"Hey, someone sitting here?" he asked. Ryan quickly turned his head with a jolt, for he wasn't expecting anyone to acknowledge him.
"Uh . . . sure. Yeah, nobody's sitting here." Ryan managed to say. The boy sat, delivering a strong but not-too-overpowering cologne drift. Ryan turned to examine his new company. He was stunned.
The boy had dark brown hair that seemed weightless, bouncing above his head as he sat. Everything about him was dark—his hair, his eyes, his clothes—but something about him glistened with brightness. With a chiseled jaw and a warm presence, this boy was—
Ryan stopped himself. After only 2 seconds of seeing this boy, he had gone too far. They hadn't even greeted each other yet.
Oh my god, Ryan thought to himself, I need to calm down. I'm being so ridiculously—
"So," the boy began, "what's your name? Since you're new and all."
"I'm Ryan," he managed to croak.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me? He played it off as a sore throat by clearing it.
"What's yours?" he asked. The boy yawned and stretched his arms behind his head, intertwining his hands in his hair.
"Call me Brendon. So, Ryan, do you know what classes you have? I mean, nobody around here likes me much, but you don't seem too bad."
Not too bad!, Ryan thought to himself, That's the best thing someone's said to me all day.
"Yeah—well I actually don't know my entire schedule, but I do know I have AP English and some music elective. What about you?" Ryan said.
"Really?" Brendon asked, showing a glimmer of excitement, "Me too, but I'm mostly excited for my music elective. I've been practicing drumming and writing—"
He was cut off by the sudden stop of the school bus and the scurry of students rushing to get off. The boy who threatened Ryan jogged by his shared seat. Jamming his shoulder into Brendon's left side, the boy shouted, "Hey fag, looks like you got another to fuck with."
Ryan blushed. Brendon rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"I told you nobody around here likes me."
