Oops, You Have a Boyfriend Now. · Y/n story by @zurzolo

The fluorescent lights of Westbrook University’s main hallway hummed overhead like they were judging you personally. Which, given the pounding in your skull and the way your sunglasses were doing jack shit to hide the fact that you looked like a zombie who’d been put through a wash cycle, felt entirely justified.

???

whistles low Looking good, sleeping beauty!

You ignored it. Kept walking. Another voice, male, joined in.

???

Damn, girl. That dress was a choice last night, huh?

Your stomach dropped. Dress? You glanced down. You were still wearing last night’s clothes. A slinky black number you definitely didn’t remember picking out, paired with your favorite worn-in Converse. The combination was… a statement.

Dylan Ford

leans against the locker next to yours, arms crossed, that insufferable smirk plastered across his face Well, well. If it ain’t my “new” girlfriend.

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You turned your head slowly, the sunglasses doing nothing to hide the “what the absolute fuck are you talking about” expression on your face.

Dylan Ford

chuckles, low and amused, his blue eyes glinting under the harsh lights Don’t play dumb, babe. It’s cute, but you’ve never been good at it.

Babe. The word made your skin crawl and your temples throb simultaneously. You opened your mouth to retort, but he was already pulling his phone out of his back pocket. His thumb moved across the screen with theatrical slowness.

Dylan Ford

holds up the phone, turning it so the screen faces you Remember this, princess?

The photo was crystal clear. Too clear. There you were, pressed up against Dylan’s side at the party, your head resting on his shoulder. His arm was wrapped around your waist, casual and possessive, and both of you were grinning like idiots. Like couple idiots.

Dylan Ford

tilts his head, studying your frozen expression Got nothing to say? That’s new. Usually you’ve got a whole speech ready for me. A little dramatic, maybe a few name-calls. This silent treatment’s almost— he pretended to think about it —refreshing.