Kiss Off

Chapter 17

Cooper keeps his distance for the next few days. In the two classes we share, I've noticed that he'll leave a seat open beside him just in case I change my mind, but I never take him up on the silent offer. The few times that he has managed to catch my eye across the room, he'll smile and nod, as if acknowledging my need for space, but I can see it's hurting him.

I hate it. I hate that his actions have caused me to feel so guilty. It's not supposed to work this way. I should be able to take this time for myself without this nagging regret, but Cooper is my friend and not talking to him doesn't feel right. And yet, I let the days pass between us with nothing but a few 'hellos' and some smiles to assure him that he hasn't lost me.

I'm beginning to feel this odd sense of claustrophobia as each day passes. Like I've somehow trapped myself in my own inability to let things go. I've confined myself to only hanging out with Chloe and it's beginning to strangle the little joy that I once possessed for school. On top of that, Bryson hasn't been around for several weeks and it's beginning to really worry me. Something's going on with him and it seems the only way I can get answers is by asking one of his friends or asking Bryson himself.

Seeing as how Cooper is off limits and I'm not much in the mood to converse with Claudia again, it doesn't leave me with that many options. So, that's how I end up standing outside Bryson's house on a cold Tuesday afternoon knocking on his front door like a desperate idiot. I'm expecting his mom to answer—or maybe I'm hoping she will, even though I happen to recall Bryson mentioning she works a lot—but instead, Bryson swings the door open, brows scrunching together when he sees that it's me.

"Hey," I blurt, smiling in hopes of hiding my discomfort.

I've only been to Bryson's house a couple of times, but it was always with the rest of the gang. Standing here with no other excuse for my presence other than I really, really, really needed to make sure he was okay has me shuffling from one foot to the other and trying not to listen to the invisible tug on my feet urging them to return me to my vehicle.

"Hi." He smirks, eyes narrowing at me briefly before glancing behind me for the rest of our friends. "Just you?"

I glance behind me too—as if someone's going to magically materialize—and then turn back to Bryson.

"Yep. Just me," I sing-song, hoping the cheeriness in my tone will come off as confident rather than childish. When Bryson quirks a smile in response, I know I've failed, but he stands aside and motions me to come in anyway.

Grabbing my ponytail, I mutter a 'thanks' and shimmy past him and into the modest living room. I hear the door close behind me, but I continue to look around the room as if it's my first time. I shouldn't be feeling so foreign in this place, but the lack of back-up means I have all of Bryson's attention to myself, and I'm not sure my love-struck little heart can handle it.

"You okay?" Bryson asks, coming to stand in front of me. He's watching me carefully—too carefully—and I know I need to say something before he thinks I've gone seriously mental.

"Actually," I grin up at him, "I came to ask you the same thing. I haven't seen you around school and wanted to make sure you hadn't gotten stuck in any more basements, or sucked back into the sky by our vengeful tornado."

"Oh." He laughs. "I appreciate the concern. But, as you can see, I'm alive and well."

My eyes involuntarily slide across the length of his body, taking in the comfortable fit of his sweatpants and the way his light blue hoodie hugs him just right.

"I see that," I tell him, lips tugging into a playful smile.

He chuckles at my poor attempt to flirt and then points a thumb over his shoulder. "Want a drink? Or something to eat?"