The final bell of the day rang, and I slowly slumped down in my seat, my head pounding.

The stress from my AP Chemistry class had finally caught up to me. The AP Chemistry test was just around the corner, and I was feeling the extra pressure.

I exited my classroom, massaging my temples as I headed out to the hallway to grab my books out of my locker that I'd need tonight.

Mostly just AP Chemistry so I could stress myself out even more.

I passed Clayton in the hallway who was standing by his locker, frowning down at his phone.

"Why do you look like your cat just died?" I asked Clayton.

"If I had a cat, it would've been dead long before now," he muttered.

Oh my God.

"Morbid much?"

"My dad hates cats."

Well I guess that's a little better. Still scary though.

"It's Bryce," Clayton said, looking up from his phone to look at me. "Have you heard from him?"

"This morning," I said, leaning against the wall. "He wasn't feeling well, so he skipped out on school. Why?"

"Well I mean is he still asleep? School's out, that would mean he's been asleep all day."

I just shrugged. "I haven't heard from him, so I guess I just assumed he was."

Clayton's frown deepened, and he glanced back down at his phone again.

"He slept all day yesterday too," I pointed out. "It's the new dosage of Chemo."

"Well I don't like the new dosage of Chemo," Clayton muttered, pulling some books out of his locker.

"Well as long as your cat is okay, I think our conversation is done here," I said, offering him a half-smile before turning to head down the hallway.

And then I heard the crack of thunder that practically shook the school.

"Shit," Clayton muttered behind me.

I let out a long sigh, pulling my phone out of my back pocket.

Nothing from Bryce.

"I'll go," Clayton said, pushing past me and heading out of the school hallway.

I wanted to argue with him, but my headache stated otherwise.

I really needed some Advil.

"We're free!" Kylie announced, as she practically sprinted out of the school building.

"Slow down, would you?" I called, laughing as I stumbled along behind her.

It was starting to rain outside, the big, fat raindrops.

Which meant it wouldn't be long before the back parking lot became a free-for-all mud pit.

She slowed to a stop, laughing. "You can't hang out in the school hallway after the bell rings," she lectured. "You're free, act like it."

"I'm in need of a nap," I informed her. "How do I act like that?"

"Like a grumpy guss, I think you've got that covered."

I chuckled, running my fingers through my hair as I reached my car.

Another crack of thunder brought goose bumps to the surface of my skin.

"Damn," Kylie muttered, peering up at the sky.

I unlocked my car, tossing my backpack in the passenger seat. "I guess I'll see you back in Hell tomorrow."

Kylie slapped my upper arm, shaking her head. "Sophie Allen!"

I shot her a teasing smile before heading around to my driver's side, bidding her goodbye before slipping inside.

I opened up my glove compartment, pulling out the bottle of Advil.

Empty. Of course.

I lied back in my seat with a long sigh, closing my eyes for a few moments.

I should go make sure that Bryce's house is still in one piece.

But Clayton said he was going to take care of it.

But it's Clayton.

I let out a long sigh, putting my car in reverse and leaving the school property.

I really just wanted to go home and take a long, hot shower before crawling into bed.

But I swung by Bryce's house on my way home, letting out a long sigh as I turned off my ignition in his driveway.

Just for a quick minute.

Clayton's car was in the driveway as I walked up to the front door, so I went ahead and let myself inside.

I was met by the sound of a loud crash.

"Dawson!" Clayton called out. "Damn dog."

I rolled my eyes, tossing my keys on the front table.

That's what I get for trusting Clayton to take care of anything.

I headed into the living room, where Clayton was sitting in the middle of the floor, a frustrated expression on his face.

"Glad to see that you have everything under control," I commented, nodding towards the fallen lamp in the corner, as well as the tipped over barstool.

"The dog is like that insane mutt from Marley and Me," Clayton muttered, glaring up at me.

"That dog was adorable," I corrected. "And Dawson is just afraid of thunder."

"Afraid is not the correct term."

"Where is he now?"

"He scurried back to Bryce's room and I think he's under the bed."

I went over and picked up the barstool, and Clayton picked himself up off the floor, picking up the broken lamp.

There were bits of glass on the floor where the lamp had fallen.

