Chapter Eight:
I'm extremely thankful when Mateo just leans forward to press a kiss to my cheek instead of my lips.
At this point, I don't think I could take yet another pull to my heartstrings.
Sure, Mateo and I have kissed on two occasions before, but neither were anything special.
The first time was last year, when our little circle of friends were playing truth or dare during a party at some football player's house that Daniel forced us to attend. I'm still not sure how I ended up there because I'd really rather be at home working on homework than out in a crowded house with a bunch of teenagers drunk on cheap alcohol.
By the end of the night, practically everyone was drunk out of their minds apart from Mateo and I, so Jasmine brought up the idea of a quick game of truth or dare. She loves that game, and she has ever since middle school.
Needless to say, I was dared to kiss Mateo and so we did.
The second time was over summer break actually, when Mateo came to see my show and drove me home afterwards. He kissed me quickly before I got out of the car, and we haven't spoken about it ever since. Neither kisses were awkward at all, so it's unapparent why I'm suddenly so against kissing him.
"Bye, Lexi," he says, pulling back to look at me.
The only reply I can muster is a simple, "Bye Matt. I'll see you tomorrow."
With a squeeze of his hand, I step out of his car to walk back into my house.
🌸🌸🌸
"I hate Mondays. The shittiest day of the week, by far," Bryce huffs as I slam my locker door shut.
Jasmine is still agitated that he gets the top locker next to mine rather than her, but he's already told her that she's being 'dramatic and whiny' and that she needs 'to build a bridge and get the hell over it'.
Always so kind.
"I thought you liked school?" I ask Bryce.
I must be an idiot or something because he snorts, looking around the dim hallway in what appears to be disgust. Despite the newly-renovated walls constructed entirely of window in this part of the school, the dreary weather we get every October doesn't let any sunlight pour through the windows. They didn't seem to consider this during renovations seemingly, as there are very few lights on the ceiling. The two factors cause the place to be cast in a slight shadow, which really doesn't make for the ideal way to start off one's day.
"Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I enjoy being here," he corrects, taking a large sip of the iced coffee he's carrying in one hand.
"Mhm. Modest too," I add, watching as he spins the combination lock on his locker until the locker clicks open. The small storage space is entirely empty still, and he places his plastic coffee cup inside.
I'm about to ask him what the point of doing that is until he grabs the bottom of his red sweatshirt, the same colour as the truck he seems to drive, pulling it up over his head and tossing it in the empty locker. He then picks up his drink and shuts the door.
It's just as I thought that Bryce had taken my advice on the whole tattoo situation, I notice how he's just wearing a plain white T-shirt to contrast his black jeans.
He catches my disapproval and rolls his eyes, averting his attention past my shoulder. I spin around to find a familiar blond boy walking up the stairs.
Bryce being shocked by Mateo would for sure be getting old by now, so I'm confused until I see another easily recognizable face following him.
"Hey princess!" Jordan chimes, hurrying over to me to pull me into a tight hug.
I laugh against his chest at the stupid nickname he gave me a few months after we met in tenth grade.
"How was California?" I question as I pull away from his embrace to have his arm looped over my shoulder.
"Great!" he beams. "I just don't understand how people in Los Angeles always complain about how cold it is there this time of year. It's hotter than the darkest depths of hell, to be honest," Jordan chuckles and I smile up at him.
I've missed him a lot the past week and a half. He's the comedic relief of our friend group, always cracking the right joke at the right moment.
Mateo walks past us in the hallway, going to talk to some girl who I believe was in my English class last year. He nods at Bryce who's still casually sipping his iced coffee as he watches Jordan and I talk.
Bryce acknowledges him, nodding in return, just as Ryan and Jasmine walk over, arms linked.
"Jordan!" Jasmine practically squeals upon seeing one of our best friends. She detatches herself from Ryan, skipping over to press a kiss to Jordan's cheek. He smiles at her and looks over to Ryan too, which is when he finally notices the intruder to our group.
"Damn, Blossom. I thought Mateo was your boyfriend and now there's this George guy who calls you 'Princess' and shit. You're such a player," he says and his face remains neutral but I see the joke in his bright eyes.
"It's 'Jordan,' not 'George,'" Jordan corrects, eyeing Bryce suspiciously.
It takes a moment before a lightbulb flashes behind his eyes.
"Wait, I think I've seen you before," Jordan says slowly, which irritates Bryce for some reason.
"Many people with internet connection have. I'll see you guys later." He turns around and begins to walk away.
I step out from under Jordan's arm, not quite able to catch up to Bryce's long strides, but close enough to tug on his hand.
