"What have you done? I need that money by tomorrow." Tears burn my eyes and I grip my hair, trying to redirect the pain.

"Shit, shit! I'm screwed!" I curse.

"What do you mean 'screwed'?" Dylan gently grabs a hold of my hand, trying to get me to let go of my hair.

But I slap his hand away.

"Just stop. You've fucked up enough by now don't you think? Leave me the fuck alone!"

Willing my body to move, I turn around, ready to leave him there. But of course, he follows.

Weezing through the sea of people dancing, I take a deep breath as soon as I get outside. By the corner of the house, there's a small bench and I head, plopping down and opening my purse to see how much I've done so far.

Five-hundred euros.

Fuck. The drug was worth fifteen hundred, I'm still a thousand short.

"How much do you need?"

The sound of his voice enrages me so bad that the only thing I can do I shove him away and yell: "Fuck off!"

But he doesn't go away. Instead, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into him, engaging me between his chest and one arm. He's bigger and stronger, applying just enough pressure for me to not escape while he does something on his phone.

"Let me go!" I grumble to his chest.

"Stop being a bitch for once in your life and stay still," he grunts.

I still.

No one has ever talked back at me.

I lash out at people so hard and so soon that they don't even stick around enough to snap right back.

People walk away in my life.

Funny enough, I am not even mad that he is pushing my buttons. I am happy that he fights back just as much as I do. A big difference from the stuttering simp I met a week ago.

He stops touching his phone but still doesn't let me go. I squirm, trying to release myself from his hold. Unsuccessfully.

A few minutes later, the rumble of a car sounds from afar. It's s coming in our direction and soon enough it parks close to us. Dylan shifts, grabbing my wrist and tugging me along with him.

When we get to the car, he leans in, peeking inside the window and talks to a man. The guy is probably older than us but doesn't seem that much older. Early thirties, tops.

Dark tousled hair and bright green eyes. He is sitting down but from the way his head almost touched the hold, he is probably tall. Just like Dylan.

He is hot though, DILF kind of hot.

Is this his dad?

I hear something along the lines "Thank you... to help out a friend." and then finishes with an "I promise I'll pay you back, man," He promises.

I try to peek inside again, to see what the hell are they talking about or if he's holding something but I can't make out anything. The guy inside nods at Dylan before his eyes shift to me. He smirks and his eyes twinkle.

Not in a creepy kind of way but in a "Been there, done that" kind of look.

To prove my point he speaks: "Don't do anything I wouldn't do kiddo."

Dylan scoffs at him: "Shut up, just because you're forty and still single doesn't mean we're all are. I have Abby back at home, remember?"

Forty? That man doesn't look forty.

And who the hell is Abby?

I open my mouth, to ask as curiosity takes over me but the hot dad steps on first.

"Yeah, doesn't mean I care. Just have fun, I promise I won't tell your parents!" He winks, rolls the window up, not letting Dylan answer and starts to drive off.

"Who is he?" I ask.

"My uncle," he mumbles, shifting on his feet.

Ok, so or isn't his dad.

Noted.

"Hot," I comment, noticing something white on his free hand.

It sparks my interest and then I realise.

I promise I'll pay you back.

If it's freaking money I swear I'll make him swallow it whole.

"Gross, he's old enough to be my dad." He scrunched up his nose.

"He'd been dad at a young age no? That's not even common these days anymore."

"You think? My mom's thirty-four," he exclaims.

My jaw slacks.

"That'd make her a mom at..."

"Sixteen," he confirms.

"That's fucked up."

"The fuck? My parents are together and happy, just so you know," he snaps, suddenly defensive.

"Ok, Ok, props for them, then. Can I go now?"

"No. Look, I've fucked up and I want to help. I don't want you in trouble because I messed up with your income. Is Two thousand enough? That's all I can get for-"

"No," I cut him off.

"Why the fuck not? You said it yourself that you need it!"

"I will not be paying off one debt just to be creating another one. I will not be indebted to you!"

