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winchester90210 · 5 years

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x02: The Green Room

Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Sparks fly when Y/N meets the school’s resident bad boy and experiences L.A.’s oceans for the very first time

Pairing: No one yet :)

Warnings: Swearing, Dylan McKay

Word count: Roughly 4,700

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

A/N: First episode down, folks! Tag list is below. Let me know if you would like to be added! This was super fun to write, I’m looking forward to the future dynamic between Dylan and Y/N :)

“Yo, West Beverly! It’s T.G.I.F. In a major way today, ‘cause the sun’s shinin’! And yours truly is stoked for some major tanning this weekend so check it out! If life’s a beach, then why not live it?! This here’s D.J. Mike M.C. The voice of rhyme and reason on KWBH…” The D.J’s voice rings through the schoolyard as you walk up with Kelly and Donna, sun beaming bright and early.

“Kelly, Y/N!” Brenda shouts, walking up, Brandon at her side.

“Hey!” You greet her, smiling.

“Brenda, hi.” Kelly stops, holding her new, very expensive purse at her front.

“You guys remember my brother?” She gestures towards Brandon. You and him exchange a knowing look, causing a shy smile to creep up on your face. Yeah. You might know him.

“Hi, Brenda’s brother,” Kelly smiles, wind blowing her bangs away from her face. You mutter a shy “hi” to him.

“Brandon,” He corrects, offering a “hi” to all three of you. His eyes wander to you as Brenda speaks.

“So, what are you guys up to?”

“This weekend? Working on my back. I spent last Saturday lying on it, so my tan’s totally uneven.” Kelly shares as the wind picks up.

“Hah, at least you have one! I’m starting from scratch.” Brenda laughs, fixing her dark chestnut hair.

“Me too, Wisconsin doesn’t get a lot of sun this time of the year or…ever.” You agree, slinging your red tote over your shoulder.

“You two should start this weekend, Secos beach will be a major scene.” Kelly begins, but she’s cut short by Brandon.

“Great. Look, I’ll see you guys later, okay?” And with that, he’s running off into the school.

“Actually, I should get going too. See you guys at Secos!” You’re already turning to leave when they offer their goodbyes. You catch up with Brandon and follow him into the WBB printing room.

“I was wondering when you’d waltz in here,” Andrea states, her tone agitated and demeanor…not so friendly.

“Well, good morning, Andrea. So nice to see you too!” Brandon barks back, softer than Andrea was, but still with a bit of a bite. “Hi, Ms. Rye!” You both follow Andrea over to the printer. Oh god. How were you going to tell them you BROKE the school’s only laptop? And following that up with telling them you don’t have the money to pay them back? You were dead meat. You dreaded what was about to come, a pit in your stomach.

“Our ace sports writers, always a pleasure.” Ms. Rye responds, red curls bouncing on the shoulders of her chiffon shirt as she turns away.

“Here, Ace. Your next assignment.” Andrea snidely remarks, handing him a paper and turning away. Brandon claps his binder closed. Everyone was tense and you hadn’t even told them the bad news yet. Not a good sign.

“Sorry, Chief. I don’t do editorials.” He follows Andrea over to her desk, while she holds a pencil in her mouth. “Especially when they’re called 'From the Midwest to West Beverly– A Transfer Student Speaks.’” He grumbles. You and Ms. Rye watch them bicker, letting yourselves be entertained.

“So change the title…or get Y/N to help!” Andrea practically laughs in his face, turning away to work.

“A little help, Ms. Rye?” Brandon calls out, still facing Andrea.

“I’m just the Adviser, she’s the boss.”

“Brandon, just try it! You might be surprised by what happens!” Andrea argues, “Besides, you’re too good just to cover sports anyway.”

“Really, you think?” He wasn’t buying it. He knew when he was being buttered up. He could smell it from a mile away.

“She does. And so does she.” She points to Ms. Rye, and then to you. Brandon looks at the two of you, his eyes lingering on you just a little bit longer.

“You’re alright,” you joke, smirking at him. He pauses, in thought. The clicking of the printers and keyboards fill the silent space.

“Ok, fine. I’ll try it,” He concedes, turning back around.

“Great. Deadline’s tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s one day.”

“And a night!” Andrea replies.

“Andrea, I think it’ll keep till Monday,” Ms. Rye interjects, “Have Y/N work on it as well, she’s bound to have a fresh perspective on the situation too.”

