SHOOT| ✓

Ryder & Jackson

WE'RE IN MY ROOM.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as the soft glow of the TV flickers against the walls. Ryder sits at my desk, controller in hand, eyes glued to the screen as he dominates in Call of Duty. I let out a sigh and turn my head to look at Ryder, hoping to catch his attention. But he's too focused on his game, the sounds of gunfire and explosions filling the room.

It used to be like this. Or something like this. He'd come over after school almost every day because he understood how my Dad would get if I stayed out past my curfew. We did math homework together, went over coach's field plays, and just fried our brains playing video games. But, you know, I was happy then. Life was simple. But that was before things changed, before I started to see him in a different light.

"Hey man, you okay?" Ryder finally looks up at me, concern etched in his features.

I nod, not wanting to burden him with my thoughts. "Yeah, I'm good. Just tired, I guess."

Ryder turns his attention back to the game, fingers flying across the controller as he expertly navigates his character through the virtual battlefield. I can't help but admire him, even after all this time. The way his auburn hair falls over his forehead, the way his brown eyes light up when he's passionate about something.

"Jack, are you sure you're okay?" Ryder interrupts my thoughts, concern still evident in his voice.

I force a smile, not wanting to worry him anymore. "Yeah."

He nods, but I can tell he's not completely convinced. He plays for a few more minutes before he pauses the game and puts the controller down. He grins at me and stands up from the desk, flopping down beside me on the bed. 

"So, what's been up with you lately?" Ryder asks, nudging my shoulder playfully.

I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. "Nothing much. Same old, same old."

"Come on, man. Don't give me that. Seriously, talk to me." He turns to face me. "I'm sorry for being a bad friend. I really am."

I guess it doesn't really matter anymore. The year's over. I'm with Darcy. I'm going to end the lives of many. Him being a friend just isn't that important to me.

But I do want him close. I want him here. I want his attention.

"It's just... everything with my parents. It's been rough."

His expression softens and he puts a comforting arm around me. "I'm sorry, man. That's tough. But you know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

A lump forms in my throat, the weight of his arm heavy around me. "I know. Thanks, Ry."

Ryder squeezes me gently before letting go. "So, what do you want to do tonight? We can keep playing COD or we can do something else."

I shrug. "I don't really care. I just want to hang out with my best friend."

Ryder grins, the same grin that I used to love so much. "You don't hate my guts. I'm surprised."

I lie on my back, suppressing the smile that tickles my lips. "I mean, I don't completely hate you. But you're an asshole for leaving me hanging ever since you got with Stephanie."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to bail on you like that," he says, his eyes darting away from mine.

"It's cool," I say, playing it off like it doesn't bother me. "She seems cool. How's that going for you?"

He clears his throat, his eyes still avoiding mine. "It's good, I guess. We're happy."

"You sure?"

He falls silent, like he's trying to think of something to say, and then finally meets my gaze. He lies on his side so that he's facing me, observing me like this is the first time he's ever seen me. Really seen me. "Yeah. I'm sure. We hit third base. You know... she was happy. It was nice."