I hate mornings.

My alarm sets itself off and I awaken with a long overdue jolt of surprise. I groan, grinding my fists into my eyes in attempt to wake myself up. Feeling the raging headache from last night still pulsing through my head, I wince in pain.

Well, I'm certainly not being late for school just because of the obnoxious and shrill sounds of my brother and parents' argument echoing through the long hallways all night, causing me to lose a solid three hours of sleep, and to be gifted with this pain in my skull, which is still dawned upon me now.

What they were bickering about is beyond me, but it's probably over the fact that they could have found some alcohol he may have had stashed somewhere.

So reluctantly I rise out of bed, and within doing so, chills are sent lingering up and down my spine at the drastic change in temperature from my body to the cold floor my feet had just struck. My jaw clenches and relaxes, leaving me to simply pull my thin robe tighter around my waist as I silently sulk into the bathroom.

I put on a simple white dress, not putting much thought into it as I slip my shoes onto my feet.

I then keep my hair down as always. It falls just to my hips, and even though everyone insists that I cut it, I never have.

"Lex, we're leaving in five!" Charlie calls out, knocking on my door before opening it. "You ready?"

Looking at my desk, where all my homework is skewed everywhere, is a sure-tell sign that I am certainly not ready to leave.

"God, no," I respond, a slight bit of distress in my tone. Why we have to leave forty-five minutes prior to usual is beyond me, but I scamper over to organize my things quickly.

Charlie sighs, as if to scold me, even though I hear no irritation there. "I've been telling you that Friday morning practices are starting up again this week."

How could I forget? Even though I've taken a more creative root by trying my hand at the Arts, my brother always has been, and always will be, more athletic . At the moment. he's mostly focusing on soccer, which, to my luck means early-morning practices. And considering he's my drive to and from school every single day, it's becoming extremely irritating.

Trying to over-dramatize the situation as much as possible, I fall backwards onto my bed, groaning. "How about you play a sport that, y'know, doesn't require early practices?"

"How about you, 'y'know', get your license? You literally turn seventeen next month."

Oh, he's playing dirty today.

I get up from my position flopped out on my bed, and I skim right past Charlie, who's been leaning up against my bedroom's wide doorway.

He follows down the stairwell right in my footsteps, poking me on the shoulder repeatedly in hopes of gaining my attention. "Come on, Lex, don't be bitter. I'm just kidding."

Long story short, we spent the whole trip in complete silence. Obviously not having time to eat anything for breakfast, I was painfully hungry, which didn't really help the situation at all.

My mind is completely blank as I stare out the window, my eyes not entirely focusing whatsoever. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I can feel that something is off in the atmosphere.

Charlie pulls into a parking spot right near the front door, considering the school is literally abandoned in result of how painfully early in the morning.

The only cars parked yet are the familiar ones of our friends and my brother's teammates, but I can't help to notice an unfamiliar cherry red pickup truck that almost sparkles in the provided light from the rising sun. Although stumped, I don't think too hard about it. I thank Charlie for the drive, leaving to enter the building as he grabs his bags from the trunk of the car.

My assumptions being correct, nobody is in the building yet that I can see of, apart from the secretary, who is chatting excitedly to someone in her office down the hallway.

"Hey!"

"What the h—"

I turn around to see Jasmine giving me one of her signature innocent smiles, her pearly teeth on show behind her red lipstick.

"Why are you here so early?" I question her.

She stares blankly at me momentarily, before gnawing down on her bottom lip to hide her huge giddy smile. "Daniel drove me," she exclaims.

I raise my eyebrows at her. "You like him, don't you?" I ask her, to which she gives me an innocent grin.

🌸🌸🌸

By lunch hour, I'm dying to eat something.

My brother has been acting utterly bizarre all morning; I could tell despite the fact we didn't have any classes together all morning, just by passing him in the hallway. Ryan and Jasmine kept trying to reassure me that I was overthinking things, but I don't think they're at all correct.