"C'mon, Bryce. You don't even know where you're going," I counter, remembering the fact that we apparently have identical schedules this term. "I'll show you the French room, just give me a moment."
Looking down slightly, I instantly realize that I'm still holding his hand, so I quickly drop the gesture before looking up to Bryce again.
He gives me a weak smile. "They made me switch to Spanish after finding out I'm fluent in French, actually. Irritating, I know. Thank you though."
There's a sudden aggressive tapping on my shoulder followed by Jordan's voice in my ear.
"That's Bryce Bryce? Like, the one that you—"
I cut him off by clamping a hand across his mouth.
"Yes," I hiss at him. I nearly forgot that Jordan actually knows a fair bit about Bryce.
He knows that he was my first kiss, something I've only spoke about once that I'm fairly certain he was about to bring up again just now. When I really think about it, not even Jasmine knows about it, which is surprising as she knows most things about me.
Jordan seems to take the hint and he nods as I remove my hand from over his mouth.
"Not right now," I whisper, and he mouths, "Sorry," in reply.
Charlie, Jasmine, and I don't really talk about Bryce much when Mateo, Ryan, Daniel, and Jordan are around. Jordan just knows him as the guy who took my 'kissing virginity' as he calls it, and the other three had never heard his name before as far as my knowledge extends.
"Mateo had the same issue with the whole language class thing. They wouldn't let him take Spanish because he's already fluent," I say, trying to change the topic. "It's not just a personal attack on you, Bradshaw. Sorry to steal your uniqueness."
"Back to calling me by my last name, are we?" he asks and I'm pretty sure his tone combined with his raised eyebrow just made me gulp.
He's just so intense.
"In my defense, though, I do think they have something against child prodigies who lost most of their wow-factor but are still fluent in three and a half languages, obscenely attractive, Ivy League bound, and social media famous," Bryce insists, that goofy grin plastered to his face.
He literally doesn't even give me a shot to ask any further questions before he already answers. "I already speak Spanish pretty well so that's the 'half' I said, and I'm trying to get into Columbia. My dad and grandfather both went there and I may be disowned if I don't get in."
He scans the hall for a moment before spotting his target, what seems to be a garbage can, and tosses his empty cup into the trash. It lands effortlessly right in the bin on the first try, and just like that he begins making his way through the crowd of people that seems to have collected around us, eavesdropping.
"Do you know where you're going?" I ask, and I see him shake his head slightly.
"I'll figure it out," he calls back as the swarm of people part to let the tall and dark new kid through.
Jordan, Jasmine, and Ryan are all standing in a small cluster against the locker complex, all three watching me, confused.
"You're totally in love with him," Jordan quips. "I leave you for twelve days and you get yourself a boy toy who is also a supposed genius."
The people around of have already all left to get to class, including Mateo and his friend from earlier. We're the only four people left in the halls, which means that the bell must be about to ring any minute.
"Yeah, a supposed genius who could get a perfect score on the SATs but can't find his next class."
Bryce shows up in front of me again, but Jasmine pushes past me and grabs the collar of Bryce's shirt.
"Are you sure that you're the same Bryce Bradshaw that I knew in eighth grade?" she asks. "What do you mean when you say famous? And how are you so damn smart?"
Her grip on his shirt loosens and her hand falls back to her side. Bryce isn't surprised.
I don't know what's going to happen and I'm relieved when the vice principal walks by us. Her hair is slicked back in a low bun and a bright ruby lipstick adorns her lips.
"Get to class, kids."
She nearly walks right past us, clutching her clipboard close to her chest, before she gets a good look at Bryce's arm.
"You're our new student, yes?" she asks.
"Yes ma'am," Bryce replies briskly, crossing his arms.
"You've been made aware of our strict policies involving our dress codes, correct? We take pride in professionalism here." Her eyebrows are drawn on perfectly and she furrows them as Bryce doesn't react much to her words.
"Indeed I am," Bryce smiles. "But unfortunately, laser tattoo removal is fairly expensive and not as magical as it sounds, so the tattoos will indeed by staying on my body. Also, please don't mind me asking, but what sort of professional environment allows people to show up in their pajamas? I've seen many students wearing just that already in the two days I've been here."
His smile has transformed into a full on grin and my jaw has dropped at how forward he is being with a teacher right now. The vice principal seems to be surprised too, as one of her hands is a fist on her hip.
"I see how it is. Very well," she sighs reluctantly. "Get to class, all of you," she says, now glaring at my friends and I as well.
I nod to her, hastily scurrying out of the hallway after waving my friends a goodbye until our lunch hour. I'm alone for voice and French, having Mateo for math class.
