Monday, at school, Aria was already waiting for me when I walked to my locker. She recently re-dyed her hair black, and it shone underneath the fluorescent school lights. She's scratching off her black nail polish, not because she wanted to, but because she's nervous.
I knew this because I knew her.
"Morning, Aria."
"Oh my god, there you finally are. I've been dying to tell you what my tarot reading said this morning."
I took a few books out of my locker while I listened to the outcome of Aria's reading. It's mostly positive.
"Except," she said, "it said that one of my friends would get into an accident this week."
"You have more friends, though."
The bell rang, and we started walking to French together.
"I know, I know, but I wanted to warn you. Just in case, you know?"
"That's nice, thank you."
"So keep an eye out for ladders and cars and potholes."
"I will."
There's a crowd in front of the French classroom, because our teacher was always late when we had French first period. A few of the gathered students were yawning and staring blearily at the door like their minds were still asleep.
Not Aria's though.
Judging by the little lovesick sigh beside me, Aria had already spotted her three year long crush.
It took her a moment to come back to earth, but she eventually tore her eyes away and focused on me once more. "So how was your weekend?"
"Alright. I went to the neighbourhood party-"
"Oh, right!"
"--- but we didn't do anything special. We just played some Just Dance and Mario Kart. Oh, and I got my first kiss."
Aria's eyes widened in slow-motion, like her brain was catching up to her ears.
"Yeah," I said, and I pushed up my glasses.
"Oh. My. God."
"It was for truth or dare."
"Truth or -- but still -- Oh. My. God," she repeated, hands gesturing in the air like she's trying to make sense of it all.
Before she could, our French teacher finally showed up, a coffee pot in her hand.
I went inside with the rest of the students. Behind me, I heard Aria whisper furiously, "I will get a name from you, Montgomery Goff!"
I looked over my shoulder. "Oh, you don't need to pry. It was Grayson Rogers."
At that, Aria stopped in her tracks and stared at me with her mouth open.
***
Monday, at lunch, I had frankly forgotten all about this morning.
I was listening to Regan and his boyfriend, Tanner, talk about their weekend, while Craig dozed off -- as he usually did on Mondays.
"And it was so big," Tanner said. "They rented this entire hotel, which was necessary too because it was packed with people."
"And so many people were cosplaying Lord of the Rings," Regan added. "I didn't think people still thought that was cool."
"I mean, it's Comic Con," I said. "Everyone there probably grew up with Lord of the Rings."
Regan laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."
"So, anyway, there we were," Tanner continued, "waiting in line for what seemed like two hours---"
"It was only half an hour," Regan said.
"--- when suddenly this security guards walks up and---"
A chair next to me scraped loudly over the linoleum and then Aria fell into it.
"You," she said. "Talk."
"I was," Tanner muttered, which made Aria realize there's more people at their lunch table.
"Oh, I'm so sorry for hijacking the convo, but Monty needs to tell me what happened this weekend or I'm gonna die."
"You're probably not---" I started, but she cut me off.
"Monty!"
"Yeah, alright." I pushed up my red glasses. "We played truth or dare. I dared Michael to put ice cubes in his pants." The group winced. "And he tried to get back at me by daring me to kiss Grayson Rogers."
Regan was in the middle of taking a sip of his water, but he nearly choked on it when I was done explaining.
Or well, I thought I was done.
"And you did?" Aria asked, leaning forward.
"Yes."
"And how was it?" Tanner asked, while patting a coughing Regan on the back.
It's the question I dreaded. Because I didn't know.
"It was alright," I said, because I had got to say something. "It got better towards the end, but then the timer went off."
"Shit," Aria mumbled, biting on her nail.
"I don't want to be, uh, rude," Tanner started hesitatingly, "but are you into guys? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
I took off my glasses and started cleaning them to postpone my reply. Because I was annoyed. Annoyed at all these questions I couldn't answer.
"No idea," I said.
I must've sounded irritated, because Aria briefly put her hand on my shoulder.
"That's alright," she said. "You don't need to know now."
Maybe not. But I liked knowing.
***
Wednesday night, in bed, I decided to put the issue out of my mind.
