[You Got My Soul]

14°

» "last time I saw you we ain't speak that was strange..."

Tiller Household;

Approaching was the last week of school. Also, finals week. Paris and Bryson's little conflict Friday night had resulted in them not speaking all weekend.

They had gone longer without speaking before, but being that it was the last week of school, this wasn't exactly like those other times. However, they both had equally stubborn natures.

Sunday night, Bryson sat on his roof alone, feeling empty. Blunt lit, he pondered on if it was really worth it; being mad a Paris. Wasn't she just following her dreams?

They had established long ago that they were extremely didn't but it hadn't been a problem until now.

He didn't know why he cares so much, either. Of course she was his best friend but even then, it seemed deeper than that. It was hurting him to let her go.

He finished his blunt and got off of the roof as carefully as he could considering he was high as a kite.

Hattie, who was walking by just as he reentered his room, stopped in his doorway.

"Hey, sweetie." She smiled at her nephew.

"Hey, Hattie. Wassup?" He replied, his voice monotoned.

"Nothing much. Aye, I haven't seen Paris over here since Wednesday." She frowned, realizing his usual company wasn't around.

"Me and her not really talking right now." He sighed, sliding his balcony door closed.

Hattie poked out her lip and came further into his room. She sat on his bed and patted the space beside.

He sat next to his aunt and looked up at her.

"Come on, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Well, she's leaving soon to go to college in North Carolina and I don't think she should go." He enlightened her.

"Don't you think that's a little selfish. She should follow her dreams, right?"

"I don't know, I mean, it might be selfish but I think I'll just miss her too much if she goes away." He admitted, wiping his hand over his face.

"I think there's a deeper issue here. I think— and this could just be being old fashioned— I think you're in love with the girl and you just don't know it."

Bryson sat back and fiddled with the band around wrist, "I mean, I guess I could be, but, how do you know if you love someone as something other than a friend?"

"That's something you've got to figure out for yourself, without hurting her, of course." She said standing up.

"Wait, you think she feels that way about me?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

Hattie sighed and folded her arms, "I didn't look at my late husband the way she looks at you, Bryson."

She began to walk out of his room and before she he spoke, "Thanks, Hattie."

"It's nothing, and I also hope that the smell of marijuana is nothing but my imagination, Bryson Tiller." She pointed a finger at him and left down the hallway.

Monday at school, Bryson had a million thoughts swarming through his head. The last thing he was focused on was finals.

Briefly before testing, all seniors were in the hallway as teachers urged students to use the restroom because they would not be allowed out of the classrooms once testing started.

Paris spotted Bryson first and quickly put her head down, looking at her phone screen. Bryson, who had been thinking about her since his talk with Hattie, then saw her.

Both made excuses as to why they should leave the other be and not bother. Both were secretly being stubborn and wanted the other to approach first.

They were doing a great job at avoiding each other until somehow, as if fate, they bumped into each other.

Paris looked into Bryson's eyes and he looked back. They both were dying to say something but didn't have the words formulated. Paris, who had been trying to convince herself that maybe she wasn't in love with him, broke the eye contact and weaved herself through the crowded halls.

She didn't want to feel the hollowness of being in love with someone anymore so she had trying to convince herself all weekend that it was just her mind playing games on her.

Maybe she just thought she loved him because she hadn't had a boyfriend in forever or because he was cute, not because she truly loved him. That's what she'd been telling herself all weekend.

But the second she looked at him in the hallway, she knew none of it was true, she loved Bryson. She was in love with Bryson.