"Cramming?"

I glanced up from the stack of notes around me, glad to see I wasn't the only other student sat in the middle of the hallway studying.

"Unfortunately. Library's maxed out, couldn't find a single seat," I told Tommo, who unhooked his bag and dropped down beside me. Rolling his shoulders he practically becoming a sweatshirt wearing puddle as he all but melted against the lockers behind him with a relieved hum.

"Long day?"

"Long day, long weekend, long everything," He grunted, batting my hands away when I jabbed at his side.

"Just checking it's really you and that you haven't been replaced with a low-energy robot," I chuckled, raising my hand in mock surrender after he threatened to flick me in the forehead.

"Where's the third amigo?" He asked once he was sure I had no sneak attacks left in me, glancing over at my empty side.

I rolled my eyes. "I have no idea where Spencer is."

"Who said I was talking about Spencer?" He smirked, strumming his fingers along his knee as he threw me a smug look.

"I have no other friends, Tommo."

Shaking his head, Tommo weaseled my Biology textbook from my hands, flicking through the highlighted pages with a low whistle. "You absorb any of this?"

"Not a word, which is why I'm screwed," I huffed, running a hand through my hair as Tommo skimmed the Glossary section with mild interest. "It's my first exam and  I am not at all prepared."

"I've never been prepared but look, I'm yet to flunk out. Plus I've seen your grades dude, whether you want to gloat like the rest of us or not, we all know you're a shining star and will do fine." Clark's voice greeted us before the rest of him did. Dressed in a honey-colored sweater I knew my Mom gave him for Christmas last year I fought to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to drag Tommo further into our shit. A tattered copy of Tokyo Ghoul dangled from his fingers, unsurprising as I knew the that day Clark voluntarily studied was something that would never occur in my lifetime. Even during exam season.

"You and Tommo can afford to fail, athletics have your back," I said, taking my textbook back from Tommo as Clark crouched in front of us, glancing at the linoleum floor with brown eyes full of distain.

"I'm not chilling in a hallway. Come on, the guys have a table saved in the cafeteria, you can cram there," Clark nodded down the hall and got back up. I waited until Tommo was on his feet, shoved the textbook under my arm, and followed them toward the cafeteria.

"Might be a good idea to grab something to eat. Not sure I can make it through another period on empty," I frowned, running a hand along my hollow stomach.

"I think Jess said they're doing pizza today," Clark mused, warping the manga in his hand as he shouldered the door open. I caught it just it swung back in my face, holding the door open for Tommo. As expected the cafeteria was packed, tables stacked filled with books rather than food and plastic wrap. I could barely make out a plastic tray among the spread sheets of paper and multi-colored highlighters. 

Pawning off my textbook onto Tommo again, I watched him and Clark make their way to the table then got in line. I grabbed a tray, tapping it lightly against my leg as the line moved slowly, zoning out as I tried to remember all the information I'd been cramming. Clark was right, pizza was on the menu and I took a couple of slices alongside a suspect looking fruit cup. Casting a look at the vending machine in the corner I considered joining the herd of other over-caffeinated students high on energy drinks but decided against it. My handwriting already sucked, I didn't need to make my notes worse by constantly shaking.

Turning back to the table, my tray nearly went flying from my hands as I bumped into the person standing behind me.

"Oh sorry," I said automatically, looking up in surprise to find Iris Malt staring back, cradling a Starbucks drink to her chest for dear life.

"It's cool, Beau. No sweat," she said, smiling politely.

Iris and I were desk partners in Mr. Perez's English class. I liked her well enough, mainly due to the fact she never chatted during class, just made small talk as Perez set up, and spent the entire time writing blocky notes in different colored pens. It was cute. She even drew cloud bubbles around information she deemed important while my notes were pretty hit and miss in terms of useful content.

There was a period earlier in the year, after having spent many hours staring at her profile and soft hazel eyes, and with all the awkward smiles we shared whenever our arms brushed, that I thought maybe I could bring myself to like her. To ask her out, or to the Decades Dance. Have one of those high school relationships like April that Mom always fawned over, even when they ended in flames.

I almost did that, had a whole speech in my head, but chickened out at the last minute, asking to borrow a pen instead. I think Iris knew what I wanted to say, given the sad smile she gave me as she handed the pen over, but neither of us ever brought it up again. I still had the pen too, a black ink pen wrapped in icy blue plastic that never ceased to confuse me when I used it, rolling around the bottom of my bag.

"I don't think I caught you at the dance," Iris spoke up after an awkward moment of mutual staring passed.

I clutched my tray tighter, offering a loose grin as I shook my head. "Didn't go."

"Bummer. Grace Filson wanted to dance with you." Iris drummed a hand along her cup, rounded nails making a satisfying clicking noise as she did, a smirk plucking at her lips.

"Grace Filson wants to dance with everyone. I was worried she was going to take someone's eye out last year with the way she was going at it," I remarked and Iris laughed, squeezing her cup a little tighter. I watched a blob of whip cream rise against her straw then looked back at her soft hazel eyes.

