I found Jacob Warner already waiting for me by my car as I emerged from the school building and maneuvered through the parking lot. Once I reached my little hatchback wagon, I opened my mouth to greet my newfound friend. However, I thought twice about speaking to him when I noticed how agitated he was. He was focused on a small piece of paper in his hands, and whatever secrets the paper held, I could tell he didn't agree with them.

"Have you ever made a huge mistake?" He asked as I unlocked my car before we both climbed in.

I wanted to tell him that I originally thought drama would be a huge mistake, but I refrained. We had enough tension this week for the rest of the year. I didn't want to bring up our spats from earlier.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged. I put on my seatbelt, started the engine, and waited for him to tell me what was bothering him. I was curious, but I didn't want to seem too eager. I hated overbearing people, and I refused to be one of them. If he wanted to tell me, he would. If he didn't, then I would just remain curious.

"I think I made a mistake," he hummed while rubbing his chin. "I don't think Milanie should be the Tin Woman," he admitted. "I think she would make a better Scarecrow."

"Who do you see as Tin Woman then?"

"Candace. I think their roles should be switched. I know Candace really wanted to be Scarecrow, but I think she would be better as Tin Woman. I want our casting to be perfect, but the only choice I'm 100% comfortable with is you as Demetrius. The rest of this list seems wrong." He crumbled the list between his hands before he unfolded it and continued glancing over the names. "What do you think?"

"I agree with Candace as Tin Woman. But with her sass, I think she would make a great Cowardly Lioness too," I shrugged. "She has the personality to match either role."

"Yes!" He shouted so suddenly that I almost swerved and hit a parked car nearby before we even exited the lot. "Candace as the Cowardly Lioness is perfect! I can't believe I didn't think of that. And with her hair, we could make her costume a brighter red to match."

Immediately he pulled a pencil out of his pocket and started taking notes on his crumpled list. "Do you think that's the only role we should switch? I still think Milanie would make a better Scarecrow."

"Well, at least the play is in the beginning stages, so nobody's too dedicated to their role. If you think Milanie should play Scarecrow, go with your instinct," I encouraged. "You are the director after all."

"Yeah," he nodded. "You're so right."

As much as I hated it, the rest of the car ride to the mall was silent. Jacob spent the whole twenty minutes penciling names and rearranging roles. He wrote on the paper so much that by the time we reached the mall, he filled the entire paper front and back with scribbled writing. It resembled a horrible doctor's note.

"If you weren't absolutely amazing in your role, I would cast you as the co-director," Jacob informed me as we entered the mall. I knew the play we were working on was practically his baby, but I didn't want to talk about it anymore. If we were going to only talk about the play, I would've rather had us not talk at all. Just because I didn't hate drama anymore didn't mean it was a part of my life outside of school. This was an opportunity to get to know each other more, and he wasted it on small talk about a gender-bent play.

"Can we talk about something else?" I suggested softly. I was blushing and embarrassed. I didn't want to upset him or make it seem like I didn't care about the play, but we weren't at school anymore. I wanted to talk about something else, anything else, and I was only embarrassed because I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Oh, yeah," he whispered. "Sorry. I can get carried away too much. It's just kind of important to me, but I can totally see how it could become annoying," he shrugged. I noticed he seemed to take a step away from me leaving a greater distance between us as we walked. I hated how betrayed I felt by this. All because I didn't want to talk about the play anymore? It seemed unfair. My life wasn't dedicated to this stupid play, and I didn't understand how that could offend anyone.

"I never said it was annoying," I muttered as I glanced over at the brown-haired boy shuffling next to me. I was nervous and irritated, embarrassed and upset, and it was all over a stupid script. "I just want to talk about something else."

"Yeah, well it's hard for someone to think of something else to say when a person doesn't want to talk about something the other person loves," he suddenly snapped. I stopped walking and was immediately taken aback by his sudden outburst.

"I never said we wouldn't talk about it again, but I want to get to know Jacob Warner, not Director Jacob," I defended. "If you're mad at me because I want to talk about something other than the same damned play that humiliated me how many times this week, then that's your problem." Jacob might've been pissed, but he would soon find out I was more pissed off than he was. His attitude reminded me again why he was entirely male through and through.

