I used to like Mondays, getting to school on time, anticipating seeing Cam and my friends, but that feels almost like a different Marnie completely. I drag myself into the building with a few minutes to spare. The crowd begins to fan out as I reach my locker. I stare down the hallway as I catch a glimpse of Cam waiting by my locker. Waves of nausea rise inside of me. I pass the bathroom, ready to hide, but I hesitate for too long, and he notices me.

My name leaving his lips makes me cringe. He jogs over, meeting me halfway. Without asking, he tugs me into his chest and breathes in. I lay an ear against his beating heart. I don't hate Cam, how can I? We've been through so much together; hating him would feel wrong. I might even still love him, but for some reason, it feels different.

"I'm so sorry," he says, whispering in my ear.

I pull away from him and stare up into his eyes. They are so familiar yet distant.

"Can I make it up to you? Like all the shitty things I've done lately."

I know by his tone and the way his eyes haven't left mine that he's serious.

Second chances, Marnie. Cam deserves one as well.

"Friday night, you and me and our usual. Dinner, a movie, kissing." He wiggles his brows while he says kissing.

It can't hurt to go out on a date with him. Maybe a night with the two of us is exactly what we need. Unfortunately, we haven't gone on one since Christmas break. If the connection isn't there, then I'll call it quits, but if I still feel even a spark of something, I'll have to let go of Flint. We could never be just friends after what happened Friday. It's just not possible.

"Okay, Friday night."

His face lights up, a smile reaching his eyes. "Thank you, babe. Thank you so much." He leans in for a kiss, and I wait for a spark to ignite, but there's just his wet lips pressed against mine. When he pulls away, it takes me an extra second to open my eyes. He searches my face for answers but then shrugs like he could care less.

"Cam," a female voice says.

My head whips in the direction of the voice, and I catch sight of Holly, the one and only girl on the boys wrestling team. She's gorgeous, and I'd honestly kill for her muscular physique. However, she's like one of the guys, so she doesn't worry me as much. In fact, she's always been nice to me. Even now, as she stands there waiting, she smiles and waves at me.

"Sorry, babe, training is intense today. Will you come to my meet on Saturday," he asks?

I shake my head. "Dad and I are going...."

"Oh, that's too bad then." He cuts me off without allowing me to get in another word. He plants one extra quick kiss on my cheek, then heads down the hallway to be with her.

***

As I sit in my seat for creative writing, my leg starts bouncing around again. I try not to keep my eye on the door, but I can't help it. As if on cue, the bell rings, and Flint comes strolling into the room, his usual swagger is there, but it's not the same. Our eyes meet like magnets pulling us together. He doesn't say a word as he settles down in the desk behind me.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Shepherd says, calling attention to the class.

"Here is our next prompt. This one is a little different than the rest. There will be two picture prompts up here that you and your partner need to choose from. Then, you will each write a short story based on the prompt."

He takes the remote for the smart board and pulls up the pictures. The first one is an invisible man standing outside leaning against a brick building. Before I can even look at the second one, the chair behind me slides across the floor, sending off loud - nails on a chalkboard sound. Finally, the picture shows a man in an army uniform standing beside a piano in the woods.

"Mr. Rogers!" Mr. Shepherd calls after him.

Flint opens the door so fast it nearly flies off the hinges. Then, it slams shut with a force so loud that everyone around the room jumps.

Mr. Shepherd's eyes landed on me. "Marnie, could you help me out?"

"What, why me?" I ask, dumbstruck, staring at him like he's lost his mind.

I can feel every student in the room focusing their attention on me, wondering why I'm the chosen one to run after Flint.

He sighs and presses his lips into a straight line like he's carefully choosing the right words. "You're probably the only person in this room he'll listen to."

"And what makes you think that?" I bark back.

Mr. Shepherd gives me a warning look, and I recoil back in my seat. What does he know that I don't?

"Please, Ms. Bennett," he pleads.

I sigh." Okay, Mr. Shepherd."

