This Is What Happens [student/teacher]

8: The Real Reason She Disappeared

Bryan took me home. Bree had sent me a text explaining how she had parked my car two houses down the street and where the keys were hidden, and I texted my mom right after Bryan had offered to take me back home, receiving a completely understandable reprimand of how my mother was worried sick that took up most of my screen, the majority of it in all caps. I showed it to Bryan when we were sitting at a stoplight and he chuckled. "That's exactly what my mom would respond with, if I was still living with her."

"What are your parents like? I've never heard you talk about them," I say while flipping my phone over and over in my hands.

"Well, my mom is exactly like your mom, except she's been home my entire life, and she takes a bunch of useless classes on how to cook. And then my dad went off into the army right before I was born, and then came back on my fourth birthday to stay with us permanently. They're really not too bad, but I hated them growing up. All they wanted was what was best for me, but I always had to go out and figure it out myself. I was a bad kid . . ." He shakes his head, probably remembering what his teenage years were like.

"Why does your mom do the cooking classes if they're useless?" I ask.

"Because my mom can't cook. She's tried, since she was like, eleven, or something, but was just never able to get it."

"Then what did you have to eat until you were four?"

"Rocks," he says seriously, before cracking a smile and peeking over at me. I laugh. "No, we just had a bunch of fast food and things from boxes. That's why I vowed to learn how to cook."

"And did you? Learn, I mean," I clarify. Secretly, I'm just hoping he'll invite me over for dinner or something so I can try it for myself. "Speaking of," I accidentally cut him off, but he lets me talk. "All of a sudden, I'm really hungry."

"You're just saying that so I can cook for you," Bryan says as he makes a turn.

"No, I'm serious. Like, I'm really hungry now. Famished, even," I put a hand to my stomach to emphasize the feeling.

"Well, there's a few fast food places around here . . . Want to get something?"

"Hm . . ." I think about it for a moment. There's a chance that Bryan and I could be seen together, and if that happens, serious questions will start popping up. "I think it's better if we don't. I mean, what if someone I know is working at the place, or happens to stop by?"

"What, you don't want to be seen with me?" Bryan puts a hand to his chest in mock pain. "I'm hurt."

I slap him on the shoulder. "No, you doofus, I just don't want people to get the wrong idea. Well, right idea, but still."

"There's always the drive-through . . ." He chants.

I finally respond, "No, I'll just eat something when I get home. Thanks, though."

"What are you thanking me for? I was going to have you pay," Bryan says.

I drop my jaw. "Jerk! You're not the one who got drugged tonight. I say that calls for a free meal. Preferably at some fancy restaurant, but I'll take anything. And I thought you were paying next time," I add.

"Figment of your imagination," he brushes off the comment.

I roll my eyes. I love this bantering. I could never do it with Hunter, because he would either take it seriously, or actually mean it. And getting Hunter on your bad side when you're his girlfriend is a huge no-no. "Anyway, did you actually learn to cook?"

He sneaks a look at me after accelerating from a stop. "You'll have to come over some time and find out." He winks at me and I grin back at him.

"Awesome."