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Avery Bradley - AVETREE101

Wait, Jay was saying something. Shit. I look back to him from when I zoned out.

"... Shitty. It always lags." I nod in agreement even though I had no idea about what he was talking about. I think it's the school's website because of the lag mention.

We wander over to the bench press next. I look over at Jay and he has an eyebrow raised with his hands on his hips. His lips are pressed together.

"What?" I ask him as I sit on the cushioned part of the seat. "You did get their name, right?"

I blank out. "Whose name?"

Jay laughs. A quirk, short bark of laughter that would take you by surprise if you don't know him very well. He sounds like a dog yelping after you accidentally step on its tail. Sorry, Rex. "The kid who helped you with your shitty French."

I frown now. My eyebrows furrow and I lie down. My hair is splayed everywhere on the dark leather of the seat. "Oh..."

Jay just sighs. Or laughs. Whichever seems appropriate because I'm quite focused on the weights of the chest press above me.. "You're such a fucking mess, Avery Bradley. You can't even ask for a name? Come on."

I'm already pushing up on the bar and breathing heavily under the chest press while Jay is just going on and on about how I need to find out the guy's name. I'm not even sure the kid is a guy! But he is, according to Jay.

You should probably do it just to shut him up 'cause we all know he's a smart-ass. I smile at that thought of Jay shutting up for once. He was probably born sassing his parents and the nice old ladies who pinch your cheeks.

"I'll get their name tonight."

"Huh?" Jay looks over to me with his hands on his hips and the bottle he's holding raised in his arm. He looks like he was too immersed in his story about how I need to pay attention.

"LionG." I peek over to Jay's face when he gives me another "Huh?" Still confused as ever.

I snort at that and put my weight down again. "The French kid."

"Oh," Jay says with a nod. I turn my head to look at him and we both laugh. We don't even know why! We just laugh because it's ridiculous. This. Him. Mainly him. I'm secretly laughing at Jay.

Just then, Mr Snow blows his whistle, which means that it's time to switch workouts- Jay's working out and I'm looking out for him and occasionally squishing his water bottle out of spite.

Good, means that I can rest.

And think.

... About LionG, of course.

Well, what I'm going to say to them. Today. After school. On the internet.

Wow, I fucked that up.

---

Shit, I'm late is my internal monologue as I sit with my laptop on my bed, connected by a charger to the pink-painted wall because I forgot to charge it last night. Whoops. I repeat it over and over in my head like a mantra because I really want to talk to LionG again and I'm afraid that they'll think I'm ditching them or something.

Now, just to say something- if you look at me and then look at my room, you wouldn't be able to see how I'd own it.  My room is a red-pink colour from when I was a little kid because I'm really lazy and I didn't bother to repaint, even after I've grown out of this cartoon-dinosaur looking colour.

Torn out pages of a sketchbook or two are scattered across the walls. They're not mine, though, they're from artistic friends who I want to keep a memory of or my older sister who left a couple of years ago. The room is pretty spacey, so I have my furniture all around the outside of the room. The middle's just carpet space. The furniture mix-and-match: black wood, pale wood, black leather, ass-numbing blue plastic.