“Morning. First thing!”

“You are relentless!” Brandon shouts, a playful tone behind his voice as he walks out to get something from his locker.

“Thank you.” Andrea counters, sitting down behind her computer.

“Hey, Ms. Rye? I need to talk to you about something.” Oh god. Here we go. This is where you die, isn’t it?

“What is it, Y/N?” She asks, glancing at you as she fills out paperwork. You feel overwhelmingly nauseous. Hey, maybe if you throw up everywhere you’d get pity forgiveness.

“Uh…I loaned out the school’s laptop the other day and it sort of…broke.” You swallow what felt like a boulder-sized lump in your throat. You grab your tote and place it up onto the table, frantically searching through it. “But I can pay to replace it! I just have to find the money!” You check your bag, then your pockets. Pulling out what you expected to be a dollar bill, you hand it to the adviser, until you realize– it was in fact not a dollar bill. It was the check. How the hell?

“Oh! Uh, paying to replace should be fine. You might have to work a few shifts in the library…but you should be okay,” she tries to soothe your slightly panicked behavior. You let out a long sigh of relief. Just add: Fight Steve Sanders onto your to-do list today.

“Awesome. Thank you,” You thank her, an apologetic tone lacing your voice. You pick up your assignment, placing it in your folder. “I told Brandon I’d meet up with him in the computer lab, so I better motor.” You speed walk down the hall, almost getting launched into Brandon by some guy pushing you out of his way.

“Hey,” You smile, leaning against the cold metal lockers.

“Hi,” He smiles back, closing his locker but his eyes almost never leave yours. You both walk down to the computer lab, getting a jolt whenever you two brush arms or hands. Stepping into the dark room, Brandon walks behind a freshman, hard at work. “What is it?” He asks.

“Floor plan,” the freshman responds, a proud smile on his face. The program sings and hums as he continues.

“What for?” You question, joining Brandon behind him.

“The perfect dance club!”

“I see you’ve done your homework man,” Brandon compliments.

“Looks are deceiving. I’ve never set foot inside a club! Everytime I try, I get carded,” The blonde freshman responds. A fake I.D. would fix that, you think.

“How’d you design it, then?” You ask, studying the computer as Brandon walks around the table, setting whatever he was dropping off down.

“I used my imagination instead of my experience,” The freshman smiles. Two rough looking seniors round the table, and begin to mock him.

“Oh, how sweet!” The one in the Letterman jacket speaks up, “How touching!”

“A little dork with big dreams!” They both walk on either side behind him.

“But no experience!” The Letterman jacket slaps his hand on the nameless freshman’s shoulder, spooking him like a deer in headlights. Oh god. Why did people have to be such dicks? Let the boy design his night club. You and Brandon watch, you notice him becoming alert, like he’s ready to jump into it at any second.

“At least I’m not the missing link,” the boy responds.

“What did you say?!” And with that, the poor, sweet freshman is yanked out of his chair by his shoulders and pulled close to that damn guy in the jacket. That must have been Brandon’s cue, because he jumps out.

“Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy, guy!” Brandon shouts.

“Where’s that erase command anyway, huh?” The senior in the gray long sleeve says, looking at the keyboard. Oh, you dick.

“Touch that board, my friend!” A fifth voice comes out, turning around from the back of the room. “Please, touch it.”

Oh, shit. Who was he? Pompadourian hair cut, single small hoop earring, the classic leather jacket and white tee. He joins the two asshole seniors at the other side of the room. “You know, the tragedy of this country is that creeps like you two end up running it,” you were in awe, watching how they let go of the boy and backed into the corner. God, this guy was totally hot. Yet, the one in gray still tries to mouth off.

“Yeah, losers like you end up–”

“Let me tell you something just…so you know in advance. I am not in a good mood today. In fact, I’m feeling a little hostile.” Oh-hoh-hoh shit. Were you blushing? You felt like you were blushing. Who was this guy?

“Woah…” and with that very intelligent comeback, the seniors scurry off. The pompadour nods in approval at the freshman’s computer.

“You’re doing a good job, kid! Keep up the good work,” he nonchalantly pats him on the back and just like that, he’s gone. You walk around one side of the table while Brandon goes around the other, both meeting at the confused, frightened boy.

