Page 105 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“Before the divorce?”
“Yeah.” He picks up a stick and drags it through the sand as we walk. “Everything was simpler then. Or maybe it only felt that way.”
“I know what you mean.”
We reach a fallen tree that extends partially into the water, and Jameson climbs onto it. He holds out his hand and helps me up. We settle side by side, our feet dangling above the dark abyss.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask.
“Always.”
“I keep waiting for things to go back to normal. Like maybe I’ll wake up and Robbie won’t be mad, Adam won’t be leaving, and everything will be how it was.” I lean against Jameson’s shoulder. “But I’m starting to think maybe there’s no going back, that this is how it is now.”
“Maybe that’s not entirely bad,” Jameson says carefully. “I mean, if things hadn’t changed, we might not be here right now.”
He’s right. In the version of life where Adam never considered Stanford, where Robbie wasn’t betrayed, and where I never had to stand up for myself, Jameson and I would’ve stayed in our separate orbits forever.
“When you put it that way,” I concede.
He turns his head and kisses my temple, soft and sweet. “Change sucks. But sometimes good things come from it.”
A shout echoes across the water, followed by a splash. Someone’s been pushed into the water.
“We should probably head back,” I say, though I don’t want to move.
“Probably,” Jameson agrees, not moving either.
We sit there for some time, watching the fireflies come out to play.
“Kevin!”Rita calls out, waving me over when Jameson and I return to the fire. “Perfect timing. We’re trying to get people to sing.” The way she smirks at me, I know that by people, she means me.
“Absolutely not,” I say immediately.
“Come on,” says Louie from the drama club. “We’ve already gotten three people to do solos. Even Jake from the football team did ‘Baby Got Back.’”
“That barely counts as singing,” I say.
“You should sing,” Jameson says suddenly.
I whip around to gape at him. “What?”
“I’m serious.” He settles back onto our log, staring up at me with those earnest brown eyes of his. “I haven’t heard you sing; I’ve only seen you shake your groove thang.” He wiggles his hips for emphasis, and I stifle the groan that threatens to escape me.
“That’s because I’ve always been in the ensemble,” I explain, heat creeping up my neck. “I don’t do solos.”
“Why not?” Ethan pipes up from where he’s roasting a marshmallow. “You’re in all those musicals.”
“Being in musicals doesn’t mean I’m a soloist. I’m perfectly happy being part of the group. Blending in. Being one of many.”
“But you have such a good voice,” Rita insists. “Remember when you sang ‘Step One’ fromKinky Bootsin the car that one time? I got literal chills.”
“That was different. That was just us.”
“So pretend it’s just us now,” Tyler suggests, appearing out of nowhere. “Come on, Kev. One song.”
“I…” I swallow hard. “I prefer being the lead in my head, where it’s safe. Where nobody can judge if I crack on a high note or forget the words.”
“Nobody here is going to judge,” Adam says firmly. “Right?” He glances around meaningfully, his eyes promising a world of pain if anyone does.
