He's a Fanboy?!

He's Super Hot, According to Dale

If you haven't read Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell (smh, who even are you go reAD IT RIGHT NOW--jk finish my chapter first), Cath is the protagonist in the story :) also, if you haven't read divergent; tobias=four & tris=six. enjoy~!
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When I wake up, staring into the mirror, I think of Cath. Then I think of Hazel Lancaster and Peter Van Houten.

Peter hated it when Hazel dressed as Anna from his novel. But that was because he was a drunk idiot.

I assume that Rainbow Rowell wouldn't be a drunk idiot, however. The library wouldn't invite her if she was.

And so, I decide to dress as Cath.

I pull my hair into a bun and switch my contacts for my glasses. I put on brown jeans, a basic white shirt and a yellow cardigan--Cath's exact outfit on the cover of Fangirl.

Cath was a typical fangirl, except her fanfiction got a hundreds of thousands of reads online. Very much similar to me, though I only get a couple thousand or so.

She had an obsession with the Simon Snow book series, the same as my obsession with almost every young adult novel.

And she was an avid fanfic writer. She was the type to really commit to her work, completing chapters almost every night.

But she didn't write to express herself, to get attention or to set herself free.

No--she did it because she wanted to be somewhere else, to be free of herself, to stop being anything or anywhere at all.

She did it to disappear.

I practically already am Cath.

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"Sometimes," I say, "I wonder why I bother meeting up with you. One of these days I'm going to ditch you."

This time, I timed him. Thirteen minutes, twenty three seconds and seventeen milliseconds late.

He frowns, cocking his head to the side. "Only sometimes?"

"You're right. More like all the time."

"So what I'm hearing is," he smirks, "you wonder about me all the time?"

It's times like these that I wish I had darker skin so that I wouldn't have to look like a Pikachu when I blush.

"Just--just open the door."

He mumbles something like "you didn't deny it," and unlocks the car. I pretend not to hear to save my sanity.

Not that he's right. I just can't think of a witty comeback.

Having nothing this time to discuss, the ride is as silent as our school library. I stare out the window, watching the green trees and grass slowly change to small houses, then a couple buildings, and finally, skytrain stations and company towers.

Suddenly I turn around. "It's too quiet. I'm using your aux cord."

I plug the cord into my phone as Brayden says, "Well, thanks for asking." I ignore his redundant remark, as per usual.

I hesitate before tapping the song, wondering how hard Brayden will judge me when I play it. But then I think: It's my own damn music taste and I shouldn't give a shank if someone doesn't like it.

5SOS's 'Rejects' blasts through Brayden's car speakers.

He doesn't say anything, focusing on the road. I see his mouth move into a straight line, not showing his opinion.