Dizzy Read Online Free

It’s been a few weeks since we talked, which is strange, but I don’t feel like talking to him in front of an audience. I’ll call him later.
    We make it through the Portland streets pretty quickly. Before I know it, we’re in my kitchen. “You want a soda or something—” Chastity’s lips cut me off.
    Guess not. Not that I’m complaining, but I wouldn’t have minded a drink and maybe some chips or something first. Then I take over, letting my tongue swirl around in her mouth. She makes this little sighing sound and then slides her hand under the back of my shirt. My stomach growls, and I find myself wishing I’d gotten my snack. Sounds insane, I know. Maybe I’m going insane. What guy would rather eat Doritos than make out with Chastity?
    Trying to shake those thoughts from my head, I lean her against the counter and let my mouth slide away from her lips and down her neck.
    She. Tastes. Like. Makeup.
    Not nearly as good as chips.
    And she’s not even wearing as much as party Chastity would. How do I keep doing this? How did I do it so much at the party a few months back? Thinking of the party makes Hanes pop into my head. The girl with the plump lips who looked at me like she either wanted to kiss me or stab me. I’m not even sure she knew which one.
    My thoughts switch from her evil eye to her wet shirt. I still can’t believe she wore a T-shirt and faded jeans to my party. I mean, props to her because I don’t know any girl at my school who’d have the confidence to do it, but I’m still shocked. Maybe that’s why I’m shocked. Because the girls I hang out with would not be caught dead in what she wore.
    And I still can’t get her out of my head. T-shirt or not, this girl is somehow imprinted on my memory. I’m thinking it’s the whole fact that she didn’t give me the time of day. There’s nothing else it could be.
    “Dylan…”
    Aaaand, back to reality. What kind of bastard am I? I’m making out with one girl and thinking of another one. My body wills me to ignore it, to keep going because… hormones, hello? But instead, I pull away. I rub the back of my neck.
    “Um, you wanna watch a movie or something?”
    Chastity cocks her head at me like she’s confused. Then her eyes light up like she’s just been let in on a joke I didn’t know I was telling. “Sure.”
    I grab two sodas and some chips and then lead her downstairs to the media room. We toss in a comedy, and I start in on my snack and drink, feeling pretty proud of myself for putting the brakes on things.
    Thirty minutes later the food and drink in my hand are replaced with Chastity. Dude, I tried. I swear I tried, but she keeps getting closer and closer, kissing my neck. A man’s only so strong, but I’m still kind of not into it. I keep catching little scenes on the movie, wondering why Derrick called, trying to figure out where the Ho Chi Minh Trail even is. All things that should not be going on in a guy’s head when he’s making out with a girl.
    “Dylan? You down there?”
    Chastity jumps to the other side of the couch at the sound of Dad’s voice. Yeah, like he doesn’t know what we’re doing down here.
    “Yep.”
    Dad steps into the room wearing the same suit he wore in court today. He’s a huge defense attorney in Portland. “Oh… hello.” He looks awkwardly at Chastity. “I need to talk to you about your brother, but it can wait.”
    This piques my interest. Dad’s never started a sentence with “I need to talk to you about your brother.”
    Chastity jumps to her feet. “No! I’m leaving. My friend will be here any minute. Thanks for letting me watch a movie with Dylan, Mr. Gibson.”
    I laugh. Dad didn’t let her do anything. He wouldn’t have had a clue she’d even been here if he didn’t need me for something.
    “I’ll walk you out.” Then to Dad I say, “Should I just call Derrick? He called me earlier, but I missed it.”
    A very noticeable breath deflates Dad’s chest. It makes my heart