Fairy Tales Never Come True

FTNCT |Chapter 8|

Dedicated to the person above for her comment that this book help her. It really touched me. As promised, I would update two chapters a month. So here is chapter 8. Enjoy cheers! *Links glasses* Picture of Dillon above. 

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"Greatness starts from small beginnings." ~Francis Drake Uncharted3

I stood in front of the house, looking at the paper in my hands. Dillon's address had been scribbled on it in Scarlett's neat handwriting. I had arrived after walking for twenty. My fingers wavered over the doorbell.

Should I press it?

Before I could chicken out, I pressed it. Nobody answered for a while and I stood nervously looking at the family next door moving out of the beige house. The door opened and women answered it. She looked to be about in her early forties with the summer blond hair and familiar cerulean blue eyes. She was clearly Dillon's mother.

"Hi." I muttered weakly.

"Hello sweetheart." She wiped her hands on her apron. "Who might you be?"

I shuffled on my feet. "My name is Alana. I came to visit Dillon, is he here?"

She smiled at me. "Come on in. He's sleeping but I'll wake him up."

"No it's-"

She cut me off. "Nonsense, he's been sleeping for a while and I was just about to go wake him up. He needed to help the neighbors move out anyways." She motioned towards the couches. "Have a seat." I took a seat while she hollered Dillon's name.

He appeared a few moments later wearing nothing but a pair of boxers but that wasn't what surprised me. It was the fact that his jaw had a nasty purplish bruise and his hands has several cuts. He was rubbing his eyes and yawing. He leaned on the wall as if needing its support. "Why did you call me mom?"

"Your girlfriend arrived. You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!" She threw an accusation.

Oh. She thought I was his girlfriend. I hurriedly corrected her. "I'm not his girlfriend."

Dillon's eyes snapped to me when he heard my voice. "You're not the girl that Dillon talks to for hours on the phone?" Mrs. Carter sounded disappointed.

"Mom, she's not." He was blushing. I cocked my eyebrows at the piece of information.

"Drop it." He mumbled.

"Well I'll let you guys talk. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." She turned on her heels and left.

"What the heck are you doing at my house?" He questioned.

"I needed to talk to you." I said.

"Were talking right now, aren't we?" He said sarcastically.

I groaned. I wasn't going to ask about his bruise but my curiosity got the better of me. "What happened to your face?"

"Got in a fight yesterday," He mumbled under his breathe.

"With who?" I questioned. Dillon wasn't the type to get into fights unless someone really provoked him and pushed his buttons.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled and took a seat on the sofa in front of me. "Now what did you want to talk about?"

My eyes trailed over his body. He was fit like any other guy on the soccer team. It was utterly distracting. "Can you please put on a shirt or something?"

He smiled mischievously and gestured towards his bare chest. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Yes." I said bluntly. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore. He wasn't making an effort to clothe himself and I was wasting time. "I need you to be my coach."