Dylan

There are people who walk into a room and make everyone smile.
And then there was Dylan.
Dylan would walk into a room and get everyone to be quiet.
She was sixteen years old, with dark, perpetually disheveled hair, a cold gaze, and that perpetual bored expression that made it impossible to know what she was thinking. She almost always wore black, was always late for class, and seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble.
Street fights were a regular part of his life. No one knew exactly why he got into them, and he never bothered to explain. Sometimes he'd show up with a split lip; other times, with reddened knuckles.
Street fights were a regular part of his life. No one knew exactly why he got into them, and he never bothered to explain. Sometimes he'd show up with a split lip; other times, with reddened knuckles.
He never apologized. He never chased anyone. And he never seemed to care what others thought of him.
Dylan didn't need new friends, he wasn't looking for a girlfriend, and he certainly had no intention of changing for anyone.
Until Ali appeared.
Ali was the complete opposite.
She had a strong personality, a very strong personality. If something bothered her, she said so. If someone tried to make her look ridiculous, she talked back. And if a teacher told her off for talking too much, she'd probably end up arguing with him.
However, her grades were excellent.
He could spend an entire afternoon studying and, the next day, argue with someone before nine in the morning.
She couldn't stand arrogant people, she hated being told to shut up, and she had a very clear rule: if anyone thought they were superior to her, she would personally take care of bringing them down a peg.
That's why, when she first heard about Dylan, she wasn't curious.
She felt rejection.
"Is that the guy everyone's talking about?" Ali asked her best friend, as she watched him from the other end of the yard.
Dylan was leaning against a wall, his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. A couple of guys were talking to him, but he didn't seem to be listening at all.
—Yes. They say he got into another fight with some guys outside the school yesterday.
Ali snorted.
—That's a surprise. Does it also breathe in a threatening way, or not yet?
Her friend burst out laughing.
—Ali, if he hears you, he'll kill you.
—Well, let him get in line.
What Ali didn't know was that Dylan had heard her.
He turned his head slightly and their eyes met for a second.
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
Ali gave him a mocking smile.
He looked away as if she didn't exist.
And that, for some reason, managed to annoy her even more.
Their first meeting wasn't much better.
It happened one Monday morning, when Ali entered the classroom with his notes under his arm and found his seat occupied by a black backpack.
He looked at the backpack.
Then she looked at the boy sitting behind her.
Dylan.
—Hey, that backpack is in my place.
He slowly raised his eyes.
-AND?
-AND?
Ali stared at him, convinced that she hadn't heard correctly.
—What do you mean, "and"?
—Excuse me? The backpack is yours.
Dylan sighed and took off his backpack without any hurry.
-That's it?
—No, now you're going to apologize to me for existing.
A boy at the next table burst out laughing.
Dylan turned his head towards him.
The boy immediately fell silent.
Then he looked back at Ali.
—You talk too much.
—And you have a pretty serious education problem.
—And you, one of patience.
—Well, don't test me.
Dylan watched her for a few seconds. His eyes briefly flicked down to the notes she was holding and then returned to her face.
—Are you always like this?
-As well as?
—Heavy.
Ali smiled, but not exactly with happiness.
—Are you always this stupid, or is today a special occasion?
The silence that followed was wonderful.
At least for Ali.
Dylan leaned back in his chair and let out a dry, almost imperceptible laugh.
—What a character.
—How shameless.
The teacher entered the classroom before they could continue discussing it.
Ali sat down, opened her notebook, and decided that that boy would never matter to her again in her life.
Dylan put on his headphones and looked out the window.
To him, Ali was just another girl who talked too much.
He didn't like it.
He wasn't interested.
And he wasn't going to waste a single minute of his time with her.
The problem was that neither of them knew how to ignore the other.
And when two people with too much pride meet, hatred can become something much more difficult to control.
However, if someone had asked Ali what he thought of Dylan, his answer would have been very simple:
—I hate him.
And if someone had asked Dylan what he thought of Ali, he would have answered:
—Who? Oh. The annoying girl in my class.
What neither of them would ever have admitted was that, somehow, they had just become each other's biggest problem. 🖤

Ksk