Date Me, Bryson Keller(28)

“What juice?” I’m standing at the island, leaning my hip against the edge of the counter.

“Mango,” Bryson says.

“Apple, orange, and grape are the only three juice flavors that deserve to exist in this world.” I smile. “Water is fine.”

Bryson takes two bottles of water from the fridge. He places his down on the counter and holds out mine. “You have the strangest opinions.”

“Thanks,” I say as I take it. Our eyes meet. It hits me then: I am alone with Bryson. I know our relationship is fake, but that doesn’t stop my heart from racing as he looks at me. Wanting something to do, I open the bottle and end up drinking too fast. I choke, and Bryson moves to pat my back.

I freeze. We’re home alone and there’s hardly any distance between our bodies. He must realize it, too, because he quickly takes a step back.

“We should head up to my room.” The words take a second to register. Eyes wide, he hurriedly adds, “To work, I mean.” It seems to me that Bryson’s just as nervous as I am. With a start, I realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen it. He’s looking everywhere but at me. And I can’t help but wonder why….Bryson’s straight, right? He shouldn’t be as bothered by me as I am by him.

    Bryson laughs and seems to come back to himself, back to being the self-assured Bryson Keller that I’ve come to know. Maybe my doubting him is nothing more than wishful thinking. This is just a game, I remind myself.

“Lead the way,” I say.

We leave the kitchen, and I follow Bryson up the flight of stairs to his bedroom. We enter.

“Uh, sorry about the mess,” Bryson says.

“What mess?” I ask. I look around. Almost everything is in its place, save for one hoodie on the floor and a pair of dirty socks. The walls of Bryson’s room are covered in pictures. I notice camera equipment sprawled across his desk. There’s a camera, a tripod, and some lenses.

“I didn’t know that you’re interested in photography,” I say.

Bryson smiles. “Isn’t the whole point of being in a relationship getting to know one another?” He turns to me. “Come to think of it, there’s a lot that we don’t know about each other.”

It’s true. We’ve known each other for years, but when I think about it, there isn’t much beyond the surface that I actually know about Bryson Keller. And for the first time in my life I find myself wanting to dive deeper, to get to know more and more about this boy with the easy smile and soulful eyes.

I study the collage of photographs that I assume Bryson has taken. Among them are several posters of Liverpool, an English football club that happens to be Manchester United’s greatest rival. I can’t help but wonder what my dad would think if he saw this. Picturing Dad and Bryson arguing about soccer makes me smile—will that ever actually happen? I pluck the thought out before it takes root.

    I notice that some of the posters look worse for wear. Like they’ve been torn and were hastily repaired. I don’t ask him about them. Instead, I shift my focus back to the photo collage.

“So, you like photography?”

“Yeah,” Bryson says. “It’s fun.”

“You’re good.” I turn to him. “Maybe you should be a photographer?”

“Maybe,” he says. “I guess I need to find what I really love.”

“You have enough time,” I say. “No stress.”

“Tell that to my mom.” He sighs. “She’s in a full-on panic because I don’t actually know what I want to do when I get to college.”

“Well, knowing you, you’ll probably excel at everything.”

“Everything but math.”

“Oh God, me too.” Our eyes meet. “Give me words over numbers any day.”

“What about math with letters?”

“I hate it, and I hate whoever invented it. Algebra is the worst.”

Bryson laughs. He watches as I take a closer look at his photos. He’s seriously talented.

“When was this taken?” I ask. I point at a picture where Bryson looks a year or two younger than he is now.

“I took those on our last family vacation,” Bryson says.

    In the picture there’s a happy family of four smiling back at me. This is the one and only picture that Bryson has of his whole family. All the others are of just his mom and sister.

I turn to study the rest of the space. Bryson’s desk is almost as full as mine, but instead of the chaotic mess, his is perfectly organized. He has a large desk calendar with his schedule on it. He has a game tomorrow. So does Priya. Maybe I’ll surprise him by attending his match after.

Bryson moves to stand beside me and picks up his computer. “Shall we do it?”

“Do…it?” I quirk my eyebrow in flirtation.

Bryson shakes his head and smiles. “Watch the movie.”

“Sure.” My eyes snag on a box on his desk. It’s the latest iPhone. “Holy shit, you have one?”

“My dad thinks he can buy me back,” Bryson says. His voice gets colder as he speaks about his father. “My dad is trying to see me for the first time in over a year. He’s the reason I was late for school yesterday. He offered to take me to breakfast before school. And like a fool I believed him. I waited around for nothing.” Bryson stops himself. His eyes widen as he looks at me. “You’re really easy to talk to. Not even Dustin knows that. Everyone thinks I had a dentist appointment.”