"Tell me about the girl when she was alone that one time and that guy asked her why she didn't talk and she completely sassed him. That was funny," he asked, sitting up straighter and leaning forward into the conversation.
We'd put the movies away for today as Dylan had decided we would spend the entire day continuing to tell more stories about the mystery girl and boy that I'd began telling him about this morning upon arriving.
"Ok, if you want,"
Belonging to a clique is probably something most people hate, people hate to be categorically ordered to a social group because of who they are, what they wear, how they spend their free time or what their or designated career paths say about them.
Of course it's better, by miles it is, at least socially, then I'd be acknowledged by the people I roam the school hallways with and have done for the past four years but I have no such luck or even half a chance to be in such a group.
I'm just the quiet nerd, not even in a stereotypical group of nerds by association. But instead I'm quiet and alone, no silent actually, I talk to no one and no one talks to me, I sit alone in class, breaks and lunch, nose fully stuck in my work or music prep.
So I'll never be "in" with any of those other kids because I don't have the balls to say anything to them, for fear of saying the wrong thing only to make a fool out of myself or fear of being teased.
Its much nicer this way, nobody bothers me or even tries to go out of their way to talk to me and I prefer it that way.
At least that's what I tell myself and have been for the past four, almost five, years.
That's what I had always told myself, until that guy Dylan approached me the other day, asking why I was always alone. Of course I told him of what I just mentioned but I found myself believing it all a little less as I found myself, for the first time ever, enjoying his company as he sat and engrossed himself in a full blown conversation with me. Not once showing any regret in doing so.
Maybe talking to other people isn't so bad after all.
"Hey," a voice startled me, snapping me out of my thoughts, looking up at the intruder I saw it was the devil himself, "Umm, hi Dylan, what are you doing here? Not to be rude or anything of course,"
"Well Lola, I'm starting that two way conversation you spoke of the other day of course, while having lunch with someone I want to get to know. Is there a problem with that? Can I stay?"
My mouth hung open in shock that he wanted to lunch with me, for the second time this week. I glanced around, waiting for the judgmental stares and jeers from my peers, but none came. I glanced back at my lunch buddy and nodded, "Sure, you can stay,"
And once again I found myself enjoying his company.
•
"That was a sweet thing for him to do," Dylan smiled, clearly proud of the guy in the story for being so kind and thoughtful without even realising it was him.
"It was and he continued to do things like that for her, small simple things that made her day, I'm not even sure if he knew how much it all meant to her, but she was beyond grateful for him," I smiled, tears gathering that I refused to let him see, "Want to hear another?"
He didn't even hesitate to nod.
YOU ARE READING
Seventy nine - Dylan O'Brien (completed)
FanfictionI had seventy nine hours to remind him. Seventy nine hours to tell him, not only who he was but who I was. Seventy nine hours to tell him how we met. I had just seventy nine hours to tell him just how we fell in love. After that he'd be gone forever.
