Date Me, Bryson Keller
Page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Kevin van Whye
Cover photographs copyright © 2020 by Howard Huang
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Name: Van Whye, Kevin, author.
Title: Date me, Bryson Keller / Kevin van Whye.
Description: First edition. | New York: Random House Children’s Books, [2020] | Audience: Ages 14 and up. | Summary: When Kai Sheridan, gay but not out, asks popular Bryson Keller on a date as part of a dare, both of their lives are transformed.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019028183 | ISBN 978-0-593-12603-5 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-0-593-12604-2 (library binding) | ISBN 978-0-593-12605-9 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. | Gays—Fiction. | Sexual orientation—Fiction. | High schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Family life—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.V3944 Dat 2020 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9780593126059
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Monday
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Tuesday
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Wednesday
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Thursday
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Friday
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Saturday
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Sunday
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Monday
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Tuesday
Chapter 32
Wednesday
Chapter 33
Friday
Chapter 34
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For my family.
Your belief, support, and love are my everything.
PROLOGUE
It all started as a dare. Of course, at the time I didn’t know the dare would change my life. But that’s the thing about change, isn’t it? Like love, it just happens, never seeming to announce itself. Instead, it’s just one “oh shit” moment happening after the next. Or in my case, one capital “OH SHIT” moment, which, if I’m being honest, is what 95 percent of being a closeted gay teen is like.
It was a week before school reopened, and we were all at Brittany Daniel’s New Year’s Eve party. Brittany has been my biology partner since the start of senior year, and for once I’d actually been invited to the party by name, and not just as a tagalong for my best friends, Priyanka Reddy and Donny Duckworth. (I know, Donny’s name is his cross to bear, but at least people know his name.)
I was standing in the corner near a bookshelf, trying to look casual as I scanned the spines for titles I recognized while secretly searching the room for my MIA best friends. I never know what to do at parties. Seriously, what do I do with my hands? Do I shuffle my feet to this song?
I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but Bryson Keller has a voice that carries, draws you in. He’s the captain of the boys’ soccer team and the most popular kid at Fairvale Academy, so it was no surprise he was holding court.
“High school relationships don’t matter,” he said. “We’re in our senior year. Most of us are going to end up at different colleges, and it just feels like a waste of emotional energy to commit to something that is destined to end. Why even bother?”
“How romantic of you,” Priya drawled.
Curious, I stepped into the kitchen to find my best friends among the überpopular crowd—the athletes and the wealthy.
It made sense for Priya and Donny to be there. Priya is captain of the girls’ soccer team, and Donny is one of the richest kids in school, which means he doesn’t have to play sports to be invited to things. I, on the other hand, am always their plus-one.
Priya took Donny’s hand in hers. Their fingers interlocked. “You could very well meet the one in high school.”
It’s been six months since my best friends started dating. I’m still getting used to it. I’m happy for them, honest. It was clear to everyone but them that they were perfect for each other. They always had my blessing to take their friendship to the next level. But sometimes I end up feeling like a third wheel, standing at the edge of the crowd. Literally.
Bryson shook his head. His light brown hair looked a shade darker under the fluorescent lighting, and shadows danced across his sharp jaw. His pale blue eyes looked darker in this light, too.
“Well, my mom and dad were the ‘it’ couple of their high school,” Dustin Smith said. He looked at his best friend. “You know, Bryson, it’s funny that you’re giving out hot takes on relationships when you’ve never even dated.”
“Are your parents strict or something?” Donny asked.
“No,” Dustin answered. “They would be fine with him dating.”
“Yeah, it’s my choice not to,” Bryson explained with a shrug. He looked down at the red cup in his hand. “I just don’t see the point in high school relationships.”
“Maybe it’s that he can’t find anyone to date,” Isaac Lawson teased, his white smile flashing. Isaac is also on the soccer team and happens to be the person I have had a very secret crush on since the start of junior year.
I edged farther into the circle.
Bryson snorted. “C’mon. No offense, but I could probably date someone new every week if I wanted.” He took a sip from his cup as Priya rolled her eyes.
