My phone screen lit up. I sighed, looking at it. Another message from him, but then, I knew it would be. I clicked my phone so the screen went black and slid it into my pocket, grabbing my school bag and car keys. Walking to the front door, I found myself humming the tune to my favourite song: teenage dirtbag. I twirled my keys on my finger, walking straight past the Mini to the bus stop. As I waited, I turned my phone back on and read the message. -[c u at skwl char?]- I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of the message. -[im taking the bus. maybe if i dnt fall aslep. cya x]- I replied, putting my phone away and looking up to see the bus arriving. I jumped on board and payed the ridiculous fee (£1.65) and went to my seat. I leant against the window.

"Can I sit here?" someone muttered right in my ear. I started, turning to see a boy wearing all black: black top, hoodie, skinny jeans, Vans and very dark sunglasses. I nodded, trying to guess who he was, and why the hell he was covering so much of his face. He kept his head bent, staring intently at his phone and eventually sighing loudly.

"Y'lright?" I asked, still staring out the window. I hear the material of his hoodie rustle as he turned his head to look at me.

"Did your parents never teach you stranger danger?" he asked. I felt a pang of loss right in my stomach and squeezed my eyes shut.

"I..." I shook my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. I cursed myself. I've never cried in public, not this easily, even when talking about my parents, but with him it's different somehow. His arms slid round my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he murmured in my ear, his breath tickling my cheek. I took a deep breath, shaking my head.

"My parents are dead." I finally choked out, wiping my eyes, thankful I decided against makeup. I said it so quietly so he could pretend he hadn't heard if he wanted.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and I could finally hear the Irish in his voice, that he'd been trying to cover with a shitty American accent. The terrifying truth was, I'd be lying if I said I wanted him to let go of me. "You okay now?" he asked. When I told him I had to get off the bus, he took a pen and scribbled his phone number on my hand and I left. I stared at it, wiping my eyes again. I went to my locker and Charlie surprised me.

"You been crying?" was the first thing he said. I shook my head. "Charli don't lie to me." I shrugged him off and went to form room, but I couldn't shrug off the thought of the possibly Irish or American boy from the bus.