With You┃Dylan O'Brien ⓵

Chapter Four : Getting Acquainted

We're given the remaining class time to start working on the definitions, and I pull out my phone to look up the words on the internet. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dylan writing away but what surprises me is that he doesn't have a dictionary or his phone out.

I've defined the first two words and when I look at his paper, he's starting to write down the definition of the fifth word. I stop doing my own work and watch as he finishes writing the definition for the sixth word. Apparently he notices my staring as he stops writing and looks over at me.

"What?", he asks.

"How are you doing that?"

"How am I doing what?"

"You're just defining every word without looking them up. Is your brain like, it's own dictionary?"

"I read and write a lot, so I know a lot of words. Looking at this list... I know all of these words except for two. So I don't have to look them up."

"I wish I could do that," I tell him, amazed. "I'm a number person, that's why I'm so good at Math and Chemistry."

"Well I'm a word person," he says as he writes down another definition. "I like learning new words."

"I can see that. So English must be your best class."

"Exactly why I'm in Honors."

I nod and define three more words before packing up like everyone else. By the end of the period, I've defined a total of six words and Dylan is halfway done with the list. When the bell rings, I wave bye to him and head off to Jazz with Naomi.

"So how is it sitting with that weird guy?", Naomi asks me as we make our way to the locker room.

"You mean Dylan?"

"Yup."

"He's not very weird at all. I'm still confused as to why you all think he is," I tell her honestly.

"Okay, I actually shouldn't call him weird. I don't know him at all, nobody does; that's probably why we all think he's weird. He never talks to anyone."

"I asked him about that yesterday."

"You did?", she looks at me, interested. "And what did he say?"

"He said nobody else that he's talked to is interesting. They all bore him or are rude and stuff like that."

"Nobody else?", Naomi repeats, giving me a sly look and a smirk as she emphasizes that last word. "So he finds you interesting enough."

"I guess so," I say. "We're friends, anyway."

"You guys did talk quite a lot in English," she says. "I think he might like you."

"Of course he likes me, he's my friend."

"No, he might like you, like you."

I stare at her, "I've only known him for two days."

"Hey, don't you believe in love at first sight?", she laughs.

"Leave me alone already," I laugh with her before going into the bathroom stall and changing. I meet her back at her locker and put my things in there before we enter the dance room.

In Jazz, I realize that I'm better at dancing than I gave myself credit for. Certainly I'm nothing amazing (that would be Naomi), but I'm still pretty good. Miss Anderson has Naomi teach us some choreography to an upbeat song and I find myself enjoying it a lot. At the end of class, we all get some water and go to change.

"I forgot to tell you," Naomi tells me back in the locker room. "There is a dance portion of tryouts on the second day, which would be tomorrow. That's always where I shine. From the looks of it, you'll do just fine in that category too."