"Thank you for coming in today," Mrs. Wilcott said, with a stress smile.

"You know I'm always happy to help," I said, placing my hands on my hips as I observed the room before us.

The room that was filled with boxes and plastic soccer goals and basically everything we'd used during last summer's summer camp.

"Clayton's dad said Clayton was going to stop in after baseball practice," she said, clapping her hands together. "So we should be able to get this finished."

She had some pretty high optimism.

"And Kylie's on her way," I added. "But she had Drama Club after school."

"Girl power, okay?" Mrs. Wilcott asked, offering me a smile. "We've got this."

Right.

I flipped on the light switch as we stepped inside, letting out a long sigh.

I love working with children. I love planning events and putting smiles on their faces each and every day.

I don't, however, like physical labor of any kind. Including moving boxes and getting ready for Mrs. Wilcott's summer camp.

But it had to be done. And it was better than her having to hire people to do it, which would cost her a fortune that she doesn't have.

So the two of us began sorting through the boxes, organizing everything into the appropriate containers and folders.

It was a long and tedious process that had to be done before every summer.

"I'm sorry, I'm here!" Kylie's voice called behind us.

"Hello my dear!" Mrs. Wilcott called, waving her down. "Come on in, join the fun."

She laughed, giving Mrs. Wilcott a hug before plopping down next to me, helping me sort through my current pile of paperwork.

"The fun has only just begun," Kylie sang, with a smile.

I laughed, running my fingers through my ponytail.

"How was Drama Club?" Mrs. Wilcott asked. "What production are you guys doing this Spring?"

"Learned Ladies," she informed her. "It's not interesting at all. But you should come anyways."

"Oh you know I will. I've never missed a production."

"I tried to convince Sophie to join," Kylie said, shooting me a smile. "But she went for A-Team instead."

"I am not about to get up onstage and make a fool of myself," I said, shaking my head. "That's more your style."

The door opened again, and this time Clayton came in, followed by none other than Steven Anderson.

"You brought more help!" Mrs. Wilcott exclaimed, excitedly.

"I can't say he came willingly," Clayton said, with a half-smile. "But he's here."

"What am I here to do exactly?" Steven asked, looking around the room.

"Organize and sort my dear," Mrs. Wilcott said, standing up to greet him. "And who are you?"

"Steven Anderson."

"I'm Mrs. Wilcott, I'm so happy you came to help. Do you like pizza?"

"Yeah I guess."

"Good, because I ordered some and I would've asked you what kind you liked, but I didn't know you were coming. So I hope you're a fan of what I ordered."

He just looked around at us, confused.

I couldn't believe that Steven was actually here. I hadn't seen him in school in probably a week and a half.

"Come on," Clayton said to Steven, leading him over to the soccer goals, and the two of them began moving stuff out of the room and into the gym.

"So I'm looking for volunteers this year," Mrs. Wilcott said to us. "I've got you two girls, which you know I'm always thankful for. But I'm losing Clayton. And I haven't heard from Bryce."

I exchanged glances with Kylie.

"Uh-oh, that's all I need to know right there," Mrs. Wilcott said, setting down the file folder she was currently holding. "It's Bryce isn't it? I knew that sweet boy wouldn't blow me off."

I've never had to tell someone that Bryce has cancer. Bryce has always handled that himself.

I've had to tell people that he had a tumor. And that was scary enough for me.

"A couple of months ago," Kylie started off, after I didn't say anything, "Bryce got sick."

"Sick?" Mrs. Wilcott asked. "Now when you say it like that you make it sound worse than it probably is."

No she doesn't.

"What else do we need to move?" Steven asked, coming back into the room with Clayton right behind him.

"Hush now," Mrs. Wilcott ordered, waving her arm in their direction. "Continue please Sophie."

The two boys stopped, staring at me.

"He got these really bad migraines," I explained. "To the point to where they would make him, like, throw up and pass out."

Mrs. Wilcott didn't say anything.

"And so it was discovered that he had a tumor," I said, feeling the lump grow in my throat.

I hated talking about it.

"A brain alien," I corrected, for my own sake.

Because I didn't want it to sound any worse than it already was.

Kylie laughed at that, reaching over and squeezing my arm.