"Who said you'd be indebted to me? Think of this as a gift or making up to you, as if I were the one indebted to you," he exclaims, exasperated.

"I will not be doing you unlimited favours Dylan, I am not-"

"Are you fucking dense? I want nothing in return!" His voice rises and it stuns me in place.

I've noticed him around this last week.

I've noticed him ever since he literally fell onto me. He angers me as much as he intrigues me.

But I can't help but be attentive to him. He's gentlemanly to girls, without flirting or even sparing them a second glance. He's polite, often funny and when I've seen him around the black kid, he's often cheeky.

But I hadn't experienced his angry side. Or is it dominant?

I am not sure, but it does weird things to me.

The hair on my skin rises on its own accord at him being all fired up, for nothing.

"Just accept the goddam money, I won't talk to you again if it means you'll accept it and be out of trouble!"

"Why are you so insistent on helping me out?" I ask, still suspicious.

"I have no idea." He answers, truthfully. "I just, it guts me to think that you could be in trouble because of me and I..." he stops and his face contorts, in a frown.

"And you?" I press.

"Nevermind," he smiles but I can see it doesn't reach his eyes. "Look, accept it, take the rest for you. I don't need it."

He hands out the envelope and I take it. The sound of an exhale brings my attention to his face, specifically his lips.

Relief, that's what I see on his face. He's easy to read most of the time and that's another thing I like about him.

All my life, all I've known has been uncertainty. The fact that I can read him easily brings me a small sense of security. One that I've never had before.

It's dangerous because it's something I've craved all my life and never had.

"How are you going home?" he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"I'll walk," I answer.

"Nonsense, I'll call you an uber."

I don't even fight it, this time. He's been hell-bent on doing things his way tonight and I'd just be wasting both of our times if I'd fight him on that too.

He does it and in less than ten minutes an uber arrives. The driver is a girl, thankfully, making me feel safer about getting in a car with a stranger.

Dylan opens the door and helps me in.

"Text me when you're home," he says before closing the door.

Not even letting me answer him that I don't have his phone number.

As the girl drives off, I open the envelope to see how much he's put inside.

Once again, my jaw slacks, as shock overcomes me.

Two thousand are inside alongside a piece of paper with a number on it.

Sly fucker.

Still, a smile makes its way onto my face.

"We're here," the driver chimes in after a few minutes.

"Thank you," I mumble coming out of the car.

Grabbing my phone, I start to text him while climbing up the stairs up to the fourth floor.

Moans, groans and shrieks sound and mix through the corridor and get louder as I get closer to my door.

Fucking hell, not again!

Bursting through the doors, I stomp inside but they don't even bother to stop their fuckery upon seeing me. In fact, Dean smirks and speeds up, pushing on my mom's hair.

I sigh, barely affected anymore.

There was a moment where this would have broken my heart, shred it to pieces. But these two have left nothing to hurt.

"Here's half," I say, throwing seven hundred and fifty euros to their feet. "You'll have your second half tomorrow."

It'd be suspicious if I'd have all the money tonight. That party wasn't big enough to sell everything tonight.

"Always my best worker! Want a reward?" He pants, thrusting back into her.

"I'm better off with my hands, they've been working better than you ever have," I shoot back over my shoulder as I slam my door after myself and lock it in so they don't try to come inside.

I strip down my clothes and shower before heading back to bed with my headphones on. Their annoying noises are still on and will, pretty much, be for the remainder of the night.

He probably came to supply my mom since I am already paying her last debt. And whenever he supplies and get high together, they go at it for hours on end.

It's disgusting.

This man used to be my boyfriend. He dragged me into his dangerous life, bringing me to deals without even knowing and turned my mom into an addict.

As if that wasn't enough, he cheated on me with her repeatedly.

Dean was my first everything. He swooped me off my feet in my freshman year until he let me fall. Ever since he's taken everything from me.

Love.

Self-esteem.

Family.

Happiness.

And like a weed, he's still rooted so deep in my life that it doesn't matter how much I try, he always finds a way in.