When Jasmine dragged me into the main hallway of senior lockers, I knew there must be something up just by seeing the distress on her face.

But that didn't mean that I wasn't in total shock when I had to shove my way through a swarm of amused students just to find Mateo and Bryce screaming at each other.

My mind seemed to go blank as soon as I finally tuned into their fight.

I don't even get a chance to hear what they were talking about before I see Mateo slap Bryce right across the face.

My mouth seemed to drop from the horror of it all, but Bryce isn't at all fazed. He didn't even flinch, and now, as Mateo is raising his hand to hit Bryce again, Bryce quickly grabs his wrist, pushing his arm away to stop Mateo.

And then Bryce punches Mateo right in the face.

The punch hits Mateo's jaw, and there's a loud cracking sound. I don't know how hard Bryce can really punch, but Mateo stumbles back against the wall after he's hit, clutching his face in pain.

No. This can't be happening. Please tell me I'm dreaming.

But it's clearly not a dream because as I gasp out loud, Bryce freezes up.

And when I say his name, reaching for his hand, he cautiously turns around.

He's breathing hard and I see flames in his eyes, but when our eyes meet, he somehow calms right down. He holds my hand firmly and he's all that's keeping me upright because I'm shaking uncontrollably, my mind already racing, thinking about all the trouble this could get the two of them in.

"Blossom?" he asks softly, and I nod at him. I keep a firm grip on his hand, dragging him through the crowd and as far away from Mateo as I can get him right now.

I don't know quite where my feet are taking me, but I seem to have a plan somewhere in my head as I lead Bryce right to the front door.

Although I stay in school during lunch period everyday, we are permitted to leave to grab food somewhere else. So I push open the door, stepping outside, Bryce still following me.

There's a row of vacant benches and I go over to sit on one. Bryce sits down beside me, and I finally drop his hand.

"Why?" is all I ask him to start, and he looks down at the ground, ashamed.

I instantly feel bad for getting mad at him, so I take his hand again, giving it a squeeze.

"He's blaming me for his parents' divorce," Bryce tells me, and I'm momentarily shocked.

Mateo's family has always seemed so tight, and it's extremely shocking to hear that his parents are splitting up. I can't help but to feel bad for Mateo, but then I have to remind myself that I'm here to comfort Bryce.

Which is odd as I think about it, because Mateo was the one who actually got hurt, but I came to Bryce's rescue instead.

"How come?" I ask him, and all the light seems to fade from his eyes as he thinks for a moment.

"It's probably just easier if I tell you everything," he sighs, leaning back against the bench. "This is why I've been trying to keep the whole social media thing to a minimum right now, because when you search my name up online, after my social media pages, news articles show up. Articles about the very reason my dad and I moved here. We're trying to get away from the whole situation, but it seems to follow us everywhere. I'm sure most people at school know about it by now, but I'm just so sick and tired of hearing about it."

His words are haunting and my heart is already hurting for him. Whatever truths he's about to reveal must be deep if he's trying so desperately to shun them away, and all I want to do is take away all that pain. For some reason, seeing him hurt messes with my head.

"No one really knows the whole story though. If I tell you, can you promise to keep it a secret?" he asks me.

I nod without a thought.

"Of course."

He wraps his arm around me, letting me lean against him.

He takes a deep breath in.

A long, slow breath, and I can see the hurt in his eyes, the way his hands are shaking, how vulnerable he looks.

He doesn't like to show emotion; that's one thing I've picked up about him. So it's almost unsettling to have him sitting here, holding me close to his chest, looking like he's on the verge of tears.

Another deep breath.

"You don't have to tell me. It's okay," I promise him, trying to calm him down as best as I can manage. I don't know what I'd do if he starts to cry.

I've never seen Bryce Bradshaw cry.

I'm awful at advice. Giving relationship advice to my friends when they need it, helping people through rough times in their life, or just being there for someone if they're having a bad day.

"I want to tell you," he says quietly, unsettlingly quietly. "I really need to get it all off my chest. The legal aspects of everything were all over the media but no one ever asked me for my story. I was the only other person who really saw it all go down and no one even bothered to ask me."

His breathing is getting faster and I feel his grip on my hand tightening as all this sadness seems to be evaporating, being replaced by an uncalled-for rage. I can't have him lash out again as he did just five minutes ago, so I tighten my grip on his hand, assuring him that I'm still here for him.

He looks off to the side, trying desperately to not make any eye contact with me. He drops my hand too, but he still keeps me close to his chest, his arm still around me.

"What did you see, Bryce?" I whisper.

Bryce runs a hand over the slight stubble of his jaw. Something about this whole situation is stressing me out and I just want him to tell me whatever is on his mind right now.

I'd consider us friends at the least. It would make sense for him to open up to a friend about these things, except that Bryce is different. He's always the loudest person in the room, the life of the party, but also simultaneously the quietest. He's so secretive and keeps to himself, but everyone adores him anyway.

"I saw my mother try to kill my dad, Blossom."

All the air seems to be pushed out of my lungs.

