Kissing Dylan at school was definitely one of my best ideas.

It's almost as if it's a remedy for his anxiety and shyness. He's gotten a little bolder, daring to ask for more. So he does, every time I pull away to breathe or to give him the chance to say stop.

"No," he whispers, a light whimper to the edge of his voice. "Come back."

Chuckling, I pepper him with kisses again. He's putty in my hands, easy to reposition. See, whenever I move my thigh in between his, he gasps, his mouth giving me easy access. When I place my hands on his hips, he makes a sound not unlike a little moan, and he gets even needier.

The bell's gone a long time ago, yet neither of us really cares. Or maybe I don't care and Dylan is just really lost.

"Dallas," he whispers. I realize I've been staring at him for the last few moments, and my boyfriend is not pleased with it. But how can I not?

He's beautiful. Gorgeous, actually. His cheek bones are responsible for the way his face is so damn pretty. Together with his mesmerizing blue eyes–which are, to my greatest dismay, closed–and his, now swollen, plump lips, I don't think I'll ever get enough of staring at his face.

The rest of his body feels fragile under my rough hands, wherever I touch him. He's so responsive, it doesn't matter what I do to him. He'll gladly follow me into any touch.

"Oh, love, you're so fucking perfect. You have no idea."

Those captivating eyes open just the slightest bit. His eyelashes are long, his eyelids half closed, making it hard for me to see the part of him that tells me most.

Even if his cheeks were already flushed red because of our kisses, he manages to blush under my attention. He silently watches me, his eyes glossed over in thought.

The sight of him makes me smile. I wish I could take a picture of him standing here right now, clearly affected by me. I wish I could forever see this sight of Dylan. The sight of him, and not of a suppressed version of him. I don't want the version he thinks he has to be around everyone just to get approval; I want the real him. I want Dylan with his flaws and his perfections. Everything.

"I don't know what to say," he whispers nervously. He does that thing with his fingers, that thing he always does when he's a little anxious. Doesn't he know he doesn't need to be anxious around me?

Lovingly and still very much in a trance, I smile and brush his cheek. He immediately leans into the feel of my hand, closing his eyes again. "You don't have to say anything, love. We can enjoy the moment."

A faint nod of him, and I'm immediately swept back into his beauty again. I don't understand how he doesn't see his own perfection. He thinks he has to hide it because people will hate him for it. He doesn't. I'll gladly become his protector if it allows me and everybody else to see just how handsome he is.

I notice he is watching me too, right through those heavy-lidded eyes. Maybe he's, just like me, wondering about how two people, so unlike each other, fit so well. I know I am.

Dylan is everything I'm not. He's smart, he's kind and he's shy. Despite that, he's skinny and tiny. His skin is light colored, which accents when my darker arm is right next to him. My Egyptian roots are responsible for that. I wonder if he'll actually go through with his promise to join the team just to watch me; maybe his biceps won't be half the size of mine then.

However, that's what I like about us. We're totally different, but that's what attracts me to him. We're like light and darkness, the opposite yet always together. Chasing and finding each other.

I do hope we don't end up like water and fire. Always ruining the other. No, I'm positive Dylan is just right for me. I mean, one look at him and I was immediately mesmerized. If I could have, I would have claimed him right on the first day I noticed him. Unfortunately, I was new back then, and maybe he would have been a little thrown off guard too.

"Dallas?"

His voice is silent. It has a slight tremble in it, caused by still being caught up in the trance after our kiss. I smile, because that voice always finds a way to calm me down, even if Dylan doesn't know I need to.

"Yes, handsome?"

He blushes even more. I feel like I completed a mission. Make Dylan blush as much as I can. Check.

"We're late for chemistry, aren't we?" he asks, looking around and seeming to be more conscious about our surroundings than me. Because me? I don't care where we are. As long as I can kiss him again.

"Mhm." God, I can admire him all day. How do such beautiful people even exist? They're the universe's favorites, aren't they? I feel like I should worship him by complimenting, kissing and praising him. It certainly wouldn't be out of place.

"Dallas!" He laughs, shortly, and tugs at my arm. Reluctantly, I snap out of my made up place. Lucky for me, Dylan stays, even in reality. He wraps his arms around me for a quick hug before pulling me to the main hallways again. "We have to go to class!"