Now apparently Bryce is joining me in all my classes except French, which is not ideal as he'll probably bug me the whole time, but it is what it is.
"Woah, wait up," Bryce huffs, jogging after me. "Why are you so moody today? I know you're typically not very fun anyway, but you need to lighten up a bit."
He nudges me in the shoulder when he catches up to my speedy walking, and I stare at him blankly in reply.
I get that a lot. People generally think I need to not be so uptight constantly, and while they're not entirely wrong, I've grown sick of hearing the same commentary over and over again.
I don't say another word to him for the quick thirty seconds it takes for us to reach Bryce's class.
"Here you are," I smile, patting him on the back.
I know one of the girls in this class fairly well, and I've heard many stories of the awful teacher, so I'm being entirely sarcastic when I pat him on the back, grin, and say, "Have fun! Apparently the teacher is an absolute nightmare."
A group of girls walks by us and right into the class, pausing to stare at Bryce for far too long. Bryce raises an eyebrow at them, and one girl blushes bright red. Her two friends seem to have to drag her into the classroom.
"Bye!" I call out, already halfway down the hallway.
"So irritating," Bryce replies, but I see him smiling out of the corner of my eye as he enters his class.
My French class was generally awful. The teacher spent a solid twenty minutes lecturing one kid for talking to his friend in English as she was trying to explain something to the class, but I genuinely doubt the poor guy could understand a word of her angry wrath based on his attendance record. I've seen him skip out on class various times, but he's not the only one.
Tons of kids skip all the time and the principal has made us gather for too many assemblies to count about the matter. It's hard to make kids who don't give a care about school change their minds, and the looming threat of college doesn't seem to help them reconsider their commitment either.
All our teachers have been going on about university since September. We don't have to take the SATs or anything here so only the really involved kids like Mateo have been thinking about college before this year. There are a few big universities in the city that accept practically everyone, so most people I've talked to are totally okay with just staying in the city and attending one of those schools.
Meanwhile I'm trying extremely hard to get into an American university, and a very competitive one at that. I'm attempting to keep my hopes low, and I have been offered a scholarship at a school here already, but I don't want to give up my Juilliard dream.
The bell ringing is like an angel calling from heaven as I was extremely bored all class and I'm thankful when I get to head off to my voice class next.
Feeling fairly generous, I take advantage of being one of the first people out in the hallway by backtracking from my next class and instead walking towards where I had left Bryce just awhile ago. I turn the corner to see him walking out of the classroom, having a conversation with . . . Camila?
She's giggling hysterically at something he's saying, and Bryce himself has a huge smile on his face. Camila says something to follow up whatever conversation they were having inside the classroom, which makes Bryce laugh harder.
She seems to be satisfied with his response, and her smile grows even more when Bryce reaches up to push a strand of hair behind her ear.
My hand instinctively flies up to the side of me, where Bryce had pushed my hair back behind my ears just three days ago at the mini putting place.
I suppose that wasn't as much of a special moment as I had originally thought.
"Earth to Blossom?"
Bryce is directly in front of me now, and Camila is standing by his side.
"Hey Lexi," she waves, and all I can do is give her a weak smile. I like her, I really do, but for some reason I'm getting an odd feeling in my heart right now.
"Bryce said you two know each other. He has voice with us next! Have you heard him sing yet?" Camila gushes.
"Let's head to class," she then advises, spinning around to walk towards the voice room.
I wait a second before following her and Bryce seems to be waiting for me.
"So you tell random girls you meet in Spanish class about your life but not me?" I whisper, quiet enough to make sure that Camila can't hear. I begin walking after her, and Bryce is trailing behind me.
"She said she was friends with you. Are you insulting your own taste in people?" he fights back, and I have to bite my lip to refrain from saying something snarky right back.
"Besides, I don't care about what random girls I meet in Spanish class think about me," he adds.
Camila freezes in her path, seemingly waiting for us to catch up with her. "You guys walk slow."
Bryce shrugs, and Camila begins walking again.
"Are you saying that you care about my opinion of you? Are you the same boy I grew up with?" My voice comes out as the softest whisper, and I'm surprised Bryce could even hear it.
"No, actually. I didn't say that."
"But it was implied."
"I guess I can't argue with that."
"No, you can't," I conclude as we walk into the classroom.
Bryce scans the room for a moment, catching a view of the teacher and walking over, probably to introduce himself. Camila and I go over to take our usual seats in the semicircle of chairs around the grand piano in the middle of the room.
That's when someone calls out, "Is that Bryce Bradshaw?"
A/N: Our dear Bryce is apparently quite famous, huh? ;)