That isn't the answer that I had expected at all.

Something along those lines hadn't even began to cross my mind while naming all the endless scenarios that Bryce could be in right now.

I open my mouth to speak and attempt to say the right thing for once, but he clamps a hand over my mouth before I even get the chance.

"She shot him. She's insane. Literally. She barely knew how to use the damn gun though, so the only bullet she shot got his shoulder but didn't go too deep. I saw the flames in her eyes. She managed to convince everybody that she had no intentions to actually kill him, just trying to injure him. Total bullshit. I was there. I know she was aiming for his head."

The moment he stops talking he bites down on his trembling lower lip as if he's trying to contain himself from saying more.

"Go on," I encourage. "You need to just get it out. Locking everybody else clearly hasn't been working in your favour," I tell him.

"They concluded she's a fucking sociopath and has some other shit wrong with her too. She's in prison for a little bit, but not long enough. My dad's lucky. Mateo's dad was his lawyer for everything. Caleb DiLaurentis. That's how Mateo knew of me. It was a big case for his dad, because news outlets were buzzing about the hotshot millionaire who's wife turned on him. We had never met before Friday but he knows my family situation and must think that insanity runs in our DNA as he seems to hate me, and keeps not-so-subtly threatening to tell everybody about what happened. Most people know but I just want to leave it alone."

It's almost impossible for me to picture Mateo pitting himself against Bryce like that when he's been so kind to everybody whenever he's been around me.

I can almost sense a bit of jealousy from Mateo whenever Bryce is in the room, perhaps from his success or popularity.

The two are very different from each other, looks and personality.

Bryce continues.

"My dad obviously divorced her, and he thought we'd be better off living back here instead. This all happened in July and I knew there was no way in hell I could go back and face all the rude ass kids when school started for the year, so I agreed, and here we are. That's also why there was yelling in the background during our phone call. My dad was speaking to my grandfather who just blames him for everything."

He concludes his story, and I feel him nuzzle his head into the crook of my neck, his warm breath fanning against my skin, a sharp contrast to the cool air around us.

"I apologize. It wasn't my intention to burden you with my troubles," he almost laughs, and that's when I take a good look at his face.

He looks like the tears are ready to escape.

"Please, don't cry," I almost beg him.

Twelve years of knowing each other and he's never been this open with me.

"I'm so sorry that you had to go through all that," I condole, seeing that he's still clearly grieving.

"You don't need to pity me. I don't want your sympathy. I'm fine."

My jaw hangs open a little as how sudden his mood just changed. I thought we were making progress but I guess my assumptions were wrong.

This is then proven as he shifts away from me, removing his arm from my shoulder and folding his hands in his lap instead.

"Don't be that way," I plea, and he just gives me a small shake of his head as if he's trying to understand what just happened himself.

I check the time on my phone and notice that a mere five minutes have passed since we came out here. I'm surprised no one came out after us.

"I suppose you want me to leave you be?" I ask him.

"No, please stay."

His answer is unexpected but I do as he asks.

"Let's just change the subject. What's up with you?" he questions, and I cross my legs, feeling a little more relaxed after that sudden outburst of information.

There's something so pure and real about the way he's looking at me now that I don't think I could get up and leave him here even if I wanted to.

"That's a loaded question, you know."

He rolls his eyes at me, brushing his hair out of his forehead. "Then care to tell me what's up with you and your mom? That interaction between you two yesterday was weird as hell."

It's now that I catch on to how much of a hypocrite I am.

I fully expected Bryce to give me his whole life story in five hundred words or less, but I don't want to tell him a single thing about my own relationship with my mother.

"I think we should stray away from family issues for now, no?" I suggest, and he laughs, looking up to the sky.

"Noted. No talking about your bitchy mother," he says, drawing an invisible check mark in the air in front of him with his finger.

I give him a bit of a side-eyed glare, and he taps me on the nose which makes me laugh instead.

He adjusts the sleeves of his shirt, and I recall what he was wearing at dinner last night.

"Yesterday you were wearing that to hide the tattoos from my parents, weren't you? I thought you didn't give a shit about what people have to say," I joke, and his eyes widen at me.

"Lexi Elise Brooks, did you just curse? So you're allowed to, but one F-bomb on my part makes you want to kick me in the shins?" he asks in a fake incredulous tone, and I jokingly move my leg, positioning it as if I were about to kick him.

He plays along, moving away from me and throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. I smile at him and he mirrors the expression.

I move to sit a little closer to him, resting my hand on the wood beside us. Bryce's hand covers mine in a simple gesture, and I don't look away from his inked wrist even when I answer his question.

"I really don't have an issue with you swearing. I'm sixteen, I've heard worse. I just don't want you to get in trouble so I tell you off when you swear when there're tons of people around."

He shrugs knowingly. "Fair point."

I beam at him, and that's when he grabs his phone from his pocket. He slides up on the screen to unlock his phone and I notice that he has the latest iPhone model, of course.

He holds the phone out to me, and I take it from him curiously. He notices my confusion and raises an eyebrow.

