Falling for Ocean Blue [BxB] ✔️

Chapter Twenty five

Peter and I are sitting cross-legged on the field outside the Beckett drama building. Homework in laps after an excruciatingly long day. The last two hours of school is senior study hall. For the footballers, practice is held in the R1 field behind the science block. From this angle, we can see their ball fly in the air like an almond roasting in the sun. Peter is busy chewing on his biro as I struggle to understand exponentials. The symbols run on the page and I have to lift my head to concentrate. He happens to be in my line of vision.

"Have you checked the roster yet?" Peter mumbles into his pen, blue smudged on the inside of his mouth.

I shake my head mindlessly.

Minho returned to English with downturned eyes and a shrug, but no photo. He was silent the entire lesson, which meant the minute hand crawled at a snail's pace and Miss Patel answered her own questions.

"Poor Minho got paired with Brandon Blake. He's smart but this competition can't mean as much to him as it does to Minho." Peter sighs dejectedly.

Fray is swanning around the field in navy blue shorts, barking orders as the team complete drill after drill. Twice now has he looked up to meet my intrusive gaze. I smiled both times. Maybe smiling is too obvious? He hasn't looked up again for several minutes. I unlock my phone and type his name like muscle memory. His page lights up my screen in a wave of blue and cream white. Even his aesthetic is perfect. I tap on the message icon and erase words written in the afterglow of REM sleep. I send him a better one. One with more tact. Something that would confirm how deluded I am. I want nothing more than to turn delusion into real life.

"Fray's insta? Isn't that like... betraying your brother?" The boy is leaning into my shoulder so that I have to readjust for his weight. He slings an arm over mine and scrolls down.

"He has photos of Aubrey on his Instagram?"

Peter taps open a small square of two upright surfboards and a girl in a wetsuit. I shut off the screen.

Peter protests, "I've never seen his page before. It's a private account."

"Then show a little respect for his privacy."

The boy just scoffs at that.

"Since when are you following Fray? You know people will start to notice, right?"

People.

I wave away the irking thought and instead ask for his help. Peter grumbles something before leaning back on his toes and pointing with his pen. His red hair gets in his eyes as he lowers himself onto the page. He corrects himself twice, forcing me to retrace our steps and erase my working out. After an explanation I've heard before, I tell him I understand because the alternative is inconvenient. He sighs, visibly relieved of his duty, then packs his bag to go home. School is over with a single ring of an automated bell hidden somewhere from view.

"Aren't you coming?"

He holds his bag close to his side, one eye scanning the crowd escaping from the main doors.

"I want to talk to the Principal."

Peter accepts this. He retreats to the carpark with a little leap in his step, excited at the prospect of a certain purple haired girl. Ever since the school was abuzz with confirmed dating rumours, Peter has found happy-go-lucky optimism about his own prospects.

I sling my backpack over one shoulder and evade the displeasure of the football team as I cut through their field.In the principal's office, Bernadette is typing with her head tilted impossibly high. She stares down the slope of her nose at her screen. When she sees me, her hand slams down the laptop and her the tips of her ears blush.