I frown, tempted to whine. I don't, but I may as well have. Dylan turns to me with a shy smile. "Don't be sad! We can kiss after school, okay?"

He continues to pull me along to our class. I smile in silence, watching his hair bop align with his movements. I absolutely should've kissed him sooner. Who knew he would be so happy and giddy after?

Polite as always, he knocks on the door before walking in. He's let go of my arm and is now fidgeting with the strings of his backpack. "Hello, miss. Our apologies for being late. I, uh, I wasn't feeling too well after lunch and Dallas stayed with me to make sure I wouldn't faint or anything."

Despite that quick stutter, I'm pleasantly surprised about the way he lies. Honestly, I expected him to blow our cover, but maybe our time together truly made him feel bolder.

Our chemistry teacher blinks and nods, motioning to our empty seats. "Are you feeling better now? Please, do sit down."

I take my seat behind Dylan, enjoying myself by watching him concentrating on the lesson. My eye falls on the empty seat in front of him, where Scarlett usually sits, but I can't make out where she could be. Dylan keeps glancing there too, yet he knows he can't be late to class and then disappear again to search for his friend.

It is only when I look around the class, searching for some hint on where she is, that I see amused students. They whisper and laugh, and every time they do, their eyes are directed at us. My hands tighten to fists. Why can they never just keep their nose out of someone else's business? Why do these gossips always have to start whenever Dylan and I did something that caught an eye?

Luckily, Dylan hasn't noticed yet. He's still taking notes and listening to what the teacher is blabbing about. Perfect. That gives me the time that's needed to shut the others the fuck up.

"Hey." I nod at a girl, the one who's gossipping closest to me. She startles and then leans back to listen to what I have to say. "The fuck you saying about Dylan and me? What we do or why we were late is none of your concern."

She arches an eyebrow, not quite fucking listening to me. "It very much is. Were you fucking him in the bathroom? Someone said they heard moans coming out of the stall you disappeared into."

Anger is fueling my veins. I'm gonna kill whoever said that. Fucking hell, we weren't even in the bathroom!

"We did not do anything. You can tell that to your friends." She rolls her eyes once again, not interested because this isn't a good gossip.

My God, if murdering people was legal. . .

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. This is exactly why I hate high school. Now Dylan will catch on to the lie, he'll get embarrassed–he's cute when he's embarrassed, but not when it's over something this big– and he'll close up on me again.

Fuck deep breaths. They don't work. I tighten my fist again, and my poor pencil gets it. It snaps in two with a loud crack through the silent class, making everyone look at me. For fuck's sake.

Dylan, still in his happy state of mind, is my savior and smiles at me, giving me his extra pencil. His smile hasn't even lessened since the moment we stopped kissing. It breaks my heart a little, knowing it won't last.

"Thanks, love. I'm a little clumsy sometimes," I joke, just so I can get a widened smile. He grins exactly like I'd thought he would. "That's my job!"

I smile. It's so hard not to smile around him.

"What is?" a guy smirks, on the right of us. I turn to him with a scowl, to not let him bother Dylan's happiness, but he pointedly ignores it. "Bottoming in a bathroom stall?"

And the bubble where Dylan was happily dreaming in snaps. He opens his mouth in shock, then closes it again because there's nothing he can think of to answer. The asshole smirks even more. His friends chuckle.

Because Dylan tends to get awkward when a teacher is involved and I'm the best boyfriend, I wait until she has turned around to speak. "Yo, asshole! Next time you go and try to humiliate him, at least use the truth. It's not like I have to justify myself or Dylan to you or your shitty mates, but we were actually just hanging in the hallway. So whoever the fuck–"

Dylan's hand stops my angered speech, which was getting louder towards the last sentence. So what I was almost shouting? The person who started this rumor about the bathroom needs a serious punch.

"It's not worth it," Dylan whispers, completely taken aback. Only by seeing his slumped shoulders, and comparing that to two minutes ago, I want to start shouting again. Though Dylan's embarrassment is what keeps me from doing so.

You're worth it, I think, and I feel myself saddening at the sight of him. You're worth everything in this damn world.