"And he had surgery to have it removed, and they did all these tests on it to make sure it wasn't anything serious."

I could see Clayton out of the corner of my eye shove his hands into his pockets, letting his gaze drop to the floor.

"And was it?" Mrs. Wilcott asked, after I was silent for a few moments.

I couldn't say it.

It wasn't fair of me not to tell her, but I couldn't make myself say it.

"It was cancerous," Clayton filled in, when I didn't say anything.

Mrs. Wilcott's hand flew up over her mouth.

"He's been on Chemo for a few months now," Clayton continued. "But he can't work here this summer because he can't be around large groups of people, like large groups of kids, because his immune system is shot."

So apparently Clayton and Bryce have talked about this. Which is weird about Bryce and I haven't even talked about this.

But Clayton probably asked Bryce first if he wanted to come help out today, and Bryce probably turned him down. Which is why Clayton brought Steven along instead.

"Oh goodness," Mrs. Wilcott said, after a large stretch of silence.

"He's okay though," I said, reaching up and wiping the one tear that had escaped from my eye. "I mean, all things considered, he's doing really well."

"So what else do you need moved?" Clayton asked Mrs. Wilcott.

She stood up, wiping her eyes as she led the boys over to where some boxes were stacked up against a wall in the back corner.

"I wonder who we're going to have to work with this summer," I said to Kylie.

"Hopefully it's my soul mate," Kylie said, with a smirk. "You already got yours, so it's only fair Mrs. Wilcott brings in mine."

~*~

"So are you coming over on Saturday morning?" Bryce asked me, leaning against the locker next to mine.

"And what would I do that for?" I asked, shutting my locker and turning to face him.

"To make me breakfast?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That was a one time thing."

"But we could make it a weekly thing."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head. "I am not that nice."

"Think about it," Bryce said, slinging his arm around my shoulders as he walked me to class, "you could come over and spend time with me every Saturday morning. It could be our new thing."

"I could come over and make you breakfast every Saturday," I corrected. "And Clayton. No."

"He isn't that bad."

"He is," I said, with a laugh. "He's a jerk and you know it."

Bryce stopped outside my classroom, leaning against the hallway wall. "People aren't born jerks."

I stared at him, cocking an eyebrow.

Was Bryce trying to go philosophical on me here?

"But that's not the point here," Bryce declined. "We've gotten way off track."

"I'm not making you breakfast. That's not a thing."

"But I thought you loved me."

"And I love my mom too. But you don't see me waking up at the crack of dawn to make her food."

"It's not the crack of dawn, it's 8:00."

"Same difference."

"Please?" Bryce asked, offering me a smile.

He knew that his smile had the ability to pretty much melt my heart.

"No."

He laughed, and I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest.

"Please?"

"No!"

He did that thing with his eyes, giving me the wounded puppy look.

I hate that boy so much.

"Bryce Harrison cut it out."

"Please?"

The wounded puppy look got me every time. And he knew it too.

"If I say that I'll come over and make you and Clayton your stupid breakfast, will you leave me alone?"

"Potentially, yes."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Okay, okay."

He laughed, reaching over and kissing me on the cheek. "So you say yes then?"

"Yes you obnoxious dork."

"Good, because there's an extra person coming too."

"What? I didn't agree to that!" I called, as Bryce took off down the hallway.

"Okay, thanks, love you, see you Saturday, bye!" Bryce called, as he rounded the corner.

That jerk.

~*~

There was a bouquet of flowers waiting for me on Bryce's counter.

Hydrangeas to be exact.

I shook my head, smelling the flowers before letting out a laugh.

Bryce was a pain, but I couldn't help but love him.

I turned on some music, deciding to make chocolate chip pancakes this morning.

I was in need of a chocolate fix.

I danced around the kitchen as I put the ingredients together, Dawson ignoring me.

I'm pretty sure the dog hates me.

"And all the boys are smoking menthols, girls are getting back rubs," I sang, as I mixed the ingredients together in a large bowl, "I will drift to you if you make yourself shake fast enough. My old aches become new again. My old friends become exes again."

"I didn't take you as a Fall Out Boy fan," Clayton said, coming into the kitchen.

