Seeing Shane Gray ✓

twenty seven | anticlimactic

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November 6

"So, you're like ..."

I trail off, frowning into the distance as we sit side by side in the bleachers overlooking the deserted football field. After the third teacher told us to get to class, we decided it was a smart idea to probably get out of school if we want to continue having our much-needed heart-to-heart chat.

"... that supposedly pampered, spoiled rich-kid we read about in stories and watch on TV?" I conclude, trying to add humor into the otherwise very grim tale. "Like Richie Rich?"

Shane snorts. "That's one way of putting it," he says, amused.

"Wow, how anticlimactic," I mumble. "Aren't rich parents supposed to be very negligent and completely disconcerted about what whatever their kids do? I mean, I'm judging or anything, but my very limited knowledge comes from the number of romance novels I have read because they're a lot."

Laughing, Shane nudges my arm with his.

"Yeah, well, real life isn't a romance novel," he says, still chuckling. "I would blame Jackson but my parents are, like, crazy involved in everything I do. They go through my stuff, track my phone, know all of my friends and regularly talk to my teachers. Hell, I'm pretty sure they even have people dressed up as undercover students here to watch my every move."

"And I thought I watched way too many crime thrillers," I mumble.

"For all I know, you could be totally spying on me," Shane suggests.

"Yup, because I'm like the perfect spies in disguise weirdo, huh?" I tease, hoping he'll get the reference.

He probably doesn't because he doesn't reply. Nonetheless, he's too polite so he just smiles, not making me regret using the reference at all. If it was with anyone other than Shane, it would have been totally embarrassing.

"So that's why your dad took you to Paris?" I change the topic. Sort of.

"When I went home Friday night, I just wanted Dad to know I was okay," he explains. "But he told me he was going to Paris for some ambassador business and that he wanted me to come along. I didn't have a choice, Taylor. And I couldn't call you because, in the rush of everything, I left my phone at home. You don't know how much I wished I had your number memorized by heart so I could call you from a payphone but I didn't."

Rolling my eyes, I allow myself to smile slightly. I hate to admit it, but Shane seems to know every doubt I've had over the past few days. Not only is he telling me everything, he keeps apologizing for it too. I feel giddy inside.

"I just got back this morning and drove straight here to see you," Shane tells me. "I didn't even attend class and the jetlag is killing me right now."

I turn my head to the right to look at Shane, noticing his red eyes and an exhausted smile. Sure enough, it's obvious he's in a terrible state. Even though it's cute that he wanted to see me as soon as he landed, I can't help but think how stupid of him to not rest before he drove over to school.

"How're you feeling, though?" he asks suddenly, watching me closely. "You look oddly okay for someone who just got diagnosed with a chronic, life-style-altering disease."

I shrug. "The doctor said I'm lucky I got diagnosed early so it hasn't gotten unmanageable yet. Insulin and dieting will probably help me control it in the long-run. I'm currently just going to be keeping tabs of my glucose levels, monitor it daily for like two weeks or something. It sucks but, like I said, it's better than AIDs."

Shane nods, humming thoughtfully. "You told your mom?"

"Yeah, she went to the doctor with me."

He pauses. "What about your dad?"