"It's such a nice day out," I said, looking up into the tree where I'm sure Bryce was.

"It is," he agreed, from somewhere up in the tree.

Dawson was racing around the outskirts of the dog park, along with a Yorkie and a Chihuahua.

He was gigantic compared to them, but they didn't seem to mind.

Bryce climbed down from the tree, hopping down onto the picnic table.

He sat down on the table, letting his feet dangle off onto the bench next to me.

"He's quite the goofball," Bryce said, watching as Dawson raced around with the other dogs.

"You love him anyways."

"That I do." He let out a sigh, bracing his arms behind him and looking up to the sky. "It's too nice of a day to begin chemo again. Let's do that tomorrow."

I couldn't help but laugh, smiling at him. "We're one step closer my love."

"That's what I keep telling myself."

Dawson slowed to a slow jog, and then to a walk as the other two dogs continued to run, looking over at Bryce.

"D-dog!" Bryce called out. "You good?"

Dawson came bounding over, his tongue flying out the side of his mouth.

"Hey buddy," Bryce said, hopping off the picnic table. He dropped to his knees, scratching Dawson behind the ears and under the belly. "You tired dude?"

"He's been keeping up with those little dogs," I commented, reaching over and scratching the top of his head.

"Finding some of that long lost energy?" Bryce asked, scratching his belly.

Dawson plopped down on top of Bryce, letting his head loll to the side as Bryce continued to pet him.

"Okay," Bryce said, laughing as he gave Dawson a good shove. "Let's go home."

Dawson hopped back up to his feet, waiting for Bryce's instruction.

"Come on," Bryce said, patting Dawson's side before standing up himself. "Let's go home and take some chemo."

I smiled at Bryce.

"What?" he asked.

"You said some."

"I did?"

I nodded.

He smiled as well, planting a quick kiss on my cheek before taking off running towards my car, racing Dawson.

Some things will never change.

~*~

"I like your hat," I commented, picking it up off of Bryce's head and placing it on my own.

"Me too," he said, taking it off my head and putting it back on his own.

I laughed as he opened the art room door for me, and we walked inside hand-in-hand.

We never arrived to art together, our previous classes on the opposite ends of the school.

But Bryce had checked in late this morning, arriving just prior to this class, his mom letting him oversleep since he started chemo last night.

"I begin PT after class today," Bryce informed me, as we made our way to our seats in the back of the class.

"And then how long until you can play baseball again?"

"I find out at my three-month checkup."

"Where's Clayton?" I asked Kylie, as she twirled a paintbrush around in her hand.

She just shrugged.

"He was here earlier," Bryce commented, pulling out his phone to send him a text.

"This week's project involves clay," Ms. Jacobs announced. "Can I get four volunteers to go and get it from storage?"

Three of the boys and one girl down towards the front of the class volunteered.

A few minutes into class, Steven and Clayton both came in.

"Baseball meeting," Clayton informed Bryce, plopping down in his seat.

"Is everything good?" Bryce asked.

Clayton nodded. "Just coach being coach."

Steven took his seat on the other side of me, laying his head down on the desk.

"What's the matter with him?" I asked Clayton.

"Why do you care?" Bryce asked me.

"Watch the hostility there," I said, patting his shoulder.

He just rolled his eyes.

"I'm dying," Steven informed me, his voice deep and nasally and his eyes drooping.

"You're dying?" Kylie asked him.

"Slowly and painfully."

The volunteers that went and retrieved the clay from storage came back, and Bryce went down to get mine and his.

"I think it's a touch of the plague," Steven informed me.

"Why are you even here?" I asked him.

"Baseball game."

I remember those days. Bryce would practically be crawling to class, but you have to be present in class if you want to play in the game later that evening.

That student-athlete life.

"The instructions are easy," Bryce said, handing me my block of clay before sitting back down next to me. "Construct anything you wish to out of his block of clay."

"Anything I want?"

"Anything your heart desires."

"That's amazing."

He smiled, reaching his hand into the cup of water before setting to mold his clay.

"What are you going to make?" I asked, resting my chin on Bryce's shoulder, watching him work.

"A duck."

I lifted my head up off his shoulder to stare at him. "A duck?"

"Yeah, that animal that lives in a lake, you feed it bread, it quacks?"

"Oh shut up."

He chuckled, reaching over and pecking me on the lips.

"Aren't you going to get some clay?" Kylie asked Steven.

"No."

"Okay," Bryce conceded. "What's the matter with him?"

"He claims he's dying," I informed Bryce, as I picked up my block of clay.

What was I supposed to make out of this thing?

Bryce let out a humorless laugh.

"I am," Steven defended.

"Here," Clayton said, dropping a block of clay in front of Steven. "Pull yourself together."

"Do people ever call you Clay?" Steven asked him.

"No."

As Clayton went to slide past Bryce, he knocked off Bryce's flat bill, sending it flying across the back of the room.

"Oh shit," Clayton said. "Sorry."

"Why do you have to ruin everything?" Bryce asked, clearly being sarcastic.

"Fuck off."

Bryce chuckled, running his fingers through his half-head of hair before reaching over to try and reach his hat.

"Holy shit," Steven commented, sitting up straight.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"The swearing game is strong today," Kylie commented.

"For real," I added. "That's what we get for sitting next to a bunch of jocks."

