or a tree. Ooh, or a plane! Now that sounds like fun. Where would I get a plane to jump out of though? Dallas snaps his fingers in front of my face and I blink shaking my head.

     "Did you hear anything I was saying?" He asks and I shake my head.

     "No, I was thinking of where to get a plane." I say honestly. He gives me a confused look.

     "Why do you want to know where to get a plane?" He asks and I shrug leaning back against the couch, but the sudden movement makes everything begin spinning and my vision blur.

     "So I can jump out of it." I say in a 'duh' tone. Well, what else would I need a plane for? The spinning slows and my vision clears, but my mind seems a little fuzzy. "I have the me part to do the jumping, but I don't have the plane part."

     "You'll need a parachute also." He says slowly with narrow eyes.

     "I do?" I ask trying to think and then it clicks in my head. "That's right I do!" Dallas shakes his head as my heart begins to beat excitedly, but my heart slows again and I narrow my eyes. "Doesn't that come with the plane?" He shakes his head again and stands up walking toward the kitchen.

     "You're not jumping out of a plane." He says in an irritated tone.

     "Like you can stop me," I mumble, beginning to stand but everything spins again so I sit back down. "What are you doing?" I ask as I suddenly feel it in my stomach. This isn't good.

     "I'm making you food." He says. "I don't think you ate anything and therefore, you need to eat."

     "Hey, Dallas?" I question slowly, feeling it coming up in my throat and I try to keep it down. It's harder than it seems.

     "What?" He groans as I cover my mouth and squeeze my eyes closed. "Oh." He says and I hear fast footsteps before I feel a hand on the back of my neck and something in front of me. I open my eyes seeing a trash can and I lean forward as Dallas gathers up my hair and holds it behind me. I uncover my mouth and throw up feeling tears form in my eyes. Suddenly I feel self-conscious about throwing up in a trash can in front of Dallas. Well, he's thrown up in front of me so it's okay. Actually, I've thrown up in front of him before too—the day after I was shot.

     So it's 2-1. Oh, God. Am I really keeping score of how many times we've thrown up in front of each other? Well, I'm obviously winning now. "Sorry." I murmur but Dallas doesn't respond. He stays quiet and takes a hair tie from my wrist to tie my hair back into a ponytail. I feel sweat dripping off my forehead as I throw up again. "What time is it?" I ask a little worried about court. I feel Dallas move and I look up to see him going back to the kitchen.