"You said you'd show me some more videos of you performing. You don't seem like one to break promises," he teases, and I giggle at that.

There are way too many apps downloaded on his phone, and I'm scrolling through many full pages scanning for the bright red YouTube icon when a different app catches my eye.

"Why do you have Tinder? I didn't think you were into the whole dating thing? Do you have a secret girlfriend back in America?" I ask, and he snorts, staring at the phone in my hands longingly as if the thought brings back cherished memories.

"No girlfriends for me. I was at one of the rare parties I attended and everybody was drunk out of their minds. One of my friends convinced me to set up a Tinder profile and see how many matches I could get in ten minutes if I swiped right on everybody. I had to lie about my age on there too, so no, I don't use it regularly," he explains.

"I really don't drink much myself though, as I've never seen the enjoyment in social drinking. I only drink when I need to get drunk and forget about everything for a little while," he adds.

"I've never had a sip of alcohol in my life," I confess, and he doesn't seem to judge me for that at all.

"Good for you. I think you should get drunk at least once in your life though," he says, not sarcastic or teasing at all.

Reaching the end of Bryce's series of apps, I ask him, "Where's YouTube on here?"

He blinks at me slowly, shaking his head before taking the phone back.

"Sweetheart, it's on the first page. You totally missed it."

A slight blush rises to my cheeks as he presses the app icon, one of the first ones in the lineup, handing the device back to me.

"Sorry," I tell him, tapping on the search bar and typing in my name.

We spend a little bit of time sitting there, together on this bench outside our school, just enjoying one another's company as we watch through videos of me.

He eventually shuts his phone off, setting it down on the bench in between us.

He then takes the opportunity of a free hand to reach over to me and tilt my chin up so I'm forced to look straight into his eyes. Our faces are only a couple inches apart and I can feel my heartbeat rapidly increasing.

I expect him to make a move or at least say something to me, but we both remain blanketed in a complete silence, so close that we're nearly touching.

"Why'd you start singing?" he asks delicately.

He runs a finger along my jaw, tracing all the way from my chin back to my ear, where he tucks my hair back.

My breathing must have halted completely.

"Personal expression?" I offer as an answer, and he laughs.

"You're funny," he tells me. "And too good for me. I can't comprehend why you would want to spend time with me when you could be texting your little boyfriend Mateo or your best friends Jasmine and Jordan."

Bryce shuts his eyes, breathing deeply a few times.

"I thought I made it clear that Mateo isn't my boyfriend," I tell him, and he nods carefully.

"No, but he wishes he was."

I'm having trouble producing coherent thoughts so it'd be even more of a stretch to expect myself to fit together some words that make a sentence appropriate to say in my current situation.

I can almost hear his heart beating in his chest, just as he drops his hand from my face and leans away from me. His head is cocked to the side as if he's in deep though, and he seems to come up with something as he pulls out his phone again.

"You know I don't do this, right?" he asks, and I nod at him despite having no clue what the 'this' he's referring to is.

He sighs deeply, tapping a few buttons on his phone screen. "Glad we're on the same page," he says and once again, I'm lost.

We sit there for a moment, neither of us feeling the need to say anything, until I remember why I brought him out here in the first place.

"You didn't have to make that fight between you and Mateo physical," I say, and Bryce nods in agreement.

"I didn't want to. I'm sure I'll be in a ton of trouble when I go back in there," he laughs, looking up at the sky.

It's sunny out, but it's still chilly as November creeps nearer and nearer.

My birthday is coming up soon, and so is the three year mark since The Incident.

Maybe I should just open up to Bryce. It may help to finally get to say all my thoughts out loud.

Then it all happens too fast as the principal comes storming out of the doors we had just came from, my brother, Jasmine, and Camila following after him, all three of them looking frantic.

"Mr. Bradshaw. My office. Immediately," the principal yells, finally stopping a few feet away from us.

Bryce blinks slowly, before grabbing his things and following the principal back into the building. The pair disappear out of view, just as Charlie, Camila, and Jasmine come dashing towards me.

"What the hell was that all about?" Charlie asks me, and I quickly stand up from the bench.

"I wish I could tell you," I answer quietly.

We all walk back inside the school, and Camila parts ways with us right away to go find her friends. My brother, Jasmine, and I head for the cafeteria, and after we all grab our food, we join Daniel, Jordan, and Ryan at our usual table.

Mateo must be in the office with Bryce.

I take a few bites of my salad, not even feeling hungry at this point in time.

"I hope this doesn't affect any of their college situations," I say aloud, and Jasmine looks up at me from her food.

"I think Mateo will be fine as far as punishments go. Bryce looks untouched. Meanwhile, Bryce screwed up Mateo's jaw bad. I'd be more concerned for him," she answers.

"But that's not fair," I counter. "Mateo hit him first. It's not Bryce's fault."

Sure, Bryce didn't have to hit Mateo back, but as he said, it wasn't his fault that the fight broke out.

"You're awfully protective of him," Jordan points out.

He's not wrong.