"Fair point. She might not have been the only one who wanted a dance though," she said and blushed.

"There's still graduation. What kind of a desk partner would I be if I didn't twirl you around the field at least once," I promised and Iris straightened up, flashing me a grin made straight by the orange and black banded braces she wore freshmen year.

"I'm holding you to that," she winked then suddenly tipped her head to wave at someone over my shoulder. "Spencer, stay right there, I need to talk to you!"

I turned as Spencer approached our little huddle. Engulfed in a maroon sweater and wearing a pair of glasses, Spencer stopped at Iris' side and smiled warmly.

"It appears I have been summoned," he said and nodded my way. "Beau."

"Spencer," I replied as Iris leaned toward the bin, dumping her half-filled coffee in it.

"Mrs. Greggs said your portraits were done already. I wanted to ask if you'd let me have a snoop, I'm still a little lost for inspiration with this final assignment," she pleaded, going so far as to drape a naturally tan hand over Spencer's arm and pout.

"You know they're due in a week, right, Izzy?" Spencer asked, brow raised and my ears perked up at the name.

So, this was Izzy.

I took their conversation as a cue to leave, Iris' pout morphing into a flat-out puppy dog look complete with batting eyelashes and a jutting, full lower lip.

"Well, good bumping into you Iris. I'll see you guys later." I started to back away, only for Spencer to flit his gaze at me.

"You should come by too. It'd be good to get a second opinion. Iris is too sweet to let me know when my work sucks," Spencer said, clapping my shoulder and I tensed in order to keep my tray from clattering to the ground at the action.

"Ever so bashful," Iris scoffed, punching Spencer's shoulder lightly and I fought back a frown as Spencer leaned into her touch. Obviously, they spent enough time together to act so chummy and I blushed when I realized I was a little jealous by it. Of course, Spencer had friends outside me, and Tommo, he had mentioned as much before.

I was being irrational.

"Maybe some other time. I've got to eat or else I'm going to fall head first into the next table. A concussion before exams is the last thing I need."

"Bring it with you," Spencer replied, never one to take a hint and let me slink away while I still had some dignity left. "I'm sure Tommo can live without you for a half-hour. Plus, you've got English next, right? You and Iris can leave together, she told me you guys share a class."

"We already had English– Wait, you guys talk about me?" I sputtered, glancing over at Iris who had taken to staring at her knee-high boots like they were the most fascinating thing to have ever crossed her line of sight.

"Don't make it weird," Spencer laughed, grabbing my shoulders and guiding me out of the room with Iris quick to follow.

"I don't think I'm allowed to take the tray with me," I said as the three of us started down the hallway, eyes directed at the floor in order to avoid tripping over the cluster of legs, book bags, and angrily discarded essay drafts and heavily annotated copies of Shakespeare.

"As long as you don't bash anyone over the head with it I'm sure you'll be fine," Spencer said, all but hopping over a shattered graphic calculator, and Iris nodded.

"At this point, I think they don't care anymore," she added and I sighed, stuffing the end of a now cold pizza slice into my mouth. I ate as Spencer and Iris talked about their artwork, using terms I didn't understand beyond the word portfolio, but ever so often I nodded along when one of them would throw me a questioning look. I was unwrapping my fruit cup when Spencer finally stopped in front of the Arts wing, a part of the school I didn't think I had ever stepped foot into.

"It appears I have visitors," a woman called from the back of the room, elbows deep in a sink filled with dirty water and what looked like lumps of coal.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Gregs," Iris replied, polite as always. "Spencer and I were hoping you'd let us stay for a bit during free period."

"So long as you clean up after yourself I don't see why not. I'll be in my office in the back if you need me," she smiled, standing up. She looked exactly how I expected an arts teacher to look. Hair piled high on her head with streaks of paint along her arms and neck, decked out in floral print and woven sandals.

"My sketchbook's in the backroom, mind grabbing it Iris?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, no problem. Thanks again!" Iris said, beaming back, and walked off with swaying steps.

I watched her go, placing my tray down as Spencer wiped down an empty table. He hopped up onto it, legs dangling over the edge, he crossed his arms and watched as I dragged my eyes away to look around the space.

The walls were more canvas and paint splatters than wallpaper. A lot of the work was by senior students, names written underneath in curly sharpied letters on squares of paper. They were all violent in color, and none of the same variety stood by one another. To me, they all looked like crowded messes of color, lines, landscapes, and faces but then again art never really appealed to me.

"Any of these yours?" I asked and craned my head back to glance at Spencer. He had dropped down onto his elbows, looking more at home than I had ever seen him anywhere else bar the deli.

"Hazard a guess," he said, sitting up as he steepled his fingers, and I floundered.

"Please don't make me do that, you and I both know I'll just end up offending you," I replied and he laughed.

