Stupid Aubrey was nice enough to keep me steady while I sorted the dangling thread. After that, I raced over to Ben and assumed the seat in front of him, grabbing my bag back that he'd been looking after for me. He looked at me with bewilderment, arms crossed on the table while he leaned forward.

Judging by his expression, it seemed like there were so many things he wanted to say to me right then. And I couldn't blame him; this was a train wreck. Nothing at all like how it played out in my head. I could hear the familiar voices of Ikeisha and her friends sitting a couple of tables behind him. Tilting over sideways, I subtly looked past him to see them eating, immersed in fun conversation and laughter.

Ben spoke, pulling my attention back to him. "That was horrific," he said, enunciating each word with unspeakable despair.

"Why're you saying that like it happened to you and not me?" I asked, drumming my fingers against the table.

He faced me head-on, like a bull to a matador, puffs of smoke blowing out of his nose and ears. "Why did you come over here anyway?" he asked, lowering his voice into an aggressive whisper. "You said the focus wouldn't be on me and yet I can literally feel Trey's eyes boring into the back of my head."

It was such an obnoxious statement that I smirked, closing my eyes and shaking my head. "He's not looking at you," I said with utmost confidence.

"He is!" Ben protested; thick brows furrowing to look like a vulnerable puppy.

I couldn't say too much about him because he was my best friend, but to be honest, he was pretty easy on the eye. His lashes were weirdly lighter than his hair, but they were long and thick, making his eye color appear brighter than I think it was. He had a strong, masculine jawline that tensed a lot. It happened mostly during conversations like this; usually directed at me.

"He isn't," I insisted, folding my arms and challenging him. "Why would he be?"

Ben looked beyond peeved. "I can literally feel my head about to blow up."

"That's because it's too fat," I said. That was a lie. He's built like a hog, but in that really muscular, thick, sports fiend sort of way. Strictly speaking, the likes of me or Jude could thumb wrestle him and be lifted off the ground. The likes of Liam might be forced to tippy-toe a little. As for Goose... well, to be honest, I was a little curious to see who'd come out on top with that one.

"He's not looking at you." To further my point, I leaned over sideways again, catching another glimpse of the group behind him. Both Ikeisha and Aubrey were looking this way, while Trey's eyes were producing laser beams at the back of Ben's head. Pulling his sleeves up his arms and cracking his knuckles; he looked ready to beat Ben to a bloody pulp again. I conceded. "Okay, maybe he is looking at you."

"See?" he hissed, leaning forward. "Let's end this here. It's over and you hadn't even started yet."

"No, no!" I said, grabbing his arm. It couldn't end like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "I'll fix this. I'll just fix the string and resume the original plan. It'll be-"

He plucked my hand off him, dropping it back in front of me. Standing up, he grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder, turning to leave. I closed my eyes, feeling an ache forming behind them. I hated it when things were out of my control. This was never how it should be. "Forget it, Charlie. We can try again another time in a way that won't blow up in my face. I'm really trying this time, okay? I'm going home."

While I hated to admit it, he was right. I'd lost this round. I couldn't handle seeing his look of hurt and embarrassment. His defenselessness. Someone as strong and all-rounded as Ben shouldn't make a face like that. My gut twisted as I watched him leave. I could see Trey's eyes following him to the exit, glaring like he was looking at a sworn enemy. By the look of things, this guy really knew how to hold a grudge. This might be tougher than I thought.

My teeth clenched together of their own accord, making my jaw feel tired and strained. When I looked down, I noticed my hands were shaking. My heart picked up the pace, running infinite laps in a never-ending field without me. This confrontation... this failure. I didn't like it. More than that, I hated it. And the hurt on his face. Like I'd genuinely disappointed him; failed him.

This was no time for reflection and feeling sorry for myself.

I had to fix this.

When I looked up, all three of them were looking at me. Ikeisha was smiling, giving a quick little wave. Trey's face had relaxed already, and Aubrey stared with his usual dumb-looking face. I wondered if I was their current topic of conversation, making me feel weird. Burying myself underneath this table seemed like a really attractive option right now. If there was sand, I'd happily dig my face in that, too.

I reached for my bag and removed my sandals, switching them out for my school shoes. When I was done, I picked up my bag and fled like I was the perpetrator of a crime scene. My heart raced fast. I could feel eyes on me as I left, curious gazes following me across the streets. This had never bothered me until now. I was suddenly self-conscious; nauseatingly so.

