Chris catches up with me by the benches outside the school entrance. He puts his arm around me, pulling me into a half-hug. His jacket smells weakly of weed and his cologne.
"How was your day?" he asks.
"Stressful. We had this weird extra life skills class where the school nurse came to talk about love and sex. Then, Vilde had a cry in the bathroom, so I spent most of my lunchtime in there, trying to convince her that her itchy eye wasn't chlamydia."
"Chlamydia in the eye?" Chris laughs, releasing me from the hug, and instead simply resting his arm over my shoulder. "We had that talk in our first year, too. The school nurse is really creepy, isn't she?"
"A little. Everyone was so uncomfortable through the whole thing."
"I went to ask her for condoms once last year, and she gave me this long speech about how proud she was that I was practising safe sex. She even gave me a cat sticker. A sticker!"
"A sticker?" I can't help but laugh.
"Did she tell you that most teens lose their virginity at seventeen?" Chris says.
"Surely that's not true. I would have guessed younger."
He grins at my statement. "Younger? Really? When did you–"
"That's none of your business."
He just nods his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude or anything. I'm just curious."
I pause. For a moment, we just walk quietly. "I was fourteen."
He glances over at me, his eyebrow slightly twitching downwards into a frown. "Really?"
"Yeah." I'm not sure if I should ask back. Do I want to know?
"I was seventeen."
I feel my face fall into disbelief. "No, you weren't?"
"Yeah, I was."
"So... last year? That's surprising."
"Because you think I'm sleeping around with anyone and anything?"
I shrug. "Don't you? I mean, I see those penetrator shirts everywhere."
"Hey, it's been like a month. Over a month, actually."
A dry laugh leaves my lips. I can't help it. "Wow. Congratulations. Is that a record?"
He ignores my sarcastic remark. "Do you want to get a shake from McDonald's while we wait for the bus?"
My eyes wander towards the bus stop, and my mind goes back to the group of girls from this morning. I relive the moment, the anxious feeling once again stirring at the pit of my stomach.
"Eva?"
I tear my eyes away, and they land on Chris' face. His eyebrows are raised as he's waiting for a response. "Uh, yeah? Sorry, what?"
"McDonald's? We have like ten minutes until the next bus."
"Oh, yeah sure."
We walk along the side of the road, Chris looking down at his phone and texting frenetically. I can hear his anger in the way his fingers tap against the display. He has completely switched from his cheeky, grinning self to upset and angry in just a couple of seconds. It worries me, but I don't know if I should ask about it. I don't want to make anything worse.
I guess I do have an idea of what's going on, though.
"I'm sorry for getting you kicked off the russebuss," I mumble, hoping he will still hear me.
His thumbs stop typing whatever message he's about to send someone, and he glances over at me. He no longer looks angry, but rather confused. His eyebrow raises slightly. "How did you get me kicked off the bus?"
"I mean... you were with me instead of at that fundraiser. So people were saying that–"
He cuts me off by letting out a short sigh. "That was my choice. I didn't wanna go, so I didn't. Besides, that's not why I'm not on the bus anymore."
I fold my arms across my chest. "It isn't? But everyone is saying..."
"This school would be nothing without rumours."
Frowning, I put my head to the side. "So what's the real story?"
"I quit."
"After all the work you put in?"
Chris just shrugs. As if it's nothing. "Yeah."
"But why?" I ask. I thought he was really into the idea of being on that bus. How could that all change so quickly?
He takes a breath, looking up at the sky. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets. "Because..."
"Because?" I repeat, wishing he would just tell me whatever is on his mind. It seems to be weighing on him.
Chris licks his lips. It seems like he is debating whether or not to speak. Then, he pulls his hands out of his pockets and pushes a hand through his hair. "I found out that Julian and some of the other guys were behind spreading those pictures of you passed out at the party. They were planning on making money off of them at the fundraiser."
"Seriously?" I suddenly feel a bit sick, reliving the moment I first found out about the pictures. I had almost forgotten about it. I can't believe I first suspected Chris was the one behind it all.
"I haven't seen them," he says. "But I heard them speak about it. If it helps, I threw a good punch."
"So that's why you were fighting in the hallway yesterday."
"Yeah," he nods. "I told them I'd rather not be on a bus at all than hanging around a bunch of dicks. The guys got really annoyed because William was saying he'd quit as well unless they deleted all the photos. Which they should, anyway, cause that shit is illegal, surely."
The sliding doors open as we approach the entrance. The warmth from inside hits my face as we go inside. "So what happens now?" I ask.
"William told me they'll delete the photos."
"Really?" There's an ounce of hope lighting up within me.
"He's the bus boss, the Penetrators won't exist without him. There's no way they'd risk him quitting, too. They'll do what he says."
"I hope you're right."
"I hope so, too," he says. "Now, what's your milkshake flavour?"
"Chocolate. What's yours?"
Chris presses the drinks section on the self-service machine. "Strawberry."
"Really? I would never have thought you'd be a strawberry kind of guy."
"I'm sweeter than you think," he says, chuckling to himself as he pushes his card into the card slot.
oh would you look at that, i'm finally keeping my promise!
i guess i'm getting better huh?
hope you're having a brilliant friday
xoxo lauren, queen of try-harding