Of course it's David who speaks first. His voice—which would be, like, a nice voice, if it weren't attached to him of all people—is grating, but at least it jerks me back to reality. "A phone number, huh?"

I swear I can feel my heartbeat pounding all the way up in my ears. The world is at half-speed as I turn around to glance up at him. He's not that tall, but when I'm sitting down like this, he's got well over a head on me. My mouth opens and closes like a fish while I try to think of something to say. I spot Josiah out of the corner of my eye, his attention obviously captured. Those blue, blue eyes stare straight into my own, and I'm left breathless for just a moment.

Then someone snickers, and I whirl back around to face Sirina. Sirina is safe. Sirina isn't about to make fun of me for this. And she's got to be seeing this exactly how I am.

Whoever sent this candy gram is seriously, seriously fucked up.

"Are you gonna text it?" Squawky Sadie asks, twirling a strand of white-blonde hair around her finger. "I mean, the number. Do you—"

"Nah." I make a weird face when I say it. My lip pulls back into this awkward, albeit momentary, sneer, and I hate that there's a prickling behind my eyes. "It's probably just a practical joke."

"Nick." Sirina's voice is soft, but assured. "You don't know that for sure."

I try to smile but fail. Because, yes. I do know that for sure. I'd be wasting my time worrying about this stupid number. If there was another gay guy at Hardin High—at least one I could see myself dating—I'd know about him. Surely.

This is just a joke. A cruel, sick joke.

I toss the paper down on the desk and turn back to her, propping my elbow up on the back of the chair, my hand furling into a white-knuckled fist. I rest my cheek against it and try to smile. "At least I got candy."

"Nick—" Sirina starts again.

"You should text it, dude," David says. "You never know. Maybe it's legit."

"He's right, you should," Sirina says, and I can tell she's smiling up at David. They're kind of friends—the 'kind of friends' you have from sharing a shit-ton of extra-curriculars, who are more than acquaintances, but still probably won't be invited to your future wedding—and I hate it when I'm stuck between them in conversations. Sirina gets along with everyone, but being the cream in a Sirina–David Oreo is really not my vibe.

I cross my arms. "I feel super fine not texting this number, but thanks, guys."

"Are you serious?" Edward puts his AirPods back in his case, which means he means business. "Dude, someone clearly has a thing for you. At least find out who it is."

"Um, sorry, Edward, but I'm very okay with not doing that." I almost say remember what happened last time, until I remember, he was a part of that. I get a little quieter—I don't want people listening in on this right now. "I just don't think it's legit. So, like, kudos to whoever paid three dollars for this, but I'm sorry. Either have the balls to come up and speak to me in person like an actual human being, or just don't speak to me at all."

Behind us, the rest of the class resumes its idle chatter, and I hear Maggie Law say, "Asif, stawwwp iiiit," meaning order has been restored.

Squawky Sadie purses her lips. "Nick, I love you, but ... you're not really that approachable."

"Seconding this," says Edward. I watch, crestfallen, as Sirina nods in agreement.

"Like, I've known you since the second grade." Sadie has stopped twirling her hair and has now switched to attempting to throw it up in a messy bun. Each attempt is less successful than the last. "And I've been scared of you for pretty much our entire lives."

"I'm scary?"

"Not scary," Sirina says. "You just have a really potent resting bitch face. And we all love that about you. It just makes it a little difficult to talk to you for the first time, when you've got the whole bitch face thing going on, and you're so quiet, but you're also not afraid to be judgy out-loud. Which, again, love that about you. But you can see how that might make you intimidating to some people, right?"

"I'm intimidating?"

There's a hand on my shoulder, and I instinctively flinch away. But it's just Josiah, leaning over my desk as a sort of barricade between me and David. He's surprisingly close, with his easy-going smile and his alluring green apple smell. I don't want to huff my friend's scent, but goddamn, this boy smells good. And I feel creepy.

"You're slightly intimidating," he says, and my heart skips several beats. He keeps his hand on my shoulder, and I wish I could feel it better. That his hand would be warm enough so that I could feel its heat through my thick sweatshirt. "But it's not a bad thing, really. You're just scary good at a lot of things, and you're quiet, and I think it's easy to misinterpret your aloofness for, um...."

"Misanthropy?" Sirina suggests.

Josiah blinks. "Yeah, um, probably. Yeah."

He retracts his hand. I resume normal breathing activities.

