He's standing up, leaning against the wall; he doesn't have his crutches today. There is a red cup in his hand; I'm sure it has beer in it. If he is taking fentanyl, he shouldn't be drinking. Then again, he shouldn't be drinking at all if he has ADHD.

Beside him is Matt, his arm is wrapped around his neck, he's leaning in, whispering something in his ear. Ryder smiles. I would say it was something about me, but Matt has yet to look up; he doesn't know I am in here. 

Two other boys are standing on the opposite side of the wall. At the other end of the kitchen is Ashely and some girls, a few I recognize from the cheerleading team, and the others are just ones that sit with them and are popular for no reason.

It takes all I have in me to walk over to Ryder even though his friends surround him. I really don't care; I just want to get this over with.

They stop talking as I walk up, "Can I talk to you?" I ask, keeping my eyes on him and no one else, even though I feel their wandering eyes on my body.

"I'm sorta busy right now," he responds and looks away.

Matt opens his mouth and speaks, "Nice legs," he says to me.

I look over at him; he's clearly drunk or possibly high; the glare in his eyes leading me to believe he's high.

"Thank you," I respond boldly. I look back at Ryder, "It's important,"

He looks back at me. "And it can't wait?" he asks, annoyed.

Why is he annoyed? I'm the one who should be annoyed.

"That is a nice ass also," the dark skin boy from behind me says.

I bawl my fist tightly, and they tremble. "Ryder," I growl. "Are you serious right now?"

"What the fuck do you want, Jayda?!" he shouts.

The boy behind me again speaks and says, "If you want some dick, just say that!" before placing both of his hands on my waist, pulling me back towards him.

Reflexes cause me to turn around, push him back, and punch him straight in his face. Pain shoots up my arms. I just got my cast taken off last week, and I'm already causing damage.

The rest of the boys around him cheer and burst into laughter; I watch as he wipes the blood from his lip, "Damn bitch," he says sharp.

"What did you just call me?" I step forward.

My insides are screaming, telling me to run, and go crying somewhere, but the outside of me is saying something totally different. Clearly, my alter ego has taken over.

I step forward.

Ryder moves in front of me. "Just go," he says, looking down at me.

I turn the opposite way, about to walk away from the situation I just caused, but some girl bumps right into me, spilling her drink all over me. Of course, that girl is Ashely.

"Sorry," she says before smiling.

If my arm wasn't hurting, I would punch her also. I take a deep breath and just walk away to the nearest bathroom closing the door behind me.

I close the door and lean back, breathing in and out; my breath gets stuck in my lungs, and I gasp for air against the door.

What the hell was I thinking?

I should have just turned around.

Why did I go in there?

And Ryder. Ugh! He's such an ass. What the hell is wrong with him?

I knew it. I freaking knew it; this whole friend thing was not going to last forever; every time he gets around his stupid buddies, he changes and becomes a whole nother person.

I was stupid to think he was actually changing.

My hand fucking hurts. I open and close it repeatedly, trying to loosen the stiffness. I walk over to the mirror and just stare at myself.

What was I thinking wearing this outfit?

Every time I dress up, someone has something to say.

Can't I just do whatever the hell I want?

Wear whatever the hell I want.

Boys. I hate them.

Just because I wear something that shows a little skin doesn't give them the right to look at me and to touch me without my permission. Why are my clothes and what I choose to put on such a distraction to them?

Does what I wear give them permission to touch me? To look at me with sex, hungry eyes?

No. Of course not.

I turn on the knobs of the sink and then splash my face with water. Then use paper towels beside me to dry my face and then throw it in the trash.

I give up. I'm going straight home and climbing back into my bed. I forcefully open the door, it stops and doesn't open all the way because it hits something, someone.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I ask, frantic after coming from around the door to see what I hit. The boy is hunched over, and then he lifts up. My mouth drops open, "Alexander!"

He holds his nose, "Ah, Jayda, I should've known it was you," he leans his head back in pain.

"I can't believe this happened again; I'm so sorry," Like last time, I eye him up and down, making sure that there is no blood.

He stands up straighter and then removes his hands from his nose. He looks even better than before now; how?

"Don't be sorry, darling; obviously, something in this world wants us to cross paths like this," he gives me that charming smile along with the accent, and like before, it makes my heart melt.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Evelyn invited me,"

"Right," I forgot she teaches at his school.

"So?"

"So.." I repeat.

"You did get my number from Katherine, right?"

"Yeah," My cheeks warm. I never called him. If things didn't go down the way they did in New York, maybe I would have used it. "So much happened the next day, I-"

"Your seizures?"

"How did you know?"

He smiles and puts his hands in his pockets, "I uh, asked Evelyn about you," his cheeks turn red.

"You did?"

"Of course, I wasn't just going to forget about you," he says as if I should have known. I look down, trying to hide my smile. "So, are you going to NYU?"

Ryder must have told Evelyn about the interview; that's how he knows where I was at.

"Uh no," I rub the back of my neck. "Things didn't really work out,"

"So you're not coming to New York after high school?" he asks.

