Ethan Dolan fanfics

I Couldn't Be More in Love

*DO NOT PLAY SONG UNTIL NOTED!

I'M BACK! Sorry for not posting in a while. You probably didn't miss me though LOL. Anyways, this is a very cute story for all of you in Ethan's lane hahaha.

Credit to @heathendolan on tumblr and edited by me.

Enjoy...

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Ethan had a gut full of fruit punch (spiked–thank you Casey Fraiser) and a head full of fuzz; what's a guy gotta do to get you for a slow dance?

He's slumped on the third row of the high school gymnasium's wooden, creaky bleachers, both hands threaded in the messy, over-gelled locks on his head, his foot tapping a mile a minute. He should really be out there next to Grayson, whooping and hollering to the ancient Lil Jon song echoing out of the low budget DJ's rusted speakers, but he just can't stop thinking about you, okay? This isn't new, and that's what's getting old.

He just wants one slow dance. Or two. Or three, or four, or ninety. It's the only time he gets the excuse to hold you close and make a fool of himself and not have to apologize once. He always does everything in his power to deprive the mood of romanticism, though.

This isn't the first or even the second dance he's spent beating himself up over you. No, this has become a tradition over the years; Ethan says something like, 'Hey, let's go together to the dance, just as friends, cause I don't want to waste my time begging some chick that's probably out of my league when I can take my best friend and have a way better time' (romantic, he knows), you guys suit up in your best homecoming, snowball, or prom attire, and spend the night together.

Just as friends.

Ethan's made that super clear to you; Just Friends. Every single dance is Just Friends and it's started to make less and less sense over the years, why he wouldn't go with Molly Kozial even though he'd been talking to her right up until promposals started getting popular again in March.

"Molly's a lot of work," he had said through a mouthful of fries, his feet kicked up on his dash in the parking lot of the McDonald's you guys went to all the time. "What's the good in going out, spending a shit ton of money on candy or whatever, getting all nervous to ask her, and having the drama of it the next day in school when I can just go with you? Easy as pie."

Right, you had thought. Cause I'm definitely not worth the time, or the candy, or the drama. Ethan had made that very clear by the eighth time he'd taken you to a dance.

It's not like you were going to bother yourself with the pain of his backhanded rejection; this was your senior prom. Just Friends is what you needed right before heading off to college–no need to invest yourself in some guy who'd inevitably break your heart by the end of summer.

"Yeah alright," you'd said, slurping a thick gulp of milkshake. "But I think I want to wear white this year and-"

"Nooo, everybody's going to say we're getting married," Ethan whined reflexively, his head flopping against his car seat and a pout on his lips.

"Deal with it," you shrugged. "That's what you get for your lack of, uh, chivalry?"

Ethan shot a glare your way. "Chivalry?" he asked through a bite of his cheeseburger. "I hav' pl'nty 'f chivalry."

"Right," you snorted, yanking the burger out of his hand and taking the biggest bite you could.

So you'd announced it oh-so-inanimately to your friend group at lunch the following day, ignoring their smirks and knowing glances, and searched for a prom dress worthy of your bank account. And it was fun! God, it was fun, it was always fun going with Ethan and your friends, but...