-

The moment I stepped foot through the door, I changed into pajamas and dumped the clothes in the washing basket. I stepped in front of my full-length mirror, staring at my reflection, seeing something ugly. A murky green slime; the feeling of guilt, shrouded in a soft grey cloud that I could only interpret as regret. Those feelings welled out of me, spilling into the boy I saw looking back at me.

The image of Ben's hurt flashed in my head. I scrunched my eyes, trying to shut it out. It'd be resolved as soon as I got to school tomorrow. That's how it always worked out between us.

Mum got home just a couple of hours after I did, reprimanding me for wasting my fifty-dollar monthly allowance on ugly op-shop clothes I'd never wear again. She questioned my life choices, making me question them, too.

Dad got home around seven, right on time for dinner. We sat at the table eating spaghetti Bolognese with the TV playing in the background. Seven Sharp news played their theme song, followed by the voice of a female reporter, but I was more interested in my food. I scoffed a heap into my mouth, chewing loudly. I opened my mouth a few times, trying to swirl my tongue around bits that wouldn't go down with the rest.

"Have some manners, will you?" Mum said, grimacing with no attempt to hide her repulsion. "How was your day, Charlie?"

I chewed quickly and heavily, trying to get the food down fast so I could respond.

"Serious question, Mum," I said, picking up my glass of lemonade and taking a quick swig. I swallowed and wiped my mouth. I thumped my chest to let out a burp, feeling better after. "What if your best friend, who had absolutely zero chance with the girl he liked, had potentially even less chance because of you? Even if you promised you'd help him win her over in time for prom."

Taking a quick pause, I considered another vital piece of information. "Even if your whole entire reputation was at stake because of it," I quickly added.

Mum's brows furrowed, studying me with apparent disapproval. She wasn't good at hiding her thoughts, a reasonably judgey woman when it came to me. It was probably the cross-bearing churchgoer within that made her this way. And maybe the fact that I absolutely refused to attend with her the moment I turned sixteen contributed to it.

"Well, sweetie," she said slowly and carefully, pursing her lips while choosing words with utmost caution. "I'm sure he'd know that I tried my best and would appreciate my efforts regardless."

"What if it cost you Dad?" I asked, vaguely glancing at him before turning back to her. She pursed her lips even harder, I almost thought they'd suction to the back of her throat. She tried to give me an encouraging smile, but it fell flat.

"I'm sure you'll have it all figured out, Charlie."

My fork clanked against the plate as I placed it down, turning to dad. "What about you? Any advice?"

"I do," he said, gripping my shoulder with positive assurance. I genuinely didn't know what to expect for once when he wasn't typically the most serious type. "Son, if the idea comes from your head, forget about it. Throw it away in the trash and do something else entirely. Absolutely anything else that isn't specifically your idea. I couldn't impart sincerer knowledge to you, Charlie, even on my deathbed. I love you, son."

He gave a pitiful smile and slapped my shoulder, returning to his food. He beamed, bringing another heaped forkful to his mouth. His glasses reflected the light from the TV like an evil anime character. So much for that fatherly advice.

"Well, thanks for a fat load of nothing, Dad," I said, glaring at him. I stood up and collected my dishes, tossing them in the kitchen sink. "I'm going to take myself to bed and figure this out on my own. Goodnight."

I barely slept a wink at all. Somehow, I had to set things right and get things back into motion. Of course, I already had the right idea. I just needed an even more foolproof plan of execution. Trey was a clear obstacle that had to be overcome. If I could somehow get him and Ben to see eye to eye, then maybe that'd make things smoother sailing.

I closed my eyes, letting myself drift off to sleep when I finally felt the blanket of unconsciousness sweep over me, engulfing me in its warmth.

The last question I had to ask myself gave me a colorful myriad of dreams: How?

-

"Bye and thank you, Mr. Rover," I said, not waiting for an answer as I climbed down from the bus, swinging my bag over my shoulder. Students swarmed around me, shoving past to head inside the school gate, and I followed the masses until I reached my class. I settled into my seat, hoping that class would start sooner than the current twenty minutes 'til the bell.

Mr. Hardy wasn't here yet, so that wasn't the sign I wanted.

"I hear yesterday didn't go so well, huh," Goose said from behind me. I turned back, sharing the sheepish look he gave me.

"That's putting a real light spin on it," Ben muttered, burying his face in his hand. "I'm gonna get beat up. I'm so gonna get beat up."

"Just use your judo," I said, throwing my fist in the air. "Sock it to 'em!"

Ben lifted his head and glared at me. "You're too stupid for your own good. Must be nice not having a brain to actually think with."

I froze, lowering my fist and glowered. "Prick."

