Route 262

~2~

I still take the bus, even though I technically have my license and a car. My parents are a little bit psycho in that regard - they still won't let me drive, which is annoying as shit, but whatever. I sit in the back, with my earbuds in, and I'm staring out the window, and then - there he is. 

He's walking down the aisle of the bus, and I'm admiring his jawline, and we make eye contact. 

My heart temporarily stops; he's sitting down next to me. 

"Hey Dante," he says, and he's flashing me a grin that set the insides of my stomach twisting and turning. 

I nod back at him, and starting right now is going to be the longest bus ride of my entire life; I'm sitting as stiff as a board, and James is barely looking at me, but his eyes are still flashing and piercing my soul. 

He has one earbud out, and it's the one facing me, and I can't stop myself in time. 

"I hear you're dating Sydney," I say. 

He rolls his eyes, smiling a little bit, but mostly looking pissed off. "Yeah - she told you?" 

I nod. "The entirety of AP Psych, actually - she sounded really happy." 

James shrugs, and I think this is the end of it, but he says "Yeah, well, she's really something. 

He leans his head in closer, and I can smell the Irish Springs shampoo he uses. "Do you wanna know a secret?" 

I nod. 

"I hate her," he says, laughing, but there's an edge in his voice that makes me suspect that he's not joking. 

The bus lurches to a stop, indicating that we've reached our communal stop. James stands up to get off, and I follow after him. I'm about halfway down the aisle, when a foot shoots out, and I trip sprawling to the floor. "Faggot," a voice laughs from above - it's the voice of a sophomore, who'll be driving a jacked up pick-up truck a year from now. 

Instantly James is here, and he's holding out his hand as I look up; he pulls me to my feet. "You're a piece of trash," he spits at the sophomore, who's a lot more scared now that this tall senior is yelling at him. 

We both get off on my street, and I look at him, wanting to say thank you, wanting to say any of the words that are stuck on my tongue, but he walks away before anything happens. 

It's the beginning of November. It's going to be a long year.