I jet out of the room before the eyes of every student give me a panic attack. My chest is already tightening. The second I step out into the empty hallway, all the anxiety about my reputation flies out the window as I realize why he ran. I'm worried about him. I don't know everything about what happened to his brother, but just from what the prompt showed, I could tell it brought back some intense feelings for him.

My first instinct is to check the parking lot. Outside, I scan the lot, and his car is still here. At least he hasn't left yet. I walk around back to the football field to check under the bleachers. Winter just won't quit. It's cold. I jog to stay warm. I catch him crouched behind the gray metal bleachers.

His shoulders are shaking. Is he crying? The thought makes my heart drop to my stomach. I could tell his brother's death was a sensitive subject, but I didn't realize just how much.

"I'm not in the mood, Marnie." He mumbles.

Ignoring his request, I sit down beside him in the dirt. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Did you come out here on your own?"

I lower my gaze to the dirt and kick a tiny white pebble at the toe of my shoe. "Mr. Shepherd asked me to come get you."

He snickers and shakes his head. "Figures."

That jab actually hurt. I probably wouldn't have come after him if Mr. Shepherd didn't tell me to. The popular Marnie is rearing her ugly head, and I hate her with every fiber of my being, but she's who I am, and I can't control it.

"He thinks that I'm the only one who could convince you to come back."

Flint scoffs. "Why you?"

"No clue. So, it looks like I'm not going anywhere until I can convince you to come back to class," I say.

I pull my knees into my chest and hug my legs. Resting my cheek on my knees, I stare over at him. He sniffles and then moves his head, so he's facing me too. I hate the sadness in his beautiful blue eyes. I reach out and gently wipe a tear off his cheek. His breath catches in his throat, and I tug my hand away.

"You were there for me. Now I'm here for you."

"Marnie, you don't have to pity me. I see the look in your eyes...."

My jaw drops. "I don't pity you. I do care, you know."

"If you cared, you would have come out here on your own. But, instead, I saw you this morning with him...."

"So that's what this is about?" I interrupt. "That's why you don't want me out here. Cam is my boyfriend."

Flint sighs and shakes his head.

"I wanted to give it another chance, and if I feel nothing, it's over. Then I can work on what you and I started...."

"You don't have to worry about me Marnie, I've been fine on my own all this time, and I'm fine now."

I touch his arm with my hand, but he jerks away. My lips tremble, but this moment isn't about me. It's about him, so I bite down to stop it.

"You're not okay, please talk to me. I may have a lot of shit to work through right now, and I'm confused as hell with what I want, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you."

"You really want to know what upset me?" he asks.

I nod and try not to turn away from his stare.

"Aaron died five years ago." He pauses to collect his thoughts. "He and I were very close. My dad was always a drinker, but it was never bad. He had a career and everything. Aaron was a buffer between my father and me. He hated that I fell into the wrong crowd. He hated that I wasn't Aaron. So, we never got along, even before things went to shit."

He narrows his eyes as if he were in pain. I want to reach over and sweep him into my arms, get rid of all the pain behind his eyes. I hate seeing him this way, all vulnerable and sad.

"Aaron always wanted to be in the army. It was his dream since we were young. So, he'd make me go through these obstacle courses in the backyard. He called it Aaron's Army Bootcamp." Flint laughs a little at the memory; his smile fades quickly, though.

"At eighteen, he joined, and by the time he was twenty, he was dead." Tears fall down his cheeks, and it takes everything in me not to wipe them away again.

"Dad started to drink heavily, and that's when my world spun out of control. The prompt with the soldier beside the piano brought up old memories. Mom had us take piano lessons when we were young, and Aaron was so good at it. I remember being jealous because of all his recitals. He would excel on the piano, and... I could barely find the right keys. He encouraged me not to lose my love for music. I was so devastated that I couldn't play the way he did."

He's trying to hold himself together, but he's unraveling at the seams.

"For my ninth birthday, he convinced mom to buy me a guitar. So, I picked that thing up, and he encouraged me to play it. We jammed like your family does, and no matter how awful I was, he kept pushing me. A year later, I was writing songs and singing my heart out. He tried to make dad listen and always talked about my songs like they would be the next big hit on the radio, but dad never cared. All he cared about was Aaron."