"Whoa, where did the party go?" I sang, ignoring him as I danced around the kitchen. "We're ending it on the phone. I'm not gonna go home alone. Whoa, where did the party go?"

I couldn't help but laugh at myself, going back to my pancake batter.

"Is Bryce still being dramatic?" I asked, leaning over the countertop to look for him.

"Isn't he always?" Clayton asked, peering towards the door as well.

"FOB always makes things better," Bryce said, coming into the kitchen.

"Right?" I asked, with a smile.

"You know I only wanted fun and you got me all fucked up on love," Bryce sang, as he opened the fridge, looking for a water.

And then Steven Anderson walked into the kitchen.

I stared at him, unsure as to why he was currently standing in Bryce's kitchen.

Was Bryce aware that Steven Anderson was standing in the kitchen?

"Pass me a water!" Clayton called, totally unfazed by Steven's appearance.

Bryce tossed one to Clayton and then one to Steven.

Wait, what?

"This is the third person that's training with you this morning?" I asked Bryce.

Bryce nodded, taking a sip from his water bottle.

"Whoa, where did the party go?" Clayton shouted, as he headed towards the back door. "We're ending it on the phone."

Bryce chuckled, nodding towards Steven before heading towards the back door.

Steven flashed me a smile before following the other two outside.

I've never felt so lost in my entire life.

I poured the first round of pancakes out onto the griddle before peering out the window.

The three boys were training outside together while Dawson ran circles around them, barking excitedly.

It was like I was standing in a parallel dimension.

After a few more minutes, they came back inside.

"Someone explain to me what's going on," I said, as I pulled the first round of pancakes off the griddle.

"People do this magical thing called working out," Clayton informed me. "It's where-"

And that's as far as he got before Bryce elbowed him in the side. Hard.

"She's making you breakfast," Bryce informed him. "Be less of an asshole."

Clayton glared at Bryce, but didn't say anything else.

"Coach wasn't going to start Anderson in Districts," Bryce informed me, as he leaned against the counter. "And so my first action plan was to rejoin the team and take his place."

Steven huffed, rolling his eyes.

"But my doctor denied my request, saying that I have to go through my first round of increased Chemo first," Bryce said, with a sigh. "And see how that all that goes. And that's not going to happen before Districts. So my next brilliant idea was to get Anderson ready for Districts."

"I am ready," Steven argued, as he bit into a pancake.

Clayton and Bryce both gave him a look.

"Almost," Steven amended.

"Clayton's been training with him after practice every day this week," Bryce informed me. "And then we did this today. And then tomorrow he can my spot at the baseball fields, even though he's an asshole and he doesn't deserve it."

Steven glared at him.

"So we're hoping that with all of our hard work, Coach will repeal his decision and allow Anderson to start," Clayton informed me, as he grabbed another bottle of water.

"So why not just show up to practice in the first place?" I asked.

Bryce and Clayton exchanged glances, and Steven swallowed the pancake mess in his mouth, a stoic expression on his face.

Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

"Do you guys want breakfast?" I asked Bryce and Clayton, changing the subject.

"In a minute," Bryce said, at the same time Clayton said, "what is it?"

"Chocolate chip pancakes," I informed Clayton.

"Who puts chocolate in pancakes?"

The three of us just stared at him.

"You've never had a chocolate chip pancake?" Steven asked him.

"I'm guessing that that's some sort of carnal sin?" Clayton asked, laughing.

"Eat it," Steven said, taking a pancake and shoving it at him.

Clayton took a seat on one of the barstools, drowning his pancake in syrup.

"Are you guys going to watch me like that as I eat this?" Clayton asked.

We all nodded.

He sighed, taking a bite of the pancake.

"It's fine I guess," Clayton said, with a shrug.

"You're such a liar," Bryce said, with a laugh. "You can't eat a chocolate chip pancake and say that it's fine. You just tasted Heaven in your mouth."

Clayton rolled his eyes, taking another bite.

And that's how I knew that he liked it.

"Thank you for the flowers," I said to Bryce, as he came around the kitchen counter.

"Did you like them?"

"Of course."

He leaned over and gave me a light kiss on the lips.

He tasted like salty sweat. Which wasn't appetizing, but I didn't mind all too much because I love kissing Bryce Harrison.

