All Chapters of Too Big to Fit.: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

SydneyBy the end of school, I was sitting at my desk staring at my chemistry notebook like it carried a virus.And I could swear I’d never been so scared of a piece of paper in my life.The assignment was due tomorrow, and just during the last class, I’d realized Dean didn’t have a copy of the reaction results. And you might be wondering why that’s so important.The reason is, we weren’t paired for nothing.As a group, we had to submit the assignment together—with the same results written in both our notebooks.And being the unserious jock that he was, Dean hadn’t even bothered asking for it. He just rushed out of class with everyone else once the last bell rang.Now I’m sitting alone in class, searching for a strategy, a plan or a way out other than walking down to the gym to hand it to him in front of the entire basketball team.“Shit!” Just the thought made the hair on my neck stand.I never liked the gym. And let’s not even talk about a gym filled with about thirteen of the tall

TylerThe next day should have been easy. Just another day at Lakeview—classes, practice, and the usual trash talks in the hallways.I was mostly over Sydney’s smile yesterday, and I forced myself to laugh at Dean’s jokes throughout the first period.But the thing about lying to yourself is that it eventually hunts you. Because somehow, my brain still kept noticing Sydney Walker everywhere.At her locker, walking past the science wing, sitting two rows ahead in history class.The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and ducked her head when laughter grew too loud.Focus, Tyler. Focus.I had better things to worry about. Like the game next week. Or the fact that coach had managed to convince the principal to let us practice during lunch and through the last period.So that meant the gym would basically be ours until the end of school.Perfect distraction, right? No Sydney, nothing to remind me of that insignificant exchange between her and Dean.But before I could look away and sin

Sydney So here I was, planning a secret mission to stay in the library until the entire school emptied out so Maeve and I could make a quiet exit. Little did I know that a grey eyed butthole was somewhere waiting for me to show up. I didn’t even notice him at first. Maeve was going on about what happened at her grandaunt’s wedding—some of which I could swear she was exaggerating. But I was listening anyway, letting her on so she wouldn’t drag me to the boutique later on to pick out clothes I probably wouldn’t wear. I didn’t even see him standing there—maybe because I didn’t expect anyone to still be in school that late. Especially not jocks like him. But the moment Maeve stopped talking and nudged me, I knew something was wrong. I turned, my eyes landing on Tyler’s. He was just standing there, blank face, damp hair clinging to his temple, his bag slung over his shoulder in a way that looked normal on everybody else but somehow looked cool on him. I swear, I didn’t know wh

Sydney Maybe I should have just called in sick and stayed at home. Because after practically yelling at Lakeview’s golden boy in the hallway, it took me a full twenty minutes to completely stop myself from shaking. Actual shaking. The kind that could be passed for a fever if Mom had seen me early enough. But life doesn’t pause for humiliation. I still had to open my eyes the next morning, still listen to my bed groan slightly as I got up, get dressed, and then get into the back seat of the car to get to Lakeview High. “He can’t be nice to girls like…” Those words clung to me like alcohol on a drunk. Because that was the way Tyler Sinclair saw me. An oddity in a perfect city where the elite ruled. Still, I walked through the doors of Lakeview High, keeping my head low. Probably because I was still a bit shaken from yesterday. Ignoring the fact that I’d wet my pillow wishing my dad was still alive, and I didn’t have to move. But somehow, the hallway seemed a lit

Tyler “Dude, mall, after school.” Micheal’s message read the next morning. I just sighed, dragging a shirt over my head before heading downstairs. I paused halfway, my eyes settling on Mom. She was home by…I checked the time. It was way past when she usually rushed off to one of her big companies. But she was there—relaxed against a couch, a glass of wine in her hand. And across from her was one woman I recognized as one of her rivals. They were speaking in such low tones, it’d take a miracle to hear what they were saying without extremely straining your ear. I just ran a hand through my hair, slung my bag over my shoulder, and moved toward the door. “Tyler,” Mom called without turning. My hand slid off the doorknob as I looked back. “Brooklyn’s birthday.” She said calmly. Of course she remembered She probably had a reminder set for it the second the last one ended. “I have a gift for her.” She turned this time, meeting my gaze. “You’ll give it to her for me.