The Places I've Cried in Public by Holly Bourne

She raised both eyebrows. “Well, I’m a very proud music teacher
tonight, that’s for sure. You two come for your stuff?”
I picked my way through to my guitar, keen to give myself something to
do that wasn’t getting static shocks from the sparks flying between us. I
picked up my case with an oomph. Alfie’s bumper sticker was still plastered
across the top:
I’M NOT SHY, I’M JUST HOLDING BACK MY AWESOMENESS SO I
DON’T INTIMIDATE YOU.
The room faded out as I stroked the edge of the sticker and touched my
heart. Then I remembered the total lack of a message from him on my
phone, stood up, and hoicked my case over my shoulder.
“You all set?” Reese asked, nodding at me like we knew each other
really well already.
“You not taking your guitar?”
“I’m leaving mine here. I’ve got music first thing on Monday, and it
frees me up to help you with yours.”
I wrinkled my nose for a second, thinking I don’t need help, but also
simultaneously thinking Please help me so we can continue standing near
each other.
“Bye, Mrs Clarke.” I waved goodbye to my teacher and scuttled after
him.
“Bye, Amelie. Congratulations again. Make sure she gets home okay,
Reese.”
He saluted.
“Where do you live?” he asked once we were outside again.
“Umm. Cherry Hill Gardens.” The words still sounded foreign on my
tongue. That wasn’t where I lived. I lived at number twenty-six Turners
Hill, Sheffield. Well, I used to…
“Yep. I know it. This town is so tiny it’s pretty easy to navigate.” He
took my guitar off me without even asking, swinging it over his shoulder,
then guided us out of college and towards my house.