"Sweep that up?" I suggested, before heading back to Bryce's room.

Bryce was stretched out on his bed, Hairspray playing on his TV.

Only of course.

"I thought I heard your voice," Bryce said, his voice deep and groggy.

I sat down next to him on the bed, and he propped himself up and gave me a quick kiss.

"How're you feeling?" I asked.

"Like I've been dragged through the mud."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I already told Clayton that I felt like I've been hit by a truck," he explained. "So I had to come up with something else."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Have you seen Dawson?"

"He's under the bed I think," Bryce said, letting out a sigh as he leaned off the side of the bed, checking underneath. "Yeah, he's under there. He's got a bone."

I rolled my eyes.

"He went into panic mode at the first crack of thunder," Bryce informed me, repositioning himself on the bed. "And I don't have the energy to deal with him. So whatever he wants to do or destroy, that's on him."

"Did you talk to your doctor?" I asked, laying down next to him.

"My mom called him this morning. She left me a note on the counter. Apparently it's just the poison wreaking havoc in my body, so I've got to let it take it's course."

I let out a long sigh, raising my eyebrows at him.

I hate it when he says things like that.

"What?" he asked, with a slight laugh.

"I hate it when you talk like that."

He reached over and kissed my cheek.

Another crack of thunder went off outside, so loud that it shook the window panes.

"Shit," Bryce muttered.

Dawson shot out from underneath the bed, like a black streak as he ran out of Bryce's room.

"Fuck!" Clayton called, as a crashing noise came from the living room.

Bryce let out a long sigh, letting his head drop back down onto the bed.

"Isn't there anything you can do for him?" I asked. "In Marley and Me they used to give the dog a pill, remember?"

"We've given Dawson all kinds of sedatives," he stated, glancing back up at me. "Tried all sorts of medications. He still freaks out at the sound of thunder." He rolled over onto his back, letting out another sigh. "My mom took him to the vet last week, and they supposedly prescribed something else. But I haven't been able to get ahold of her to find out what it was."

I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh of my own.

I hadn't taken any Advil for my headache yet, and it was really pounding away.

"Are you okay?" Bryce asked, concernedly.

"It's just a stress headache," I said, reopening my eyes. "I was only planning on staying for a few minutes."

"Do you need me to make it better?" Bryce suggested, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

I just shook my head, unable to bite back a smile of my own.

"You're on Dawson duty next thunder crack," Clayton said, coming into Bryce's room.

"Who?" Bryce asked.

"Your girlfriend."

"No way," I declined.

Clayton took a seat on Bryce's bed, his back resting against the headboard as he let out a long sigh. "Your dog is insane."

"He's just a little scared," Bryce defended, pushing himself up and getting off the bed.

"Where are you going?" I called out after him.

Bryce disappeared and came back a few moments later, carrying Dawson.

A giant Labrador retriever.

"Why are you carrying that dog?" Clayton deadpanned.

Bryce placed him on top of Clayton before climbing back into bed.

"He's just scared," Bryce defended, wrapping his arms around Dawson and rubbing his back.

"When I'm scared I don't destroy the house," Clayton argued.

"Well you understand thunder," Bryce shot back. "He's just confused."

Clayton let out a long sigh, rolling his eyes and focusing on the TV.

"I was just at home, practicing my new twist on The Twist, when I overheard it on the news. I can't believe Tracy savagely bludgeoned an Eagle Scout. That's just not like her," Link stated.

"I bet you can quote this movie," Clayton said to Bryce.

Bryce glanced up at the TV.

"But it's just not true," Edna stated. "He didn't even bleed."

"I shoulda been there beside her," Bryce recited. "I can't sleep. I can't eat..." He cleared his throat. "You can't eat? Well, come on in and worry with us. I'll make you some pork."

Clayton rolled his eyes. "And I'm not even surprised."

Clayton's phone went off, and he reached over and answered it.

"Hey dad," he said, reaching over and patting Dawson on the head.

Bryce smiled over at me.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"But it's okay that I go, right?" Clayton asked, with a slight frown.

"Come back to bed Clayton!" Bryce called, in a falsetto voice.

Clayton took a pillow off the floor and whacked him in the face with it.