"Everything I've done is in the back. I don't like people looking at my stuff and Mrs. Gregs likes me enough to let me hide them. Most of my stuff at school are sketches anyway." He said as Iris reentered the room.

"I heard Mrs. Gregs wrote you a recommendation letter for BAFA," Iris said, placing the sketchbook onto the table as if it were made of glass.

"Only because I kept hinting at it all week," Spencer chuckled, flipping the thing open. I didn't get more than a glimpse of black lines and grey fading before he spun the book around and slid it over to face Iris again. "Will start the final submission copy tomorrow, but those are my drafts. I think Kenny is doing something similar so have a look at his stuff too. As for the portfolio, I keep everything at home so can't help you there."

Iris scrunched up her nose at that, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "I am not talking to Kenny. The guy's weird and spends most of the period gawking at Fiona Kindle."

"Fine, hopefully I can get your muse up and running then. In the meantime though, Beau and I are going to sit outside a bit. I trust you can keep my book safe 'till then?" Spencer announced, slinging an arm around my shoulders and guiding us to the back door.

"Aye, aye captain," Iris saluted, riffling through her bag and pulling loose a red sketchbook.

"Talked to Bella this morning," Spencer started after the door clapped shut behind us. We stood on a stout balcony overlooking the building housing the school pool. The ground was littered with broken paintbrushes, empty cans of spray paint, and PVA glue. It reminded me of the concrete mess Spencer had dragged me to, where he stained his shirt on the old spray paint. I scanned the hand-rail, checking it was safe before I leaned on it. "Astrid's still sick."

"Shit. She didn't look too hot on Sunday, but I thought a few days off would help her snap out of it," I frowned and Spencer shrugged, squatting down to pick up a lone coloring pencil.

"Yeah, so Friday night's a little up in the air at the moment. Hopefully, she pulls through."

"If she doesn't Bella will make sure her last breath is against a throw pillow," I muttered and Spencer chuckled, pushing back his hair. I blinked as the edge of his glasses frames caught the sunlight, metal frames casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," I remarked, apt as always.

Spencer offered a wry grin, fiddling with the pencil in his grip.

"I didn't until yesterday. My eye sight's always sucked but Mom made me get it checked a month ago and the pair finally arrived," He explained, wiggling the frames behind his ears. "How do they look? Nerdy?"

"They're not bad," I said, earning a soft scoff from him. "Just different, I'm not used to it. Give me a few minutes to adjust."

"Is this your sneaky way of asking to just stare at me?" I didn't like the smirk that followed those words, it was too telling. It made something bubble in my gut that I had to suppress for fear nervous laughter would erupt from me. Instead of responding, I just swiped the coloring pencil from his hand, dragging the end along the rail behind me.

"Damaging school property. Rebellious Beau strikes again," Spencer teased and I rolled my eyes at him.

"I'm sure the rain will wash it away,"

"Fair point," He started, pausing when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. Pulling the device loose I took in the awful condition of his phone case, filled with chips and incredibly sun-bleached, as he thumbed out a response.

"That was Bella, who is incredibly pissed and might actually smoother Astrid to death like you said as not only is she sick but so is her understudy, Lauren," Spencer explained, wincing at whatever prompt message Bella sent back.

"Shit," I added, eloquently. Biting his lip Spencer, skimmed the message and put the phone away.

"Expect an angry call from Bella tonight if Astrid doesn't spontaneously bounce back. But hey, if Bella does end up calling the whole play off at least we won't have to weasel our way into those tights ever again." Chuckling, Spencer pulled at a loose string on his sweater, glancing up when I failed to join him in laughter.

"I would be lying if I said I wouldn't miss it," I admitted, adding at Spencers searching look, "Hanging out with you... and everyone else of course. Kyle's grown on me, when he's not stressed out of his mind."

"You're acting like the play being over means we'll never see each other again," Spencer said, tilting his head when I shrugged back at him.

"Well, I mean, it kind of does. The next few weeks will be hell with exams. Right after that, we're graduating–"

"You know you can say hi to me when we pass each other in the hallway, right?" Spencer smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"I really don't," He said and dropped a hand to my arm. "Talk to me in plain English, Beau. What are you so worried about?"

What was I worried about?

I was worried about so many things.

"I–"

"Hey, the bells going to go soon. We should probably head out." Iris said, smiling face popping into view between the two sliding doors.

Shrugging Spencer off, I nodded at her and pushed away from the rail.

"I'll catch you Friday, hopefully," I told him and Spencer shook his head.

"You can say hi to me during school hours too, Beau," he chided, again, and Iris gave us a confused look.

I didn't wait to check if they were following, just slipped past Iris and out the room entirely. Mixing in with the other people rushing to class I let myself calm down, turning Spencer's words over. Just say hi to him in the hallway, something I hadn't truly realized I never did. Sure, I would notice him, smile to myself at whatever minute thing he was doing, but when I thought back to any interactions we had in the hallway it was always Spencer coming up to me first.

What did that say about me?