"Get that somewhere else," Steven called out.

"I actually agree with the kid," Clayton said. "Keep that out of the kitchen while the rest of human civilization tries to enjoy breakfast."

"Ha!" I called out, turning to face him. "So you are enjoying my pancakes."

He ignored me, taking a sip of his water.

I just smiled, reaching over and taking a bite of my what was supposed to be Bryce's pancake.

There were a few minutes of silence between the four of us, comfortable silence filled with the clinking of silverware as we all enjoyed my wonderful breakfast.

"So Bryce, would you consider sharing your girlfriend?" Steven asked, as he finished his first pancake. "Because I'd like someone to come cook me breakfast in the mornings."

Bryce lowered his eyes at Steven, his mouth full of pancake. "Shut it Anderson."

His voice was deep, a cold edge to it. His jealousy voice.

Steven laughed. "Just curious."

~*~

"I personally think you look very sexy with your glasses on," I said, my arms looped around Bryce's neck.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, like a sexy professor look."

He bent down and kissed me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

Bryce went to deepen the kiss, and I hooked my leg around his waist, tightening my arms around his neck.

There was no feeling like kissing Bryce Harrison. There was so much passion behind it, I could almost feel his desire to want to be in this moment with me, right here, right now.

I've heard people describe making out with someone like the person kissing you with a sense of urgency or hunger, but that's not what I felt with Bryce. I felt as though we were the only two people on the planet in that moment, and you knew it would eventually have to end, but in this moment it felt as though it never would.

"You come in the dugout to drop off your gear and find The Golden Couple in the middle of a makeout session," a familiar voice said behind us.

I stumbled away from Bryce, feeling my cheeks heating up.

The edges of Bryce's lips tilted up into a smile.

"Maybe you shouldn't interrupt next time," Bryce said, looking over at Steven.

"I'm afraid that if I didn't we were going to end up with little Bryce and Sophie babies," Steven said, with a smirk.

I patted my cheeks, staring at the ground to avoid eye contact with either one of them.

We were in a public place. That should've never escalated that far.

"She's embarrassed, that's cute," Steven crowed.

"Get out," Bryce ordered.

"But I need to-"

"Out," Bryce repeated.

Steven mumbled some obscenities to himself as he left the dugout.

"Oh my God that was embarrassing," I muttered.

Bryce laughed, hooking to fingers under my chin and tilting my head up so I looking into his eyes.

"I love you," he reminded me, a smile plastered on his face. "And it's not embarrassing unless you let it be."

"He walked in on us making out. Like, really making out."

"As opposed to fake making out?"

I laughed, feeling my cheeks heating up even more.

"You're cute," Bryce said, wrapping his arm around me. "Couples make out Sophie. It's fine."

"Not in a public place."

"We're in dugout. It's not like we're on a park bench or in the middle of Starbucks. Relax."

I let out a sigh. "Just go get ready or whatever."

He laughed again, kissing my cheek. "Go ahead and tell Anderson that he can come get ready. It's make out free."

I could feel my cheeks heating up again. "Shut up."

He couldn't stop laughing as I left the dugout.

Steven and Clayton were leaning against the fence, and they both smirked when they saw me.

"All good?" Steven asked me.

"Shut up."

"Can I go in? Or do you two have some unfinished business you need to attend to?"

I ignored him, and he laughed as he headed into the dugout.

"So that's what your about, huh?" Clayton teased, as I leaned against the fence. "Church in the morning and hot makeout sessions in the afternoon?"

I could feel my cheeks heating up again.

"I didn't take you as that kind of girl," Clayton continued, his smile widening. "Impressive."

"Go away Clayton."

"What else do you and Bryce like to do?"

"You're such a dick."

He just wiggled his eyebrows.

Bryce came out of the dugout.

"Are you giving my girl a hard time?" he asked Clayton, raising an eyebrow.

My heart did a little flip at the words "my girl".

It doesn't matter how many years we're together, the little things will never cease to matter.

"Always," Clayton said, with a smirk.

Bryce shook his head, pulling an arm around my waist. "Want to bat today?"

"No," I declined.

Bryce chuckled, kissing the top of my head. "Worth a shot."