Julianne crossed her arms over her chest. “Remember, if Brady—”

“He’s not going to say anything to her,” Weston said with a mouthful. “Don’t worry.”

Julianne frowned. “I’m worried about you, too. You’re lucky you’re not getting suspended.”

Weston scooped another large bite into his mouth. “They can’t suspend me if they’re not suspending Brady, and Brett and Lynn wouldn’t let that go down, so I’m safe.”

“So,” Julianne said, leaning against the counter beside the stove, “if he starts anything, you’ll shut him down, right?”

“Right,” Weston said with a nod.

“And not by escalating the situation?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded again.

“I’m really okay,” I began.

“I’m at her locker between classes,” Weston said.

“What about the classes she has with Brady? Or his friends?” Julianne asked.

“I’m here,” I said a little louder than I’d intended.

Julianne covered her mouth. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” I said. “It’s not my first rodeo. I can handle Brady. I don’t need anyone shutting him down.”

Julianne took a step. “I’m just…we’re so close to the end. I want this week to be all good memories for you.”

“Thank you.” I took a breath. “But you can’t keep me safe all the time. You can’t ensure that bad things won’t happen. I’m better equipped to handle Brady and anyone like him anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to deal with him, especially not this week,” Weston said.

“I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me,” I said, my tone too sharp.

“You don’t need anyone at all,” Weston said, pushing his nearly empty plate toward Julianne. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“I’ll be in the truck,” he mumbled before leaving us alone in the kitchen.

I shook my head.

“Is everything okay?” Julianne asked.

“He was upset last night and hyper this morning. Now, he’s upset again. I can’t keep up.”

“It’s tough,” she said.

I could tell she was purposefully avoiding a true response.

“What am I missing?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I…don’t know, honey. I couldn’t begin to imagine what is going through his head.”

“But you have an idea,” I said.

Julianne swallowed, already regretting her next words. “Maybe feeling strongly about you is…difficult when he doesn’t know where you stand.”

“But he knows how I feel about him. I don’t know how else to make him feel better, except for making him promises I can’t keep.”

“He’s worried about what will happen after the fall semester starts. Boys are just as emotional as girls. They just don’t always feel things as intensely as we do. And when they do…well, they just don’t know how to handle it.”

“Clearly,” I said, standing.

“I put your backpack by the door last night.”

“Thank you.” I waved to her before walking down the hall.

Grabbing my bag, I swung the straps over my shoulders and then walked to Weston’s truck. He was standing next to the open passenger door, looking down at his phone while he tapped on it with his thumbs.

I climbed into my seat, but my quiet thank-you didn’t get a response.

When Weston sat behind the steering wheel, he reached over for my hand. When I didn’t take his hand, he looked up at me.

“Talk to me,” I said.

He reached for my hand again. I expectantly watched him.

He sighed. “Talk to you about what?”

“Your mood last night. Your polar opposite mood this morning. Your mood now. What you’re thinking. What you’re worried about. Everything you’re not saying, I want you to put it out there.”

“That will take longer than we have before class.”

“Then, we’ll be late.”

Weston thought for a moment, and then he shifted the gear into drive, pulling away from the curb without another word. Even though I lived inside my head most of the time and didn’t quite understand how particularly chatty people always seemed to have something to say, the silence was suffocating.

After we reached an open parking spot in the high school lot, Weston got out and then helped me to the pavement. He began to walk into the building, but I didn’t move. He turned around and held out his hands long enough to let them slap to his thighs.

“Come on, babe. We’re gonna be late.”

“Why won’t you talk to me about this?” I asked.

“Because it’s a long conversation, and we have classes.”

“You could have talked to me last night.”

“It was late.”

“So, you’re just waiting for the right time?”

“Yes.”

“So, it’s important.”

“Yes.” Then, he shook his head. “No. I don’t know. You want to talk about it, so I guess we’re talking about it.”

My eyes narrowed. “Just tell me why you were so happy this morning and what changed.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was a stupid idea, and I just realized that it won’t matter.”

“What won’t matter?”

The bell rang, and Weston sighed. “C’mon, Erin. We can talk about it later.”

A loud conversation erupted in my mind. The words wait, patience, and now came up the most.

Weston held out his hand. Part of me wanted to roll myself up in his arms, and the other wanted to slap his hand away. Then, I realized that my thoughts and emotions were just as jarring as his behavior, so I couldn’t fault him for whatever was going on in his head.

“Promise?” I asked.

“Promise,” he said, jutting his hand out for me.

We walked together through the double doors and then down the hall toward my locker. Weston gave me a quick peck before jogging down B Hall for his class, and I hurried to Bio.

Brady was in his seat, scribbling in his notebook. He barely noticed me come in. The swelling had gone down in his eyes, but it was still obvious that Weston had gotten in more than one good hit.