Young But Real (5 YA Short Stories)

Compromise

"Riley, wait!" I jump down, skipping the last six steps of the stairs. Those two girls kicked my butt, literally, to get me moving to follow Riley. He's still acting like he needs a hearing aid to notice my presence.

Jeez.

He's the Walkout King and living up to the reputation of 'musicians being overly emotional and highly sensitive'.

I almost roll my eyes, but my eyeballs are stopped from moving when Riley acknowledges my presence. He turns around with a blank expression, though his teary eyes betray him, freezing me from where I am standing. Outside the music room where I first heard him sing. I followed his voice like I was Prince Philip following Princess Aurora's voice. The difference is that Riley is not a princess and he doesn't talk to animals.

Wiping his eyes using the back of his hand, he says, "What do you want, Archer?" His voice is strained yet not calling me Cher stings. I will do anything to make him call me Cher again.

Dammit, where should I begin?

"Uhm," I scratch the back of my neck, buying some time to think of the right words to say. Truth be told, I'm not good with words. Give me a scientific problem to solve, my mood will be sunny hypomania. Ask me to write an essay or a movie review, I'll be in dark hypomania.

"Uhm, can we talk?" I say nervously. I'm usually a calm person so this is a foreign feeling to me.

"We are already talking."

Well, fuck.

"Right. I mean talk talk." Where's the context in what I just said? Taking a deep breath, I take a step forward. Another step and more until we're just two feet apart. The close proximity makes my heart thump against my rib cage. It's so loud that I don't know whether I speak. "Let me explain?"

"What's there to explain?" He's clearly playing dumb and dancing around the issue. I won't let him drag this again for another minute. Weeks are enough. My emotions have been playing push or pull since the night of the concert.

"I know the song, Make-believe, is about me." He opens his mouth to protest but I bring my hand up to stop him. "That song was inspired by the video of me and Selena, right?"

Now is the time to protest but he doesn't say anything. For an expressive person like Riley, silence means yes. "Rye, it's not what you think–"

"You don't know what I think so don't say it," he counters.

"Fine, tell me what you think," I say, a little irritated this time. He averts his gaze so I call him out again, "Rye, if you don't tell me, I will speak what I think you think whether you like it or not."

He mutters an inaudible fuck this. "I'm angry. I'm angry at myself for believing that you like me. I put you on a pedestal like a perfect guy—smart, genius, hot, zen and righteous— only to find out that you stabbed Finn behind his back."

I'm partly insulted, partly amused. I bite my cheeks to prevent the smirk from showing up. Rye thinks I'm hot. I should be upset with him for thinking that I could cheat. A huge part of me is itching to close the gap between us, to hug and kiss him, to silence his ridiculous confession.

BUT. We need to have this talk.

He continues, "I'm madly crazy to let my guard down and fall for someone who prefers pussy over a dick." Clenching his fist, he inhales to calm himself. I grab the opportunity to speak.

"Dammit, Rye, you had it all wrong so listen and hold your tongue." I said the last part with all the authority I can muster. For the first time since we started talking, his eyes sparkled with amusement.