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November 6

"So, you're like ..."

I trail off, frowning into the distance as we sit side by side in the bleachers overlooking the deserted football field. After the third teacher told us to get to class, we decided it was a smart idea to probably get out of school if we want to continue having our much-needed heart-to-heart chat.

"... that supposedly pampered, spoiled rich-kid we read about in stories and watch on TV?" I conclude, trying to add humor into the otherwise very grim tale. "Like Richie Rich?"

Shane snorts. "That's one way of putting it," he says, amused.

"Wow, how anticlimactic," I mumble. "Aren't rich parents supposed to be very negligent and completely disconcerted about what whatever their kids do? I mean, I'm judging or anything, but my very limited knowledge comes from the number of romance novels I have read because they're a lot."

Laughing, Shane nudges my arm with his.

"Yeah, well, real life isn't a romance novel," he says, still chuckling. "I would blame Jackson but my parents are, like, crazy involved in everything I do. They go through my stuff, track my phone, know all of my friends and regularly talk to my teachers. Hell, I'm pretty sure they even have people dressed up as undercover students here to watch my every move."

"And I thought I watched way too many crime thrillers," I mumble.

"For all I know, you could be totally spying on me," Shane suggests.

"Yup, because I'm like the perfect spies in disguise weirdo, huh?" I tease, hoping he'll get the reference.

He probably doesn't because he doesn't reply. Nonetheless, he's too polite so he just smiles, not making me regret using the reference at all. If it was with anyone other than Shane, it would have been totally embarrassing.

"So that's why your dad took you to Paris?" I change the topic. Sort of.

"When I went home Friday night, I just wanted Dad to know I was okay," he explains. "But he told me he was going to Paris for some ambassador business and that he wanted me to come along. I didn't have a choice, Taylor. And I couldn't call you because, in the rush of everything, I left my phone at home. You don't know how much I wished I had your number memorized by heart so I could call you from a payphone but I didn't."

Rolling my eyes, I allow myself to smile slightly. I hate to admit it, but Shane seems to know every doubt I've had over the past few days. Not only is he telling me everything, he keeps apologizing for it too. I feel giddy inside.

"I just got back this morning and drove straight here to see you," Shane tells me. "I didn't even attend class and the jetlag is killing me right now."

I turn my head to the right to look at Shane, noticing his red eyes and an exhausted smile. Sure enough, it's obvious he's in a terrible state. Even though it's cute that he wanted to see me as soon as he landed, I can't help but think how stupid of him to not rest before he drove over to school.

"How're you feeling, though?" he asks suddenly, watching me closely. "You look oddly okay for someone who just got diagnosed with a chronic, life-style-altering disease."

I shrug. "The doctor said I'm lucky I got diagnosed early so it hasn't gotten unmanageable yet. Insulin and dieting will probably help me control it in the long-run. I'm currently just going to be keeping tabs of my glucose levels, monitor it daily for like two weeks or something. It sucks but, like I said, it's better than AIDs."

Shane nods, humming thoughtfully. "You told your mom?"

"Yeah, she went to the doctor with me."

He pauses. "What about your dad?"

"Mom said she'll talk to Dad but she probably hasn't gotten the chance yet," I tell Shane honestly. "He's never home anymore. Honestly, I won't even be surprised if Dad shows up one day and tells us he's got another family hidden somewhere."

I laugh but Shane doesn't, and I don't like his gaze fixed on my face at all. When he shifts slightly closer on the cool metal bench, I focus on how his arm feels pressed against mine. A part of me hopes he'll reach out and touch me, maybe hold my hand or give me a reassuring hug. I don't know what holds him back, though.

"You should get some sleep," I say, meaning it. I don't see the benefit of sitting here quietly when he could rather be resting. "Seriously, though, I can't carry you if you pass out here."

Shane laughs. "So you'll just leave me here?"

"Probably." I nod. "While I go get someone to drag your ass back to your house."

He throws his head back and laughs again, a lively sound that hides away the pain of everything he has told me today. It's strange how easy it is to hide one's sadness behind a smile, how effortless to fool human beings into believing something is perfect when it's not.

"I really am sorry about Friday," he repeats. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll make our first date the best you've ever had, I promise. If you'll go out with me, that is."

I snort at the offer, trying not to feel embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze.

"I said yes, Shane, now you're just making me feel awkward," I point out, trying not to focus on how cute he is sounding all nervous.

"You sure 'shy' isn't the word you're looking for?" he teases, lifting a finger and bringing it slowly toward me.

I jump back, my eyes wide as I stare at his finger inches from me.

"Don't you freaking poke me," I warm him, brandishing my own finger.

"I'm just going to tickle you --" he says innocently.

I gasp, throwing up both hands to protect myself. "You touch me and I kill you," I gasp.

Shane laughs, backing away. "Well, I'll eventually end up dying at your hands then but I want to have a proper date first," he says, a crooked smile on his face.

"Go home, weirdo," I reprimand, my insides twisting into knots that aren't uncomfortable at all.

