The next morning, I enter Mr. Samuels’ class hesitantly. Students move desks around, the steel legs screeching on the linoleum floor. 

Camila groans when she sees me, and it makes my heart drop. Her eyes darken with disappointment. She huffs, but even with a frown, her dimples crinkle and her freckles dance. 

“You don’t reply to my texts, and you’re late. What’s going on?” she asks.

I glance at her chest. Not because I’m particularly interested in what’s under her shirt, but rather what’s on it. There’s a fist in the center. An all caps word surrounds the fist, but I only make out three of the letters: LAU. The rest is covered by a thin hoodie, which she zips all the way up when she catches me staring.

“Sorry. Rough practice. Fell asleep early. Barely could get out of bed today,” I reply, my voice soft.

After adjusting her hoodie, she reaches for my hand and holds it. Her eyes show compassion, and she gives me a warm smile, her dimples even bigger. What does she see in me? We’ve never even made out, and I’m such a crappy boyfriend. I saw her texts last night, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her. 

“Oh, babe. I’m sorry.” Her chocolate eyes narrow as she studies me. “You do look a little rough.”

“I know.” The bell rings, and Camila releases my hand. I catch Mateo’s glance from the corner of my eye, but he turns away. How does seeing me with Camila make him feel? I don’t want him to be mad, but a little jealousy wouldn’t hurt.

“What’s so funny?” Camila asks.

“Huh?” My cheeks immediately burn. “Oh. Nothing. Sorry.”

Camila tilts her head to the side, still trying to figure me out. She runs her hands through her raven-dark hair and turns away.

I get it. I don’t know who I am, either. 

Mr. Samuels begins class, but he never holds eye contact with me for long. Is he embarrassed, too? 

When class ends, he calls for me. “Aiden, can you stick around?” He wears a yellow button-up shirt that makes his skin radiant. “Just for a minute.”

My stomach tightens.

“Do you have a study hall?” he asks me.

I do, but I consider lying. He must want something, and if I don’t have the time for him—no. I nod. He could look up my schedule, so there’s no use lying.

“What hour?”

“Sixth,” I mutter. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s the same as my prep period. Would you come to talk with me?”

Of course it is. I should have lied. 

“What about?” I mumble, staring at the white, shiny floor. 

“You’re not in trouble,” he says calmly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. That’s why I want to speak to you.”

“Okay,” I say. Mr. Samuels writes me a pass to visit him during study hall. What choice do I have?

*****

At lunch, I sit next to Camila. She plays with the zipper of her hoodie, which is all the way at the top of her neckline. Tisha sits across from her, and that means I’ll have to see Logan again. Tisha looks very beautiful, and it makes me a little ill. I know who she’s trying to impress. She wears a sleeveless dress shirt. Her arms are smooth but firm, a gorgeous caramel. I want to tell Camila and Tisha the truth about Logan. I’m nervous, though, because it could intensify his hate for me, or even worse, maybe Camila and Tisha wouldn’t believe me. Then not only would Logan be pissed, but I’d hurt everyone’s friendship.

I have to hang on to Camila. She’s so pretty and nice, and most importantly—oh, I hate myself a little just for thinking this—our relationship protects me. 

Logan approaches, his green eyes lock eye contact with me, and he sits without even blinking. 

“Hi, love birds,” he says facetiously. “I bet you two spend every night together.” He gives me an I-know-you’re-full-of-shit laugh. “I bet you’re the kind of couple that begs the other to hang up the phone first. Aren’t you?” 

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. Jesus, what is his deal? Guilt weighs heavily on my chest. Camila fidgets nervously. He’s hit a nerve, and my skin heats with anger. 

I reach for her hand. “Actually, I haven’t been the best at that recently. Maybe I need to spend less time worrying about wrestling, so I can spend more time on my girl.” I force my most charming smile, and it works. Camila’s eyes soften, and she leans into me.

“I would like that,” she says.

I kiss Camila on the cheek, right on her cute dimple. “Can you and I eat alone today? The courtyard is open, and it’s a nice day,” I say.

Camila’s eyes brighten. “Aww. Yeah, okay. A lunch date it is.” She turns to Tisha. “We could use some catching up time. He’s been so busy with wrestling.”

“I haven’t had any problems spending time with my girl,” Logan snaps. 

Tisha shifts uncomfortably. Is she disappointed that we’re leaving? Or is she, perhaps, not thrilled to be alone with Logan, after all? Maybe she does sense something about him. I need to talk more with her. “You do you,” she tells Camila. Something’s off with Tisha, but I’m not sure what. She looks away, and I follow her gaze, which locks on the cafeteria wall clock. 

Camila heads toward the courtyard, and Logan gives me the middle finger discreetly. One day I’ll break that middle finger off and shove it in his ass. I glance at Tisha one more time before leaving. She scratches her slender arm. I wish I knew what she was thinking. 

Once we go outside, I feel instantly better. Just not having that jerk’s dragon eyes in my vision makes the world feel lighter.

We take a seat in the shade, away from the other students who gathered outside today. “Are we okay?” Camila asks. Her hoodie breaks open, and I catch a glimpse of that fist again, showing only the letters LAU. My mouth opens to ask her about the shirt, but then the serious look in her eyes pulls my head out of my butt. Who cares about some T-shirt? I have to be a better boyfriend. 

I take a deep breath and consider how to answer her question. She puts her elbows on the concrete table. Camila wants the kind of closeness that Logan and Tisha appear to have—even if they’ve only been dating for days. We’ve been going out for months, but we’ve never acted like a real couple. I’ve told myself I’ve got age on our side—no one expects a lot from a fourteen-year-old, do they? 

“You deserve better,” I say, and my arms tremble. “And I’ll do better,” I follow up. “If you’ll give me a chance.”

That brightens her smile, and she sits up straighter on the outdoor bench. “Of course!” She reaches across the table, and I give her my hand. “You’re sweet, Aiden.”

“Why don’t we do a movie?” she asks.

“This weekend?”

“No, tonight. After practice. I’m tired of waiting to see you just on Friday nights,” she says.

Movie nights? Just the two of us? That will involve cuddling, and—oh, God—it will lead to making out, won’t it? She’ll want me to kiss her, and not just a quick peck on the lips, but like full tongue in mouth and—

Stop thinking.

If this is who you want to be, this is what you have to do.

“I would love that,” I tell her. “Just you and me.” I force a smile, but I’m pretty sure I just killed a piece of my soul.