He stops for a quick second and then turns to me. "I miss him, Marnie, so damn much it hurts."

Flint punches the ground and hisses when it makes an impact. He shakes off his hand and sobs. I hold his injured hand in mine. He refuses to look at me. His cheeks grow red. I throw my arms around him, and he softly sobs into my chest. I don't speak while he cries in my arms. It's weird to be the one comforting him, but I don't mind.

"Looking at the prompt." He finally breaks the silence. "It made all the feelings I've tried to hide surface."

"You shouldn't have to hide those feelings...."

"Tell Mr. Shepherd I'll be there in a few minutes...."

"Flint..."

"Just go," he yells, causing an echo under the bleachers.

I jump back and stand, then dust the dirt off my jeans. Then, without looking back, I march towards the school. I'm greeted with several pairs of eyes watching me as I reenter the classroom, including Mr. Shepherd. He raises a brow at me as I sit down at my desk.

"He's coming." I cross my arms and stare off at the smartboard.

"Back to work, everyone," he says to the class, who has their entire attention on me.

I sit with my notebook open to a blank page, unsure what to write. Finally, Mr. Shepherd steps in front of the desk. I stare up at him. In his hand is a piece of paper.

"Here's why you are the only one he'd listen to. This is the poem Mr. Rogers turned in last week."

He places the paper face down on my desk and walks away. We were given an assignment to write a poem again. I didn't think he'd actually written it. I'm terrified to read the words that he wrote. I take a deep breath and flip the loose leaf over.

I watch you sway

You grabbed my attention right away.

Forced together, unprepared.

You tear my heart open.

I wish I could sew it shut.

We could be the last ones standing.

Forget about your reputation.

Forget about your pride.

If you'd just see me, you'd be surprised.

I press a closed fist to my lips. This is about me, and Mr. Shepherd knew. Then, with Flint still not back and everyone else silently working, I take it upon myself to write my poem in the lines between his using a sharpie, just as we'd done that first week. Only this time, I put my heart into it because it's about us.

I watch you sway

I try to keep my feelings at bay.

You grabbed my attention right away.

Took me by surprise.

Forced together, unprepared.

I was moved by you.

You tear my heart open.

My best-kept secret that I wish I could tell.

I wish I could sew it shut.

Keep your heart open.

I could make you happy.

Give it some time.

Let me prove to you; I can.

I'm afraid to try.

Forget about your reputation.

I'm afraid to lose everything I know.

Forget about your pride.

It's easier said than done.

If you were on my side, you'd be surprised.

I'm already there, more than you know.

I scribble out a second copy, one to hand in and one for Flint. I place the second one face down on his desk, then stand and hand the poem to Mr. Shepherd.

"I added mine," I whisper.

He nods and takes the paper from me. As I get back to my desk, Flint appears in the doorway. He halts in there, observing the room. His pants are dusty, and his cheeks are still stained with tears. He settles down behind me, and I hold my breath. The paper rustles as he turns it over. A few seconds later, his hot breath lingers on my neck, and I sink into my chair, wanting to lean back into his touch.

"Can I keep this?" he whispers, causing chills to cascade down my back.

He shakes the paper in his hand. I nod, unable to look in his direction. I listen to him fold up the paper just as the bell rings. Finally, I gather my things and leave the room without saying another word to him.

***

The house is quiet after school, so I spend the evening in my room. I have a lot of work to catch up on from last week, including my latest article for the paper about the Charlotte Rising tour coming up this summer.

My phone goes off, and I welcome the distraction. I flip it over and lay it back on the desk. My shoulders fall at the sight of his name on the screen and lyrics in the text box.

Flint: I want to hold onto something

Me: That won't fall apart, like the shattered pieces of my heart. Are you okay?

Flint: I'll live. Sorry.

Me: Don't apologize. I deserve all the shade you threw at me today.

Flint: We're still tied.

Me: Nah, I'm gonna win it all. Just wait.

Flint: What if I don't want either of us to win...

Me: The game could go on forever.

Flint: That wouldn't be so bad, now, would it?

Me: No, it definitely wouldn't.