read between the lines | part two : too soon to judge
summary: when dean di laurentis gets signed up for a literature class as a joke gone too far, the last thing he expects is to be paired with the girl who actually reads for fun; the same girl who's spent the last two years convinced he's as shallow as everyone says he is. But Pride and Prejudice has a way of getting under people's skin, and first impressions were never meant to last.
⤷ dean di laurentis x englishmajor!reader
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The screech of the metal chairs grinded against your skull like mental torture. You spun your head to look at the other fourteen students around you, smiles in their faces and palpable excitement to meet their new partners.
As soon as a groan left your lips, Dean was invading your space and sitting next to you as if he had been there his whole life. His black duffle bag settled on the ground with a thud, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.
“Looks like you're stuck with me, Ms. Bennet,” an amused voice announced.
You turned around to look at him, jaw clenching as Dean crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair. He didn't seem fazed by getting assigned Darcy at all, in fact, he looked rather relaxed, as if he'd been studying him his whole life.
That was what freaked you out. The fact that he didn't seem to give an ounce of thought to the actual complexity of the project, combined with his lack of supplies overall. Dean, however, looked like he was having the time of his life. Every time your eyes narrowed, or your jaw tensed, his grin only spread further.
“Don't ‘Ms. Bennet’ me, Di Laurentis,” you snarled, turning your head to the book in your lap again.
Dean leaned over you, his breath hitting the nape of your neck. The sensation made you deeply uncomfortable, and your ears began to ring. Much to your dismay, his head was located in a way that allowed him to see the marginalia that crowded your book. There was almost no space left in the copy’s margins, and many of the words were highlighted or underlined.
“Woah, relax. It’s a book, not a religion,” he said in a low voice.
You swore you could’ve murdered him on the spot by the time the words had left his mouth. “Watch your mouth, or I will whack you in the head with my copy.”
“And let’s make one thing clear. If you think I’ll take your backhanded jokes and simply move on, you’re in for a long semester, Di Laurentis. I don’t know what your puck bunnies have made you get used to, but you sure as shit won’t find it here,” you warned, fully turning to face him directly.
Your own smile only widened as his smug one slowly melted away and shifted into something you couldn’t quite describe. Ignoring the action, you placed the book on your desk and grabbed your notebook. “Now let’s get to work, shall we?”
For a split second, Dean looked as if he didn’t know what to say or do. It was long enough to be noticed, but it didn’t last. “Smart and feisty? I’m in for a real treat,” he said, a beat too late.
Before you could dwell on his reaction, a slender figure approached your desks. “I see you two are getting to know each other,” Dr. Macaulay pointed out, the corners of her mouth slightly twitching up. “I trust you’ll keep him alive until the presentation, since he’s more useful to you that way,” she deadpanned, not hiding the amusement in her voice.
Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were grateful for her sliding the assignment sheet onto both of your desks. “As you’ll see, the grading isn’t split evenly by character. Forty percent of your grade is earned through working together on your essay, which means no one will get to slack off.” Her gaze briefly shifted to Dean, before returning to you. “Thirty percent of the final grade is determined by the individual character analysis, which means you’ll need to know the other’s character inside out, not just your own.”
She let the first part of the criteria sink in before continuing. “What this means for you, Mr. Di Laurentis, is that you’ll have to read the whole book. Not skim it, not briefly flip through it and look for a summary, either from SparkNotes or from her.”
Despite your huff, Dean didn’t even attempt to argue with the professor. He just nodded. Dr. Macaulay raised an eyebrow, which you’d learned meant she was pleasantly surprised, and proceeded. “Your discussion question surrounds first impressions and whether they’re fully unlearned or simply overwritten by new information. I’ve also attached the due-date timeline in the back, but I trust you enough to check that by yourselves.”
After she was done, she shot you a quick wink and went to assist other pairs. You picked up one of your highlighters and started fidgeting with it in an attempt to calm down the lingering anxiety of being paired with Dean.
To test the waters, you decided to ask him a question related to the book itself. “What’s your take on Darcy? What do you think about him?”
You expected him to dismiss your question, to shrug it off and throw another insulting remark your way. Instead, you found yourself being shocked at how he tapped his fingers against the desk in concentration, hesitating.
“I think that his whole issue isn’t that he’s wrong. It’s just that he never stops to check whether he’s right or not, you know what I mean? Dude just assumes his thoughts and feelings are correct by default, and that fucks things up for him big time,” he said, pausing a bit in between sentences, as if he didn’t know whether he should continue speaking or not.
Without even noticing you’d done it, you sat up, and your mouth was slightly parted. His observation of Darcy’s character was hauntingly accurate. It was in fact one of your favorite points to talk about whenever someone brought up Darcy’s flaws and pride, so it was safe to say he caught you off guard.
“Have you… read the book?” you asked, furrowing your brows slightly. Dean paused, and you couldn’t help but notice how much he tiptoed around you whenever the book was brought up. “Nope, just an educated guess.”
Even if he tried his hardest to sound convincing, you didn’t believe him for a second. He had to have received that kind of opinion through the text, there wasn’t any other way.
“We’ll probably have to set a study time every week so we can catch up on work and make progress together, rather than just doing it on our own,” you pointed out, setting your highlighter down on your desk because you didn’t feel the need to fidget anymore.
“I’m pretty busy with practice, so we’d probably have to go to the hockey house if you want to stretch the sessions longer,” he replied, his gaze briefly drifting to the tool you’d set down.
A wave of surprise hit you, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say, your mouth going dry. “As long as you’re not just drinking beer and laughing with your friends the whole time, we’re good.”
“Then it’s settled. Monday at six?” he asked, practically reaching for his duffle.
You chuckled at his assumption, but nodded nonetheless. “Bold of you to assume I’m free, but yes.”
“And for the record, you won’t mind my friends lingering as soon as you meet them, Ms. Bennet.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Darcy.”
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