“Prove it,�
� Dustin said. “I dare you.”
“What?” Bryson asked.
There were oohs from the boys, and the girls around them laughed. Bryson shifted uncomfortably, not loving being put on the spot.
“Prove to everyone that you can date someone new each week,” Dustin said.
“You’re seriously daring me?”
“Yep,” Dustin said. “Are you scared?”
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Bryson looked up and our eyes met. I looked away. “But if it’s a game or dare or whatever, then there should be rules. Kai, what do you think?”
It took me a heartbeat to answer. I hadn’t planned on participating. “Um, maybe it should only last the school week,” I said nervously. “Monday through Friday.”
“Nice.” Bryson nodded. “I don’t want to sacrifice my weekends for this.”
“Nothing physical,” Natalie da Silva suggested. “This is a game, and everyone’s boundaries should be respected.”
Bryson looked even more relieved. “And only seniors. I don’t want to be gross about it.”
“Agreed. Only seniors are allowed to play,” Dustin said. He looked around. “Is that all?”
“You’re not allowed to ask anyone out,” Priya added. “Or else it’s too easy.”
“Wait, what?”
“The dare is this, Bryson Keller,” Priya said with a wicked glint in her eye. “You will date the first person to ask you out each Monday until the final bell Friday. You are forbidden from asking anyone out. And if someone fails to ask you out, you lose.”
“Oh, I like that,” Natalie said. “Girls can totally ask boys out.” She held up her hand for a high five, and Priya happily obliged.
“You also lose if you get tired of dating,” Dustin said. “I know you, dude. I don’t believe you have this in you.” He patted Bryson on the shoulder.
“And what happens if he loses?” I asked.
Bryson shot me a look like he’d been hoping no one would mention a punishment. I shrugged with a smile. How often would I get to see Bryson Keller squirm?
Dustin knew what would hurt the most. “You have to ride the bus for the rest of senior year.”
Everyone laughed. We all know just how much Bryson Keller loves his white Jeep. It’s arguably the cleanest car at school. He washes it at least once a week—I’ve seen the shirtless pictures on his Instagram feed.
“Shit, okay,” Bryson said. “But there needs to be a time limit on this. I’ll do this for three months and that’s it. If I lose, then after spring break I’ll start taking the bus. But when I win—and I will win—you won’t doubt me ever again.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Priya said. “You will be a legend.”
“Bryson Keller. The man. The myth. The legend. I like that,” Bryson said. He chugged the rest of his beer. “Let the games begin.”
“In that case,” Natalie said, “date me, Bryson Keller!” She burst out laughing.
“Fine, even though it’s not Monday. When school starts, Natalie, you’ll be my first girlfriend.” Bryson smiled. “But this will be the first and last time I ever break the rules. You’ve all been warned.” He bowed gallantly to her.
And that’s how it all started.
Two months later, the Bryson Keller dare is still going strong. And time is running out. A single school week is all anyone gets.
There have been no exceptions to this.
None.
Until me, that is.
OH SHIT.
1
Mornings in the Sheridan house are known to be loud and chaotic affairs—with Mondays being especially disastrous. Today is no different.
“Yazz, open the door!” I shout. I’ve been standing outside the door to the bathroom I share with my younger sister for the last ten minutes. I’m going to be late.
I love my sister, and aside from weekday mornings, we generally get along. I can’t say that I’d kill for her, but I might be willing to help her bury a body. Right now, though, Yasmine Sheridan is the one I want to murder.
“I swear to God, Yasmine, if you don’t open this door in the next two minutes, I’m going to kick it down.”
“Kai!” Mom shouts from downstairs. “Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
I roll my eyes. As if that’s what’s important right now. I don’t say this, though, because I really don’t have time to get into an argument about religion with Mom—that’s reserved for Sunday mornings, when I refuse to go to church.
I bang on the door again and it opens midknock. Yazz steps from the steam-filled room and fixes me with an exasperated look.
