When my alarm went off on Tuesday morning, I rolled over, turned it off, then proceeded to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.
The first hints of early sunlight peeked through my blinds, casting tiny patterns across my covers. Downstairs, I could hear the clang of pots and pans, the slam of the fridge door closing. The world was waking up around me, but I couldn't immediately bring myself to re-join it.
For a moment, I just lay there, thinking of the previous day's events: Robert's discontent with Martin and Lucy, my argument with Cash...And Robert's unfortunate revelation.
"Tell me you don't have a crush on Cash Smith," he'd demanded, with an accusatory glare.
I'd merely blinked at him, unable to even begin to form the words that would dismiss it.
I should've said "Of course not," or "Robert, are you insane?"
Instead, I'd just stared. Like a complete idiot.
Robert had been, understandably, more than a little bit alarmed. He'd dragged me into the nearest bathroom, made sure it was empty, then turned to me and cried, "What are you thinking?!"
And I'd just continued to stare. I hadn't even really believed this was happening, that Robert had put the pieces together.
Well...Some of the pieces together.
"He's Cash Smith, Alyx!" Robert had continued, throwing his hands into the air. "He's an absolute dickhead! He's an entitled, narcissistic, selfish prick-"
"I know!" I'd cut in, turning away. "God, you think I don't know that?"
"Then why-" He'd broken off, shook his head, tried again. "I don't even think he likes guys, Alyx."
I hadn't responded. What could I have said?
"Look, I'm sorry for shouting." Robert had sighed, looking weary and concerned simultaneously. "I just don't want you to get hurt. And if he found out you...liked him..."
"I know," I'd said again. I'd turned away, then, and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, unable to hold Robert's gaze. My eyes had been tired, my hair ruffled and messy.
"Look, don't worry about it," I'd added suddenly, turning on the nearest tap. I'd splashed cold water onto my face, scrubbing at my skin. "I'll...I'll get over it."
"Really?" Robert had sounded unconvinced. I couldn't blame him.
"Really." And then I had met his gaze, turning back to fix him with my most convincing stare. "I promise."
I promise.
Right. Like it was that easy.
Sighing, I climbed from my bed and padded to my closest, pulling it open. Jackets and shirts hung neatly on their racks, but Cash's hoodie stuck out to me at once.
With great care, I tugged it from its hanger and held it up to the light, memorising its scent and feel.
Cash.
I'd seen him wear this particular hoodie once or twice at school. And now it was sitting in my closet, hanging up beside the rest of my clothes.
I hesitated, weighing it in my arms, thinking carefully of the day ahead.
An idea was starting to form.
- - - -
"Is that a new hoodie?" Robert asked as I took my usual seat beside him. We were in English, waiting, as usual, for Mr. Reiner to make an appearance. "I don't think I've seen it before."
"Is it?" I replied, feigning surprise. "I don't think so. Mustn't have worn it before."
"I can see why," Robert teased, poking my shoulder. "It's, ah...A bit big."
And he was right. Cash's hoodie was definitely too big.
Speaking of which...
I turned to the classroom door, checking, just in case, if the boy in question had arrived. Although hardly punctual, it was unusual for Cash to be late, and the fact that he hadn't showed up yet was a tad...concerning.
"Why do you think he's not here?" Robert mused.
"What?" I asked, startled.
"Reiner?" His lips curled into a smirk. "Bet another coffee cup attacked him."
"Honestly," I agreed, laughing, "hopefully none of us turn out that messed up."
The door opened suddenly, and I turned eagerly as a figure swept into the room.
"Good morning, kiddos," Mr. Reiner sang, strolling over to his desk. Today he was wearing a dark brown suit, a slight variation from the entirely grey ensemble he usually sported.
"New suit, sir?" a girl called from the back.
"New suit?" Mr. Reiner asked, glancing down at himself. "Oh! Oh, yes. Today my brother dressed me. He's been picking my wardrobe out ever since I moved in with him, when my landlord...kicked me out...ahem..." He trailed off awkwardly, as though realising he'd said too much.
"You know," Robert sighed, "I'm beginning to think Mr. Reiner is actually a paid actor, put here so that some secret camera can capture our reactions. There is no way this man is real."
