𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

head over heels

Benji's POV:

By the end of the day, I'm feeling pretty disheartened. Jorge is ignoring me. I want to think that he's just being distant because he's worried about seeing his mom (Who wouldn't be?). But, he's been going down different hallways than usual and hurrying past me as though I don't even exist. Something's definitely wrong.

And I can tell it has something to do with me.

Regardless, I'm his drive home. His car is still parked in the garage at his place. So when I stand at my locker, packing up, I expect to see a familiar head of soft curls approaching me. But he never shows up.

Maybe he's waiting for me at his locker.

I check there, too. No luck.

My heart starts to beat harder inside of my chest. Running my fingers through my hair, probably messing it up, I can't help but to assume the worst. Did something happen to him? Is he in trouble? Why wasn't I there to protect him?

I fish my phone out of my pocket. My fingers fumble as I try to send him a legible text.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" I type.

A resounding, clacking noise fills the hall as I nervously tap my foot against the cool, patterned tile. I hadn't realized how empty the halls were. Almost everyone has gone by now.

"Benji, what are you doing?" A phantom voice calls out.

I spin around, to see Addy's kind face.

"I'm waiting for Jorge. He's been ignoring me all day, and I'm supposed to drive him home." The words spill out, as I find solace in Addy's comfortable presence.

She glances around. "Where is he?"

I shrug. "I don't know. He's not answering my text."

"I'll help you find him." She smiles, sympathetically.

Jorge's POV:

I stand underneath the canopy that looms over the school's front doors. The rain outside is coming down in heavy sheets. But, I'd rather get drenched walking home through the downpour than drive home with Benji.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes with a text message from Benji. I read the text with a slight frown.

He's looking for me.

I wish I could run straight into his arms.

Life would be so much simpler if Cayman had just kept his knowledge of Benji's assignment to himself. I could keep being happy and content with the illusion of love. It may have all been a plan, cheaply devised and devilishly executed, but it was the closest thing to love I'd ever had.

I shake the memories away.

Every time his lips made my heart soar in my throat.

Every time he held my body close against his chest.

Every time he ran his gentle hands against my body.

They're nothing but hazy memories of a past love, now.

Maybe in a few years I will be able to forget the sound of his voice. Or the way his eyes crinkle up, just slightly, when he smiles. Perhaps his words that fill oceans in my mind will evaporate into a sea nothingness, and I will finally be able to move on.

I try to tell myself that there will be more boys. But a small voice in the back of my mind says that none of them will be like Benji.

Maybe it's right.