"I-, I don't don't know yet," I reply. "I'm still trying to figure out if college is the best thing for me,"

"Whatever you choose, make sure you choose it because it's what you want to do,"

"Do you want to explain your wise knowledge?" You can't just say something like that off the top of your head.

He smiles and says, "I love music, I love being a musician, it's my passion, it's me, my make up,"

I knew this without him, even telling me. The night at the play, I found myself being compelled by his playing, his devotion to the music.

"But I always wanted to be a doctor,"

"A doctor?" I was not expecting that.

"Or a humanitarian, anything involving helping people," he explains.

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just always seemed like the best thing to do; we only live one life, so why not use it to help other people and make this world better for future generations," he says with conviction. "Humans spend years selfishly pursuing goals for their own personal benefit, and to what end? To die. Why do all of that when you can travel the world helping people and making the world a better place for your offspring and every other person after you,"

A smile creeps at the side of my mouth.

"I know you probably think I'm crazy now,"

"No, no, of course not. I get it, I really do,"

He looks at me and smiles back also; we spend the next few seconds just awkwardly smiling at each other.

Evelyn walks up and says, "Jayda, your mom is looking for her coat. Could you run upstairs and get it? The coat room is the second door on the right,"

"Yeah, sure," I look back at Alexander, "I'll find you in a few minutes; I want to hear more about your humanitarian dream,"

He smiles. Evelyn looks between him and me. I turn around and walk up the stairs, smiling hard as ever. Maybe I'll stick around for a few more minutes.

Crap, I forgot what door she said. It was his freaking smile; how could anyone think while he's smiling at you.

Maybe it's this one. Nope, not it, it's an empty room filled with boxes. I try the door beside it. It's a bedroom, most likely a guest room.

I try the next few doors and then come upon an intriguing room.

It's photos everywhere I walk farther into, being drawn in by the artistic pull. Some images are framed, some are hanging on a line with a clip. I look at the pictures on the line. Most of the photos on the line are just of the sky. The starry night sky. They're all beautiful.

There is artwork also. Paintings.

Whoever took these did a good job? The way they were able to capture the setting and tell a whole story.

As a photographer, when you take a picture, you aren't just taking a shot; you're making a story.

I grab one of the pictures of the line—the starry night sky one. It matches the painting on the other side of the room. It's an exact replica.

The fringes of the canvas run across my fingertips; it's so beautiful; not only is this artist capturing the scene in one photo but there remaking it onto the canvas. I place the picture back on the line and then walk over by the window; there's a sketchbook against it.

I flip through the drawings, gazing at the black and white sketches that hold so much power and tell such a vivid story—especially this one; it's a black page with intriguing eyes.

With one pencil, they were able to tell a whole story with just drawing eyes. Beautiful eyes that hold so much pain.

"Beautiful, right?!" A voice startles me at the door. I jump and then quickly close the sketchbook. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says.

I look over at the boy...well, man. He looks young, but the stubble on his face adds a few years. He's tall and wearing a black and white suit. His short black hair is full-on top but faded at the sides.

"You didn't scare me," I say.

He walks more into the room; his mysteriousness puts me on edge; I watch him closely as he moves around, looking at the photos, also.

He grabs a picture from one of the lines and walks over to me; he's inches away.

He says, "Photography takes an instant out of time altering life by holding it still,"

"Dorothea Lange," I say because it's who he just quoted.

He looks at me, asking himself how I could possibly know that. "Correct,"

He grabs the sketchbook from behind me and flips through it, "The painter has the universe of his mind and hands,"

"Leonardo Da Vinci," Who doesn't know that one.

"Very good," he gives me a pleased nod,

"Who are you?" I ask, tired of this game, whatever it is. I'm sure if he quoted more quotes, I would know who said them also. So there is no point in sitting here and going through them.

He sits the sketchbook down back in the window and then walks over, placing the photo back on the line, "I'm sort of offending by that,"

"Why?" I narrow my eyes. "Have we met before?" he looks slightly familiar, not like I have seen him before, maybe in passing. He looks back at me and walks closer; I take two steps back. "So, are you not going to tell me who you are?"

He opens his mouth to speak hopefully about to tell me his identity, but Ryder appears at the door; he looks at me and then looks at the nameless man.

The man notices me looking behind him, so he turns around.

"What are you doing here, Jacob?" Ryder asks.

The man smiles, and says "Hello brother,"

12/31/2020 11:00

~~~

(LMAO I had to have him say it I couldn't pass up the opportunity lol... I have been waiting to reveal this for so long ugh!!! I was going to have him come to the Christmas party but it made no sense for him to be there, but sheesh omg, stayed up all night writing this! Were you schooked?

Here's the casting

Alexander Harris-  Gregg Sulkin *aka chase from Marvel Runaways, Will from Avalon High and Mason Wizards of Waverly places if you still don't know he was the boy that was supper to play Hardin in after!

Jacob Adams-  Robbie Amell * aka Wesley from The Duff, and Firestorm in the flash like in season one he was married to Caitlin

Hope you guys enjoyed I'll be updating this weekend hopefully! Y'all not ready for when the clock strike midnight🥺)