The Bridge by Rachel Lou

office, but I convinced her to put them in a folder for you.” He pulled out a green folder with the dojang’s logo printed on the front: two pairs of angel wings attached to a yin and yang symbol. “There are informational packets inside and schedules too, but if you don’t want group lessons, we can get you a private instructor. It’ll cost more, but I can pull some strings.”
    Everett smiled at the folder. “Why are you doing this for me?”
    “You look like you need a little adventure.” Bryce smiled. There were white and gray specks dotting the blackness of his irises, and those were what made his eyes looked like tiny night skies.
    “How do you know I haven’t already had one?”
    “Your eyes are big. Big eyes are perfect for adventures. They can see everything.” Bryce smiled. “Poetic, right?”
    Everett took the folder, knowing his cheeks were stained with a blush.
    They stood in the doorway for a while, silent and both smiling.
    Bryce stepped back, his smile bright against his olive skin. “The dojang opens at twelve so… I’m going to head back. You can drop that off anytime during business hours. My phone number is in there if you have any questions… on the left flap in blue marker. Can’t miss it.”
    “I’ll talk with my grandfather about this. Thanks for bringing it over.”
    “See ya.” Bryce turned after a quick wink and tilt of his head.
    Everett locked the door before running to the living room window, where he watched Bryce walk into the woods.
    He emptied the folder on the chess table and skimmed through the paperwork. There wasn’t much to sign, only sheets for injury disclaimers, emergency contact information, payment plans—including the scholarship for Everett, and a waiver for public use of photographs taken during class. The other contents included an informational brochure on the art of tae kwon do, class offerings, the dojang’s schedule, and the curriculum for the first belt.
    Bryce’s number and name were scrawled on the center of the folder pocket in blocky print. Everett added it to his phone’s contact list and texted, Is this Bryce?
    He refilled the packet and right as he put the folder down, a new message popped on his screen.
    Yup. Is your name spelled Everett, like the city?
    My parents thought it was majestic.
    Everett had loved his name until middle school, when people asked if he was named after the city.
    My parents picked random names for me and my sisters. Bryce, Melinda, and Julianna. I think they used a name generator .
    Are they older than you? Everett asked.
    Julianna is 24, Melinda is 20, and I’m 19. I was born 11 months after Melinda. Irish twins!
    Do they do martial arts too?
    They both instruct. I know you’ve seen Melinda. I’m not sure about Julianna though. She was there when I told you about the scholarship.
    Julianna must have been the older woman who came in to assist Ann.
    Is your family a martial arts family?
    We were. Hey, I’m tripping over twigs and rocks. I’ll text you later, okay?
    Will do! Don’t die!
    Everett grabbed his paranormal book, curled on his bed, and started the erotica scene from the beginning. The primary character had a similar appearance to Bryce, and the secondary character had Everett’s own more feminine look. When he finished, he put the book aside, untied his pants, and replayed the chapter in his head, Bryce and him taking the places of the main characters. Afterward he changed his soiled bedsheets, blushing while he scrubbed himself clean, thinking that somehow Bryce knew what he had done.

Chapter 8
     
     
    FOUR HOURS later, he was on the path to the library to return the book. The sun was setting fast, but he wanted to rid himself of his guilty conscience. He had finished the book two hours ago, and for the two hours until now, just looking at the book reminded him of everything Bryce-related. He remembered the first time they noticed each other, after Bryce’s intense round of bag work.
    The