I spot the soccer team practicing their passes in the field as I walk to my car. Clouds overhead are threatening to burst open and send a tsunami crashing over our dry town, but so far there hasn't been a single flicker of lightning or scent of moisture in the air. The breeze is definitely a nice change though as it blows across my hot skin.

Summer should be winding down soon, but the ninety-degree weather has yet to relinquish its hold. I drag my hair over to one shoulder so it's off my neck as I unlock my car and slip inside. The parking lot is nearly empty, aside from those who have after school activities, so I have a clear view of Bryson sprinting down the field and skillfully sliding the ball into the goal. I smile at the celebratory jig he gives his team as he swings his hips and rotates in a circle like some Hawaiian hula dancer. I swear, if he gets any cuter, I'll be in love.

As of now, I'm just crushing in pretty much the most obsessive way possible. It's probably good that Bryson is oblivious to my feelings or he'd be completely creeped out by me.

Dropping my head back against the headrest, I blindly fiddle around with the keys until I find the ignition and crank it on. Rolling down the windows, I inhale the gust that barrels through the car, whipping my hair around my face in its aggression. I don't bother to move the strands away, just content on the solitude.

In approximately ten minutes I'll be walking through my front door and into a chaotic mess of children screaming, my mom yelling, and my dad passed out on the couch. I'm not complaining. I've got a great home life: great relationship with my parents, an abundance of love, and everything I could ever need. But it's just a lot sometimes. These few minutes are the only peace I get in my day and I'm choosing to cherish them.

Until my phone rings from somewhere deep in my bag.

I groan and I rummage through the pockets and pull it from hiding. I don't even bother looking at the caller ID as I answer it, close my eyes, and mumble a, "What's up?" into the receiver.

"Hey, Everly," my mom's voice answers from the other end. Whatever she says next is drowned out by one of my younger brothers screaming nearby. I pull the phone away quickly and rub my ear in annoyance.

"What?"

"Andrew!" she scolds. "Please lower your voice and go set the table. James, could you help Addy peel her banana and stop burping in your brother's face. So rude. Okay," It sounds like she might be talking to me again now but then her voice goes muffled again. "No, Luke. I said no juice for dinner. Put it away. Oh shoot!" There's some shuffling on the other end as I rub at my throbbing head, but I don't say anything until my mom returns to the phone. She must be in a separate room now because it's much quieter.

"Sorry," she breathes. "Would you mind picking up some bread, butter, and eggs from the grocery store? I'd planned to make a loaf today but ran out of time."

"Sure," I yawn, putting the car in drive and cutting diagonally across the parking lot toward the exit.

"Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes, so you should hurry," she explains just as a blood curdling scream pierces my ear again. I hear my mom swear softly — probably not intending for me to hear — and then the line goes dead.

I toss my phone into the passenger seat and I fight the urge to grumble the entire way to the store.

It's no wonder I'm such a lazy blob of a human being. In between school, extracurriculars, and running errands for my family, I don't have time for me. Maybe I'd actually enjoy it. All the hours upon hours of solitude. Waking up at the crack of dawn so I could primp my way to perfection every morning. The stares from all the gorgeous guys in the hallway. The rise in fame and popularity. Hah! Yeah, that'd never happen and I'd hate myself if I ever let it. I'm happy being me... I'm just not thrilled about never having time for me.

My evening doesn't calm down until around nine, when all four of my younger siblings are asleep. Only then do I get a chance to breathe as I tug out my homework and start doodling in the margins of my Calculus book. Teachers hate me for good reason, but I can't be bothered to change my ways. Doodling stimulates my brain, so really, destroying school property is making me a better student. They should be proud of my accomplishments.

When I wake up an hour later with a puddle of drool soaking through the pages of my text book, I realize that maybe the teachers are right. Nothing is powerful enough to stimulate my brain into working math problems. I'm a lost cause. So, I do the only thing that makes sense: I knock my book to the floor, and then proceed to toss objects at my light switch until I run out of items within reach and have to actually get up and turn it off by hand.

And then I drop into bed like a puppet that's just had its strings cut, and I'm out.

