2:22.

Tyler, one of the boys who sits behind you, has walked up to Mr. Todo. He taps his shoulder after verbal cues did not catch his attention.

“What,” Mr. Todo yells while turning to him. His hand barely misses smacking him straight across the face.

“I-I-,” Tyler stutters. The class has erupted into laughter. You can see the nervousness, fright, and shyness peeking out of him. He is hunching over and his shoulders are starting to shake; you know exactly what you would be doing in a situation like this.

You run up to them and put your arm around Tyler’s shoulders, “We need to use the restroom. May we please go?”

With a still angry expression, Mr. Todo nods his head in the direction of the door. You and Tyler make your way out just before the yelling begins again. Once in the bathroom, Tyler breaks down.

You keep your hand on his back, “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I’m going to be the kid who couldn’t ask to go to the restroom,” he whines between sobs. “The other guys could have done it.”

You continue to rub his back in an effort to calm him down. His sobs slowly begin to ease up. He straightens himself and wipes the tears off his face. You leave him for a moment. The bathroom is a mess with toilet paper everywhere, puddles of unknown liquid, and sharpie cuss words covering every wall. You tear a paper towel out of the dispenser.

“You were lucky that we went to this bathroom,” you say as you wet the paper. The closest restroom just happened to be the gender neutral one with a paper towel dispenser.You take it over to him where he is staring at his silver and blue watch: a very familiar watch.

“What time is it,” you ask as you hand him the damp towel.

He smiles as he takes it and starts to wipe away the tear streaks, “About 2:26.”

“Only 26,” you ask. You blush when you realize that you actually said that out loud.

He nudges your shoulder, “You really want out of here?”

You nod, “I am so ready to be rid of this for a few months.”

He throws the now wadded paper into the trash can: a perfect shot, “Where’s your family?”

You are caught off guard by the question, “Down the main road?”

“No,” he starts to laugh, “you said you were traveling to stay with family this summer. Where are they?”

“Oh,” you say surprised he remembers. “Chicago. I lived there until my dad died.”

He nods with his head down.

“Sorry,” you say realizing the touchy topic you brought up, “I don’t usually bring up my dad during the first conversation.”

Tyler begins to laugh, “Do you apologize a lot?”

“Maybe,” you say even more embarrassed.

“Don’t,” he says. “Be confident in what you say or do.”

You meet his gaze, “Thanks for the advice. Maybe we should have pick-me-up Thursdays where I help you stop crying and you help me improve my self-confidence.”

“I’d like that,” he says.

You go to warrant your statement, but his response was different than you thought it would be, “Really?”

He smiles and nods, “I don’t lie.”

You smile back as he looks at his watch and says, “It’s almost 2:30. We should head back.”

“Do you really want to head back to the yelling,” you ask as he begins to walk away.

He continues to walk, “You coming or what?”

You sigh and chase after him. Anyone else, even Amy, you would not have followed, but you chased after him. You both walk side by side down the hall. Almost a full stretch of the circle away, and you can already hear their arguing loud and clear.

“I think you may have been right,” Tyler says stopping.

You turn around to walk back to the bathroom, “You will soon learn that I am always right.”

He laughs and chases down the hall after you. He checks his watch again. You do not ask for the time. You seem to actually be enjoying the moment right now.

You make it back to the bathroom; the scent hits you like a brick.

“Did it always smell like this,” Tyler asks.

“Don’t think so,” you respond.

The toilet flushes as a bigger guy leaves the closest stall and the bathroom.

“He didn’t wash his hands,” Tyler scowls.

You shake your head, “Boys.”

You both try to keep straight faces, but that does not last. You laugh until your lungs, hurt, Tyler repeating your comment the whole time. As you calm down and watch him try to compose himself, you actually look at him for the first time. He is hunched over trying to catch his breath, his curly brown mop bouncing on top of his head. As he stands up, you can see the inches he has over you. You got the short Italian gene, but you never met a guy who did not completely tower over you. You can feel his green eyes analyzing you.

The bell rings and knocks you out of your trans. Tyler practically jumps, causing his and your laughter all over again. Still cackling, he grabs your arm and drags you behind him out of the dingy room. You trail behind him the entire way back to the classroom. Somehow, the teachers are still yelling.

As you both begin to collect your things, Tyler asks, “When do you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning at six,” you reply.

He sits on what was your desk for the past year with his bag pulling him back, “Then let’s go get food.”

You freeze. Could someone really have just asked you to go somewhere with you that did not have anything to do with you completing a project for them?

“You’re serious,” you question.

He nods. “I like you and thought we could get to know each other. Besides,” he says, “I should probably get to know someone who will be on the plane with me.”

Your eyes practically pop out of your head, “You’re leaving for the same place at the same time as me?”

He just smiles, “Are you feeling snack food or meal?”