I'm walking out of my second class of the day at this shitty school that bores the hell out of me, Camila tagging along behind me. She's good company I guess, funny at certain points in time.

She talks too much though.

Hypocritical of me to comment on as I never seem to keep my damn mouth shut myself. Hence why I never seem to keep any solid relationships, platonic or romantic, going. It's fine though as I've learnt not to rely on other people to make me happy as they'll just disappoint me in the end.

"Bryce?" Camila asks me, and she sounds really desperate for some reason. I would never take her for the desperate type as she seems quite confident, but then again, I come off like a total asshole but I don't think I'm that bad.

Perhaps a little standoffish at times but it's not my fault I have very little patience.

"What is it?" I ask her blankly. I want to get to the cafeteria, wherever it may be, so I can see my Blossom again. It hasn't been long since I last talked to her, but I'm fearing I may have not paid her enough attention during that time, and I'm getting the feeling that she's pissed at me.

I find myself missing her anyway. How strange.

I'm far more observant that she credits me for.

I notice the way she gets agitated when her hair falls in her face, and how she crinkles her nose just like her mom does whenever anyone says something crude. I've picked up that she doesn't like to be associated with her mom though, so I'll keep that thought to myself.

I've also noticed that she no longer wears the necklace I gave her.

The cherry blossom necklace, the reason I only call her 'Blossom'. She doesn't seem to mind the name. I guess that I didn't really gift her the necklace because we found it in my garden together all those years ago, but the details aren't important.

I wonder if she still has it.

Who am I kidding? She probably tossed the damn thing in the trash the moment I left without an explanation. For some odd reason we didn't have each other's phone numbers so I had no way to talk to her, and although I eventually came across her Instagram account, I figured it was creepy to request to follow her all of a sudden. So I didn't.

"Bryce?" Camila asks again, snapping in my face. I look down to her where she's fluttering her thick eyelashes at me.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I ask her. I'm fairly certain we're headed in the wrong direction, away from the cafeteria, so I pause in place, forcing her to stop walking as well.

"Who are you sitting with at lunch today?" she asks me, giving me a sweet smile that somehow seems very fake.

I planned on sitting with Blossom and her group again today, but she seems to be ignoring me so I'm not too sure.

I think it's safe to assume that she would rather be getting cozy with her newest boy toy, Mateo, or her friend Jordan who's spoken to me twice and has already grown to despise me. I do have to admit that the feeling is mutual, so I couldn't care less.

She places her open palm against the bare skin of my arm, tracing one of her fingers along the swirls of black ink drawn into my skin.

I resist the urge to flinch away from her touch. I like how fascinated Blossom is by my tattoos, but I don't enjoy Camila examining my skin like this; I don't like her eyes on me like this.

Alas, recalling how Blossom may not want to speak to me right now, I answer her question feeling more open-minded. If I'm not able to get off Blossom's bad list by the end of the week, I still have that stupid weekend trip to make amends with her.

I clear my head of thoughts of Blossom, glancing back towards Camila. They're very different, looks and personality wise.

Camila radiates confidence while Blossom is usually reserved and scared of saying the wrong thing. Blossom also has that long ass hair going for her which makes her stand out from a crowd. I know she loves her hair, but I wish she would wear it back more as she did when I saw her last night so that I could see her face better.

"Not sure," I tell her and I unintentionally sound extremely bored.

This is a normal occurrence for me, which factors into why people immediately catalog me as rude. I'm not denying it, but it's also rude to instantly assume one's character.

This makes her grin, genuinely this time around.

"You're more than welcome to sit with my friends and I," she offers, and I think I'd honestly rather eat alone in hopes Blossom pities me and comes to join.

Nonetheless, I give her my best attempt at a smile. "Thank you for the offer," I say, and she beams at me.

I'm about to go find either Charlie, Jasmine, or Blossom, just as an agitated blond kid comes storming towards me.

I can't remember doing anything to fuel the hatred he has for me this time, but maybe he pulled something right out of his ass just looking for an excuse to bicker with me.

He never came off as the aggressive type but now he's standing right in front, rage burning in his eyes. He promptly grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling me closer to him so our faces are right in front of each other's.

Christ, he's practically fuming.

It's less than intimidating having him seize me like this as he's a bit shorter than me, but he seems to not care in this moment.

A few people who were walking by us seemed to have stopped their journeys to watch the show, and I hear Camila's voice behind me.

"What's happening?" she asks meekly, as if she's trying to sound naive and oblivious.

I grab Mateo's wrist, yanking his hand away from my body, forcing him to drop the hold on my shirt.

