Date Me, Bryson Keller(31)

“So, you two even get breakfast together now?”

I hold up our script. “We have to practice where we can.”

“Interesting.” Shannon studies me. I don’t like the look in her eye, so to distract her, I ask my own question. I’m tired of Shannon thinking she holds the power in this situation. Yes, I have a secret to hide, but I’m pretty sure she has one, too.

“Aren’t you working a little too hard for this story?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know why you really want to date Bryson.”

“Duh. I like him.” The problem with Shannon is that she believes that she is the most intelligent person in the room. There’s no denying that she is smart, and maybe that’s why she’s so desperate to do whatever it takes to get off the waitlist. She’s currently competing for the title of valedictorian, so her being on the waitlist must seem unfathomable to her. Is that why she’s borderline obsessed with getting this story?

I give a dramatic shrug. “I just find that super interesting. If you really liked Bryson, why play the dare? You could just wait until it ends in a few weeks.” I lean forward and take a slow sip of my milkshake, not looking away from her eyes as I do. “Something’s just not adding up.”

“Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I wanted to prove that I could be the one to end this game. That I could make it real. Yes, it’s in part for the story, but it’s also because I really do think we’d be perfect for each other.” Shannon shakes her head. “I wanted him to break his rules for me. To hold my hand for the first time—”

    “What do you mean, hold your hand?” I sit up.

“Where have you been living?” Shannon asks. “Do you even know anything about this dare?”

“Unlike you, I was actually there when it started,” I say. “But that’s not important. Tell me about the hand-holding?”

“Bryson sticks to his rules. Nothing physical, not even holding hands, between him and his dare dates.”

I think back to yesterday—to him holding my hand. What does that mean?

A takeout order is called, and Shannon gets to her feet. “See you around, loser.”

I don’t answer her. I’m too lost in my thoughts. Is Bryson Keller gay? This time I’m sure it’s not just wishful thinking. He held my hand. Shannon said that was against the rules—rules he had never broken. But then I think back to his text—he said he wasn’t gay. Do I believe what he’s said, or how he’s acted?

My mind races with the possibilities.

“Kai?” Bryson sits back down. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” I lie. But the words taste bitter. I know that I can get the answers to my questions if I just ask. But am I brave enough to hear them? Do I even have the courage to ask? It’s Wednesday, and a part of me realizes that I’ve become too comfortable with someone who will walk away from me come Friday.

    I don’t want Bryson Keller to break my heart. I don’t want to be the cliché of a gay boy falling for a straight boy. But he held my hand. Bryson Keller held my hand, so what does that mean for me? What does it say about him? And what does it say about us?

Maybe it’s already too late, a small voice whispers at the back of my mind. Because looking at Bryson, as I am now, it’s hard to deny that I’m starting to like having him around. I like having him as my boyfriend.

And I’d be stupid not to know just how dangerous thoughts like that are.

“Really, are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. I can tell that he’s genuinely concerned, and that makes it even worse. “Something happened. Did Shannon say something to you?”

It surprises me that he actually notices these things. The Bryson Keller that we think we know and the one that you get to know if you take the time to are two different people. He isn’t some überjock stereotype at all. He’s just…Bryson.

I look down and make like I’m reading our script. As I do, I say, “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He doesn’t get to see my face. He doesn’t get to see that I am lying.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I have to be.





13


When we get to school Bryson hands me back my blazer. “I picked this up for you yesterday,” he says.

“So soon?”

“I paid extra so I could give it to you sooner.” Bryson runs a hand through his hair. “Neither of us can afford a lunchtime detention today. We’ve booked the theater to practice.”

“Right.”

Bryson moves to get his gym bag from the back seat, and I bring the blazer to my nose. I expect to smell soap, but instead, it smells just like Bryson does. When he faces me, his lips are pulled into a small smile—like he’s holding back a secret. Did he see me? I look from Bryson’s face to the car and catch sight of my reflection in the window. I pull on my blazer and try to ignore the reddening of my cheeks.

I look at my watch and realize that there are ten minutes left until the start of first period. “I’m going to see Donny and Priya before class,” I say. I need to give my face a chance to cool down.

    “No problem,” Bryson says. “I’ll see you in drama.”