"What is on the side of your head?" Steven asked Bryce.

Bryce successfully managed to grasp his hat before sitting back up straight. "What?"

Steven leaned across me, studying Bryce's scar. "What is that?"

Bryce resituated his hat on his head. "That's what happens after they cut your head open. Get off my girlfriend."

Steven smiled at me, shooting me a wink before retaking his seat. "I knew that you had surgery, but I didn't know you had brain surgery man."

"You're dumb as fuck," Clayton muttered.

~*~

"How'd the game go?" I asked Bryce, as I made quesadillas.

"We won," Bryce said, as he filled Dawson's food bowl. "I think it's their first win since I left."

"How'd Steven do?"

"Eh."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I pulled the first quesadilla off the stove. "Here babe."

"I miss it though."

I turned to face him, leaning against his kitchen counter. "I know you do."

"I was up on the mound before the game, throwing a few pitches to Terrell? And it was a little tough at first, but once I got my rhythm back, I was blazing."

"Just another month," I said, starting another quesadilla. "We'll get through it. How did PT go?"

"I realized that I was much weaker on my left than I originally thought."

"Really?"

He nodded, grabbing a knife and fork to cut up his completely organic quesadilla. "But it's fixable, which is nice."

"So how did the team do overall?"

"I guess Anderson didn't do too bad overall," Bryce said, with a shrug. "I warmed up a little bit with him before the game, my talent probably rubbed off on him."

"You warmed up with Steven?"

"Coach forced me to."

"I think that it's nice you two are getting along," I said, flipping my quesadilla.

Bryce readied his chemotherapy pills for the night, locating some milk to wash it down with to help with the taste.

"Don't get ahead of yourself there," Bryce warned. "I said I tossed a baseball with him, not invited him over for a sleepover."

I couldn't help but laugh, sticking my tongue out at him. "I just said that it was nice was all."

Bryce shook his head at me. "You're a weird one Ms. Allen."

~*~

I called Bryce for the third time, but there was no answer.

Bryce's mom's car wasn't here, signaling that she'd already left for work.

Or hadn't come home last night at all.

I stepped out of my car, heading around to the back door and letting myself in with the key underneath the turtle's shell.

"Bryce?" I called out, letting the back door shut behind me.

I went into his bedroom, but it was empty.

Dawson was lying in his dog bed in the corner, chewing on a bone. He briefly looked up when I walked in, and then resumed his gnawing.

"Bryce?" I called out again.

"Sorry," Bryce said, coming into his bedroom behind me.

He was wearing a pair of jeans and boat shoes, shirtless. "Just running late."

He sounded a bit stuffy.

"Are you alright?"

"I woke up with a bit of a sore throat," he said, reaching into his closet and pulled out a Guy Harvey shirt. "And my nose is a bit stuffed. But I think I'll live through it."

I wrapped my arms around him as he went to slide by me again, reaching up to feel his forehead.

He didn't feel warm.

"I'm fine," Bryce commented. "I won't kiss you in case I end up being contagious or something, but I'm fine." He squeezed my waist before sliding past me again, heading towards the bathroom. "I'm almost ready, I promise!"

We were late to school, because of Bryce, and I hardly got to see him through the day.

We had AP Chemistry together, but Bryce had to make-up a test that he'd missed.

He'd missed so much school it was hard to tell what test he was making up from when.

"So what are you making?" Kylie asked me, as the two of us sat together in art.

Neither Bryce nor Steven had shown up yet, and Clayton was hard at work for once.

"I'm making a pineapple," I informed her.

"A pineapple?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds incredibly hard."

I ignored her, dipping my hand into water as I continued on with my fruit.

I think it's cool.

Steven came into class, flashing his late pass to Ms. Jacobs before joining us.

"I see you're not dead," I commented.

"I'd rather be," Steven informed me, his voice hoarse.

"Just go home," Kylie said.

"I tried, but my mom is stuck at work and my dad is out-of-town. And the clinic only lets you stay for an hour. So now I have to come here and mold something out of clay when I'd rather be sleeping."

Not going to lie, I did feel a little bad for him.

Nobody likes being sick.

"Where is my boyfriend?" I asked Clayton.

He just shrugged, his focus entirely on his art piece.

I checked my phone, but I didn't have any messages.

Steven lied his head down on his desk, ignoring his block of clay and instead choosing to half-sleep.

About halfway through the class, the door opened and Bryce came in.

"Hey," I said, as he took his seat next to me.

"My mom is on her way," he informed me, his voice deep and nasally.

That sounded all-too familiar.

I looked over at Steven, who was still half-asleep on his desk.

I brushed my fingers across his forehead, which was burning.

"You're sick," I stated.

"That seems to be the case."

I couldn't help but smile over the fact that he said another s-word.

It seemed as though they were flowing more freely now.

He braced his elbow on his desk, leaning his head into the palm of his hand.

"I'm sure you'll feel better after a good rest," I said, squeezing his bicep.

So what did you guys think about the little part at the dog park? I love parts between Dawson & Bryce, but maybe that's just me. And then what about Steven coming to school sick? We all do it, don't we? Did you expect Bryce to get sick as well?

Teaser: Bryce gets sick from Steven. And Steven finds out a little more information about Bryce that he didn't know before.