"What the hell, bro?" I ask him, which appears to send him into even more rage.

"I'm not your 'bro', Bryce," he practically spits at me.

He's still standing so close that I can smell coffee on his breath, as well as the strong scent of aftershave.

He needs to back the hell down.

He takes another step back towards me and I easily shove him farther away just with one hand.

What is his issue right now? There's absolutely no way in hell he's about to try and fight me right now. I'm sure his grand old dad would be far less than thrilled to hear his darling son attempted to beat up some idiotic son of a sociopath.

"What do you know?" he asks me, yelling now. He looks as if he's one fuse away from exploding.

The funniest part is that I have no fucking clue what he's talking about.

"You sound crazy, DiLaurentis. Has nobody ever taught you to think before you speak?" I fire back, my words coming across and ice that somehow fuels his fire, causing him to lunge at me.

I grab him by both shoulders, shoving him backwards in to the lockers. The contact results in a loud thud that catches the attention of every damn person in the hall.

Everybody is watching now which is certainly not ideal, and the urge to just punch this bastard in the face is growing stronger and stronger with every passing moment.

"You know damn well what I mean!" he growls.

"I clearly do not or else I wouldn't be playing this stupid back and forth game with you!"

His jaw drops, hanging wide open.

"You really expect me to believe that you have no idea why your father was on the phone with my mom for over an hour this morning? And you don't know the reason why they would be making plans to meet up for lunch sometime soon?" he asks me.

And honestly, I haven't the faintest clue.

My dad moved us here in hopes of having a second chance at being a happy family, minus my mom this time around.

But that doesn't mean that he could just drop all of his company that's located in Orlando. It means that he spends one week here and one week there to keep up with both offices.

This also means I live alone half the time, in the huge mansion that gets far too lonely and isolating.

This is relevant because he's in Orlando right now, so I don't have any information about any phone calls he's made over the past few hours. He had jetted off to the States right after our dinner with the Brookses last night.

"And why is that my problem?" I ask Mateo who's still back against the lockers where I pushed him.

There's a blur of blue snaking through the crowd that I catch out of the corner of my eyes.

Jasmine. I have no clue where she's off to.

He laughs. An evil, wicked cackle.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart?" he asks me, moving closer for the hundredth fucking time. "You really don't find is strange how my father somehow made time for your father's case, and now your father is coincidentally hanging out with my mom?"

I don't understand what is so hard for him to comprehend. I have no clue what he's getting at. I don't get nosy about my dad's personal affairs and I choose to give him his space. He's capable of handling himself so there is no need for me to know all his business.

"What are you getting at?" I ask him cautiously, and he sneers.

"Oh, nothing in particular. Just that right after I overheard this phone call, my mom comes upstairs, sits me and my younger brother down, and tells us that she's filing for divorce against my father."

His words are pure venom.

"I am so sorry," I start, which catches Mateo by surprise as his shoulders seem to relax.

Until I continue my thought, "that your picture-perfect family isn't going to be so perfect after all. Boo-fucking-hoo. Welcome to the real world, kid."

He's shooting daggers at me with his eyes now, so suddenly after some of his anger began to resolve. He snickers at me, seemingly coming up with a brilliant response.

"Just because you have a psycho mom who clearly wasn't satisfied and a clingy father who needs to learn to let some things go for once doesn't mean we all need that in or lives," he snaps.

Then he slaps me, right across the face.

He needs to work on his strength.

He raises a steady hand to slap me again, but I grab his wrist, throwing his arm down to his side. It gives me the ideal opportunity to punch him, and so I take it.

I hit him hard in the jaw, which causes an ear-splitting crack that seems to ring through the whole school. Mateo stumbles away from me, clutching the side of his face in agony as he collapses back against a wall.

For some reason, a small gasp right behind me seems to stand out from all the bustle around us after the physical portion of that fight had commenced.

"Bryce?" a small voice asks from right behind me.

Her tone is shaky and she sounds absolutely petrified.

It's certainly not Camila's voice. Or Jasmine's voice.

It's my favourite voice in the whole wide world.

There's a soft pull on my hand as her thin, petite fingers wrap around mine. I turn around slowly, my breathing still coming out as harsh pants, but I forget everything the very instant my gaze meets hers.

Her eyes are wide and fearful, and she looks on the brink of tears. She's quivering all over, her hand shaking in mine, but especially in her soft lips.

She's scared of me.

My heart breaks.

"Blossom?" I reply, and she nods slowly, before pulling on my hand and dragging me away from the scene, like my guardian angel.