Just then Bryson rolls down his window. He pops his shades up and waves.
“Is that—” Yazz starts. “Bryson Keller?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him,” Yazz says. “He helps coach our school’s soccer team.” She makes a show of removing her glasses to wipe them clean on her nightgown before returning them to her face. “Huh, so it really is him.”
“Of course.”
“This is very strange. So very strange.”
“What’s so strange about it?”
Yazz scans me up and down before turning her attention back to Bryson’s Jeep. “Everything.” She spins on her heel and goes back inside.
I pocket the money and jog toward the Jeep.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be,” Bryson says as I climb into the car and try to get settled. He looks at the clock above the dashboard. Bryson whistles as he watches it turn to 7:00. “This is different,” he says.
“What is?”
“Me not having to wait for anyone. I’m so used to being late because of the girls I’m dating,” he says once I’m seated in the car.
“That’s why you should date boys,” I joke. “Tell your friends.”
“Eh, most of my friends are kind of douchey.”
“I’m glad you said it.” I buckle my seat belt.
“Was that your sister?” Bryson asks.
“Yeah, Yasmine,” I say. “She told me you coach at her school.”
“Yeah, I help out when I can.”
“Huh, you’re an onion, Bryson Keller.”
“An onion?”
“Layers. You have layers.” I shake my head. “I learn something new about you every day.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No, I like it,” I admit.
“Me too.”
I know Bryson’s words shouldn’t affect me. This Jeep will turn back into a pumpkin soon. I know all this in my brain…but my heart is starting to feel like it’s an entirely different story.
Bryson drives into Glenda’s parking lot. We climb from the Jeep and head inside. I smile at Alice and follow Bryson to a booth. While we wait to be served, I pull my script from my bag. True to his word, Bryson emailed it last night. “Should we do a quick read-through?” I ask.
“Sure.” He pulls his own from his bag. He’s already highlighted his lines. Before we can start, though, Alice approaches.
“Morning, boys.” She smiles warmly. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have some pancakes,” I say. “And a milkshake.” I’m in the mood for something sweet.
“And you, Bryson?”
“The usual.” Alice nods and jots down our orders before heading off.
“Do you eat the same thing every day for breakfast?”
Bryson nods. “I like when things stay the same,” he says. “Change scares me.”
While we wait for our order, we go over our lines. Halfway through, our breakfast is delivered, but we finish the scene. Bryson is confident. He’s also patient as I stumble over a few lines of dialogue. When we’re done, Bryson gets up. “I need the bathroom real quick.”
I nod and return my attention to the script. I’m reading my lines when someone slides into Bryson’s seat. I look up and find myself staring at Shannon. I groan.
“So, you two even get breakfast together now?”
I hold up our script. “We have to practice where we can.”
“Interesting.” Shannon studies me. I don’t like the look in her eye, so to distract her, I ask my own question. I’m tired of Shannon thinking she holds the power in this situation. Yes, I have a secret to hide, but I’m pretty sure she has one, too.
“Aren’t you working a little too hard for this story?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know why you really want to date Bryson.”
“Duh. I like him.” The problem with Shannon is that she believes that she is the most intelligent person in the room. There’s no denying that she is smart, and maybe that’s why she’s so desperate to do whatever it takes to get off the waitlist. She’s currently competing for the title of valedictorian, so her being on the waitlist must seem unfathomable to her. Is that why she’s borderline obsessed with getting this story?
I give a dramatic shrug. “I just find that super interesting. If you really liked Bryson, why play the dare? You could just wait until it ends in a few weeks.” I lean forward and take a slow sip of my milkshake, not looking away from her eyes as I do. “Something’s just not adding up.”
“Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I wanted to prove that I could be the one to end this game. That I could make it real. Yes, it’s in part for the story, but it’s also because I really do think we’d be perfect for each other.” Shannon shakes her head. “I wanted him to break his rules for me. To hold my hand for the first time—”
“What do you mean, hold your hand?” I sit up.
“Where have you been living?” Shannon asks. “Do you even know anything about this dare?”
“Unlike you, I was actually there when it started,” I say. “But that’s not important. Tell me about the hand-holding?”
“Bryson sticks to his rules. Nothing physical, not even holding hands, between him and his dare dates.”
I think back to yesterday—to him holding my hand. What does that mean?
A takeout order is called, and Shannon gets to her feet. “See you around, loser.”
I don’t answer her. I’m too lost in my thoughts. Is Bryson Keller gay? This time I’m sure it’s not just wishful thinking. He held my hand. Shannon said that was against the rules—rules he had never broken. But then I think back to his text—he said he wasn’t gay. Do I believe what he’s said, or how he’s acted?
My mind races with the possibilities.
“Kai?” Bryson sits back down. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine,” I lie. But the words taste bitter. I know that I can get the answers to my questions if I just ask. But am I brave enough to hear them? Do I even have the courage to ask? It’s Wednesday, and a part of me realizes that I’ve become too comfortable with someone who will walk away from me come Friday.
