Page 25 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
Another loud honk ricochets through the air, dragging my attention back to the road. The car behind us inches closer, the driver making his impatience known with another blare of the horn.
“Drive, Kevin,” Robbie says, tapping my leg. “Before this asshole behind us slams his car into the back of ours. I won’t cover for you with Dad on that one.”
Grudgingly, I ease off the brake and coax us forward along Main Street while keeping one eye on Robbie.
“This conversation isn’t over,” I tell him, frustrated and strangely giddy at the thought of my brother possibly having a crush on my best friend.
CHAPTER 8
pick-a-little, talk-a-little
Rain drums against my bedroom window, creating the perfect soundtrack for hiding under the covers and avoiding the world. I burrow deeper into my blankets, laptop balanced on my knees as Rita’s face fills the screen. Her hair is wrapped in a towel that keeps threatening to unravel, and she’s painting her nails a shade of black that matches the storm clouds outside.
“What do you think of Robbie?” I ask her during a lull in our conversation about the newest episode ofBelow Deck.
Rita pauses mid-stroke, the nail polish brush hovering over her pinky. “Your brother, Robbie? The one who once ate an entire pizza by himself and then threw it up in the pool?”
“That was three years ago.”
“Time doesn’t erase that image from my mind, Kevin.” She finishes painting her pinky, caps the polish, and waves her hands to dry them. “But he’s pretty sweet when you think about it. Remember when I twisted my ankle duringFootlooserehearsals sophomore year? He carried my backpack for a week without me even asking.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “He did?”
“Yeah, every day between classes. He’d stop by at my locker, sling it over his shoulder, and walk me to my next period.” She blows on her nails. “And last winter, I got locked out of my car in the school parking lot during that snowstorm. He stayed with me for forty minutes waiting for AAA.”
I frown. “I didn’t know about that either.”
Rita’s expression softens. “Oh, Kevin. That’s because you’re always off in la-la land.”
I want to protest, but she’s right. I tend to drift through life in my head, constructing elaborate musical numbers while real life unfolds around me. “I guess I do miss a lot,” I say glumly.
“It’s not a bad thing,” she assures me quickly. “It’s what makes you such a good performer. You can immerse yourself completely in your imagination. Most people can’t do that.”
“Sometimes, I think I spend too much time there,” I admit. “But it’s easier that way.”
“Easier than what?”
Easier than acknowledging that I’m developing feelings I have no idea what to do with for a boy who merely knows me. Or that facing the reality of senior year terrifies me, that my brother is carrying a secret that could change the future.
“Just easier,” I say instead.
Rita studies me through the screen with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. “This is about your crush on Jameson, isn’t it?”
I groan. “Can we go back to talking about Robbie?”
“Nice try, but no.” She settles back against her pillows, clearly ready for a long conversation. “What’s going on in that Broadway-obsessed brain of yours?”
The rain continues to come down in buckets, enveloping my room in a cocoon of white noise. It’s safe here, talking to Rita through a screen while the world outside drowns.
“Adam and Robbie were watching game tapes last night from last season,” I say. “They invited me to join them.”
“And?”
“And I tried my best to pay attention. Adam was pointing out defensive formations, and Robbie was analyzing field goal angles and all this technical stuff that went completely over my head.” I take a shaky breath. “But all I could focus on was…”
Rita’s eyebrows arch, daring me to finish my sentence. I keep my mouth clamped shut for a solid five seconds, but she knows when I’m stalling and is immune to dead air. If I don’t say it, she’ll stare at me until I break. And I don’t hold up well under torture.
“Gee, Kevin. What could be more interesting than your brothers’ football strategy session?”
