When a 14-day dating challenge erupts between skeptical Blossom and her secretly smitten best friend Hunter in the waning days of 1999, their easy friendship is plunged into a maelstrom of teenage angst, unrequited affection, and the terrifying poss...
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~ ~ ~ 1999
It was the next morning, the rising sun painted the eastern horizon with hues of orange and pink, pulling Blossom from her slumber. She stretched, her muscles protesting the unconventional bedding, and glanced over at Hunter, still asleep and looking boyishly innocent despite the mischievous glint in his eye that she had come to know well. She nudged him gently. He grumbled, but his eyes fluttered open, revealing their usual bright, hazelnut color that always seemed to spark something sweet inside her.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, a smile playing on her lips.
"Morning," Hunter mumbled back, his voice still thick with sleep, "Did you get back to sleep alright?"
"Like a log," she admitted, a laugh escaping her, "Now let's get going. I don't want to be late my parents would kill me!"
They packed up the blankets, the silence comfortable between them as they worked. After a quick stop at Blossom's house, she changed out of her clothes and into her school uniform, a tan plaid skirt and a crisp white polo, brushing through last nights knots in her hair. Back in the truck, Hunter pulled out of her driveway, the engine rumbling to life with a familiar cough. The ride to school was filled with easy chatter and the occasional burst of laughter.
As they walked into the school building, they headed towards their first period class. Even though they had nearly every class together they always did everything as a team. It was as if their friendship was a choreographed dance they had years to perfect. Inside the classroom, Hunter immediately gravitated towards Tyler and Nick, his two partners in crime. The three of them were huddled together in a corner discussing the logistics of their after-school meeting.
Blossom leaned against a bookshelf, watching them. They were the founding members and sole participants of the video game club, a fact they wore with a strange mix of pride and nonchalance. She knew all about their love for pixels. They had shown her the first time she hung out with them, the sheer thrill they got from exploring digital worlds. It was an endearingly nerdy passion, she thought, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Her mind drifted back to her own after-school pursuits. In a past life, she had been a regular in the art club. Her fingers had known the feel of smooth clay and the swirl of paint on canvas. It was where she truly came alive, expressing herself in strokes and shapes. She had loved the quiet hours spent creating, the way she could lose herself in the process.
But those times felt distant now, like a faded photograph tucked away in an old scrapbook. Art had been her ex-boyfriend, Jamison's, favorite thing about her. The way her fingers were always messy and her face was always covered in speckles of paint made him look at her in such a loving way. She had given him the name "Picasso" because of the way he was always trying to capture her on a canvas and when they broke up, it had hurt her too much to try and paint. The colors had lost their vibrancy, the clay felt heavy in her hands, and the studio echoed with the phantom of their shared memories. She had avoided art club ever since. Although she still painted from time to time she could never bring herself to join the club.
