Six

 

"RILEY!" I hear Kit yell. I close my laptop and put out my lit cigarette.

"What?!" I yell back. Kit walks into the room, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Get dressed, lazy ass! Dan is waiting at the doorway."

"Why don't you let him in. You call me a lazy ass." I huff. He rolls his eyes, shutting my bedroom door. Getting up, I head to the bathroom, washing my face in the cold water. 

"Shit." I mutter as I dry my face off. Dean has my make up bag. Kit brought it to his house last night and they gave each other make overs. Guess I am just going to have to go out without my "face on". I walk to my closet, pulling out a maroon colored Bastille jumper with their name on it. I pull it over my head, and I get into my black skinnies and white converse, putting a black beanie on. 

"RI! LET'S GO!" Kit shouts.

"I AM COMING, ASSHOLE!" I grab a pack of cigarettes and my eVapor, and walk out, shoving them in my pockets. Dan stand in the door way with his Juristic Park shirt, black shorts, and black hat with red flowers, his glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

"Hi, Riley." I greets me with a smile. I shove Kit out of the way, watching Dan as he takes a hand out of his pocket, and puts his arm around my shoulders. Trying my best to hold in my scream full of excitement, I just smile awkwardly as we head to his car. When I look up I notice he has a weird look on his face too.

"Uh, Dan?"

"Mmhmm."

"Why do you want to hang out with me? I am a psycho obsessed fan that writes fan fictions about you and the boys and especially you being a thing with Kyle. Aren't you afraid of me?" I ask, concerned for his health.

Dan chuckles, "Okay. I have to admit. That is sort of scary, but I mean come on. It's totally mental how you get famous for writing about me. I like that about you but I also like how you are so jumpy and squeal and how much you fangirl over us. It's sort of...adorable." He smiles, blushing.

"I worry for you, Daniel. Are you sure you aren't sick?" 

He rolls his head back in laughter as he opens the passenger door for me, "Hey. I like your books, Riley. They are rad. No joke. Actually, I am kind of obsessed with your Dyle stories." 

I look at him, raising and lowering my eyebrows, "Is Dan a Dyle shipper?! I THINK YES!"

"Oh, hush you." He laughs, closing the door, and getting in on the other side.

"So, Daniel. Where are you taking mwah?" I giggle, looking from him to the garage door as he backs out of my driveway.

He chuckles, "Honestly, I don't know." I clap slowly, "Shut up." He laughs, grabbing my hands with his. 

"Well, you don't have a lot of time."

"Not true. We have plenty. We have forever."

"Wow. Don't get too carried away now, Dan." I joke. I would love to spend forever with him. Who wouldn't? I look over to see Dan's cheeks flush red, but the color slowly fades as my finger pokes his cheek. Dan leans his head away from me, staring at me as if I had two heads.

"Don't touch me, I'm famous!" He scoffs playfully. I chuckle.

"Ya, but if you haven't noticed, I am basically just as famous as you, Daniel."

"Basically is totally different than actually."

"Logic." I nod as I poke his cheek once more. He raises an eyebrow, poking my dimple. I slap his hand away.

"Ex-cusea-me, biotch." I say in a white girl voice, adding disgust in my voice. 

"Omg, Becky." Dan smiles, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

I shake my head, confused, "Um...what?" I chuckle. Dan flashes a cheeky grin.

"We're here, Riley." Dan parks the car, gets out, then helps me out, tieing a blindfold over my eyes as he had the hold me still because I kept refusing.

"Where are we? Why am I getting sand in my shoes?" Dan snickers as I whine once in a while. Finally, after what seems like ages, we stop, Dan taking the blind fold off of my face. We are in the dessert. I look at Dan, pissed, "Why are we-"

"TA DA!" Dan shouts, jumping up and down as a black convertible drives up and parks. Woody steps out of the car with a huge smile on his face. I look at the two of them wide eyed. I look at Dan this way because he just got me a fucking car. And for Woody, I don't know man. I think Chrissy might of dressed him because he is wearing a tank top. Woody. Wearing. A. Tank. Top.

Woody places the keys in my hand as he takes Dan's keys. Dan watches him head into his car and drive off, "Now it's your turn to drive." He tells me softly with an equally soft smile aligned on his lips.