"Munter," he responded, but his lips curved up into a smile, giving up the angry pretense. We both smiled and snickered.

"Charlie." I heard Mr. Hardy's voice coming from the door, and the three of us turned to see the dark-haired stud poking his head inside the room. When I met his gaze, he signaled for me to come over. "Can I have a word with you?"

Goose and I exchanged curious glances as I stood up and followed him out of the classroom. I felt nervous, wondering if I'd gotten into any kind of trouble. Was it about yesterday at the mall? Did someone complain? I wasn't sure. He led me to the teacher's room where I sat down with him, cradling my hands together in my lap. Mr. Hardy was from a whole other world that half the time I didn't even know how to act. Being a student was too hard for me sometimes.

"Okay," he said, leaning back in his swiveling chair and crossing one of his legs over the other. His fingers stroke over his dark stubble, giving me an assiduous stare. "For starters, I can see your brain wracking at a hundred miles per hour so let me just reassure you you're not in trouble."

"Thank bloody Jesus," I said, feeling the tension leave my body as I hunched forward with a sigh. I caught myself, looking up and trying to appear as apologetic as humanly possible.

Mr. Hardy raised his brow but let it slide. "If you're interested, I'd like to propose an arrangement of sorts," he said. His finger ran down his lip this time, looking at me studiously, as if deep in thought.

An arrangement of sorts? If he wanted a forbidden relationship with a student, then I was all in. I broke into a smile, ready to scream with excitement. All my dreams, hopes, prayers; all of it was answered with this simple proposal from the hottest man in my narrow little world.

"...I'd like for you to tutor Aubrey in poetry and try to get his scores back up to scratch," he finished.

I froze, wondering if I'd heard correctly. Somehow that seemed even more unbelievable than an illegal, gay male student and teacher relationship. The weight of his words extricated me from my little moment of pure utopian fantasy, leaving me in disappointment. Me? Tutor... Aubrey?

Aubrey Keats?

The image of his bored, deadpan, emotionless, lifeless face and those hooded eyes boring into mine sent shivers down my spine. He'd probably wear that same expression as he stabbed me to death. Did I have a death wish? I mean, depending on my mood, sometimes. But by stabbing? And by the potentially psychopathic Aubrey Keats? No thank you!

"He'd serve my head on a platter if I so much as raise a suggestion," I said, sticking my hands out to refute. "I value my life, sir, so I politely decline."

"Well actually, I spoke to him earlier this morning and he was fine with it," Mr. Hardy said, catching me off guard. "It's really just a test run to see if it goes well. Potentially a once off, potentially an ongoing arrangement of sorts. He's up for it if you are."

His words reverberated around my skull, ricocheting off the walls of an echo chamber, resonating through the recesses of my soul. "You're shitting me," I said, then smacked my hands against my lips, realizing what I'd just said.

"I was going to reward your efforts with something a little more personalized," he said, "but how about we settle for me not sending you to the Dean's office?"

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. That was bad of me, I admit. "What... what was it going to be?" I asked, fiddling my thumbs together, overcome with nerves.

"I'll plan an afterschool movie session to play Bright Star like you've been requesting for some time now," he said. "Popcorn, drinks – of the fizzy variety, of course, and maybe some smarties-"

"M&M's," I interrupted, leaning forward and peering at him with excitement. "M&M's and I'm in."

He raised his brow but chuckled. "Alright, with M&M's. But that will only happen if Aubrey passes our final curriculum which focuses almost solely on poetry."

"We have ourselves a deal," I grinned. Then a thought occurred to me. "But sir, why me? Wouldn't his actual friends like Trey and Ikeisha be better?"

"They've been trying since forever," Mr. Hardy answered, "though not at my request, mind you."

I was confused. "Um...?"

"Basically, Aubrey has his reasons for not taking this seriously," he said while adjusting himself in his chair. "Not only do you earn the highest grades in English, but you also have an unrivaled positivity and dedication towards poetry in general. I think you'd be great for him if I'm perfectly honest with you."

...Me? This sounded like a poorly developed plot by a lazy writer with no sense of originality. A ploy to make my life miserable in one way or another to accomplish their own self-seeking agenda. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize it might not be so bad. I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my lips.

Not only would this serve some purpose in helping Ben with winning Ikeisha's heart, but I got to do poetry with Aubrey Keats. The guy who shared the last name of my favorite tragically romantic poet. Even though he always acted so dead inside, even he couldn't be immune to the emotion etched into every carefully crafted poem. And all of a sudden, I was excited.

I was excited to circle my way into the life of Aubrey Keats.