I laughed, but my attention was fixed on the door, waiting for it to open.
Unfortunately, it remained resolutely shut throughout class, and when the bell finally rang, I had to face the truth: Cash wasn't here.
"Well, that was boring," Robert yawned as we exited the classroom. "And now we have to write that reflection for homework."
"I guess it could be worse," I sighed. "I have three chapters of math equations to get through tonight. Reiner's assignment is basically a glorified diary entry." Granted, I still had no idea what I was going to write.
"I suppose that's true," Robert snickered. "After all-"
"Cash, my man, what's up?"
I froze as Bryce's shrill cheer sailed through the air. A moment later he was shoving past us, ambling down the hall.
Squinting past him, I caught sight of Cash walking in our direction, striding forward with the kind of slow, careless grace that suggested he had all the time in the world.
"Ew, he showed up," Robert muttered, rolling his eyes. He glanced at me suddenly, sharply, clearly recalling our previous conversation. "I mean, ah..."
"Don't worry," I cut in quickly, averting my gaze as Bryce and Cash engaged in one of their obnoxious man hugs. "It's fine."
We quickened our pace, slinking along the edge of the hallway.
I focused on keeping my eyes on the floor, trying to act as casual and unbothered as possible. But just as we passed the pair, I dared to look up, dared to steal a glance at Cash...and found his gaze already trained on me.
His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape, an incredulous expression contorting his golden features.
And it took all of my strength to look away, to fix my own gaze on a point in the distance and keep walking.
- - - -
The rest of the day passed without consequence.
I went to Chemistry and AP Math, ate lunch with Robert in the cafeteria, endured History with the overbearing Mr. Simpson and AP Psychology with the soft-spoken Ms. Ellens. And by the time my final class rolled around, I was tired and weary, glad to be finishing school for the day.
But as I made my way through the halls of Grammarville, struggling beneath the weight of various textbooks, Assistant Coach Meadows came hurrying around the corner.
"Yikes!" she cried, narrowing avoiding the collision. "Sorry about that, Mr...?"
"Miller," I replied flatly, resisting an eye roll. "Alyx Miller." Coach Westley and Coach Meadows were notorious for their student exclusivity; if you weren't an athletic superstar, they didn't care to know a single detail about you.
"Right." Coach Meadows straightened with a sharp cough. "Of course. Sorry about that, Mr. Miller. Hey," she added suddenly, as though struck with a thought, "can you do me a favour?"
Great.
"Well-" I began.
"Fantastic," she cut in. "You see this bag?" She lifted a netted bag containing various knee pads.
"Uh huh."
Coach Meadows gave an awkward chuckle. "Well, I'm actually late for football practice, and I just don't have time to swing by the boys' change rooms and drop these off. Could you-"
"I'll drop them off," I sighed. Please just stop talking.
"Aw, that's so nice of you." She dumped the bag onto my stack of textbooks, causing me to stumble backward. "Thanks, Mr. Mason!"
I huffed irritably, blowing the hair from my eyes as she hurried away.
"You're welcome."
I really didn't want to be late, but with no other choice, I made my way to the change rooms. If I get in trouble, Meadows better write me an exemption note.
To my relief, the room was completely empty when I walked in, although I almost gagged at the scent of body odour as I set my textbooks down. Clothes, sports bags and old food were also strewn about, with a carelessness that bordered on arrogant.
Disgusting.
I scrunched up my nose at the sight of it.
Boys are disgusting.
A quick look around revealed a skinny storage cabinet in the corner, and I quickly placed the bag inside, next to a collection of other strange sport-related equipment.
There. Done.
I hurried to gather my books; the unpleasant smell and cramped atmosphere certainly didn't entice me to stay longer than necessary.
Glad I don't have to spend anymore time here, I mused. Only the most unsanitary, football-obsessed jerk would actually-
"And I thought I was the only one who could really pull off that hoodie."
I turned slowly as a voice sounded behind me, my heart galloping against my chest.
Cash.
And there he was, leaning against the doorframe and looking me up and down with unabashed frankness.
"Guess I was wrong."
A/N: Thanks for reading!
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