We all gather for lunch per usual, and I sit next to Ryan, across from Mateo and Charlie.

"I don't understand why you'd choose a salad over pasta," Ryan inquires, giving a judging glance towards my tray. He uses his fork to pick up a piece of lettuce out of my food, cringing when he bites into it. "Seriously, why are you now some kind of health freak?"

How come it feels as though everybody I know it plotting against me to some extent today? I've been extremely stressed about college ever since school booted back up again as is.

"Hey, don't take it in a bad way. I just find it amusing," Ryan adds, and I try to let all the tension drop out of my body.

"Yeah, chill, Blossom."

A new voice chimes into the conversation, the deep voice I heard earlier. I nearly jump out of my seat as the figure sits down right next to me, resting an elbow on my shoulder. I'm about to shove the person away, until I look up to find an amused pair of amber eyes meet mine.

I feel my jaw drop as our whole table goes silent.

"Bryce."

I meant to state his name like a question, but there's no doubt about it that it's him.

He flashes me a charming smile. "Hi."

I feel my heart stop beating. I'm still holding eye contact with him, and it's impossible to break. He still has that damn mischievous smile, those eyes that are constantly twinkling with mirth, his hair a deep brown and always laying perfectly atop his head.

Of course, his features have all matured, from thirteen to seventeen, but I could recognize him in a crowd of a thousand.

He looks away from me, scanning the rest of the group. "Blossom, Charles, Jazz, hello. And I guess hello to you too, everybody else. I don't know any of your names, and honestly, I don't plan to learn them."

Bryce then picks up my bottle of iced tea up and takes a large gulp. All I can do is gape at him.

Charlie and Bryce look at each other for a moment. "I've told you not to call me that," my brother says, and Bryce just continues to grin. They've always had an odd friendship, but I know they've been extremely close.

Jasmine's sets down her spoon, raising an eyebrow at Bryce from down the table, where she was chatting with Daniel. "Why the hell are you here?"

He snorts in response. "Don't be like that, sweetheart."

Jasmine rolls her eyes and doesn't even make an effort to hide it.

Suddenly, Bryce yanks on a loose lock of my hair, examining it closely.

"You still haven't cut this?" he asks.

I shake my head, a hard no. He leans back a little in his seat, crossing his arms against his chest.

"Looks good. It suits you."

I can feel heat rising to my cheeks at his compliment, so I quickly turn slightly to Ryan to hide my face. He's staring at Bryce, startled, and not sure how to react to all his obnoxious claims. I keep forgetting that most of us all met in high school, while Jasmine, Charlie, and I have known Bryce since we were toddlers.

Mateo is the first to break the tension between us all. The familiar yet unfamiliar boy sitting next to me doesn't seem fazed at all, but I can't say the same for Mateo.

Fuming, he looks at Bryce with squinted eyes. "Who, exactly, are you?"

The silence is suddenly deafening. Mateo's tone was composed of pure disgust, despite the fact that I'm sure the pair has yet to interact before. Bryce still isn't affected, and I wish I was more like him in this very moment.

My attention is continuously switching back and forth between the three boys, until Ryan leans down to whisper into my ear. "Yeah, Lexi, who is—"

"Bryce Bradshaw! Great to meet you," Bryce chirps as he outstretches an arm across the table, expecting Mateo to shake his hand.

Instead, he glares blankly at the hand. "Mateo. Mateo DiLaurentis," he responds with caution. "I hear an accent. Where are you from?"

Bryce keeps a composed demeanor, still smiling. "I'm from here. I guess English wasn't technically my first language; Arabic was. So that would be it."

I sometimes manage to forget that he's completely fluent in three languages. English of course, French, and Arabic due to his Middle Eastern heritage. He's far more intelligent than I like to give him credit for.

Mateo doesn't bother to answer and no one dares to interfere. It's safe to assume that everybody else is just as confused as me to why the pair is acting this way.

