Something There

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty:

Short answer: No. I did not know. I guess it makes sense because we were thirteen, and what thirteen-year-old has ran around making out with people before?

But it never really crossed my mind.

So I answer, "No. I wasn't. I guess you just seemed so confident."

He laughs at this, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"You thought I was getting it on since I was that young? Damn," he chuckles, his fingers grazing against my cheek.

"I waited until I was fifteen," he tells me, and I blink up at him.

"Fifteen? Really? You're still literally a child when you're fifteen," I comment incredulously, and he gives me a wide grin.

"Don't judge me," he teases, crinkling his nose, and I laugh along with him.

I always have more fun sitting on the couch and chatting with him then out in big groups of people, it seems. He's fun to talk to, and doesn't shut me up when I talk about things I'm passionate about.

"So to change the topic from fifteen-year-old Bryce, who was a huge manwhore, what kind of things do you like to do for fun seeing as you clearly hate parties?" Bryce asks me, his eyes genuine and not mocking whatsoever.

I have to think for a moment, before answering, "Theatre and singing, obviously. I read a lot too," I tell him, expecting him to find my interests lame and make fun of me for it, but he doesn't.

"I like to read too, you know. I'm such a damn nerd," he laughs, looking up at the ceiling.

This fact shouldn't come as a shocker seeing as Bryce is legitimately a genius, but now I'm suddenly interested in what type of books he likes to read.

"What's your favourite book?" I ask him, which is a difficult question for any book-lover to answer, but I'd like to see how he answers.

He furrows one eyebrow, thinking for a moment. "I'm not sure I have one," he replies, and I roll my eyes at him.

"Then what book are you reading right now?" I ask him, leaning back against the sofa cushions. He looks to me for a moment, contemplating his answer as he takes a strand of my hair between his fingers, twirling it around.

"I know you'll laugh at me but I'm re-reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time," he tells me, smiling a little bit at that.

Though I'm obviously not going to laugh at him, I'm totally surprised that he's into classic romance novels written by authors born in the eighteenth century.

"I love that book," I tell him, because I'm sure I've read it nearly a hundred times as well. He bites his lip at this, tugging slightly at the bit of my hair he's holding.

"Of course you do. You remind me of Elizabeth at many points in time," he teases, which is funny because I was thinking something similar.

"Well, you're basically just a slightly nicer Mr. Darcy," I reply, and he grins at me.

"I'm probably just as bad as him, just in a different way," he says, and I giggle, just as he drops my hair and reaches for my hand instead.

"Bad as in 'losing your virginity at fifteen'?" I ask him and he laughs, releasing his grip and gently pinching the skin of my wrist instead.

"Better than not losing my virginity at all," he says back, and I jab him in the side which just makes him laugh harder, leaning against me so that his head is on my shoulder, his warm breath against my neck.