First Comes Like #Wattys2020

19

NINETEEN

In the morning, I am filled with dread.

Everything from yesterday plays back in my head and it's awful because it all ends with Dean being my match.

Dean Pinkette, of all people. 

The boy I've hated for most of my life who I was just started to develop an indifference to. The kind of boy I wasn't into, you know, with the good hair and the smile and the popularity and teasing attitude. My stomach lurches the more I think about it. And then lurches again when I realize that I'm going to have to face him some time, particularly this very morning.

How was I supposed to act normal in Dean's car when:

1. He was my match

2. I liked my match

3. He was my match

I wonder if I could just separate them, match-Dean with real-Dean, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how hard that's going to be. I mean, everything time I see him, I know I'm just going to think about the last message he sent me via the Double Tap app. And on top of that, I'll now be reading every message in Dean voice.

Oh God.

I avoid looking toward his house as I get ready for school and at breakfast, I beg my mom to drop me off. But she says no, she's working on a project, and 'I thought you didn't like it when I dropped you off.'  

I regret ever complaining. I should have just taken the too-slow-no-AC-Paul-Simon rides in silence.

Dean toots just as I've given up sucking up to my mom in an effort to get her to change her mind. She sighs in relief when I leave.

"Hi." Dean tells me from the car window, as I walk slowly over to his car, "I feel like school will be over by the time you get over here."

Surprised that he doesn't mention our little episode yesterday, I quicken my pace, ever so slightly, but then he raises a hand to stop me, as if thinking it over. "In fact, walk as slowly as you like."

When I get to the car, I very consciously reach for the back door, not forgetting how much better riding up front was. But I can't sit shot gun today because, you know. To my dismay, I find that the back seat is still occupied with all the boxes of stuff we bought yesterday. I frown at Dean and gesture to the back seat.

Dean looks back at me and shrugs, "I figured I'd bring it along today." He says, "Ms Fitz will probably want to inspect what we got."

I sigh and close the back door then reach for the front one. I slide in and put my bag on my lap. 

"Ms Fitz is so into this Valentine's thing." I face Dean, so he can see me roll my eyes."She's kind of weird, you know?"

"At least she doesn't stare at her neighbor in the bathroom." Dean shoots back, and gives me a pointed look. "Don't worry, Poof." He smirks, when I look away, blushing. "I understand why you were curious." My cheeks turn beet red.

"Shut up." Is all I say, because there's no way I could ever deny staring at Dean.

I was staring. Staring at his hair, wet and wavy from the shower. At the towel, low around his waist. At his arms. At his very impressive chest area. It was hard to look away. Because Dean was hot.

HOT.

And I'd always known, everyone knows, but it was like yesterday I was seeing him for the first time. I was blinded before, that's what. By hate, I guess, and now I was finally seeing the light. Which was awful, because his good looks were becoming impossible to ignore. I shift uncomfortably in the front seat and look out the window, desperately trying to distract myself.