On Sunday, Clover and I went out grocery shopping when we bumped into Finn Hunter. No, it was more like he crashed into me.

It was partly my fault for not paying attention. I was checking off my grocery list while I was rounding a corner when a shopping cart rammed into me. I almost stumbled down from the impact, but I managed to catch myself.

"Hey, what happened?" I heard Clover yell behind me, her footsteps squeaking against the floor.

I glared at the culprits and saw Finn sitting in the cart like a five-year-old. His mouth and eyes were wide open as he stared back at me.

"Oh... Oh, shit. Oh, shit." His friend, who had piercings on his face, tried to make a break for it, but Finn grabbed his shirt and hissed, "Aw, hell no, dude. Get me out of this thing."

"Are you okay?" Clover asked me.

There was a pain in my hip, but I didn't want to worry her, so I nodded. "I'm fine."

Finn had gotten out of the cart and was now standing at his full height over me. A deep red blush covered the entirety of his face, even his ears. "I'm so sorry. I—we didn't see you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I was looking at this—" I waved the grocery list "—so I wasn't aware—"

Clover stepped in between us, swinging her hand in the air to stop me. "Oh, screw that noise. It's their fault for running around like this place is their damn playground. Bunch of rascals, I swear."

My sister rarely cussed, but when she did, it meant that she was outright angry. It didn't help that she was already in a bad mood from arguing with Mom at home. I held her arm before she could pounce on the boys.

"Damn, Clover. Chill. We don't want any more trouble here, a'ight?" the piercings guy said with a laugh. At this point, two of their other friends had appeared behind them, carrying chips and a pack of root beer.

"You know each other?" I whispered to Clover.

She huffed with a dry smile. "I sure do. I know all of them. This kid broke your crayons in grade school." She pointed at Finn, who was taken aback by her comment. "And this guy is their ringleader, Ryan." She pointed at the piercings guy and gave me a knowing sideways look. My mouth formed an O. Ryan. Claire's boyfriend.

"And all of them—" Clover gestured at the motley crew of boys before us "—are nature's living turds. The Junkyard Chaos. Ew."

"Gee. Thanks for the heartfelt introduction," Ryan said. When he opened his mouth to smile, I noticed another piercing in his tongue.

"Hey! What's going on over there?" a loud voice grumbled, and we turned to see a skinny man in a polo shirt at the opposite end of the aisle. "Go talk somewhere else. You kids are blocking the way."

Ryan twisted his head back to Clover, his sly smile not once faltering. "Well, hope to see you never at the battle of the bands. You guys stay horrible."

Chuckling, he and his friends walked past us.

"Fu—" She bit her lip and did a do-over. "You screw-ups don't even have a singer!"

"Clover, please." I tried to make her turn the other way and apologized to an old lady passing by. Fuming, my sister marched ahead of me toward the dairy section.

I felt something brush against my arm and spun to see Finn again, his hand reaching out to me. We locked eyes for a split second before looking away.

"Uh, I'm sorry about this whole thing," he said.

"And I'm sorry that my sister called you guys... a bunch of names."

"She was right, though."

"What?"

"Anyway, about the crayon thing—" he said but was interrupted by Ryan yelling his name. He hung his head low, sighing. "Let's talk about it next time. See you in class."

Finn jogged toward the exit doors before I could say anything. Our whole interaction felt surreal.

──────

I hated him.

When I was eight, I hated Finn Hunter. So much to the point that I called him Blue-eyed Monster in my head. He was the first person who had gotten on my nerves.

No, he didn't bully me or pester me. But he was a careless kid who broke every single one of my crayons during a class activity. I loved those crayons. My favorite uncle gave them to me for my eighth birthday. Sure, the broken crayons were still usable, but it felt so awful that someone would destroy something that I valued a lot. He said it was an accident and made a promise to replace them. It never happened.

So, I hated him. I didn't talk to him throughout elementary school unless it was needed.

