Page 40 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
Iswing my legs out of bed and pad to the closet. What do you wear to observe your crush at football practice?
I pull out a T-shirt, but it’s snug. I don’t want to appear as though I’m trying too hard. I grab another one, but that one billows. I also don’t want to look as though I raided my dad’s closet. After cycling through half my wardrobe, I settle on a plainnavy shirt and khaki shorts. It’s casual and unmemorable, same as me.
Adam’s driving,which means we’re going to arrive in one piece. Robbie claimed shotgun before anyone else could blink, leaving me wedged in the back seat between Matthew and Tyler. Their shoulders press against mine, turning me into the meat in a man sandwich, and I try to make myself smaller, which is saying something since I’m already the smallest one here.
“Thanks for driving us, guys,” Matthew says, his knee bumping mine as Adam takes a turn. “My Jeep’s in the shop again.”
“No problem, man,” Adam says, coming to a stop at a stop sign and waiting for the kids to cross the street.
Robbie twists around in his seat, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Guess what! Kevin has a crush on someone from school.”
My entire body goes rigid. “Robbie.”
“A crush?” Matthew perks up, his attention zeroing in on me. “Our little Kevin’s growing up!”
“I don’t?—”
“Oh, this is perfect,” Tyler cuts in, practically bouncing in his seat. “Let’s figure it out. Process of elimination.”
Adam glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I telepathically try to get him to crash the car. A small fender bender—nothing serious—but enough to end this conversation.
“Is it someone from the drama club?” Matthew asks. “What about that guy who played Gaston our freshman year? What was his name?”
“Otto,” I supply automatically, then immediately regret engaging. “And no, it’s not him.”
“Okay, so not a theater kid,” Tyler muses. “What about someone from the debate team? You know, those intense intellectual types?”
“Kevin doesn’t even do debate,” Adam points out, but there’s amusement in his voice.The traitor.
“Right, right.” Matthew shifts, and his thigh presses more firmly against mine. “Oh! What about someone from the swim team? Brandon Carter? Dude’s got abs for days.”
My face heats. “I don’t even know who that is.”
“You don’t know Brandon Carter?” Robbie sounds personally offended. “He holds three school records!”
“I’m sorry that my knowledge of the swim team is lacking,” I mutter.
“Wait, wait,” Tyler leans forward. “What about the wrestling team? Those guys are always, you know…” He makes a vague gesture down there that I guess is supposed to indicate something about wrestlers.
“Always what?” I ask, though I know I shouldn’t.
“You know, rolling around on mats, getting all sweaty and grabby.” Tyler waggles his eyebrows. “In latex.”
Matthew laughs so hard his whole body shakes, jostling me. “Grabby? That’s your technical wrestling term?”
“I’m just saying, if Kevin’s into that?—”
“I’m not into anything! Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
“Absolutely not,” Robbie declares. “We’ve narrowed it down to not theater kids, not swimmers, not wrestlers. What about baseball players?”
“Why are you only naming athletes?” I ask.
“Because you’re suddenly interested in football practice,” Adam says with a shit-eating grin. “Makes sense you’d develop a thing for jocks.”
“I don’t have a thing for?—”
“Oh my God,” Matthew interrupts, grabbing my shoulder. “Is it someone from the football team?”
