Dylan wished her reputation for being an angry girl could be truer. Granted, she was a bitter, angry girl who resented just about everything and everyone in the universe. But for one particular person—a charismatic, rather conceited but nevertheless beautiful person—she is nothing but weak in the knees. Literally (ever since baby-gate, Dylan has tripped over her own feet on numerous occasions when racing away from Quinn).
Seemingly, she had ran enough times to make Quinn give up all together, which somehow made Dylan feel worse.
And it didn't help that all the free time she now had due to her whatever-was-going-on with Quinn was now spent hearing about how dashing and chivalrous Finn Hudson was.
Spitefully (and jealously), Dylan kinda hoped they would break things off soon.
If they didn't, she had to consider alternatives (like stabbing herself with a fork). Anything to make Rachel stop. And hopefully to stop the frequent softening of her voice and gaze when she brought up Quinn following these Finn Hudson filled ramblings.
She didn't know how many times Rachel needed the question 'have you spoke to Quinn?' answered before she realised the answer was always going to be no. No, because she was angry (supposedly), and betrayed, and stubborn with pride and embarrassed.
Mostly embarrassed. And foolish. And now that she'd raced from Quinn so many times. . .it seemed kind of awkward to approach her now.
Maybe that was that.
(Maybe it was a good thing.)
Truthfully, growing up practically in what was equivalent to a dumpster—trailer lifestyle was far from glamorous—meant she could handle a few slushees hear and there, so long as her loserdom was associated only with her glee club membership. If it should come to. . .the other things (you know. . .), that's when she pulls the plug and vanishes from the face of the earth.
So maybe it was a good thing.
A good thing Quinn wasn't around flashing her perfect smile, and flaunting her perfect eyes behind perfectly fluttered lashes. Dylan sometimes found herself almost stating aloud, 'you're so perfect,' which would be exceptionally weird. And Dylan couldn't be weird. Not about Quinn. Not like that.
Especially with Santana lurking about now.
Dylan shivered every time she thought about their last interaction. Her 'I know everything' stance was frightening, even despite her lack of evidence to support it. And it left Dylan tossing and turning in the night, a pit of sickness muddling her stomach ever since.
But even despite this, in denial she found it hard to admit Santana knew anything. She could hardly even admit it to herself without feeling nauseous.
Almost as nauseous as the 'Team Finn' shirt Rachel held in front of her made her feel.
"It looks great, right?"
Dylan glanced awkwardly to Finn, who held a rather tight facial expression, though his discomfort was evident. Rachel's enthusiasm was too pure to squash. "Uh, yeah. Very preppy girlfriend."
"Thank you." Rachel took the forced expression of enthusiasm as a compliment, before she gasped abruptly, "you should play, too!"
"Basketball?" Dylan bit her lip, shutting her locker slowly. "I don't know. . ."
"Why not? You would be so good!" Rachel emphasised, nudging Finn with a pointy elbow. "Tell her she'd be good."
"Uh, yeah," Finn jolted from his daze, rubbing at his neck. "I mean, we could use the players."
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𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲, quinn fabray.
Fanfiction[𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐞] [𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐱] Dylan Miller is a wild combination of many qualities, and most of them are not on the positive side. A selfish, inconsiderate, stoic outcast with a nasty tongue and rebellious flare, she only jo...