"You know, this is all that some people have," he spat. "Some of us don't have a great and loving family so they focus their entire life on something that does make them happy. This play makes me happy. You embarrassed yourself this week with how you acted. You disrespected my play I worked my ass off over the summer to perfect! You have the worst attitude of anyone I ever met in my life confirming my suspicions that British guys are assholes, and you stand there acting like a pathetic wharf. If you really hate my fucking play and me so much, why the hell are we even here? Why the hell do you care so much to get to know the real me?" He was practically panting after his rant as if he held all of that in for too long. His face was definitely redder than mine, and I watched tears pool into those blue eyes I found myself mesmerized with far too many times. Jacob Warner didn't know about my home life and what I focused on to forget it, but I wasn't going to bring that up. He was allowed to suffer his own grief without me comparing it to mine. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered. He glanced up at me as the tears began to fall down his cheeks, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and take his hand in mine. I didn't care about the crowds of people passing by who stopped to watch our spat. I didn't care about what anybody in the world thought of me right now except for Jacob.

"Whatever," he sniffled. He was embarrassed, and I knew that feeling all too well. "Let's get you the hoodie and move on," he muttered as he left me standing there and disappeared into the Nike store.

I didn't feel like shopping anymore, so I slumped down onto a nearby bench and rested my elbows on my knees. I was so frustrated with him that I didn't know what to do. Why did I care so much about how he felt when he clearly didn't care about how I felt? It was so unfair to be empathetic toward someone who didn't give a shit if they upset you. I knew I was an asshole in the beginning, but wasn't that why we started over? Wasn't that why he leaned across the library table and grasped my hand in his? I never wanted to upset him, I never wanted to ruin the fucking play that I fucking hated more than anything at the fucking moment. My sadness turned to anger the longer I sat on the cold bench all alone, and I was tired of allowing people to dictate my happiness. 

And fuck the hoodie. I didn't have to deal with this.

Instead of waiting for him at the bench, I decided to wait in my car. I wasn't a big enough asshole to leave him stranded at the mall even though I wanted to. Maybe, we weren't destined to be friends. Maybe, the sparks from our handshake in the library were a bunch of bullshit from the classic novels I read. Maybe, this whole year was going to be a fucking train wreck, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Once I reached my car, I rested my forehead on the top of my door before I finally unlocked the old hatchback and climbed in. I desperately wanted to light up a dart, but I wasn't quite eighteen yet. Americans were funny about the ages people were allowed to accumulate lung cancer. In England, I could easily acquire darts from my older friends while I was in late primary school. Smoking was a bad habit, and I hadn't had one in years, but I desperately needed one to calm myself down. I wasn't a theater brat, I wasn't an actor—I was just a kid who traveled around a lot, tried to do well in school, and eventually graduate. I hadn't had friends in years, and maybe that was fate telling me something. Maybe, I was destined to be alone.

Jacob opened the passenger door a few moments later interrupting my inward pity party.

"They didn't have the same shade of blue, so I bought you a darker shade," he muttered as he threw the Nike bag in the back seat and climbed in. "Listen," he began after a moment of awkward silence. It was mostly awkward because I was gazing out my window and refused to look at him. "I'm sorry about my outburst. This play is all I have. I've been so angry at the world for years now, and I had no right to take it out on you. You were just an easy target when I saw how much you hated it in the beginning, and I thought this was you showing me that you still did," he admitted.

"What?" I scoffed as I turned my head to face him.

He was the exact opposite of who I was. He had brown hair, and I had sandy blonde hair. He had deep blue eyes, and I had brown eyes. He wore suspenders now and then displaying how much of a theater nerd he was, and I wore hoodies and jeans. He had dimples, and I had freckles. God, he was a work of art, and I was just a kid. He was eighteen, and I was seventeen. One year apart, yet worlds apart. I hated him, but was so fascinated with him at the same time. 

If his presence in my life was a curse, I was glad to be damned.

"Why would you assume I hated the play because I didn't want to talk about it?" I practically snarled. "What a load of rubbish, mate. I just wanted to talk about other things for Christ's sake! It had nothing at all to do with love or hatred for the damned theater." I knew my face was red again, but it wasn't from embarrassment this time. He aggravated me in ways nobody else ever had. It was truly exhausting not to hate him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's been a weird day. Please just take me home. I'm sorry."

"Okay," I whispered when I noticed tears welling up in his eyes for the second time tonight. I had no idea what was going on in Jacob Warner's real life, but I knew it was dark to cause someone so put together to have such an outburst. Perhaps there were a few demons in his closet as well.

I didn't argue with him anymore, I drove him straight home.

We were both silent the entire ride.

That night, as much as I wanted to throw the damned hoodie that he bought me in the trash, I found myself hugging it to my chest as I fell asleep. It even smelled like him.