“Your friend’s pretty cool,” Brandon says, a hint of suspicion in his voice. And totally sexy, but yeah. Cool. Let’s go with that.

“Yeah, no kidding,” You agree.

“I’ve never seen the guy in my life.”

Later, you and Brandon track down the… ahem…alluring mystery guy from earlier, finding him alone sitting on the stairs of the school, book in hand.

“Hey,” Brandon calls out, getting the guy’s attention, “My name’s uh, Brandon Walsh.”

“Brandon Walsh,” the guy repeats, it’s as if he was dissecting it. “Scotch or Irish?”

“Both, actually. By way of Minnesota.”

“What about you?” YOU?? Oh my god he’s talking to you. Words. Mouth. Move lips.

“Y/N. Y/L/N,” You respond. “From…Wisconsin.” You get nothing but silence as he looks at you, practically examining you.

“Listen, what you did to those two nimrods back there was great,” Brandon starts, stepping up a few stairs.

“Yeah, well, I just don’t believe in winning through intimidation,” He looks to Brandon, then to you. “Unless, of course, I’m the doing the intimidating.” He smirks and you feel a nervous giggle crawl up your throat. You couldn’t help but imagine how you looked right now. Blushed cheeks, dilated pupils, arms crossed.

“Are you hungry? I got next period off, all three of us could go grab a bite.” Brandon Walsh, ever the gentleman. The man scoffs, sun in his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s do lunch,” He pauses.

“Don’t see much water in the midwest.”

“Ton of lakes, not a lot of oceans,” You counter, brushing a hair behind your ear.

“My sympathies,” He stands up, striding down the stairs, “Come on!”

“Where we going?” Brandon asks, following him while you’re at his heel.

“Field trip.”

You pull up near the beach, listening to the waves, the birds…everything. Woah. You should’ve seen this sooner.

“I don’t know, Dylan, there’s this editorial we gotta write,” Brandon says, wind blowing in his hair. Man, he was cute. A surfer takes notice of the car.

“Yo, McKay!” A second surfer stands up.

“What’s up, bro?! Get in the green room!” The green room? What the hell was that?

Then, a third surfer, this time a girl, joins. “Come on, Dylan! Let’s catch some waves!”

You watch Brandon as he watches the beach in awe. “Man, I dreamed about this place!”

“Who doesn’t? Welcome to paradise, man. Welcome to your dream come true.” You had a feeling this little crush on the bad boy turned surfer might come back to bite you in the ass later. But hey, what’s the worst that could happen?

Before you know it, all three of you are in the water. Dylan on a surf board, you and Brandon on boogie boards. You’re totally kicking Brandon’s ass, by the way. You’ve only wiped out like, twice. You liked watching him trip back into the water with the giant flippers on his feet. He wasn’t very good, sure, but he was trying. And looking mighty fine while doing it. He watched you, too, as you managed to nail every single wave perfectly. You’re on your next wave as he gets crushed by the last one.

“WIPEOUT!” Dylan yells, causing his surfer bros to yell with him. You end up near Dylan after the wave, watching as the blonde girl helps him up.

“Yo, Minnesota? You all right?!”

“I love this!” He yells back, wet hair falling in his face. You’re wading the water, shaking your head and giggling at his excitement.

Then everything settles down after a while, Brandon and whoever that blonde chick is are sitting in the sand talking, meanwhile you’re swimming and talking with Dylan.

“So, Wisconsin, huh? What’s there?”

“Uh, Cheese, lakes, football, drunks,” You’re only half joking. You listen to the waves washing over the shore. You don’t think you could get tired of this place.

“How’d you end up with Minnesota?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, cocking your head at him in confusion.

“I mean, how’d you end up dating him? Was it his squeaky clean charm?” You let out a laugh.

“Me? And- and Brandon? No. We aren’t…No.” You laugh like that’s the craziest thing you’ve ever heard. He nods, studying you again. Really wish he would quit doing that.

“But you want to be.”

“No! I- Brandon and I…are friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Got it?” You try to please your case with him.

“Then why does he look like he wants to jump your bones half the time?” What?

“…That’s just his face.” This time Dylan laughs.

“Whatever you say,”

That night, you found yourself in the backseat of Dylan’s car again, parked outside of the Walsh’s house. You had to majorly lie to get yourself here, but it’s not like you were doing a B&E. You were just going to hang out…with some friends. Some male friends. Some really hot male friends, sure. But still friends. Brandon interrupts your thoughts, hopping into the front seat.

