Hold me [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 19

Bridget's POV
"I'm really worried about her Dylan," I said tiredly, as we began our slow trek around the football field. I hadn't seen Crystal in days, I was seriously beginning to worry--literally, I could feel the worry lines multiplying on my forehead with each raise of the eyebrow. He nodded wearily,
"Yeah, I am too. I just don't know what to do at this point. She won't let me talk to her." We ran for a while matching each other's pace, step for step; it was almost calming having him just inches away from him--both of us running in the same direction for once.
"I tried calling her but she hasn't been picking up, do you think she's mad at me?" I looked at him, as my stomach lurched. The thought of the only real friend I had, avoiding me made my head reel. Dylan shook his head, "There'd be no reason for her to be."
"What if someone told her about..." I trailed off, glancing around. He stopped running all together, his cheeks were a rosy pink, even breathes expelling from his mouth as he obsessively raked his fingers through his hair.
"I'm not sure, but let's hold off a little longer on telling our families, alright? Our mom's would freak--probably throw a party worth inviting the whole neighborhood." He and I both shuddered, I could almost see the look on her face now.
"Daniel wants to apologize to her, but she won't ever give him a chance. I can't really blame him though..." I shuffled, staring down at my ratty converse. Dylan looked up at me, eyebrow raised irritably,
"Daniel? You went to see him?" I could still see faint bruises on his hands from the fight.
"Not specifically, I went to Hot Topic with Crystal." I explained quickly, knowing very well of the relationship between Dylan and Daniel.

His eyes softened a fraction, and he brushed the back of his fingers over my forearm. I could feel the stares we were getting but his expression stayed hard and serious as if he was glaring at me--but I knew better than that. Dylan was only doing what I asked him to do, keeping our relationship in the dark.
"Listen," He mumbled, his lips barely moving,
"I don't want to be one of those dickhead boyfriend's that keep you away from the rest of the male species but for my sake, just stay away from him, please?" I must've looked confused because he rolled his eyes. "Just until we fix this." Dylan patted my shoulder cautiously. I stared at him, glumly.
"You're not going to listen to me are you?" He cracked a half smile.
I shrugged and opened my mouth to crack a joke to be interrupted by Coach's demon-call's.
"Holt! Sprayberry! Stop your flirting and catch up with the rest of the class!" He blew his whistle as we passed him, making my ears ring. I felt the tips of my ears burn red, as a couple of the too-good-for-exercise popular's narrowed their eyes at me from the bleachers.

The only reason Coach was giving me a hard time was because he was disappointed in me, I know. I'd completely screwed up cheer-leading and bailed on soccer, and basketball and whatever else he'd conjured up for me. I just hadn't been meeting up with anyone's expectations lately. I sneaked a peek over at the group of girls propped up on the bleachers, reapplying make up--most of them were from the cheerleading squad, including Miley. She was in the middle of a long rant--loud enough to make sure not only Shelley, but I heard just what she thought about me.
"I just know there's something up with those two. Do you think their like a thing now or something? I mean, the school freak show and America's next most-wanted criminal together? That just spell's trouble. Ugh. Bridget makes me--" And then Miley's words seemed to trail off into oblivion as she stared in my direction. But she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Dylan. I didn't have to look at his face to know he was giving her the classic, i'll-break-your-neck-in-20-different-ways look. I let out a breath of air, as Victoria, who'd been on the track earlier walked up to Miley. She said something I couldn't quite hear, and then I saw Victoria's hand shoot out almost automatically at Miley's reply, slapping her so hard she nearly tumbled down the bleachers. It was one of those slap's you'd hear if you were sitting in a ditch in China with cotton stuffed in your ears. That was a slap that hurt ego's. That was a slap that caused war. No one seemed to see it but Dylan and I, who'd been momentarily dumbfounded by the sudden attack--and left the kid's in ear-shot staring confused in our direction. Miley didn't do anything surprisingly as Victoria plopped down beside her, acting as normal as one could after slapping the bitch out of someone. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder, and crossed her legs. Whoa. Talk about untouchable.

But that didn't stop Miley from giving me the ugliest look from behind her swelling bright red cheek.  I felt Dylan nudge me, and it took a lot to bring myself back. I probably looked as horrible as I felt, judging by the look he was giving me.
"Hey," He began, smiling,
"Don't worry about her--the girl can't even spell trouble."  I smiled back, but I couldn't quite pull off the dazzling exterior he always seemed to put off like it was nothing.
"It's fine. Dylan gestured with his head as his jog began to pick up to a run, "Let's go, before Coach's head explodes."  I ran after him, and we didn't say another word about Crystal or Miley for that matter. Dylan, eventually, reluctantly, drifted away to the basketball jocks and I was left to brave the girl's locker room alone.
I escaped with little more then a few names i'd rather not repeat, and some rather dirty looks from, not only Hannah, but three fourth's of my former cheer-leading team didn't seem to like me either. It was the same in all of my classes, i'd been called every name in the book and it hasn't even been lunch yet. By the time I did get outside, in the fresh air I was near tears.

I used to sit outside everyday at lunch before I met Dylan or Crystal, it was the one place I wasn't really subjected to sitting 'alone', because there was no table's--no people to stare at me. Dylan  had beat me to it though, leaned up against the stairs--leather-clad arms crossed over his chest. The moment Dylan looked up, I was in his arms the next second, wrapped tightly in his arms; pressed against his t-shirt.
"Dylan--" I mumbled, fighting back the tears welling up in my eyes.
"I don't care if someone see's." He interrupted me, tightening his grip around me constricting the air out of lungs.
"You're already a target and we haven't even became public yet," Dylan sighed against the top of my head, a groan to his tone.
"You're talking as if I was dating a spy." I allowed myself to laugh. He laughed too,
"You might as well be." He pulled away only enough to look at me, he touched my face suddenly serious.
"If you're going to hide the fact you're upset, at least don't make that face around me." I dropped my gaze feeling ashamed, like i'd been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Dylan sighed in response and leaned down until we were of eye-level. His lips were a breath away, and so was the whole high-school waiting for the freak and the criminal to slip up.

He closed his eyes, like he was deciding on something--then, breathing in deeply; he tiled my head towards his lips and kissed my forehead.
"Miley's a bitch," I wasn't really expecting that, neither the way he seemed to hum the phrase as if it was a love confession rather than an insult. "Its all you can really expect when your hanging around my family. Getting completely trashed, I mean." Dylan released me and guided me over to the ledge of the staircase. We both pulled ourselves up on it, and sat in silence for a while. I shared half my sandwich with him, he even seemed to chew angrily; jaw chomping, unsatisfied. His defined eyebrows suddenly raised and he turned to me, like he was trying to contain his excitement.
"I think I got it."
"What do you mean?" I said confused, tossing my the rest of my unfinished sandwich into the trashcan.
"Keep up, idiot!" Dylan thwacked me and scooted closer, I shot him a look as I rubbed my throbbing forehead.
"You know I love you, just shut up and listen. You girls always do things after break-up' s right? Eat chocolate, hate men--go to the gym, right?"
"I guess, I wouldn't know." I shrugged obliviously, picking at the purple nail-polish on my nails.
"And you never will," Dylan squeezed my hand, causing an instant smile to spread across my face.
"Except, you and I are going to amplify that--by like 10 times." He beamed, smirking.
"How are we going to do that?" I asked, still looking like an "idiot."
"Don't worry about it, I have it all under control." Dylan assured me proudly, flipping my hand and playing with my fingers.
"What about our first official first date?" I asked curiously, wondering what he had in mind.
"I'm not going to forget about you, Bridget." He sighed blissfully,
"Like I said, I have it all under control."