Jesse only half-listens to the other students rehearse their parts, and though he stares at the food on the lunch tray in front of him, he isn’t all that interested in finishing his French fries. He’s too busy watching Bryan watch him.
He wonders if Bryan knows he’s doing it. A furtive glance every few minutes, as if to make sure Jesse’s still there. It’s unbearably cute. If they were alone, he’d drop the pretense of eating and say something witty. He isn’t quite sure what that would be, but in his mind he imagines it’s enough to get Bryan to come sit beside him at the table.
But they aren’t alone, are they? Emily’s here, along with most of the kids in the play, and a large cross-section of the school’s population—those with third period lunch, at least. Not to mention the teachers, thos
