The Jock & The Wallflower

Bryson's POV:

She was back.

Two years later.

I've waited two years to see her again after that fucked up day.

And there she was, walking through the front doors of Westfield High like she owned the place. Like she never left. Like she hadn't disappeared completely after that horrible morning and I couldn't find her anywhere to explain, to apologize, to fix what I'd broken.

But she was different now.

The glasses were gone.

Her hair wasn't in that messy ponytail she always wore, the one I used to tug on when we were kids just to make her laugh. Now it fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and she wore contacts that made her eyes look bigger, more intense.

She wasn't hiding behind oversized sweaters anymore either.

The jeans actually fit her now, and there was something about the way she carried herself that made people look twice.

Shit. Even Carter noticed.

"Who's the new girl?" he asked, elbowing me in the ribs as we stood by my locker. "She's fucking hot."

I wanted to punch him in the face. Instead, I slammed my locker shut harder than necessary. "She’s not new."

"What do you mean? I've never seen her before."

Mason looked up from his phone, following our gaze. "Wait, is that...?"

"Avery Whitmore," I finished, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

"Holy shit," Carter breathed. "Little weird Avery? No fucking way."

"She's not weird," I snapped before I could stop myself.

Carter raised an eyebrow. "Damn, Bryce. Didn't know you still had a thing for her."

I didn't have a thing for her. I'd been in love with her since the second grade, which was completely different and a lot more complicated. But Carter didn't know that. Nobody knew that. Nobody could ever know that.

"I don't have a thing for anyone except Brooke," I lied smoothly, because that's what I did now. Lie about everything that actually mattered.

But my eyes drifted back to Avy, though I'd lost the right to call her that years ago, as she walked down the hallway. She wasn't looking around nervously like the old Avery would have. She wasn't trying to blend into the walls or hide behind her books. 

She was walking like she had every right to be here, and when some freshman accidentally bumped into her, she didn’t apologize profusely like she used to. Instead, she steadied him with a gentle hand and said something that made him smile before he hurried off to class.

"She looks good," Mason said quietly, and there was something in his voice that made me want to shove him into a locker.

"She looks different," Coop added, always the diplomat. "Wonder what she's been up to."

I wish I had known. I'd spent two years wondering, two years trying to find any trace of where she went, any way to contact her. I'd written so many messages I never sent, picked up my phone to call her number so many times before remembering it was probably disconnected anyway.

I'd tried to apologize a thousand different ways, but there was no point. She hated me.

And now she was here, walking past us like we were strangers. Like we were never best friends who shared everything. Like I never taught her how to throw a spiral in her backyard. Like she never helped me with my English essays, reading them out loud in different voices until we were both laughing too hard to continue.

Like I never kissed her.

Like I never let her down when she needed me most.

She was almost past us now, and I realized this might be my only chance. After two years of silence, two years of guilt eating me alive, I might actually get to say something to her.

"Avery—"

She stopped walking, but she didn't turn around. For a second, I thought maybe she'd acknowledge me. Maybe she'd give me one word, one look, anything to show that what we had meant something.

Instead, she continued walking like I'd never spoken at all.

Carter whistled low. "Wow. Ice cold."

"Shut up," I muttered. I could see the advanced chemistry textbook tucked under her arm as she headed toward the main building.

Of course she was taking advanced chemistry. Of course she was still brilliant and focused and everything I’d never deserve.

My phone buzzed with a text from Brooke: Morning babe! Can't wait to see you at lunch. Love you! 

I shoved the phone back in my pocket without responding. 

Avy, Avery, was back, and I had no idea what that meant for me, for us, for the careful life I'd built around the hole she left behind. But I knew one thing for certain:

I wasn't letting her disappear again. Not without a fight this time.

Even if she hated me. Even if I deserved it.

Especially because I deserved it.