"Of course that was Bryce," Clayton agreed. "Who the hell else would be that stupid?"

He talks to his dad like that?

"Yeah, we're going to see that new horror movie," Clayton agreed. "No it wasn't my idea. Would I choose a horror movie? Who chooses a horror movie to watch for fun?"

Bryce chuckled.

"Okay, yeah I'll call you when it's over," Clayton agreed. "It might be late though." He nodded. "Okay, yeah. Curfew at what?"

Clayton usually had an earlier curfew than I did when the group of us went out. I'd never officially met his parents, but I'm guessing they were a pretty strict set of people.

"The movie won't even be over," Clayton pointed out. "Dad, I'll call you when it's over."

"Just tell him you're staying here," Bryce whispered.

Clayton nodded.

"What if I just stayed at Bryce's?" Clayton suggested. "We'll go to the movie and then I'll come back here?"

Bryce exchanged glances with me and he slightly shook his head.

Is Clayton's dad going to say no?

"Okay, that's fine," Clayton agreed. "Yeah, okay. Bye."

"He extend your curfew?" Bryce asked.

"Yeah," Clayton agreed.

"Is that something you guys normally do?" I asked.

"My parents get really strict when it comes to curfew," Clayton said, with an eye roll. "So if I'm not actually staying here, I just offer it up, and then they relent a little so I'll come home."

I wonder what boys do at sleepovers.

I know what Kylie and I do. But I highly doubt that Bryce and Clayton watch Netflix and order pizza while they complain about their relationship struggles.

"So what's a boy slumber party like?" I asked.

Clayton stared at me for a couple of moments while Bryce cracked up.

"A what?" Clayton asked.

"What do you guys do?" I asked.

Clayton just shrugged.

"We play video games," Bryce offered up.

He was now using Dawson as a pillow, his eyes trained on the movie.

But he turned to look at me to answer my question.

"That doesn't surprise me," I said, with a slight laugh. "You guys always play video games."

"Sometimes we'll watch a movie," Clayton stated. "If Bryce will compromise on anything else besides Hairspray."

"Hairspray is the only movie worth watching," Bryce argued.

"Usually we don't end up watching anything," Clayton informed me.

"That's not true," Bryce declined. "We just watched all of the Fast and Furious movies."

"You watched all of them?" I asked, my eyes widening.

What kind of sleepover binge is that?

"Not like in a row," Bryce said, with a laugh. "But we would watch like one or two each time."

Clayton nodded.

"Sounds like a great time," I said, with a laugh.

Clayton let out a sigh. "Why is it a strange concept? Like what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know, it's like you expecting me to have naked pillow fights with my friends I guess," I said, with a shrug. "It's just that I expected more from a guy sleepover."

Clayton's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, girls don't do that?"

I rolled my eyes.

"It's not that deep really," Bryce said. "Up until about midnight you pull out the video games while you binge on food. Lots of food."

"About 12 AM you start the prank calls," Clayton filled in.

He and Bryce exchanged smirks.

"1 AM you're usually just fucking hungry," Clayton said, with a shrug. "And then more video games. Because nothing goes better with food than video games."

"2 AM is when it turns into serious bro time," Bryce said, with a nod.

"What's serious bro time?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"It's just serious bro talk," Clayton said. "You know, you just talk. About life."

"And eat," Bryce filled in.

I've figured out that guy's sleepovers include a lot of food.

"3 AM is when everything turns hilarious," Clayton said, with a smirk.

"And more food," Bryce added.

"Yeah, so you're laughing your ass off and stuffing your face," Clayton said, with a nod. "3 AM is the best."

"4 AM is about when we crash," Bryce confirmed. "Unless we feel the need for more video games. But that's a rare, case-by-case basis."

I don't know what I expect out of a guy's sleepover. But this wasn't it.

"So do you guys share a bed?" I asked.

Bryce and Clayton exchanged glances.

"Usually Clayton stays in the guest room when he's here," Bryce said.

"And Bryce stays on an air mattress in the multipurpose room when he's over mine," Clayton filled in.

They were both silent for a few moments.

"Oh, but there was that one time," Clayton said, pointing at Bryce.

What one time?

