Page 6 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron (Blindsided #2)

Byron squinted at his textbook, lips moving silently as he tried to decode a paragraph on Pavlov's dogs.

"So... the dog got hungry every time he heard a bell?"

Ana didn't look up. "Yes."

"And that's psychology?"

"Yes."

Byron stared at the page again. "Weird. I just get hungry every time I pass Greggs."

She smirked. "That's conditioning, Byron. Just... the sausage roll variety."

He grinned. "Knew I was a genius."

"No, just well-trained, "replied Ana with an eye roll.

It had crept up on them quietly, without fanfare.

Byron's eighteenth birthday came first, all rowdy noise and fast-food wrappers-his rugby lot throwing chips outside their local pub, shouting songs only half-remembered from a night out. They were drunk as skunks.

The next afternoon, Ana handed him a box of takeaway pizza in her kitchen. Inside were custom black rugby boots with silver stitching and the letters br embroidered at the heel.

"Can't have you knackerin' yourself before you even get to Newcastle," she'd said.

He'd looked at her, something caught behind his bright hazel eyes and then wrapped her in a massive, bone-crushing bear hug, lifting her slightly off the ground.

"Yer bloody ace, Bartolini," he muttered into her hair.

She snorted. "Put me down before you crack my spine. And stop smelling my hair."

He grinned but didn't let go straight away.

"Cognitive dissonance," Ana said, pointing a card at him like a weapon.

Byron leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "That's when your brain throws a strop because your actions don't match your morals, right?"

Ana blinked. "That was... actually correct."

He wiggled his brows. "Told you I'm a psych god."

"Alright, don't pull a muscle patting yourself on the back."

Byron tapped the card. "You like this stuff."

Ana paused. "Yeah. I do."

He looked at her a beat longer than he needed to. "You're gonna be dangerous one day, Bartolini."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling .

Ana's birthday had been a quiet dinner at home and a lopsided cake made by her mum.

Byron had shown up early that morning at Ana's door, yawning and bruised from training, to hand her a tiny velvet pouch.

Inside was a silver charm-a tiny rugby boot, etched with surprising detail. He had insisted on clipping it onto her bracelet himself, awkward but deliberate.

"For balance," he'd said, grinning. "Words and wanderin'-and now a bit o' chaos."

"Right, last one," Ana said, flicking through the flashcards. "Maslow's hierarchy."

"Easy," Byron said, grinning. "Food, shagging, watching the telly, winning trophies-sorted."

Ana groaned. "That's not even close."

"Come on. Isn't 'love and belonging' the shagging bit?"

"Stop saying 'shagging' in public," Ana whispered with red cheeks looking to see if anyone heard.

He leaned closer, mock-whispering. "Shagging."

"BYRON! "

He laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. She hit him with the big psychology book.

***

Even when they weren't speaking much in person-when Byron was off training, or moody, or drifting closer to Cathy Liston than Ana liked, they still texted.

Every day.

Most times it was questions about their psych homework, or reminders ("Oi, bring the Freud notes tomorrow. I've lost mine again.").

And sometimes -

Byron: U up?

Ana: It's midnight, moron .

Byron: Can't sleep. Brain won't shut up.

Ana: Want a distraction or honesty?

Byron: Bit of both maybe.

And somewhere between the daily chats and midnight confessions, Ana realised she didn't want a day where he didn't show up on her screen. Even if it was just to say

Byron: Survived PE. Nearly threw up. 10/10 would do again.

Ana: You're so dramatic.

Byron: You like it tho.

She did. More than she wanted to admit.

Later that week, after school, Ana stepped out into the courtyard just in time to see Byron laughing with Cathy Liston. Cathy reached out and tugged lightly on the sleeve of his jacket, her grin white and like a siren. Byron let her, that easy, cocky posture sliding into place.

Ana stopped mid-step.

It was stupid.

She told herself that.

She wasn't with him. There had never been a declaration. Byron flirting was just Byron being Byron. Just study sessions, shared snacks, maybe something soft hiding beneath the sarcasm. Just friends.

But still... it stung.

Cadi appeared beside her like she'd just materialised out of thin air. "You, okay?"

Ana forced a shrug. "Yeah. Just tired."

Cadi looked at her for a long beat, then nodded. "He's being an arse. Doesn't mean you have to let it ruin your day."