I don’t want Bryson Keller to break my heart. I don’t want to be the cliché of a gay boy falling for a straight boy. But he held my hand. Bryson Keller held my hand, so what does that mean for me? What does it say about him? And what does it say about us?
Maybe it’s already too late, a small voice whispers at the back of my mind. Because looking at Bryson, as I am now, it’s hard to deny that I’m starting to like having him around. I like having him as my boyfriend.
And I’d be stupid not to know just how dangerous thoughts like that are.
“Really, are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. I can tell that he’s genuinely concerned, and that makes it even worse. “Something happened. Did Shannon say something to you?”
It surprises me that he actually notices these things. The Bryson Keller that we think we know and the one that you get to know if you take the time to are two different people. He isn’t some überjock stereotype at all. He’s just…Bryson.
I look down and make like I’m reading our script. As I do, I say, “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He doesn’t get to see my face. He doesn’t get to see that I am lying.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I have to be.
13
When we get to school Bryson hands me back my blazer. “I picked this up for you yesterday,” he says.
“So soon?”
“I paid extra so I could give it to you sooner.” Bryson runs a hand through his hair. “Neither of us can afford a lunchtime detention today. We’ve booked the theater to practice.”
“Right.”
Bryson moves to get his gym bag from the back seat, and I bring the blazer to my nose. I expect to smell soap, but instead, it smells just like Bryson does. When he faces me, his lips are pulled into a small smile—like he’s holding back a secret. Did he see me? I look from Bryson’s face to the car and catch sight of my reflection in the window. I pull on my blazer and try to ignore the reddening of my cheeks.
I look at my watch and realize that there are ten minutes left until the start of first period. “I’m going to see Donny and Priya before class,” I say. I need to give my face a chance to cool down.
“No problem,” Bryson says. “I’ll see you in drama.”
We go our separate ways. I pull my phone from my pocket and open up the three musketeers group chat.
Where are you guys?
At school, Priya replies. Where are you?
Me too. I’m heading into block A.
Meet us in purgatory.
It takes me five minutes to reach them.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I approach. Priya is standing with her arms folded and her mouth pursed, whereas Donny’s ears are redder than our ties—a sure sign of his emotions. “Are you guys fighting?”
Ever since they started dating, I’ve been trying to figure out my place in their relationship. As their mutual best friend, do I involve myself? Do I pick a side, or do I stay neutral? This isn’t their first argument, and this isn’t the first time that I’ve felt this way.
“Donald’s being ridiculous,” Priya says.
“What did he do?”
“Leave it, Kai.” I turn to Donny and swallow whatever I was going to say next. I nod. I’m not sure what happened but I don’t think I can help. They need to work this out on their own. I’m starting to have my own relationship woes—like the fact that I think I’m starting to like Bryson Keller for real. This is how crushes start: first you can’t stop thinking about the person, then you just can’t wait to see them, and finally you want to spend all your time with them.
“Uh, I just remembered I need to do…something,” I say. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I hurry away from them and enter the auditorium to find Bryson already seated. He has his bag and blazer occupying the space next to him. When he sees me, he smiles and waves me over. Bryson moves his belongings to make room for me and I feel a warm glow in my chest.
While I wait for Mrs. Henning to arrive, I lean back and support myself with my hands behind me. I look up at the stage lights.
Bryson leans back, too, almost mimicking my pose. He positions his hands to support him, and his finger touches one of mine. I inhale sharply. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, but Bryson is talking to Isaac. He isn’t paying me any mind and he certainly isn’t obsessing over something as small as our fingers touching.
What’s wrong with me? This shouldn’t bother me. That I’m paying such close attention to Bryson means I’m starting to like him…for real. Mrs. Henning climbs to the stage and I sit up straight. Bryson remains in his position. Us touching definitely wasn’t intentional, but my foolish heart doesn’t seem to care about that.
I’m not assigned a role to perform today, but both Bryson and Isaac are. I try to listen to the boy I’ve liked for the better part of a year, but my attention keeps getting pulled to Bryson. Bryson is every bit the distraught Romeo in Friar Laurence’s cell. When he pleads with the Nurse for news of Juliet—the girl he loves—our eyes meet. Is this him embodying his character or is it something else? Bryson smiles, and it is dazzling.
The bell rings, and Bryson and I head toward English. As I study the boy next to me, I know that I need Bryson to believe that this is all fake. I can’t let on that I’m starting to like him. This wasn’t part of the rules.
God, who knew a fake relationship could be so complicated?
By the time the lunch bell rings, I’m confident that I can practice with him without any problems. I’ve liked other straight boys in secret before, and it’s never been a big deal. I know I can do it with Bryson, too.
