Date Me, Bryson Keller(30)

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. There’s no doubt that my cheeks are red. Bryson smiles and opens the door. He waits for me to exit the house. He locks the house and turns to me. Bryson looks from my face to my hand again. It’s almost like time slows down as he reaches for it. I don’t breathe as he takes my hand in his. I steal a glance at him, and I can’t help but wonder, What is this?

“Is this a part of your dare?” I ask.

Bryson’s silent for a heartbeat. He studies our hands. I’m not sure what he’s thinking and before I can ask, he nods.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to—” Bryson starts to remove his hand from mine.

“No,” I say. If his previous dates got to experience this, then I want to as well.

Bryson smiles, and that’s how we walk to the Jeep. He opens my door and helps me get in, then races across the front of the car. Bryson settles into the driver’s seat and makes a show of taking my hand in his once more. This time he even interlocks our fingers.

    Bryson Keller and I hold hands the rest of the way home.

And I take my first step into quicksand.





12


By the time Bryson pulls into my driveway the next morning, I’m already outside waiting—and wondering if last night was just a dream. I run another hand through my hair, hoping that it’s all still in place. I barely stop myself from redoing my tie for the third time this morning. I’m fine, I look fine.

“Kai?” The front door swings open behind me and Yazz comes outside. “Here.” She holds out money. “Dad said I should give you this for tonight.”

“Thanks.” I mentioned my plans to stay and watch the soccer game tonight, and Dad was more than thrilled to offer me money in support. It seems that he’s still holding out hope for a son who will love soccer as much as he does.

Just then Bryson rolls down his window. He pops his shades up and waves.

“Is that—” Yazz starts. “Bryson Keller?”

“You know him?”

“I know of him,” Yazz says. “He helps coach our school’s soccer team.” She makes a show of removing her glasses to wipe them clean on her nightgown before returning them to her face. “Huh, so it really is him.”

    “Of course.”

“This is very strange. So very strange.”

“What’s so strange about it?”

Yazz scans me up and down before turning her attention back to Bryson’s Jeep. “Everything.” She spins on her heel and goes back inside.

I pocket the money and jog toward the Jeep.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be,” Bryson says as I climb into the car and try to get settled. He looks at the clock above the dashboard. Bryson whistles as he watches it turn to 7:00. “This is different,” he says.

“What is?”

“Me not having to wait for anyone. I’m so used to being late because of the girls I’m dating,” he says once I’m seated in the car.

“That’s why you should date boys,” I joke. “Tell your friends.”

“Eh, most of my friends are kind of douchey.”

“I’m glad you said it.” I buckle my seat belt.

“Was that your sister?” Bryson asks.

“Yeah, Yasmine,” I say. “She told me you coach at her school.”

“Yeah, I help out when I can.”

“Huh, you’re an onion, Bryson Keller.”

“An onion?”

    “Layers. You have layers.” I shake my head. “I learn something new about you every day.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, I like it,” I admit.

“Me too.”

I know Bryson’s words shouldn’t affect me. This Jeep will turn back into a pumpkin soon. I know all this in my brain…but my heart is starting to feel like it’s an entirely different story.

Bryson drives into Glenda’s parking lot. We climb from the Jeep and head inside. I smile at Alice and follow Bryson to a booth. While we wait to be served, I pull my script from my bag. True to his word, Bryson emailed it last night. “Should we do a quick read-through?” I ask.

“Sure.” He pulls his own from his bag. He’s already highlighted his lines. Before we can start, though, Alice approaches.

“Morning, boys.” She smiles warmly. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have some pancakes,” I say. “And a milkshake.” I’m in the mood for something sweet.

“And you, Bryson?”

“The usual.” Alice nods and jots down our orders before heading off.

“Do you eat the same thing every day for breakfast?”

Bryson nods. “I like when things stay the same,” he says. “Change scares me.”

While we wait for our order, we go over our lines. Halfway through, our breakfast is delivered, but we finish the scene. Bryson is confident. He’s also patient as I stumble over a few lines of dialogue. When we’re done, Bryson gets up. “I need the bathroom real quick.”

    I nod and return my attention to the script. I’m reading my lines when someone slides into Bryson’s seat. I look up and find myself staring at Shannon. I groan.