summer

four- morning

Obviously, Dylan was in his room. Surprisingly, Sawyer had followed him.

"Why do you have to trail me around wherever I go?" Groaned Dylan through the pillow he held over his face, trying to block out the outside world that seemed to be constantly pressing in on him.

"Didn't we just clarify this at dinner?" Laughed Sawyer. He seemed to find everything funny, the type to always find the good in the bad.

"It doesn't make sense. I don't like you, you're aware of this. From what I can tell, you either don't or shouldn't like me, either. I'm the kid who sits in the back of the class and has no friends while you're the popular star of the football team. Fuck off. This is not how shit works. We are not how shit works." Sawyer laughed, again.

"I can assure you it is not like that at all. I was pretty popular, but then everything changed, all because I-" Sawyer cut himself off, suddenly sounding hurt. "Never mind." Dylan pulled the pillow off his face and turned to the stranger in his room.

"Great. Now, can you please leave?" Sawyer stood up from Dylan's desk, staring at the floor aimlessly.

"Okay." With that, he just... got up and left? Dylan sat up, confused. Of course he was glad that he finally had his room to himself, but Sawyer seemed off. Does this have have something to do with his whole 'never mind'? Dylan rolled his eyes. It doesn't matter to me anyways.

>><<

       "Wake up," called Dylan's mother, tossing a pillow at his head. His eyes snap open, glaring at his ceiling. "We're leaving, it's noon. You should've been awake by now. You're always so grumpy, maybe it's because you sleep so much."

"Or maybe it's because I always get woken up," hissed Dylan, sitting up and rubbing his eyes nevertheless. His room started to come into focus, his mother leaving it and Sawyer entering. "Are you shitting me?"

"Good morning to you, too." Dylan stood up and groans, running his fingers through his  wild tangle of messy hair.

"Why do you have to fuck with me when I seriously just opened my eyes?" Getting out of bed and rummaging through his closet, Dylan finds a black T-shirt and jeans.

"You're seriously going to wear that to a picnic?" Judged Sawyer. Dylan rolled his eyes and turned to glare at him.

"I didn't even know we were going on a picnic, or anywhere for that matter, til you just told me. Now could you please leave so I can change?"

"What, are you scared to change in front of me?" Joked Sawyer, grinning at him.

"Actually, yes. After all, you are a stranger who just moved into my house and mocked me already, plus as we both know, I am  extremely insecure. Get out." He said with a shove to Sawyer's chest. Obviously, Sawyer had the physical upper hand on him, so shoving didn't do much.

Dylan had always been a very honest person. He didn't hide his feelings, other than his deepest ones, to anyone. After all, he had nothing, and no one, to lose. Telling someone what he didn't like about himself, or the world, or otherwise, came very naturally to him, but it still felt weird around Sawyer.

"Alright, alright! And I'm sorry, by the way," Sawyer attempted to say but was silenced by Dylan's door being slammed in his face.

"Everyone always is."

>><<

        "I don't want to do this."

        "You don't have a choice."

        "Wanna bet?"

        "Dylan, you're going. It's only a picnic, I'm sorry I can't come."

      "I'm not going to lunch with Sawyer. Why do you care what we do anyways? You aren't even coming."

      "You are going to lunch with him because I want you two to become friends. I would go as well, but you know Tom, he calls me in for work last minute all the time. Why is this instance any different?"

      "'Cause I can't sit in my bed and do nothing."

       "You're going."

Dylan rolled his eyes and sat at the counter, crossing his long legs. His ripped black jeans weren't fit for summer, but he didn't own a single pair of shorts. Hell, he wasn't even planning on leaving the house at all.

      "Come on, we'll only be there an hour," called Sawyer, coming downstairs quickly.

      "No, you'll only be there an hour. I'm staying here," says Dylan, pulling out his phone. Apparently, his mother had different plans.

     "You'll get this back when I come home," she claimed, plucking the phone from his hands.

       "What? You can't do that!" Dylan sputtered, apparently amusing Sawyer, which of course earned him a deadly glare. "What if something bad happened? How would I call you?"

       "I am doing this," she said, pocketing the phone and shouldering her bag. "Sawyer has my number, I even gave him yours. Also, I know you, calling me would be the last thing you do in danger."

      "You don't know me at all." She grabbed her car keys and smiled at him, walking towards the door.

      "I know everything about you, you were cut from my stomach after all." Dylan rolled his eyes.

Despite being an open book, there was one thing nobody knew about him. One thing he's always kept a secret. Therefore, there was definitely one thing she didn't know about him, something no one did.