room 207 | shyland ✓

eleven

ryland's pov

just over a week had passed since that rainy october morning in which i'd spent moping at shane's house and trying to explain to him what was wrong without directly repeating austin's words. worried you were gay. they still played at the back of my mind as i walked into the empty hallway after the last class of the day and began to take my english books out my locker, sighing heavily. tuesdays were by far my least favourite day of the week; they had absolutely no significance to them whatsoever. unlike mondays, they weren't an opportunity to start fresh, or wednesdays where you have the ability to claim you've made it half way through the week. even thursdays, when you can begrudgingly remember that tomorrow would be friday, held more excitement than the bleak milk and water that formed tuesday afternoons.

not only this, but i was bound to be going home to mountains of homework and i had a biology test on friday which i hadn't even considered opening a book for so far. i grumbled to myself as i took my maths textbook out my kanken rucksack and carefully placed it beside the rest of my belongings with haste. slamming my locker door shut, i spun on my heel to be faced with a smirking boy that made my heart flip over.

"do you always mumble to yourself when you're mad?" he taunted playfully, leaning against the locker beside mine.

i rolled my eyes. "shane dawson. to what do i owe this pleasure?"

"want to come see me direct something for the performing arts department?" he asked and my eyes widened. this would be the first thing i'd ever seen to do with his passion for film and i knew how finicky he was about people watching him direct, so the fact that he would personally invite me made my stomach fizzle into popping candy at the bottom of my abdomen.

i checked my phone, seeing that my mom hadn't asked for me to be home early and realising that i'd much rather spend time with shane than walk home through the drizzling rain for the next twenty minutes. a pathetic excuse for a storm was beginning to brew just outside the fire exit doors, skies darkening and puddles clutching onto the tiny ripples that danced across the water.

"why not?" i smiled, falling into step with the taller boy and beginning to head towards the drama block. i'd waited around ten minutes after our last lesson of the day had finished, sitting on my phone in the hopes that the rush hour traffic that made my skin crawl would cease by the time i'd finished my third scroll of instagram.

after austin and i's confrontation last saturday, nearly ten days ago now, my stay at shane's house was short lived but enjoyable. when he'd finally managed to coax out of me what had happened with my brother, he'd shaken his head angrily and told me to ignore him if i could. then his grip tightened on my shoulders and his head rested on top of mine, making my entire soul embody a frivolous mess of thoughts. his touch was addictive and viral and all i had ever wanted for the past two years, and having him next to me to spend time with as i please seemed inconceivably intangible.

"how've you been?" shane asked as he tucked his hands into his letterman jacket. "i've barely seen you all week."

"it's only tuesday." i giggled, every single muscle in my heart individually
tensing as his hand brushed against my own and his eyes purposefully stared into mine.

"i know, but... we've barely hung out. how about i take you for dinner tonight? bakewell's diner?" he offered, eyes hopeful and wide.

my smile faltered. "people will see us together and then they'll start saying things. you know what our school is like. you don't want people suspecting—" i stopped mid-sentence and he nodded in acknowledgment of how correct i was. we'd spoken last week about how we needed to keep... whatever we were as low-key as possible in order to not attract any unwanted attention from the designated gossips of the school.