Chapter 3: Bryson
1307 Words
Bryson’s POV
The rest of the morning dragged by like torture.
I sat through Civics trying to focus on Mr. Gardener's lecture about the electoral college, but all I could think about was the way Avery had looked right through me in the hallway.
Like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.
By lunch, I was wound so tight I could barely sit still.
"Dude, what's your deal today?" Cooper asked as I stabbed my pizza with probably more violence than necessary. "You've been weird since this morning."
"He's probably just thinking about the game coming up," Brooke said, sliding into the seat next to me and pressing a kiss to my cheek. Her strawberry lip gloss left a sticky residue that I had to resist wiping off immediately. "You know how he gets."
She was wearing her cheerleading uniform, all crisp pleats and school colors, her brunette hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail.
Everything about Brooke was perfect, put together, exactly what everyone expected the quarterback's girlfriend to look like.
And I felt absolutely nothing.
"Yeah," I mumbled, forcing myself to put my arm around her shoulders. "Just thinking about the game."
"Well, don't think too hard," Carter said with his mouth full of sandwich. "Might hurt yourself."
"f**k off, Carter."
"Ooh, someone's touchy today." He grinned like he'd discovered something interesting. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your little reunion this morning, would it?"
Mason shot him a warning look, but Carter ignored it. He always ignored it.
"What reunion?" Brooke asked, looking between us with those perfectly lined blue eyes.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Carter's just being an asshole."
"When am I not?" Carter laughed. "I'm just saying, it's funny how our boy Bryce gets all moody the same day little Avery Whitmore decides to grace us with her presence again."
Brooke's grip on my arm tightened slightly. "Avery Whitmore? You mean the girl who…”she trailed off. “I thought she moved away."
"She did," Mason said quietly. "Sophomore year."
"Well, she's back now," Carter continued, clearly enjoying himself. "And looking a hell of a lot better than she used to, if you ask me. Right, Bryce?"
I wanted to punch him. Instead, I took a long drink of my Coke and tried to keep my voice level. "I wouldn't know. I barely noticed her."
It was a lie, and from the way Carter's grin widened, he knew it.
"Right," he drawled. "You barely noticed her. That's why you look like someone kicked your dog."
"Carter," Coop warned.
"What? I'm just making an observation. It's interesting, that's all."
Brooke was studying my face now, those perfect eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Bryce? You okay, baby?"
"I'm fine," I said, probably too sharply. "Can we just drop it?"
But I wasn't fine. I was the furthest thing from fine. And when the bell rang and everyone started gathering their trash, all I could think about was my next period.
Chemistry.
Where Avery would be.
Where I might actually get a chance to talk to her.
I was glad I had decided to take that class after all.
The walk to the science wing felt endless and way too short at the same time. I kept playing out different scenarios in my head like what I'd say, how she'd react, whether she'd even acknowledge me. Maybe I could ask to borrow a pencil. Maybe I could make some comment about the assignment. Maybe I could just sit close enough to her that she'd have to notice me.
But when I walked into Mr. Kevinson's classroom, all my half-formed plans evaporated.
She was already there, sitting in the third row, right side of the room.
Her dark hair fell in a curtain around her face as she read what looked like the chemistry textbook, and I mean actually read it, not just flipped through it like the rest of us usually did.
She'd always been like that, genuinely interested in learning things just for the sake of knowing them.
She was beautiful.
Not in the typical way that Brooke was beautiful, with perfect makeup and perfect outfits.
Avery was beautiful in a quieter way that snuck up on you.
The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating. The small crease between her eyebrows when she was thinking hard about something. The way she moved.
I'd been noticing these things about her ever since I could remember, and apparently two years of separation hadn't changed that at all.
I forced myself to walk to my usual seat near the back, but I couldn't stop watching her. She didn't look around when other students came in. Didn't glance toward my voice when I said hey to Jake Walker. Didn't give any sign that she was aware of my existence.
It was driving me insane.
Mr. Kevinson started the class by talking about the periodic table review we were supposed to have read over the summer.
Most people looked lost or bored, but Avery was taking notes like her life depended on it.
When Mr. Kevinson asked a question about electron configurations, Avery's hand shot up immediately.
"Yes, Miss...?" Mr. Kevinson paused, clearly not recognizing her.
"Whitmore," Avery said clearly. "Avery Whitmore."
"Ah yes, our transfer student. Go ahead."
Avery rattled off a perfect explanation of electron shells and orbital patterns, and I found myself smiling despite everything.
She'd always been brilliant, but she'd gotten so shy about showing it since middle school, always downplaying her intelligence or pretending not to know answers she clearly knew.
Now, she didn't hesitate at all.
When the bell rang, I watched her pack up her things with careful precision. This was it. My chance. I could catch her in the hallway, maybe walk her to her next class, try to break through this wall she'd built around herself.
I waited until she was heading for the door, then quickly gathered my stuff and followed her out.
"Avery."
She stopped walking, just like she had this morning. But this time, when she turned around, she actually looked at me.
Her eyes were exactly the same, that warm brown that I'd loved, but there was something different in them now. Something harder.
"Yes?" she said coolly.
"How... how are you?" I asked, already knowing how inadequate it sounded.
She tilted her head slightly, like she was studying something mildly interesting under a microscope. "I'm fine, thanks."
"Good. That's... that's good." I was fumbling this so badly. "I wasn't sure if I’d ever get to see you again. I mean I wasn’t sure if you were ever coming back, I mean."
"Well," she said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, "here I am."
There was a pause where I desperately tried to think of something to say that wouldn't sound completely stupid. Something that might c***k through this cold mask she was wearing.
"Look, Avery, I know things ended... badly. Before. But I was wondering if maybe we could—"
"Could what?" she interrupted, her voice still perfectly pleasant. "Be friends? Pick up where we left off? Pretend the last two years didn't happen?"
"Maybe," I said quietly. "Yeah." It was stupid, I knew.
She looked at me for a long moment, and for just a second, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression. Something that looked almost sad.
"I don't think so…Bryson," she said finally.
Bryson. Not Bryce. She was using my full name like we never even existed to each other.
She turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the hallway like an i***t.
But she'd talked to me.
Actually talked to me, looked at me, said my name.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
And I wasn’t going to let that be it… even if it killed me.
- Writer
