"So," Billingsley said, as he and Dylan sat there in the hallway of the school, waiting to get a phone call instead of them sitting in the dehydrating Texas heat that could make both of them pass out. "You like football?"
Dylan looked over at him, "No. I prefer hockey. The violence entertains me." Looking away, Billingsley pouted a little at her answer and serious tone, knowing she wasn't kidding. He was pretty sure she knew she was talking to a Permian football player too.
"Uh, yeah, hockey's interesting," He muttered, looking away. He didn't know what else to say to that. He actually had no idea how to handle a girl like her at all. She didn't blush around him. She didn't jump right on him. He was sure she wasn't planning on creating a rice krispie action like figure of him. He wasn't sure what to do with a girl who wasn't attracted to him, but almost disgusted by him. But he had to find out who she was. He had to. It would drive him crazy. "So you're not gonna tell me your name, tutor girl?"
"Not a chance," Dylan said, expressionless, smiling as Billingsley looked away.
Both of their heads turned to look forward where a grungy looking kid, with spiked brown hair, and a plain white t-shirt walked through. He was skinny, and had chicken arms. Squinting, he spotted Dylan, yelling out her name. "Dylan! What the hell ya doin? Come on! It's hot as balls outside." He yelled, echoing in the hallway.
"Damn," Dylan mumbled, turning her head to the left a little, to shield her face from Billingsley, who smiled. Picking up her bag, she stood up, and looked down at him. "I'm Dylan."
"Hi, Dylan," Billingsley smiled up at her, laughing inside.
"See you tomorrow, student," She said, turning around, and walking to the door, where the boy with her, stared at Don, probably asking Dylan about him.
"Hm," Don licked his bottom lip, completely entertained by Dylan 'tutor girl.' "She's cute," He mumbled to himself, leaning his back against the locker, cursing Chavez for taking his time on his way to pick him up.
- - - - - -
"So, that's Don Billingsley," Ferris nodded, making an impressed face. He looked down at Dylan raising an eyebrow at him, and giving him a dirty look. "What? I'm just saying he's good looking."
"I'll tell him you said that tomorrow," Dylan said, looking down at her shoes.
"You know what I mean," Ferris said, and Dylan shook her head.
"Uh no, I still think you're a pansy," Dylan said, her voice calm and tired.
"And I still think you're an asshole. I mean, do your knees start shaking at the sight of him? Does he wink and you blush? Did you hint him into giving him your number?" Dylan looked up, as Ferris's eyebrows went up and down, creating lines in his forehead, his spikes pointing into the air, bouncing up and down like his eyebrows were.
Dylan smiled, Ferris's questions and facial expressions making her laugh loudly. After releasing her giddiness, usually only seen by her brothers and Ferris, she got herself together. "I didn't even tell him my name until you yelled it out loud for me. Thanks for that, by the way. It's strictly 'hey student, sit your ass down, do some learnin, and just get this over with so this hellish ordeal can be over soon.'"
"Well, I'm glad your priorities are straight," Ferris gave a nod, as they got into his car. "What are we doing now?"
"Well, I'm sleeping on your couch. You can gallivant around the town if you'd like, pansy," Dylan smirked, pulling her seat belt over her.
"Since you're basically my best friend, pretty damn sad, I gotta say, I guess I'll sleep too," Ferris started up his car.
"You mean, you're gonna pretend to sleep on the floor, and then pull out your homework because you actually like school, and enjoy the title of 'geek'?" Dylan asked, and Ferris looked over at her.
"Yeah," Ferris mumbled.
"You should get a girlfriend," Dylan said, looking out the window.
"That is true," Ferris sighed. "You should get a boyfriend." Dylan stayed silent. "Hey, I think Don Billingsley doesn't have a girlfriend this week. Jump on it."
Dylan groaned, staring out the window, "Shut up."
- - - - - - - - - -
"It took you forever," Don said, getting into Chavez's car.
"Well, it's you that I'm picking up Saturday morning, so I think you're giving me a thank you," Chavez said, speeding out of the parking lot.
"You're an ass. I was in school," Don looked at Chavez, as Chavez looked back at him. "Alone."
"You can jump out now," Chavez said, making a right towards his house. "How was tutoring?"
Don smiled, "Pretty good, actually."
"So, it's a girl tutor, which means you didn't pay attention at all," Chavez said, and Don nodded.
"You know me well," Don said, and dropped the English book onto the floor. "You know a Dylan?"
"Wait, did you have a guy tutor or something and just got a crush on him?" Chavez asked, and Billingsley glared. "Oh no, wait. Dylan, she's-"
"Extremely cute, borderline hot? Mysterious? Kind of a jerk?" Billingsley listed, "Yeah, that's her."
"Oh, then it's the right Dylan I was thinking about," Chavez gave a nod. "You have no chance, you know that, right?"
"What do you mean?" This was foreign to him.
"She's not the type to go out with you. You're popular. She lives to contrast that," Chavez said, and Billingsley raised an eyebrow.
"Do you know her?" He asked, and Chavez sighed, knowing the new piece of information would just encourage him.
"She's my next door neighbor," Chavez said, rolling his eyes, not even having to look at Billingsley to know that a grin appeared on his face.
"No one can be denied of Don Billingsley," Billingsley said, his head high, his pride overflowing from his ears.
"And Don Billingsley also has no shame," Chavez mumbled, shaking his head.
This wasn't going to be good.
- - - - - - -
A/N: Reviews, please.
The summary of the story is still being worked on until I can find a decent one. It's been changed again to this:
[Friday Night Lights Don Billingsley expected to improve his writing and grammar with his tutor sessions, but he never expected that he would learn the frustration of being vulnerable.
Oh, and of course, I only own Dylan and the one she calls Ferret.
