All Chapters of The Jock & The Wallflower: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

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 th

Bryson’s POVThe rest of the morning dragged by like torture.I sat through Civics trying to focus on Mr. Gardener's lecture about the electoral college, but all I could think about was the way Avery had looked right through me in the hallway.Like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.By lunch, I was wound so tight I could barely sit still."Dude, what's your deal today?" Cooper asked as I stabbed my pizza with probably more violence than necessary. "You've been weird since this morning.""He's probably just thinking about the game coming up," Brooke said, sliding into the seat next to me and pressing a kiss to my cheek. Her strawberry lip gloss left a sticky residue that I had to resist wiping off immediately. "You know how he gets."She was wearing her cheerleading uniform, all crisp pleats and school colors, her brunette hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail.Everything about Brooke was perfect, put together, exactly what everyone expected the quarterback's girlfriend to look like

Bryson's POV"Gray! What the hell was that?"Coach Williams' voice boomed across the practice field, and I realized I'd just let what should have been an easy completion slip right through my fingers.Again."Sorry, Coach," I called back, jogging to retrieve the ball from where it had bounced harmlessly into the end zone."Sorry doesn't win games against North Ridge!" he barked. "Get your head in the game or get off my field!"I gritted my teeth and got back into position. Third time I'd fucked up a simple throw in the last twenty minutes.My timing was off, my focus was shot, and everyone could tell."Dude, what's going on with you today?" Mason asked as we huddled up for the next play. "You're playing like you've never seen a football before.""I'm fine," I muttered, avoiding his eyes.But I wasn't.Every time I tried to focus on the play call or read the defense, my mind wandered back to that moment in the chemistry hallway. The way Avery had looked at me, really looked at me, for

Bryson’s POVA week. A full week of complete radio silence, and I was losing my mind.I'd tried everything. But every single time, she’d shut me down without even looking my way. I'd even decided to approach her at lunch yesterday.Before I’d even sat down, she'd taken one look at me, stood up, and walked away. Threw her entire lunch in the trash without a word.That's when I knew I was screwed.The respectful approach wasn't working. Hell, the disrespectful approach wasn't working either. Nothing was working, and I was running out of time before I did something really stupid.Like what I was doing right now.I stood at the edge of the Whitmores' backyard, hidden behind the old oak tree that used to be our secret meeting spot when we were kids. The pool glowed blue in the late afternoon light, and I could hear the rhythmic sound of someone swimming laps.This was insane. Completely insane. If her parents caught me, if any of the neighbors saw me, if she called the cops...But I'd bee

Avery's POVI arrived at Mr. Kevinson's classroom five minutes early, which was becoming my standard practice. Advanced Chem was already challenging enough without the added stress of walking in late and drawing attention to myself.Mr. Kevinson was at his desk grading papers, his gray hair slightly disheveled as usual. He looked up when I approached."Miss Whitmore," he said with a small smile. "You're becoming quite the early bird.""I was wondering if I could ask you about something," I said, setting my backpack down carefully. "About extra credit opportunities."His eyebrows rose. "Extra credit? You're sitting at a 98% average after barely two weeks. I'm not sure you need to worry about that."Heat crept up my neck. "It's not that I'm worried about my grade. It's more about college applications. I'm trying to get into some competitive programs, and I want to show initiative in my strongest subjects."Mr. Kevinson leaned back in his chair, studying me with the kind of attention tha