With You┃Dylan O'Brien ⓵

Chapter Eight : Finding the Right Words

I leave my parents sleeping silently in my house as I drive away at my earliest record of seven o'clock in the morning, on the dot. I decided to get some Starbucks this morning because I felt that I deserved to spoil myself a little bit. Besides, who doesn't like Starbucks in the morning? Or any time of the day, for that matter.

I stare at the menu in the drive-through as I await my turn and for some reason, I make the last minute decision to get Dylan something too. Aren't I nice? And a little flirtatious?

I'm wondering what he would like best when I remember a conversation we had in which he told me that he likes hot coffee and vanilla flavors.

The lady behind the speaker asks for my order and I order my usual Java Chip Frappuccino and decide on getting Dylan a Vanilla Macchiato. Hopefully he likes it, and if he doesn't then it can go to someone else. I pay at the window, receive the drinks, and place them in the cup holders before driving off toward school.

It's only 7:10 so I take my time making my way to school, but it's kind of hard to stall while obeying traffic laws. At a red light, I text Dylan and ask him when his bus gets to school. He texts back quickly and asks if I'm stalking him and I simply repeat my question, then he lets me know it arrives at 7:20. The whole time I've been driving, I've sipped at my drink and by the time I get to school, a third of it is gone.

I turn off my car just as that weird yet catchy song about Polaroids comes on, and I grab my backpack and gym bag that has my cheer stuff in it. Lastly, I take one drink in each hand and cross the street to the only bus stop within a quarter mile.

Sipping at my yummy Frappuccino waiting patiently, I rock back and forth causing the skirt of my black dress to swish back and forth with me. After just a couple minutes of waiting, the number 16 bus pulls up to the stop and a crowd of about ten of my fellow Chatsworth students gets off. The bus buzzes away and the rest of the people that pass me give me a look, wondering who I'm waiting for.

Finally I spot Dylan, glasses and all, looking down at his phone as he almost always does. He looks up to see where he's walking when he makes eye contact with me and I give him an over-exaggerated grin. Putting his phone away, he walks up to me and pats me on the head, almost as if he's making fun of my height.

"I got you coffee," I tell him, outstretching my hand that holds his still warm drink.

He carefully takes it from me and inspects the green logo on the cup, "So this is why you asked me about my bus."

I nod, "Aren't you thankful for me?"

"That depends. What did you get me?"

"A Vanilla Macchiato. I wasn't sure what to get you so I went with something hot and Vanilla."

He raises an eyebrow, "I've never had this before." Then he takes a sip.

"Good?", I ask hopefully.

Dylan nods, "Really good. You know me."

The two of us start walking onto campus and after a while he takes my gym bag for me as we climb up the stairs. When we reach my locker, I thank him for carrying it and take it from him before locking it up and turning back around.

"What's your first period?", I ask him as we stand in front of my locker.

"World History with Mister Black," he says, pulling a face.

I laugh at his expression, "I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be in History too."

"It's all good. I have coffee to keep me from falling asleep this time."

"What would you ever do without me?", I smile up at him and he grins.

The bell rings and he waves at me before starting to walk away, but I stop him.