Partly because the end of the school year was near and I needed to focus on school, and partly because I was not planning on kissing Grayson Rogers again.
I knew I could kiss other boys.
The question proposed to me was if I liked boys, not if I specifically liked Grayson Rogers.
But the fact of the matter was, that the thought of kissing boys, just any boy, didn't interest me at all.
***
Friday morning did nothing but undermine my resolve.
Because after I put my bag on the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition, the car spluttered and stalled but didn't start.
"What?" I mumbled, and tried again.
The engine tried to whirr to life, but it spluttered out again. Even after a few more tries.
I looked at the house, but the curtains in my parents' room were still closed. I'd rather not wake up my father to get a lift. Not on his day off.
With a sigh, I got out the car and propped open the hood, peering at its mechanical organs like I was a surgeon without a degree. Which was just a normal person.
I let my forehead lean against the hood. "Ugh."
Guess I'll have to take the bus---
"Hey."
Startled, I took a step back.
Standing next to my broken car was none other than Grayson Rogers, holding onto the strap of his backpack with a bruised hand.
"Hi," I said, surprised. "What's up?"
For the first time in three years, for the first time since that storm, Grayson Rogers cracked a lopsided smile.
"Think I should ask you that."
Right.
I huffed a laugh. "Yeah, okay. Good point."
"What's wrong with your car?" he asked, joining me at the hood.
"It won't start. I turned the key multiple times, but nothing's happening."
Grayson was silent.
I watched him look over the car, and wondered how the cut on his cheek got there. Did he really fight others for cash?
Without a word, Grayson walked around the front and peered through the window of the driver's seat. He had to crouch quite a bit to be able to.
"I think I know what your problem is."
"That would be perfect."
He pointed at the dashboard, his finger tapping against the glass. Tap, tap, tap.
"Don't tell me," I started, but it's confirmed when Grayson grinned.
"Yup. No gas."
I groaned. I closed the car's hood. "Thanks for solving the problem. Guess I'm taking the bus."
"Um." Grayson straightened up. "I can give you a ride."
"Really?"
Eyes shifting to the side, he nodded.
"Well, I'm not going to say no," I said.
I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat, locked the car, then followed Grayson to his car. It's a big truck, big enough for Grayson to get in without having to bend himself in half.
Before I could reach for the passenger door, Grayson told me to wait and ran inside the house. When he returned, he's holding a key in his hand, and it's then that I wondered if I'd ever seen him drive a car to school.
Didn't he normally ride a bike?
We got inside the truck, which roared to life after just a simple turn of the key.
"That sounds better," I joked.
Grayson only nodded. He seemed focused on driving out of the driveway, bruised hands holding tightly onto the steering wheel.
Quietly, I observed the cuts and bruises on his hands. They looked fresh. And they're not just on his knuckles. Rather, they seemed to be on the palm of his hand. Or at least, the small part that I could see.
"You okay?" I asked, when I realized it's been minutes and Grayson's grip on the steering wheel still hadn't let up.
"Yeah," he said tightly.
"You don't drive a lot, do you?"
"Nope."
Ah.
"You didn't have to give me a ride if driving makes you uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable about driving."
As soon as he said the words, someone on a bike cut us off. Grayson nearly stood on the brakes. The truck stopped with screeching tires and I flew forward, my seat belt cutting painfully into my chest.
"Not sure I believe you," I winced, rubbing my chest.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Grayson said, shooting me a quick look. "You're right. I'm not a good driver."
"That's alright. I'm proud that you admitted it."
The tips of Grayson's ears turned red, and his shoulders rose like he's feeling awkward.
"Could you stop staring," he said nervously.
Oh, I had been staring.
It surprised me, because I hadn't been doing it on purpose.
"Sorry," I said, turning away. "That probably doesn't help your nerves."
We're both silent for a while. Until I had an idea.
I pushed up my red glasses. "Hey, if you want, I could drive us back this afternoon?"
Grayson turned to me in surprise. "You still want to ride with me?"
"Yeah," I said, meeting his dark eyes. "Of course."
Even though he turned his head back to the road, and even though his curls partially obstructed his face, I could see he's smiling.
It made my chest feel weirdly warm.
A/N:
What do you think of Grayson?