His Blue ✓

34| Bluer

    As I run down the city sidewalk, I feel tears gathering in my eyes. I can only keep replaying Anson's reasoning in my head. I want to see where it is that he's coming from, but I can't.

    He doesn't want me.

   That's all that seems to cross my mind.

     Maybe they're not the truest words, but someone like me becomes susceptible to believing things if no one is around to disagree. I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. My legs ache and my lungs are sore from running.

    I'm about to collapse with exhaustion and embarrassment, when I see bright light coming from behind me. I hear the motor of a vehicle. Turning around and expecting no one in particular, I recognize the familiar outline of Bryce's car.

   I squint against his bright headlights, and his passenger door swings open. Confused and relieved, I go and hop in. Bryce's mane of dark hair is piled against his head.

    "Why do you look so-"

    "Don't even mention the hair." He snaps at my comment. I shut the door carefully and he begins driving. I feel him glancing over at me along the way. Finally, he speaks.

   "Tell me what happened."

Will I feel any better if I do?

    My lip quivers, and I start quietly sobbing. I brush the silent tears off my cheeks. "I had an argument with Anson." I manage.

I watch him to see how my words affect him. My breath is held.

    "An argument?" He purses his lips and shakes his head. "Well who won?"

Of course that's his reply.

     "Neither of us won." I sniffle again. His dark irises meet my gaze.

    "There are tissues in my glovebox."

     At that, I'm able to exhale. "I could use some of those." My hands fumble in the dark and unfamiliar car for a moment.

Eventually, Bryce opens up the compartment with one hand for me, his other still gripping the steering wheel. I frown. Sure enough, a collection of tissues are stacked neatly inside.

     "Thanks." I mumble, drying my nose and eyes.

    "Don't mention it." He says, sharply turning the car. I look out through the windows for the first time since I joined him, and I notice Bryce is directing us towards a McDonald's drivethru.

    Why is it that he picked me up in the first place?

    He notices my skeptical look.

   "Just cause you had fancy dinner doesn't mean I shouldn't treat myself, too."

    "That makes no sense." I say halfheartedly. I watch as Bryce rolls down his window and orders a meal.

He notices me watching as he orders. "Did you want something?" He asks.

I stare. What I want isn't something you pig out on at McDonald's.

"Seriously, a McFlurry? A sandwich?" He continues, "I think the McRib is back-"

"No, Bryce." I give him a look, and he rolls his eyes and mutters something to himself.

    A few moments later, he parks in an empty lot and stuffs fries in his face. He rests his head on the headrest.

"Alright. So tell me what happened. From the beginning." He plucks a tissue from my hand and wipes his fingers.  I ignore that.