The Thing About Three

chapter eight | always thinking and caring

MY FALL BREAK flew by rather slowly. It was incredibly uneventful, and was mainly spent with me trying—and failing—to keep my mind as far away from Dallas and Megan as possible.

But that was hard to do, especially when I got back to school the following week and went to my art class.

The new module was about painting, so Mr. White started us out with an assignment where we had to paint a landscape through a window of our choosing.

The first—and only—thing to pop into my mind was the window to Dallas's Camaro, and the field of yellow flowers and cows on the other side of it.

That was what I started to paint, and, naturally, I thought of Dallas the entire time I did.

My mind buzzed with the nauseous thought of him and Megan together. I hadn't heard a peep about her from him after the night I first learned about their date. This was typical of Dallas, however. He stayed off the topic of girls and dating when we spoke, never letting anything slip. I usually had to find out about who he was with through the grapevine—the grapevine being the other service advisor, Amelia.

She knew just about everything there was to know about the happenings at Whitlock's Auto Care. If I ever wanted to find anything out, all I had to do was show up a few minutes before my shift and have a chat.

So far, there had only been two girls he had gone out with since we had become good friends, and those little flings happened earlier in the year.

Thankfully, there hadn't been any new additions to the list until Megan, so I had had at least a few good months of not having to worry about him being with another girl.

I tried to keep my thoughts from ever touching the subject of Dallas and Megan, mainly telling myself that it wasn't anything serious.

I was basically brainwashing myself. Which barely worked, but I was trying. I also fantasized a little about Dallas dumping her and choosing me instead.

By the time the bell rang for lunch, Dallas had already broken things off with Megan five different ways in my head and was whisking me off into the sunset in his car.

Yeah, that was much better than my reality.

Hallie Osmond was already at our lunch table when I arrived, her back to the group of teachers that stood next to the trash cans as she discreetly scrolled through her phone, two wireless earbuds jammed in her ears and covered by her thick, black hair.

She was pretty—the type of pretty that you wouldn't think sat at a table by herself without friends. Freckles lightly spattered her face, and her eyelashes were thick without the aid of mascara, framing her light brown eyes.

She looked up at me when I sat down, and then went back to her phone. That was about as much interaction as we usually had with one another.

I didn't know what her deal was, either she had social anxiety or she just didn't like talking, but she never said a word to me. So, I didn't say anything back.

Actually, the only time we had ever spoken to each other was on the first day of school.

The weeks leading up to my first day of senior year had been filled with anxiety, because I knew I would be going into the school year without any friends.

I had played my cards all wrong—becoming friends with only upperclassmen. I beat myself up about it in those weeks, mad that I hadn't made at least one, single friend in my grade.

I was horrible at making and keeping friends, mainly due to my nasty habits of oversharing and avoiding small talk.

My first day of senior year was crap. No one really seemed to notice me, and all of my attempts at trying to find a friend before lunchtime rolled around were futile.