Ana smiled, tightly, "You're right. Let's get coffee. Without testosterone."

They walked off together. Ana didn't look back .

The route was beautiful, brutal, and exhausting. They were on the Gold Duke of Edinburgh expedition, just months from graduation. Byron had been extra grumpy of late.

They were on Day 2, dragging their aching limbs from Borrowdale to Grisedale Tarn, the wind cutting across the ridges and mist soaking their hair. Fifteen miles of rough ascent, scree-covered paths, and leg-sapping descents.

Byron walked ahead most of the morning, barely saying a word.

He was tired. She could see it in the slope of his shoulders, in the way he didn't joke, in the shadows under his eyes. The Newcastle contract had come through two weeks earlier. He should have been ecstatic. Instead, he had turned into a grizzly bear.

"Could you, maybe, slow down?" Ana snapped at one point, slipping slightly on a wet stone.

He turned, jaw tight. "I'm just keepin' pace."

"Yeah, with your bloody ego."

He flinched, then looked away.

Ana didn't apologise.

He cracked jokes with the others, still loud, still Byron, but when he circled back to her, his face was shuttered.

"You alright?" he asked flatly.

"No," she snapped. "I'm cold, hungry, and I'm sick of being ignored."

He blinked, taken aback.

She didn't stop. "You act like I'm invisible unless it's convenient. I get it-Newcastle offer, Cathy Liston's fluttering lashes and overflowing boobs, cigarettes behind the gym. That's your vibe now."

"Don't do that," he said sharply.

"Do what?"

"Act like you know what's goin' on with me. "

Ana dropped her pack on the gravel path and crossed her arms. "I used to."

He stared at her. For a second, she thought he might explode. Instead, he swore under his breath and kept walking.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of pain and silence.

She didn't look at him when they reached camp. She barely spoke during dinner. She got ready to set up her tent with stiff arms and heavier thoughts, ignoring how the stars looked so much colder this time around.

By the time they reached the campsite-a quiet dip near Grisedale Tarn, surrounded by sheep-speckled hills and a wind that whooshed like a wandering ghost- everyone was too exhausted to speak.

Byron and Gray set up their tent in silence.

Ana and Cadi refused help and struggled with theirs until Gray came over and insisted on helping.

Gray and Cadi vanished not long after, murmuring something about looking for constellations, but Ana knew where Cadi would be sleeping.

Ana lay in her tent, sore and cold and full of questions she'd stopped asking weeks ago.

The zip rustled.

"Cadi?" she muttered sleepily.

"It's cold," came his voice, low and familiar. "An' I couldn't sleep."

"Byron?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" His voice had a strange note "What? It's freezing."

She squinted at him. "This is my tent."

"Yeah, and I'm about to save us both from hypothermia. You're welcome."

Before she could protest, he climbed in, long limbs and all, zipping their bags together in one smooth, practised motion .

"Are you-have you done this before?"

"Brownies. Camping trips. I'm a man of hidden talents. Scouts, ya know. "

She glared at him. "You're such a pain."

"You're warm," he mumbled, pulling the sleeping bag over their heads.

She was. He was warmer, all heat, solid muscle and tension. She lay stiffly, trying to ignore the way her skin seemed to hum with static where his arm pressed lightly against hers.

Then he went still.

"Would you date me, Ana?"

She turned her head slightly, breath catching. "What?"

His voice was quiet now, none of his usual bravado. "You're killin' me. You know I want you."

The tension hung between them like fog. Her heart beat like it was looking for a way out of her chest. And she knew, knew he meant it. This was not a joke or one of those throwaway lines over the years.

"Is this one of those situations where I am supposed to magically know this because you pull my hair and have recently been an awful grump to me?" grumbled Ana while snuggled close.

Wow, he was like a furnace.

"Ana..."

"Does this usually work on other girls? I thought you were shagging Cathy Liston."

"Ana..."

"No, how am I supposed to know you like me when you have been awful to me?"

"I am not shagging Cathy. I always wanted you. It's just...you are a bit scary, ya know. Had to work my courage up. Just be honest. Do ya like me? Yes, or na? "

He was being serious...

Ana whispered, "Yes"

And Byron, for once, didn't say anything clever.

Just smiled in the dark and hugged her close.