I didn't go to school the day after the library. I couldn't do it. I needed a day off.
Brad didn't go either, I found out. I had received an email from our teacher asking us to turn in our project online, seeing as I wasn't in class to miss his newest instructions of printing it out, and it had been sent to both of us.
My brain was cloudy.
I was sitting at my desk just staring at my computer, email in one tab, our project in another.
Drugs? For as long as I've been thinking about what happened, the more confused I get. I haven't touched drugs in my life, and how Lauren put me and them together is beyond me.
More than anything, I hope I haven't ruined anything with Brad. To my misfortune, he had grown to mean so much to me. I was starting to use him as a crutch, and then my dumb mouth messed everything up in the library. I wanted so badly to blame Lauren, but I couldn't. It was my fault.
I wished I had a way to contact the boy, to explain myself in some way. I wanted to make things right with him. I wanted to tell him that I am way to nervous to even think about drugs, tell him about my parents, my family. I wanted him to know about my life, and I found myself wanting to know about his just as badly.
I wanted him to like me as much as I liked him.
After I had spoken with Lauren, admitting my crush wasn't hard. Brad was, well, Brad was. He made me want to be more confident, talk more. But now I don't even know if he wants to see me again.
Suddenly, a little notification appeared on the email tab. I scrolled over expecting it to be another update from my teacher or junk mail, but it was neither.
It was from Brad.
My eyes went wide with surprise. I looked it over to make sure it was real. The email had no subject, but the address was for sure his. I opened it quickly.
Tris,
I'm at the park. You know the one. If you get this, please come. We need to talk.
Brad
I grabbed my head with my hands, heart pounding. My brain was immediately raking through all of the possible scenarios. I had no idea what to expect. Without thinking, I rose and walked out of my room. I heard my mother and step-dad in the kitchen. His voice was much louder than hers.
After I pulled my shoes on, I grabbed my coat and walked out the door, not bothering to tell them what I was doing. My only care in the world was Brad.
I heaved the garage open to grab my bike. Walking the short distance would take too long.
I swung one leg over the seat and stopped. Was I being too eager about this? He sent the email maybe three minutes ago. I didn't want to weird him out. I removed myself from the bike and set off on foot, shoving my hands into my pockets.
I saw Brad before I saw the park. He was sitting in my swing. I approached slowly, not wanting to potentially set him off. He didn't look at me when I sat down in the swing next to him.
We sat in silence for a while. I didn't know what to say, and I knew even less what he wanted to talk about.
Another minute passed before he broke the silence, speaking softly. "I'm sorry. I overreacted in the library."
Only then did I finally look over at him. He looked exhausted. His face was expressionless, and he had dark circles under his eyes. My weak heart broke.
"I shouldn't have stormed out like that."
I quietly cleared my throat. "It's okay."
Brad shook his head. "No, it's not. You were right. It was hypocritical for me to be mad at you."
Not one time in my life had anyone said I was right.
Brad was clearly done talking, meaning it was my turn. My head scrambled for something to say, anything. I wanted to apologize to him, but that would most likely lead to me breaking down and scaring him off. The silence was stretching on. I was thinking too hard.
I took a deep breath, shook my head as if to knock the bombarding thoughts away, and spoke. "Then why were you?"
I think it was the clearest sentence I had said in years.
Brad finally moved, looking straight at me. His brown eyes were unreadable. Everything in me wanted to shrink away from his gaze, to not look at it. But I didn't. I held it like it was the last thing I would ever do.
Brad frowned a little and looked away from me. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Bradley Simpson didn't know what to say.
"Because," he started, gripping his hair with his hand. "Fuck I don't know."
His tone hurt to hear. He sounded so distraught, and I had absolutely no idea what to do.
His eyes flicked back to me for a second before he continued. "I guess I was just disappointed."
Ouch.
I definitely cringed when he said that. Tears threatened to appear as I stared at him. I couldn't help it, it hit too close to home. I would so much rather him be mad at me, furious at me, than disappointed.
Brad noticed my reaction, the realization of what he'd said flashed across his eyes. "Oh shit, no, no, Tris. Not in you. You did nothing wrong." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. His big brown eyes met mine, blazing with determination and fear.
"When I moved here, I wanted change. My friends at my old school were not a good crowd. At the end of last school year, they got messed up in bad things and I didn't want to get dragged down with them, I couldn't."
Brad's voice sounded so raw, and I knew I was hearing things he's never said out loud.
"I told my mom about all of it, everything they were doing. She lost it. She told the school everything I had said. I didn't want her to, but I knew it was bound to happen at some point. After that, all my friends turned against me, of course. There was no saving those friendships. And then we moved. Mom always said it was the best thing for the family, but I knew she was doing it for me."
He paused, running his hand through his hair again. Somewhere in his story, his eyes had drifted to the ground. He looked in my direction, but not at me.
"I got the change I wanted." He looked right at me now. "Tristan, you were the breath of fresh air I needed. You were so unlike my old friends, and it felt so refreshing to find someone like you. I don't need to live by a reputation. I can just be me."
I was in absolute shock. Never in my life did I think I would ever have somebody talk to me like this, let alone someone like Brad.
"I was selfish when I got mad. I saw you as the friend I'd always needed. You didn't do anything wrong. You were shy, quiet." If we were in any other situation I would've thought Brad was insulting me.
"And when Lauren talked to us in the library, and the idea of you doing something like that, something that really isn't a big deal," he paused, sighing. "I guess it just sent me back to my old school, to my old friends. I wasn't mad, or disappointed. I was just scared."
My brain couldn't process what Brad had just told me. He needed me. He needed me.
I slowly reached out with my bare hand. His eyes stared at his shoes. I paused, mustered up some courage, and set my hand on top of his, gently grabbing it. Brad froze, eyes moving to our now joined hands. I was panicking.
Brad smiled and exhaled a laugh. Then, he turned his hand around in his lap to grab mine back. "Thank you," he whispered so quietly I almost missed it.
I don't know how long we sat there, silently holding hands. Brad had just let everything out to me. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
He need me.
And I realized, holding his hand on the swings, that I needed him too.