“So, did we get daddy’s permission?” Dylan asks.

“Nope. We got mom’s,” Brandon shoots a smile towards the both of you. His stupid dumb face and his stupid pretty smile. Ugh. You hate him. You worked on the editorial with Brandon for most of the day, you could handle him at school. Anywhere outside of it though, you get giddy and shy. You hated it.

“So, is this what you call the sunset strip, man?” Brandon asks, as you both stand outside of what looks to be a nightclub, with Dylan’s radio blaring random rock music.

“No, that’s what tourists call it.” The surfer guys from earlier skate up, spinning around.

“Oh, maybe he’ll get hip by graduation,” One jokes.

“I think he’s fine right now,” Sarah says, waltzing up to Brandon, smile on her face. That bitch. Wait. Stop. She’s not a bitch. You know that. Why are you thinking that?

“I bet you do,” one of the guys says. You huff, quietly, but Dylan takes notice.

“What are you two doing here?” Dylan asks, walking up to them and away from his car.

Same thing you are– waiting for something to happen.“

"Yeah, well, it ain’t happening here. Come on.”

“Where you going?” Sarah questions.

“Anywhere but here, you want to come?”

“Yeah, sure Dylan, I’d love to!” She was SO nice. She had done nothing to you. Yet…you felt like you had to throw up anytime she went near Brandon.

“Hey, she goes where we go!” The doofier, brunette one of the two speaks up.

“Isn’t that her decision?” Dylan cocks his eyebrow, keeping the typical coolness in his voice.

“Oh, well, uh, you heard him. Decide!” Oh, Thing 2 speaks up as well. Wonderful. Sarah stays silent for a moment. You can’t believe she gets pushed around by those guys. What dicks.

“We’ll follow you,” She decides.

All 3 of you hop into the car, you in the back, the boys in the front.

“What’s this?” Brandon picks up a thick black book from the center console.

“Ah, a little leisure reading,” Dylan brushes it off.

“Byron– the collected works?”

“Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. That was him and that’s me.” The whole bad boy thing would almost be cheesy if it didn’t work so well. Almost.

“Hey, do your surfer buddies know you ready poetry?” You comment, arm resting on the back of their seats.

“Oh, those bonehead wouldn’t know a poem if it walked up and bit 'em,” He laughs, “Except Betty, she’s cool.” Dammit. She’s so cool.

“She doesn’t think so,”

“She would if those guys didn’t treat her like a doormat. Hell, we all think we deserve something better, but…Betty really does.” You all exchange looks before the meatheads talk again.

“Yo, McKay, where we goin’?”

You pull up to the Bel Age hotel, neon signs and water fountains at the entry way.

Dylan leads you all in, acting as if he’s sneaking you guys in on a mission or something. Clasdical music plays throughout the building. Sarah and Surfer dude #1 goof around by the sculpture they pass, looking through it and making faces. You all simultaneously sit down in the lobby. Brandon parks himself at Dylan’s ear.

“What are we doing here?”

“Visiting friends.” Thanks, that’s not vague at all. You give Dylan a look. “I thought you people from the midwest were supposed to be so sociable,” he jokes. “Come on,” He says, springing up from the couch as his group follows him. You and Brandon are the last to follow him. He huffs, getting up hesitantly.

“You alright?” You ask, watching his anxious demeanor.

“I’m fine…thanks,” He gives you a reassuring smile and you trek down the hallways together. Again with the sneaking. Huh.

“Uh, so, Dylan. These friends of yours know we’re coming?” Brandon urges.

“Of course!” Dylan responds. Yeah, like he’s crazy for asking that. You’re galloping and sneaking the halls like some weird special agents. You all stop at a room and watch as Dylan shakes open the door. “Voila.” Oh. Okay. Maybe you were doing a B&E. Great. He opens it, slowly. Peering around the dark room he adds, “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on!” He looks around the room curiously. “Where do you suppose…ah!” He flicks the lightswitch, “let there be light.” His friends gasp as they see the luxurious room. Paintings, flowers, chandeliers. Furniture that probably costs more than you do.

“Oh, this is so outrageous!” You and Brandon both stay behind, feeling wary about this whole thing.

“Hey, don’t just stand there. Come on in!” Dylan welcomes you like he owns the place.

