Hopeless Romantic -- Brallon

{25}

(A super long chapter! Also dedicated to so-obviously-stupid because they're amazing, and such a great friend and writer.)

DJW

Ryan takes my arm and we run out of the classroom and through the hallways. We're both panting as we reach the outside of the school.

"Why'd you do that? We could've just walked." I sigh in annoyance.

"I didn't want Brendon to catch up with us." He replies.

I groan.

"What? It's not like you like him. You like me." He says. "Right??"

"Sure." I shrug.

He gasps. "I should drive you to your house! My car is on the other side of the street, not in the school parking lot. Wow, I'm such a good boyfriend! I'm going to drive you home!"

I scoff. "Brendon did that. And he's not even my boyfriend."

"Shut up. You like me. Not Brendon." He states.

I roll my eyes. "No, I chose to be with you because if I didn't, you'd threaten me and destroy my social life! You're going to invade my personal space again. You'd probably mess with Brendon too. This is just because I want him to be safe. Even if it means he and I can't be together."

I look at Ryan. He looks hurt, but angry.

"I knew you didn't mean what you said before. I just... I wanted to be with you again." He says.

"That doesn't mean you have to be a piece of shit about everything involving me. Why'd you think it would work?" I ask.

Ryan smirks. "Honey, it already did."

He looks across the street and smiles. "Let's go!" He says cheekily, and takes my hand to walk to his car.

"What if I don't want to get a ride from you?" I question.

"You'd rather walk home than drive with me?" He asks.

I nod.

"Nope. You're coming with me!" He grins and pulls me forward.

"Whatever." I respond.

I begrudgingly get into the passenger seat of Ryan's car, while he's in the driver's seat.

"You still live on the same street, right?" He asks.

"Yeah. If you don't remember, it's right across from Brendon's house, too." I smile.

Ryan glares at me before starting the car and driving away from the school. He tries to start conversations on the way to my home, but I give short answers so we can't have a proper discussion about anything. I'm thinking about how I'm going to get out of this mess. Maybe I could tell one of the teachers the truth, and Ryan could be expelled.

"Whatcha thinking about, babe?" He asks, eyes on the road.

"Nothing." I reply.

"Really, Dallon? Whenever someone says that, it means they are thinking about something. Why don't you tell me?" He says.

He also puts one of his hands on my knee, which I am not comfortable with. Not in any way.

"Could you not?" I ask in irritation, and move his hand off of me.

"What? I can't touch you?" He says.

"Um, good boyfriends would ask permission, or stop when asked to. You're not a good boyfriend. You know I'm uncomfortable with stuff like that, yet you still do it." I spit. If he wants to be a boyfriend, I better tell him how to be a proper one.