A Girl Named Dylan; j.b.b fanfic, a.u

the girl with the fake appearance

"I'm really tired of all of it, Mikey, please don't make me go home," I sighed while planting my head into the crook of Michael's neck.

"I'm sorry, baby, but you have to go home some time. The longer you wait, the angrier your parents will get, you know this," he said, stroking my hair.

"Alex? Any chance of you being able to kidnap me?" I asked, in hopes he'd say yes.

"Sorry D, you know that's a no can do. I would in a heartbeat if your parents didn't hate me and scare the shit out of me," Lex said sympathetically, his bottom lip forming a pout.

"Where's Luke or Ash- they would surely kidnap me if I asked!" I groaned, throwing my head back and rubbing my eyes with my fists.

"They're on the trip for music, you dummy; the one we would be on if someone didn't get us suspended," Michael said, playful bitterness evident in his voice. (But, let's be honest, he's still bitter.)

"Okay, breaking into the school seemed like a good idea at the time, alright? You all went along with it!" I said, giggling at the memory of our failed attempt to be hooligans.

"That is the exact reason why we stay home, eat pizza and play guitar; we are never trying to be delinquents again," Alex sighed, recalling us getting caught.

"You nearly pissed your shorts!" Michael exclaimed, causing both of us to fall into hysterics.

"You would have too if you were me! I'm a good kid, Mike," Alex defended himself.

"A good kid that likes his coke mixed with rum," I said, still laughing.

"I like my alcohol, what can I say, Winters?" he responded, shrugging innocently.

"Anyways, I should be heading home now before my parents skin me alive," I sighed after everyone calmed down. "I love you dickfaces, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both exchanged I love you's to me and kissed each side of my cheek- they did this everyday and it made me feel a little bit more loved every time.

I started up my car and drove the 10 minutes to my house, blasting Arctic Monkeys as I sped along the streets of the quiet town, disturbing the silence. I pulled up to the familiar streets of my neighborhood and I turned off my car. I sat in my temporary sanctuary for a few moments, absolutely dreading walking in. I fiddled with my ripped jeans and loose fitting Black Flag tank top. I sighed and got out of the car, unlocking my front door and walking into my home- if I could even call it that anymore.

"Dylan Carter Winters, do you have any idea what time it is?" my father snapped as soon as I walked in. Yep, love you too, father.

"It's 6, I'm sorry, I know I'm late, we lost track of time while studying and it won't happen again," I said, looking down at my feet.

"You were probably with those idiots, Alec and Michell, right? I don't like them, they're bad influences on you," my dad scoffed.

"Alex and Michael, dad. And they're my friends, I love them," I sighed, running my fingers through my long brown hair.

"That doesn't change my opinion about them. Useless fucking punks, always trying to rebel and cause trouble; absolutely unacceptable," my father droned on.

"Okay, yeah, whatever, I get it, you don't like them. I don't care, I still do. They're my best friends and you can't change that," I said, crossing my arms.

"What the hell are you wearing, Dylan? You look like you came out of a bad punk music video. Take those things off, and go get changed into one of those floral dresses. We have dinner with the Hood's tonight, the new neighbors. They have a son your age and you need to make a good impression. Please look somewhat presentable, dear," my mother commented before my father had time to retort.

"Of course, mother dearest. Anything for you!" I said sarcastically, curtsying. I trudged up the stairs, sighing to myself.

I opened the door to my room, throwing myself across the bed. I took in my surrounding and sighed once again. This isn't me, I thought as I examined all the painted pink flowers scattered across the walls of my room. I saw the little bows and hair bands and jewelry on my baby pink vanity and decided to strip my dark makeup and clothing to satisfy the needs of my parents.

I pulled my hair back into a messy bun as I began to apply my foundation. I used light, neutral colors for my eyeshadow with winged eyeliner and a light coat of mascara. Why did I have to dress nice to meet someone who will probably have no relevance to me tomorrow? I decided on a lace light blue dress, and a pair of black ballet flats. I curled my hair and put a bow in the back. I looked like someone my parents would love to have as a daughter. Too bad I'm not her.

I walked down the stairs just as the doorbell rang. I stood next to my parents as my mother gripped my shoulder. "This is how a real lady should dress," she reminded me. They opened the door and was greeted by the family of 3. They all looked Asian of a sort, Hawaiian maybe?

"Hi, welcome to our home, Joy and David. It's a pleasure seeing you and your beautiful family," my mother greeted warmly, but superficially.

"Wow, what a beautiful daughter you have! My daughter unfortunately couldn't make it, she's on a trip with some of her friends abroad. What's your name, young lady?" Joy asked me sweetly in a thick Australian accent. I was taken aback by her genuine kindness, something you don't find in my kind of neighborhood very often. It's usually filled with overdramatic stay at home mothers who have nothing better than to gossip about other women in the neighborhood; also known as my mother.

"My name is Dylan, ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you," I smiled.

"This is my son, Calum," she gestured to the rather attractive boy in front of her.

"Hi, nice to meet you," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake. He accepted it and smiled at me.

"Please come in," my father gestured them in. They all sat around our living room, having Rachel, our housekeeper, pour glasses of wine.

"Dylan, why don't you take Calum to your room while dinner is getting ready? You can get to know him better," my mother suggested.

"Alright, sure. C'mon Calum, let's go," I said, motioning him to follow me up the stairs.

Once we were there, we sat on my mattress in an awkward silence. "Uh... This is uncomfortable. Your room is very... Bright?" he chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, tell me about it," I laughed. "Do you want to listen to music? I have a CD and vinyl collection if you're interested in looking through that. I don't know if you'll like anything I have though," I admitted, smiling sheepishly as I pulled out my collection from underneath my bed.

"Are you serious?" is all he said.

"I'm sorry, I knew you wouldn't like anything I have. I can throw on the radio or somethin-" I started, but I was interrupted by him.

"Dylan, your music taste is fucking amazing," he said in awe, looking through my different cases and sleeves. "Green Day, Blink, Ramones, Sex Pistols, Sublime, Nirvana... Wow, this is really different from how I expected your music taste to be like. This is amazing," he breathed, still shocked.

"No way! You like this kind of music too?" I beamed enthusiastically.

"Of course! It's the only kind of music I listen to, I love punk," he said, smiling as big as i was. We spent the next hour discussing music and different bands and concerts we've been to and I invited him to hang out with Michael and Alex and I the next day. I can feel this is the start of a new and beautiful friendship.