They continue staring, and God, how much staring is it going to take before the awkwardness fades to grey?

The conversational buzz of other's talking around us continues, while everybody goes on eating their lunches in silence. Bryce takes his phone out of his pocket and begins typing furiously, and I can't prevent myself from trying to steal a peak at the screen.

He looks up at me, and raises an eyebrow at me. I am honestly such an idiot. I don't need to know what he's doing, seeing as I'm still not convinced he's really here.

His gaze follows mine back down to the phone, and he quickly shuts it off, setting it down on the table, screen down.

"So, Bryce, care to tell us any additional details, at all? Because I've personally never seen you in my life, but you waltzed in here acting as if you were our best friends," Ryan inquires, leaning past me to look at Bryce.

"Well, I'd rather not."

I elbow Bryce in the side, and am totally surprised to find that his chest is rock-hard. I can feel the amusement still radiating off of him, as he turns to my friend to expand somewhat on his previous answer.

"I was friends with these idiots," he begins, gesturing to me, Jasmine, and Charlie, "when we were kids. I moved four years ago, and we all haven't spoken since. Well, I texted Charles yesterday telling him I was swinging by until college."

Bryce reaches for my drink again, and I swiftly yank it away from him. Ryan nods in response to Bryce's brief story, but still has one more question.

"'Blossom' . . . Where did that come f—"

"Don't even ask," I cut him off. Bryce snorts, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I've made it my life goal to drive her insane."

"I think I hate you!"

"No you don't.

"You don't know me."

It's true. He doesn't know me. So much has happened to me over the past few years.

My whole life took a huge turn, for the better or the worse.

I went through the worst experience of my lifetime, but it all changed me for the better.

Despite this, Bryce removes his head from my shoulder, so he can easily squint hard at me. I feel his stare practically boring into my mind.

"I know you love me, Blossom."

"I could never."

"Get a room, for Christ's sake," Ryan mumbles, interrupting our argument.

I open my mouth to use some witty comeback, but I'm stopped by the bell signalling the return of class.

We all quickly get up, as most of the group has English together.

"Two more hours until the weekend," I mumble, throwing my trash in the garbage bin before I feel a strong arm wrap across my shoulders.

I quickly turn around to scold Bryce once again.

"Could you please leave me alone?" I attempt to give him an unimpressed stare but instead end up gaping as I'm forced to look up extremely high to even meet his face.

"You're really tall," I state blankly.

Bryce shakes his head. "You're just short."

I gasp aloud. "I am not!"

I walk right out of his grasp and out of the cafeteria, snaking through the mass of people, not even looking back to find my friends. Of course, my newly-knighted stalker is hot on my trail, still pestering me with questions, such as, "Yeah, then how tall are you?"

Rolling my eyes, I stilt my head slightly to the side to answer him. "5'5. I'm really not that short."

He makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a huff, and I feel a sudden urge to pinch him again.

"What about you?" I ask.

I can see him tilt his head up towards the ceiling in thought. "6'4? 6'5? I'm not entirely sure. I don't really care about height much, I just know I'm pretty tall."

I'm taken back by that last sentence.

If he knows he's tall, why did he start arguing with me about it?

He must be able to read my thoughts but the expression on my face as he lets out a hardy laugh.

"Seriously Bryce, why are you so irritating?" I

pout, to which his face just lights up as he gazes back down at me.

In this exact moment, I feel all the deep, wandering questions, and the whole surreal aspect of our situation leave my mind. I'm hit with a thick wave of heavy nostalgia, and it makes me miss the simpler days.

It's really crazy how I think things have gotten harder, yet I still haven't even tested the waters of adulthood. I guess I just miss when my biggest worries were still minimal.

"What class do you have next, anyway? You know that just following me around all day is going to get you nowhere in life, right?" I let out, and he actually makes eye contact with me this time.

"Obviously, but I would gladly do it either way."