“Come on, Dylan. Let’s get out of here. Go grab a burger or something,” Brandon practically begs, hushed tone.

“Hey, I got a better idea,” He muses, picking up the landline, “Let’s stay and grab one.”

“Dylan…” You trail off, this was not how you expected your night to go.

He ignores you, calling into room service. “Room service. This is…room 211.”

“Dylan, come on,” Brandon cuts through.

“I’d like six cheeseburgers, please. Medium well,” he turns away from the phone, “Is that all right with you guys?” They give him the go ahead and he continues, “Yeah, six orders of french fries…” and then it all clicks. McKay. The Bel Age hotel. You don’t know how you didn’t realize this sooner.

“Alright, that’s it, I’m out of here.” His voice is tense and frustrated.

“Minnesota, really? You gotta relax.”

“Look, if I relax I’ll do it in my own room! Not somebody else’s!” Brandon rants…he would be right. If it wasn’t Dylan’s place.

“Hey, Brandon, wait.” Sarah stands up, walking over to him.

“For what? To get busted for breaking and entering?” Again, he would totally be right if the circumstances were different.

“It’s just for fun,” Sarah adds.

“Not where I’m from it isn’t,” he states, jaw clenching.

“Come on, Brandon, stay with me.” This girl was really getting on your nerves. I think that might be your cue to leave. Brandon shakes his head, walking out the door.

“I should go too,” You comment, joining your midwestern friend at the door.

“Hey, come on, stay,” Dylan pleads. “You better make that order for four,” he speaks into the phone, chasing after you and Brandon.

“Hey. Minnesota, Wisco, wait up!”

“The name’s Brandon! Brandon Walsh, it’s scotch-irish, remember?” Oh, he was pissed.

“How could I forget?” Dylan tries to calm him down. A cart with dishes of food rolls by.

“Excuse me, when your order’s ready will you be eating up in the terrace or in your suite?” The man pushing the cart turns to Dylan.

“Upstairs is cool, Tony, thanks.” You see everything click for Brandon as Dylan takes a fry from the dish.

“You live here,” He realizes shaking his head.

“Dad’s corporate pad. It’s mine when he’s out of town,” He states nonchalantly.

“And how often is that?” Brandon fumes

Okay. Better to stay silent during this. He has his claws out.

“Often as possible,” He replies, “You see, my parents, they’re not exactly into parenting. But oh- shh! Don’t tell them upstairs, wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.”

“No, no, we wouldn’t want to do that,” He snaps, a defined tightness in his voice. He turns around and starts walking away, and you follow him.

“Well, stick around! Henry downstairs makes the best french fries in town,” Dylan bargains, making Brandon turn back around. “Brandon, Y/N, come on. You wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to ruin the only real thing you’ve got,” He retorts, “You coming, Y/N/N?” You shoot Dylan an apologetic look, and start walking out again.

“Y/N, wait,” Dylan stops you. “You’re really going to let him run you out of here?”

“I’m not letting him do anything, Dylan!” You argued.

“Please, you’re leaving because he’s got you wrapped around his little finger,” he snorts, “Not to mention the entire time you were here you were jealous and crabby.”

You laugh. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Brandon and Betty!” Wow. He’s..totally crazy. Where the hell did he get that from?

“That’s crazy! I’m leaving because I want!”

“Fine, then leave.” He concedes, tone sharp, taking a step closer to you.

“Fine, I will!” You mirror him, stepping closer.

“Fine,” he takes another step.

“Fine!” And so do you.

“Fine.”

When the word leaves your lips you can see him tense up, like he’s restraining himself. You gaze at each other, intensity behind both pairs of eyes. He moves forward, causing you to back off. “I should get going.” And this time, he doesn’t fight it. He just sighs, watching as you run out of the hotel and back to Brandon.

The day comes, and you’re walking down to Secos beach with Brenda at your right and Kelly and Donna at your left, enjoying the breeze and the commotion.

“This is great,” Brenda smiles. You readjust the beach bag in your hands.

“This is bogus. I don’t see a single person that I would want to talk to. Besides, I’m freezing,” Kelly complains.

“Well, you should’ve dressed warmer,” Donna tells her.

“Donna, I didn’t pay a small fortune to look like an eskimo!” Kelly argues.

“Um, I have to go check on my brother, he doesn’t know anyone else here,” Brenda walks down to the beach while you’re all stopped by Steve.