Then, high school came, and the blue-eyed, gapped-teeth little monster grew up to be athletic and handsome; I almost didn't recognize him when he approached me once in freshman year. We began talking again from that point on—mostly it was he attempting to make a conversation—but it would just be small talk. It wasn't because I was still mad by what he'd done to my crayons—that's just silly—but it was because of this certain degree of awkwardness between us that both of us could see.

That would best explain the shifty eyes and stammers back in the grocery store. I couldn't pinpoint where that strange awkwardness was coming from, but I chalked it up to him being sociable and popular and me being reserved.

When the new week came around, I felt dread because I had to sit with him, my new lab partner.

"Hey," Finn said. He sat down on his chair beside me and dropped his seemingly empty backpack on the table. It was unusual to see him come to class early.

"Hi," I mumbled. I kept my earphones on and my eyes glued to my notebook. I wasn't exactly studying. I was just busying myself to lessen the uneasiness somehow.

He then said something, but I didn't understand it because of the music. I pulled one earbud out and turned to face him fully.

"Huh?"

"I was asking what you're listening to," he said.

"Oh, uh, some Kelley Clarkson song," I replied.

A pause.

"Are you a fan of hers?" he asked.

I wasn't quite sure where he was going with this talk. "No. I just like the beat."

"Oh." He nodded as if he was thinking it over. "Coz I wouldn't expect you to be a pop music kind of girl. You strike me as the indie acoustic kind."

"Why?"

He gave a quick and subtle once-over to my collared dress, knitted sweater, and boots before he lifted his eyes back to my face and shrugged. "You just look like it."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That is pretty stereotypical. Also, indie? That sounds like a dig at me not being part of any social circle."

He got the same deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression that he had back in the grocery store. "I didn't mean it to come across that way. Sorry. I was—I was just trying to break the ice."

I let out an amused breath. The little Finn in my memory had been overconfident. I wondered what made him easily nervous now. But props to him for successfully breaking the ice.

"Just messing with you. If it's any consolation, I do like to listen to indie acoustic," I said.

His face brightened so quickly it was like turning on a light switch in a dark room. "Ooh, messing with me, huh? I see. So we're friends now! That was easy."

Ah, there was the overconfident Finn that I knew.

"Forgetting the crayon incident?" I asked gravely, and his sunny expression fell.

"Oh... I thought we're just gonna brush past it because it's ancient history."

"But you said you wanted to talk about it."

"Right. Well, about that. I didn't get to apologize to you properly because I was a lil' prick back then. Now, I wanna say that..." He paused for emphasis. "I am truly sorry for breaking your crayons. Are you still upset about it? Like, for real?"

He looked remorseful as a puppy being scolded for pooping on the carpet. I almost felt bad for him, but at the same time, I wanted to laugh.

"No, I'm not. In fact, I'd forgotten about it until Clover brought it up. It's all okay now."

"No, I swear to you. If Mr. Brooks is gonna assign us a drawing activity, and I forgot my art kit again and you let me borrow yours," he barreled on, and I had to cover my mouth to control my chuckles, "I promise you I won't break your crayons again."

"Okay, Finn. Whatever."

We quivered with quiet laughter for a moment, and then we calmed down. In my peripheral vision, I caught Sunny entering the room. I gave her a small wave of my hand, and she waved back before sitting next to Lance and scowling at him.

"So, just to confirm, we're friends now, right?" Finn said.

I didn't understand why he was eager to be friends with me. It was something I didn't get a lot from people.

I shrugged. "Um... I don't know. I guess?"

"Great! When do the benefits kick in?"

My mouth fell open. I was now the deer caught in the headlights. Huffing, I turned away from him. "Nope. You ruined it. Friendship over."

"Just messing with ya!"

The teacher came in, and everyone in the room returned to their proper seats. Finn and I didn't say another word when the class began. We just shared a comfortable smile.