———

I've never been the type to get all weird around cute boys. If anything, I get more outgoing. It's a trigger in my brain that makes me suddenly go above and beyond to get their attention. It's ridiculous and I usually loath myself afterward for being that girl. Yes, that girl. The one who fake laughs. Or gets a little too touchy-feely by trying to find any excuse to squeeze his bicep or swat his forearm playfully. I even go so far as to fake embarrassment by giggling and ducking my head to cover my face. In my defense though, I'm completely unaware of my actions. It's like someone else takes over my body and I just turn stupid.

Until Bryson came along.

I could be having a perfectly pleasant day, laughing with my friends, but then he'll show up and somehow my personality just gets sucked inward. I'm like a turtle. Before, cute boys caused my brain to turn off. But with Bryson, I'm hyperaware. What are my hands doing? Do I have a stupid expression on my face? How's my hair? Why's he looking at me? His elbow just bumped me... he must like me!

I drive myself crazy.

So, when Bryson saunters into homeroom and makes a beeline for Cooper and me, my entire body freezes up. Cooper must notice because he starts to chuckle and then makes a kissy face at me. I throw my pencil at him and then force a smile up at Bryson as he slides into the seat in front of me and turns around.

"Hey, man," he greets Cooper and then flicks his attention to me with a brief, "hey."

His smile steals my voice, so I simply nod and reach to grab a notebook from my bag. I can feel Bryson's eyes on me as I fumble around for a pencil and a moment later I feel something slide into my ponytail. I turn my focus to Cooper as I reach up and snag the pencil I'd thrown at him earlier from my hair with a wordless glare.

"You're welcome," he sings with a smirk, rolling his eyes at Bryson for my lack of gratefulness. "She's a bit of a bear in the mornings," he whispers loudly to his friend. "She probably needs a man like you to soften her up."

"Shut up, Coop," I hiss under my breath.

"A man like me?" Bryson chuckles. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, you know," Cooper shrugs. "The type of man that's her type."

As much as I'd like to ring Cooper's neck, I find a burst of laughter escaping my lips instead. I'm far too honest of a person to find anger in Cooper's honesty. In truth, a part of me is almost grateful for the little seed that Cooper may have planted in Bryson's mind by presenting the possibility to him. I'm sure Bryson's never even contemplated me being an option, but he probably will now.

Defensive people are usually guilty people — which is why I didn't try to defend myself, but also why I didn't deny Cooper's accusation. It's not that I'm against the idea of Bryson knowing how I feel, but I kind of like the mystery that this new scenario has created. It might even spark some interest in Bryson as he works to figure out the puzzle of my own feelings. Because, let's be honest, everyone is curious when they find out someone might like them.

Announcements are broadcasted over the intercom a moment later and the room falls quiet. I spend the rest of class trying to avoid staring at the back of Bryson's head as topics of next month's Halloween ball start trickling around the room. Even my ears perk up because as much as I don't enjoy painting myself in gobs of make-up and strutting around in fancy clothes most of the time... there are those times when it's kind of nice. It's nice to show the world that I can look — and smell — like a woman on occasion. As long as they don't get too used to it.

"You going?" I ask Cooper, the sound of my voice gaining Bryson's attention as well.

"Planning on it," he responds, tucking his pen behind his ear. "You guys?"

Bryson shrugs in disinterest as I blurt out an excited, "heck, yes!"

"Who you going with?"

Bryson's question throws me off for a second. His interest in who my date may be causes a weird flutter in my chest and I clamp my hands together.

"Probably no one," I tell him honestly, smiling to hide the fact that it does sort of bother me.

Guys don't ask me out. Ever. They come to me in hopes of a good time, and then go running when I refuse more than kisses. I've been told that guys are intimidated by me, though I haven't figured out why. I'm harmless... kinda dorky sometimes but not scary. At least, that's what I tell myself. But apparently there's something about me that just rubs guys the wrong way. Well, the guys who are actually looking for a relationship... because those are the guys who never approach me.

And as much as I tell myself that that's not what high school is about — that it should be about friendships and memories — I can't help but wonder if I'm missing out on one of the best high school memories a girl could have. Even with the risk of heartbreak and tears... is having a relationship with someone who cherishes you — no matter how short it lasts — something that we should all experience while we're still young rather than wait until 'the clock starts ticking'?

I'm starting to think that's an answer I'll never learn the answer to. 

---

Ok, thoughts on Everly's character?