And then David decides to also grab my shoulder. The regular normal breathing activities come to a full stop.

"I don't think you're intimidating," he says, his head cocked slightly. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but the cocked head is low-key giving the trailer park begging scene in Bolt, and I can't unsee it. "I just think you're a dork."

Sirina groans. I force a smile, because I seriously cannot tell if this is supposed to be a compliment or not. My teeth are literally gritted. I don't know if I've ever gritted my teeth to such an extent before. "Thanks, David."

He beams. "No problem!"

I, like, actually hate it here.

Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Enze, looks up from her desk and squints at Asif and Maggie, whose giggling has reached a high-point. "Alright, Cupids," she says, not bothering to stand, "don't you have somewhere to be?"

David glances down at me, still smiling. "Text the number." He's walking backwards when he repeats it: "Text the number."

I realize I'm making the scrunchy face again.

"So let's see this then?" Josiah says, still leaning across the desk. Fuck, okay, his breath is right against my neck as he reaches for the paper. He snatches it up from off the desk but doesn't move back to read it—just lingers there next to me, scrutinizing the simple message as if there's some kind of secret component to it that one of us wasn't smart enough to pick up on.

He hands it back to me, and I feel a thrill when our fingers brush. "I don't know, Nick, maybe you should give it a go."

"Are you shitting me?"

"Nick," Ms. Enze calls from the back of the room, "watch the language, please."

My skin feels itchy. I really don't want to be having this conversation here, in front of everyone and their dog. "Guys." I whisper it. My gaze is focused on my hands, clasped together in my lap. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Can I just ask, why?" Sirina asks quietly. "What if this is someone who really actually likes you?"

I shrug. "Come up and tell me to my face?"

"Would you tell someone if you had a crush on them?" Josiah asks. He's quiet, too, and it gives his voice this crazy gravelly quality. Not hoarse, but low and rumbly and soft and ugh. "Like, would you be confident enough to go up to someone and say, 'Hey, I like you?' and maybe be rejected?"

"I mean—"

"Nick," Sirina says.

I groan. "Yeah, okay, so no. But that doesn't mean that this is that kind of situation."

"What kind of situation do you think it is?" Sadie asks.

"I...." Should I say it? It feels pathetic enough just to think about it. Saying it out loud might be enough to give me an aneurism, honestly. "It's probably just a joke or a prank or something."

"Nick," Sirina says, softer this time.

I force a laugh. "No, no, it's okay, don't worry about it. Just, who at this school can we think of that would be into me? Unless they, like, don't know I'm gay. You guys remember when the soccer team kept trying to catfish me as a 'secret admirer'? It's probably them, or some adjacent group. So, seriously, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"You won't know unless you try it," Josiah says, and he puts his hand on my shoulder again. When he gives me a small squeeze, it's somehow the perfect amount of pressure; it makes me want to lean into him and let him keep murmuring into my ear, telling me soft things with that early morning rasp of his.

Not that there's even the slightest, remotest chance of that happening.

"Seconding Josiah," Sirina says, reaching over and giving my hand a similarly comforting squeeze. "I'll be here to beat up anyone who tries to fuck with you, okay? Just, give it a go. You never know."

Neither of them remove their hands. I know all four of them—Sirina, Josiah, Edward, Sadie—are staring at me, just as attentive as I'm staring at the envelope, and at the little semi-folded note next to it.

I try not to shudder as I exhale, but I can't help it. This is nervewracking as fuck.

I slip my hand into my sweatshirt pocket, ready to slide out my phone. "One of you guys needs to cover me," I hiss. For such a young teacher, Ms. Enze is strict about no phones during homeroom.

Wordlessly, Josiah shifts closer to me. I know it's just to block Ms. Enze's line of sight, but I can feel his soft exhales in my hair and that green apple smell is back and I think I'm going to die, right here, right here in this chair.

"What are you gonna say?" he murmurs, and it's so quiet, I feel like it is truly meant just for me.

I'm frozen. Too nervous to answer, to respond. "I ... dunno."

My fingers are stiff and uncoordinated as I type in the number—the completely unfamiliar number—and send a message before I can overthink it.

Just: hi, this is nick.

I shove my phone in my pocket as soon as I see it—the read receipt.

He's seen it.

A/N - I survived finals. Somehow.

If you're reading, hi!! Thank you!!!! Hope you're enjoying thus far! I'd love to hear your thoughts. See you next time!! <3333