“Hey Kel, Y/N/N,” He greets you, “Warm enough?” You roll your eyes and walk right past him, not letting Steve be the thing that ruins your day.

You sit in the sand with the rest of the girls. Kelly has her arms crossed, shivering from the wind.

“This party is totally beat,” she says.

“Does that mean we’re leaving?” Brenda quips back.

“It means I am,”

“Me too,” Donna agrees. The three of them stand.

“I’ll go find Brandon,” Brenda says, brushing herself off.

“I’ll meet you over there, Bren,” You stand up, making your way over to your new friend over in the ocean, board in hand.

“Wisco, hey,” He sets his surfboard upright in the sand as you walk up to him. “About last night…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wander a little closer.

“It was supposed to be fun. If it wasn’t well, I apologize. But it was supposed to be,” There’s something so genuine, so penitent in his voice.

“I know your intentions were good…misguided, for sure. But…sweet.” The overcast clouds and wind cool your skin as you speak.

“Sweet?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you as you cross your arms.

“You could’ve taken us to a random 5 star hotel instead of your suite. It would’ve upped the thrill factor for you, but we would’ve gotten busted. So you didn’t. Brandon sees it as a way of keeping your reputation in tact and your record clean. I see it as a way of keeping your friends safe but giving them a good time all the same. Call me crazy if I’m reading too far into this, but…” The breeze blows your hair out of your face as you wait for his reply. The wind and the overcast skies leave you chilly.

He looks at his feet, leaning against his board. Sighing, he looks at you like he wants to speak.

“You’re not crazy.”

You give him a gentle smile. “You’re not nearly as mean and brooding as you think you are, Dylan,” your voice is soft as you put your hands in the pockets of your dress. You turn to meander off, but he stops you.

“Do you want to try it again sometime? You know, hanging out?” He asks.

“No B&Es?”

“No B&Es. Not even fake ones.”

You laugh softly, and nod. “I’d like that.” You turn and go off, and he watches you as you leave.

You walk over the Brenda and Brandon’s side of the beach, going to offer them a ride home, since you saw Kelly skidding off with Donna. You expect to see them talking, maybe lounging in the sand. But what you do is Brandon, carrying a soaked, unconscious girl out of the water. Your eyes go wide. What the hell. Is that…Betty? You run over there as fast as you could, the only thing keeping you down the sand beneath your feet.

“Oh my God, is she alright?!” You call out, your heart racing.

Beverly Hills Memorial Hospital.

“So you’re sure she’ll be okay?” Brandon asks, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Thanks to you three,” the doctor says, folding his hands. “Her body temp had already dropped two degrees from exposure.” It felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You may have been a little cold towards her, but you never wanted anything to happen to her.

“Is that normal?” Brenda inquires.

“Depends on what your definition of normal is. It happens all the time to alcoholics.” Oh, no. Everybody tenses up.

“Are you saying she’s an alcoholic?”

“Nobody drinks that much for fun,” the doctor sighs.

“Yooo, West Beverly! It’s that day of the week again, and this is D.J. Mike M.C.! Now listen up, cause this song ain’t dedicated to the one I love, but to the local heroes who busted a rescue move on Secos beach this weekend and saved someone’s life! Way to go, homies!” The DJ’s voice rings through the speakers at West Beverly once again as you stop a familiar face in the hallway.

Hey,“ he smiles.

"Hi,” it’s a comfortable silence as you walk to class together, at least at the moment. His face scrunched up lightly, like he’s deep in thought.

“How do you feel about Dylan?”

“Uh, he’s pretty cool… why?”

“I was just wondering…,” He trails off, “Steve thinks you’re sleeping with him.” Your jaw drops.

“What the hell? Where’d he get that from?”

“Well, you know Steve. If a girl and a guy make eye contact they’re automatically doing it,” Typical Steve, I guess.

“So by Steve Law we’re…” You trail off.

“Married,”

“Oh, yeah, obviously,” you jokingly concur as he puts his arm around you in a casual manner. You walk down the hallway together to your first class.

“Oh, yeah, obviously,” you jokingly concur as he puts his arm around you in a casual manner. You walk down the hallway together to your first class. Yeah, you could get used to this.

@be-patient-be-good @lilo-1988 @mpmarypoppins @fangirl-imagines @bevelyhills90210

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