He laughs, getting to his feet beside me. "Oh, before I forget ..." His face grows solemn. "I probably won't text or call you because I don't want my mom and dad to hate you as in case I don't get a perfect grade. Their first instinct is going to be to blame 'the girl who distracted me from my bright future'. As soon as I hear back from Stanford, though, that will change, but for now ..."

I nod quickly. "That's okay," I reassure him. "We see each other every day and, unless you go to Paris again, we can always talk in school."

A small smile slides onto his lips and he nods in agreement.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yup." I stand up and shake invisible dust off my clothes.

"Do I get a hug or something?" Shane asks, eyeing me hopefully.

"Hah, dream on, dreamer." I turn around before he can see me smiling to myself.

The last thing I hear before I walk away is Shane laughing and saying something that sounds too much like 'Oh, you wait, Taylor Ming'.

My bag over my shoulder, I turn into the school building and nearly crash into someone.

"Whoa there, girl," Carlos exclaims, grabbing my arms to help me maintain my balance. "Better watch out unless you want to fall for handsome young men around here." One corner of his lips twists upward in a half-smirk.

I pretend to barf, gagging loudly. "I'm sorry, did you just call yourself handsome?" I challenge.

"Hey!" Carlos whines, a pout quickly replacing his smile. "First you steal my best friend then you call me ugly? Not fair."

"I didn't call you ugly, that's all your unconscious," I remind him with a jab of my elbow in his chest when he won't stop invading my personal space.

"Subconscious."

"Whatever."

"But you did steal my best friend. Hah, can't deny that, can you?"

I scowl at him to distract him from the effect his words have on me.

"Come on, you know I'm too good looking for you to hate," Carlos coos, reaching for my cheeks.

I slap his hands away, horrified. Yes, he and I are becoming something that oddly resembles 'friends' but that does not mean he can pull my cheeks and baby-talk to me. Either Carlos has clearly lost his mind because of all the headbutts he receives during his games or he's being overly-familiar. I'm not going to put up with either explanation.

"I hate you and nothing you say can change that," I counter.

Carlos laughs, a loud, obnoxious, roar that makes me widen my eyes and jump back to put some space between the two of us. Before I can point out how bear-like his barking laugh is, though, I see a pale face over his shoulder.

Racheal and Riley are standing there, their mouths hanging open and eyes wide. The only difference is that Riley also looks like she's been bitch-slapped in the face. With a brick.

"Great," I mumble.

Noticing the change in my manner, Carlos turns around to follow m gaze. His smile slips away and so does the remaining color in his cheeks, leaving him gaping at Riley like a fish out of water.

"Good, you're here," I say to Riley, wanting to dissipate any tension that might be rising because of the complexity of the situation. "Can you please get your ex off my back now?"

Riley blinks, her brow furrowing. I walk over to Riley and grab her wrist, leading her to Carlos. He stares at her with his jaw on the floor and I roll my eyes, nudging Riley forward.

"See you later, Rach," I call over my shoulder at Racheal who whines loudly but is totally ignored by all three of us.

Minutes later, we're sitting on the bleachers which have somehow become the school's counseling centers with Shane, Carlos, Riley, Marla, and I coming here to vent our frustrations and share our concerns. I spend the next few minutes summarizing the entire confusion Riley and Carlos had and then lean back while both Riley and Carlos refuse to look at each other.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Riley asks me seriously.

"Because the last time I rushed into something, I ended up giving you the wrong idea about Carlos cheating on you," I answer truthfully.

"Wait, what?" Carlos frowns.

"I saw you with Gemma and took a picture to send to Riley," I confess.

"That was you?" he cries out.

I shrug. "The point is, I didn't want to end up causing more trouble than good again. I wanted to make sure Carlos isn't a lying cheat --"

"Hey!"

"-- before I say anything to you," I tell Riley.

She doesn't answer, pursing her lips and sighing. I can tell she's mad at me and I don't really blame her. I would have been mad at me too if I'd been in her place.

"But yeah ..." I sit up straighter. "You were right about him. Carlos isn't that bad."

"Really?" Riley cocks an eyebrow at me before turning her glare to Carlos.

"Yeah," I agree. "I mean, yes, his laugh is freakish and whatever and he'll probably get killed if he tries to touch my face again, but if you want to give him another chance ... he's got my vote."

Riley glances at Carlos and slumps back, folding her arms across her chest. As for me, I get to my feet with a final look at Carlos who smiles at me, a shy but gentle smile full of relief and gratitude. He has nothing to thank me for. Honestly, if anything, I should apologize to both of them. Sometimes, people aren't as bad as we think they are.

Maybe none of us is what we seem to be.

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A/N: This is me tying loose ends. As for Shane, there is still much more to him. Thank you for reading, guys. I will not be updating daily from now on because the hospital I work at has been converted into a filter clinic for COVID-19 patients by WHO so I'll be busy there. Stay indoors and be safe, loves <3