As I take my seat at our regular table, I notice that both Priya and Donny are still sulking messes. We sit and eat awkwardly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who died?” Bryson asks as he slides into place next to me. He looks from me to Donny and then to Priya. “Seriously, what’s up with you guys? Did you guys fight?”
“Why are you here?” Priya asks.
“Kai and I have the auditorium booked to rehearse our scene.” He looks from me to Priya and then to Donny, and then to me once more. A frown crosses his face and he asks me a pointed question with his eyes.
I shrug. I don’t know what’s going on, either. They’ll tell me when they’re ready. We sit in heavy silence for a moment longer before Bryson speaks.
“C’mon, Kai, let’s go. These two clearly need to figure some stuff out,” he says.
I nod and stand. Bryson and I exit stage left. We push through the hustle and bustle of the Fairvale Academy cafeteria.
When we’re in the hallway, Bryson says to me, “Weird. They were so confident about high school relationships lasting.”
“I mean, every couple fights. It’s what happens afterward that matters. I’m pretty sure that by the end of school, they’ll be A-okay.” We walk in silence for a bit before I ask, “Do you still believe they’re a waste of time? High school relationships, I mean.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” I say. “Isn’t that the whole reason you agreed to the dare in the first place?”
“Well, partly. But also because it provided the perfect distraction from the mess of my home life. When the dare first started, I’d just found out that my dad was planning to get remarried. So it happened at the right time. I guess these past few weeks I’ve been glad to have something certain. It’s been sort of a comfort. Exhausting at times, yes. But also, I really liked that there would be no hurt feelings, no expectations—nothing. After one school week, I’d be able to move on.” We stop outside the auditorium door. “I guess I’m starting to see the appeal of having something real,” Bryson says. “Especially with the right person.”
I swear he looks at me when he says that, but it happens so quickly that when he pushes the auditorium doors open, I’m left feeling like I imagined it. Like I saw what I wanted to see and nothing more.
Bryson Keller, are you gay?
As I watch him walk toward the stage, I can’t help but wonder that very thing. The auditorium is empty, and it’s funny that my week with Bryson started right here. This was where I first asked him out, and in the prop room was where I first came out to him.
“Kai?” he calls out again. “Earth to Kai.”
“What?”
“Where’d you go?” Bryson asks. “You seemed to be thinking really hard about something.”
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head. Now is not the time for me to be reminiscing. I need all the practice I can get. I join Bryson onstage and turn to look at the sea of empty seats. Even though there isn’t a soul out there, I feel my heart start to race and my hands grow sweaty. I feel sick. The thought of performing onstage is enough to turn my stomach. Now that I’m standing here, it feels all the more real.
Bryson rushes over to me. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t like acting.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Bryson says. “Trust me. Now as we rehearse, and Friday when we perform. Just trust me, and it’ll all be okay.” He rests his hand on my shoulder to reassure me. “You can always depend on me.”
Bryson takes his place and holds his script up before him. “You ready?”
I nod, even though I don’t feel at all that way.
We run through the scene, both using our scripts. When we finish, Bryson stops and offers suggestions. We do it again, and when I mess up, Bryson continues to
be supportive and calm.
By the third time, Bryson is off script. He moves with confidence, and as he delivers his lines, I find myself relaxing into the role. I’m nowhere near as good as he is. But when his character throws his arm around my shoulders, I don’t react like Kai would. I accept that I am Romeo in this scene, and he is my best friend.
I deliver my last line and turn to look at Bryson. We’re in our final position, so we’re close. We both pause at the sound of clapping. We turn to find Dustin standing there.
“That was so gay.” He laughs. My face reddens and I tense. Bryson must feel it because he puts some distance between us. I hate that I’m embarrassed right now. Angry not only at Dustin but at myself, too.
Bryson faces Dustin. “What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Coach wants to see you.” Dustin laughs. “Nice acting, dude.”
“Can you stop?” Bryson asks.
“Stop what?”
“Being an asshole.” Bryson shakes his head. My heart lifts. His words are the ones I want to say.
“Wow. I was only joking. No need to get touchy, man.”
“I’m not being touchy. I just hate that you said something stupid like that. You’re better than that, D.”
“You okay?” Dustin asks. “Did something happen?” He looks from Bryson to me.
I shrug.
“Anyway,” Dustin says. “Coach wants to see you, if you have time?”
Bryson turns to me.
“You can go. You basically know all your lines. I just need to memorize mine now,” I say.
He nods. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.” I watch as Bryson and his best friend leave. I can see Bryson talking to Dustin, but I can’t hear about what. I’ve never had someone stand up for me. Being closeted has meant that I’ve always just had to listen and ignore the homophobic stuff because I’ve never wanted to put the spotlight on me. I’m thankful for Bryson, and more than that, I don’t want to stop spending time with him.
What happens next week when our relationship has ended? Do we go back to just passing each other in the halls and offering a smile here and a hello there? It’s a worry I’m starting to have.
Date Me, Bryson Keller Page 10