Bryce raised his eyebrows at him.

"Remember, we were at my place, and it was like 10:00 and we couldn't sleep?" Clayton reminded him.

"Oh shit, don't talk about it!" Bryce exclaimed.

Wait, what?

"What's going on?" I asked, a smile spreading across my face.

"I was like 9 and Bryce was 8," Clayton filled in. "And we couldn't sleep. And my dad was watching a movie in the living room, so he invited us to come and watch it with him."

Bryce cringed, shaking his head.

"It was The fucking Centipede," Clayton informed me. "He let two kids watch The Centipede in the middle of the night."

"I was not about to go back to the multipurpose room after watching that," Bryce deadpanned.

"And I wasn't going to back to my room," Clayton filled in.

"So we ended up in Clayton's room together, and I don't think I slept alone for, like, the next month," Bryce filled in.

I could imagine a little Bryce and little Clayton snuggling up together, absolutely terrified.

"So your dad likes horror movies then?" I asked.

From their phone conversation I'd gotten the impression that he didn't.

Clayton was silent for a few moments. "Um, yes. And no."

Because that wasn't confusing.

"So he only likes certain movies?"

"My dad likes doesn't like horror movies," Clayton informed me. "But my biological dad does."

Whoa, what?

I wasn't sure what to say to that. Or what to even do in this situation.

Were Clayton's parents divorced? Or was he adopted? If you're adopted, did you know your biological parents? Was in some sort of foster care system?

I don't understand what's happening.

"My parents divorced when I was 10," Clayton explained. "And then my mom remarried when I was 13, and Taylor, the guy my mom married, adopted me."

I slowly nodded, absorbing this new information.

This could help explain so much about Clayton. If only I knew something about his biological dad.

"And it doesn't take much to explain why my parents divorced," Clayton continued. "Seeing as though his parenting skills included letting two kids watch a horror movie in the middle of the night."

"That was not just a horror movie," Bryce declined. "That was some next level shit."

Clayton laughed at that.

I glanced at the clock and let out a sigh, realizing that I'd been here close to half an hour.

This was supposed to be a quick trip.

I still had AP Chemistry to do. The test was in just under a month and there was so much preparation I had left to do.

Just thinking about the test brought back the pounding headache I'd been fighting for the second half of today.

"I think the worst of it is over," Clayton was saying to Bryce. "It's just raining right now. I don't know if we'll get anymore thunder."

Bryce scratched behind Dawson's ears with a sigh. "Good. I don't think he could take anymore."

"I've got to get going," I said to Bryce, with a frown.

"Why?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I've got a lot of studying I have to do."

"No you don't," he declined. "Stay here. With me. That's what you really want to do."

I couldn't help but smile.

Because that is what I really wanted to do. I was actually rather enjoying myself here with Bryce, and even Clayton. It'd been a relaxing getaway from the stressful day I'd had.

"At least stay until dinner," Bryce compromised. "Because Clayton's going to be leaving."

I couldn't say no those puppy dog eyes.

Curse Bryce Harrison and those eyes.

"Just until dinner," I relented. "But I've got to get some Advil first."

"In the kitchen, you know where," he said, with a smile.

I headed out into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water before opening up the medicine cabinet.

Aleve. Midol. Nasonex.

None of which I needed to help relieve my headache.

I pushed those pill bottles to the side, searching for the advil.

A prescription pill bottle caught my eye.

Librium. 5 Mg.

I felt my breath catch in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest.

Librium.

God no.

It was as though my entire world had shattered as I clutched this pill bottle in my hand.

The excessive weariness. The inability to get out of bed. The deprived amount of energy.

It was all there. And I'd brushed it off with the after-effects of Chemo.

But I was holding the sleeping pills in my hand. The exact kind and dosage that Bryce had been hooked on just short of a year ago.

How had we come back to this?

I slowly placed the Librium back down on the counter, my headache no longer a concern.

The label was burnt in my memory, and I took a sip of water to help calm my nerves.

This needs to be handled rationally.

"Clayton!" I called, slowly turning around and making my way back to Bryce's room.

He was still in the same position I'd left him, watching the movie with a blank expression on his face.

"Clayton," I repeated.