Worth Solving {Dylan O'Brien}

Chapter Six

6.

{Genesis' P.O.V.}

I watched Dylan flip a few of the pancakes, sneakily coming up behind him. When i'd woken up, he was gone and there was the allure of food. "I could've sworn,"

In roughly half a second, Dylan had jumped and a perfectly good chocolate chip pancake had landed on the tile floor.

"Don't do that!" Dylan shot, recovering with only a slight laugh detectable.

"I thought it was funny." I pulled myself up onto the counter, watching Dylan make up for the murdered pancake.

"Edmund!" He called, before glancing over to me, "How'd you sleep?"

"Lovely." I swear to god his bed was the comfiest thing i've ever been on. "You?"

"I have to admit it was weird with someone else there, but it was nice." Dylan told me, something shining in his eyes as he spoke.

I chose to hush my flushed cheeks and changed the subject of the shared bed. "So, honestly, after your pep talk business about ignoring the paparazzi would end up in going out for breakfast."

"Not quite," Dylan flipped the last pancake onto a stack of them, "You also have to work in laziness, which I have much of."

I grinned, my own personality like his in ways. I looked down at my Oxford jumper and grey shorts, "I honestly wouldn't feel like changing."

"And the paps would just love that, pyjama children." Dylan joked, moving the pancakes to the table.

I laughed lightly, hopping down from the counter, Edmund at my feet eating the lone pancake. I wanted to help Dylan get stuff out, but I had no clue where anything was. So instead of making myself look like a fool rummaging through cupboards, I went to the table and sat down Indian-style. It didn't make sense to most people, but this was my most comfortable way to sit.

Dylan took the seat across from me, only a small amount of distance between us. He took a red plate from the two and handed me the blue one, his eyes looming with questions. "Since you won't let me read your novel, can you atleast tell me what it's about?" He fluttered his eyelashes with a wide grin, "Please, Gen."

I narrowed my eyes, "Why do you want to know?" I stalled, feeling too embarrassed to tell him.

"Because, I'd like to know!" Dylan was failing at coming up with an actual reason so he ended with just giving a pressuring look at me with a soft grin hidden through it. "Please tell me what your book is about. Even just a basis, anything."

"Okay," I let out a bit of a huff and directed my eyes to the two pancakes i'd put on my plate. "So there's this uni student, and," I distracted myself from his attention and started cutting up my pancakes, "And one day, in attempt of getting her mum to get her takeout, an American boy answers the phone." I glanced up to Dylan, wondering if he'd caught on yet.

Dylan stops, the two of us just looking at each other. "You're writing about us?"

I awkwardly pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, attempting not to look at him, "I don't have to if you don't want me to" I told him quietly.

"No, I want you to." Dylan pushed before finding another question to ask. "How long have you been on this?"

"A while," It wasn't the night we started talking or anything, but I remember that I just started to keep log, then when we got closer, it seemed to fit the lines of a book. "Off side of three months."