“If you got up earlier, we wouldn’t have to do this all the time. Time management is key to living a successful life.” Yazz is thirteen years old but has the personality of a middle-aged woman who yells at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn. “When you head to college in a few months, you won’t have me to help you. So let’s work on that, shall we?”
She taps me on the shoulder as if to encourage me. By the time I think of an appropriate response it’s already too late. She’s closed her bedroom door, and I am left standing there like a scolded child. Who would believe that I’m four years older?
“Breakfast is ready,” Dad shouts.
“I still need to shower!” I call back.
“You’re going to be late, Kai. Donny will be here soon.”
“I know, Mom!” Muttering under my breath, I enter the bathroom. I start the shower and find only lukewarm water waiting for me. I get that it’s spring and this is California, but I like my water like I like my coffee—almost scorching.
Ten minutes later, I emerge a new man. There isn’t time for me to shave, and I can only hope that the teachers won’t punish me for it. With a towel around my waist, I race back to my bedroom and quickly put on my uniform—tan pants and a crisp white button-down shirt. Fairvale Academy is flexible on a great many things, but the dress code is something that the school isn’t willing to budge on.
I look for my tie. I rifle through the piles of clothes that lie forgotten on my bedroom floor. I’m not the neatest person in the world, which earns me countless lectures from Mom and Dad. But I figure that within the sanctity of my own bedroom, I am allowed to be my true self—which encompasses my sometimes forgetting to put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket.
I find the crimson-and-white-striped tie. It’s odd that the school emblem is two stylized eagles, given that our mascot is the cougar, but this is Fairvale Academy, so we don’t question it…much. I transferred from a public middle school, and the private school uniform took some getting used to. I’d much rather wear jeans and a T-shirt.
I pick up my blazer from where I threw it Friday afternoon. I cringe at the wrinkles and try to smooth them out. But there’s simply no saving this dull navy monstrosity.
I take the stairs two at a time. My house has a no-shoe policy, so my socked feet slip on the hardwood floors, and I only save myself from falling by gripping the kitchen island.
“One day you’re going to end up breaking something,” Mom warns. She’s seated at the island, reading the newspaper on her iPad. Mom is dressed and ready for the day. Her bottle-blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail. There’s a stack of Dad’s pancakes on her plate, and my stomach growls at the sight.
“You better eat something quick, boytjie,” Dad says. He’s still got his South African accent despite having lived in the United States for almost two decades now. My mom is White, and my dad is mixed race. When I was younger, I didn’t understand the stares that they got—the stares that I got—but now I do. People have an idea of what love should be, and my parents loving each other doesn’t fit into everyone’s perfect vision. Dad has always said that racists are sad people trying to make the rest of the world just as sad. Their hatred is something we should pity them for because it keeps them from l
iving full lives.
My phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket and open the three musketeers group chat with Donny and Priya. After finishing the Dumas book last summer, I convinced them to watch the movie with me. The whole “All for one and one for all” motto was so extra that it seemed perfectly made for us.
I scroll past the memes that Donny shared last night and find the text telling me that he’s here.
“No time,” I say as I head to the cabinet where Mom keeps the breakfast bars. She makes sure we always have some on hand because most mornings I tend to run late. I rip open the wrapper and take a big bite.
“He got the oversleeping from you, dear,” Mom says to Dad.
“Well, I have an excuse. My body hasn’t adapted to this time zone.”
“It’s been twenty years. I think that excuse is over.”
Mom and Dad met when she was doing volunteer work with a church in South Africa. It just so happened that Dad attended that same church. They fell in love, and the rest, as they say, is history.
“Bye!” I call as I race from the kitchen. I stop at the door to put on my school shoes, grab my messenger bag from the hook, and gobble down the rest of the breakfast bar.
“Have a great day,” Dad calls.
“Love you,” Mom adds.
“You too,” I say, my mouth still slightly full. I exit the house and walk toward the sports car that a teenager has no business owning. I climb into the back seat. Donny is driving and Priya is in the front seat.