Page 58 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“Like a Smurf. For three days. Mom made me pay for the special removal treatment.” He bumps my shoulder gently. “The point is, we survived. You guys will too.”
The line moves forward, and before I know it, we’re at the counter. I order a mint chocolate chip to switch things up. Jameson gets rainbow sherbet, and I wonder if it’s because, like him, it’s more complex than it first appears.
Adam’s still giving me the silent treatment as we sit on the benches with our ice cream. He got vanilla. Robbie’s attacking something with three different toppings, and it’s already dripping down his hand.
“This is amazing,” Rita moans around a spoonful of strawberry. “Worth every weight-gaining consequence.”
“Indeed,” Ethan says, already halfway through his orange sherbet cone.
Matthew rates our choices, declaring Tyler’s butter pecan “an old man flavor” and Robbie’s monstrosity “an affront to ice cream everywhere.”
I let their voices wash over me, trying to enjoy the moment despite the tension with Adam. The boardwalk stretches out in both directions, alight with fun. The ocean whispers somewhere in the darkness beyond.
“Want to walk?” Jameson asks quietly, nodding toward the pier.
I glance at the group. Rita is the only one who catches my eye. She makes a shooing motion with her free hand.
“Sure,” I say.
We drift away from the others and follow the weathered boards toward where the pier juts out into the Atlantic. Other couples—are we a couple? Is that what this is?—lean against the railings, stealing kisses between ice cream licks.
“So,” Jameson says as we find an empty spot, “Anniechoreography, running away to be a governess, and now brother drama. You’re giving me the full Kevin Pryor experience tonight.”
“Lucky you,” I mutter, then immediately worry that it sounds bitter.
But he smiles. “Yeah. Lucky me.”
The words hang between us, heavy with possibility. I focus on my ice cream, but I can sense him watching me. A gentle breeze sweeps in from the ocean. It makes the strands of hair dangling over his forehead flutter. A chill runs up my back, but I can’t tell if the answering shiver is from that, the ice cream, or the proximity to Jameson Hart.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Shoot.”
“Those books. The ones you bought at Pages & Prose.” I keep my eyes on the dark water that reflects the full moon and the galaxy of twinkling stars. “Did you ever give them to Ethan?”
Silence. Then, quietly, “No.”
My heart spins violently in my chest. “Why not?”
“Because they weren’t for him.” His voice is barely audible over the nightlife. “I saw you go into the bookstore and followed you in. Made up the whole thing about Ethan because I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
I turn to gawk at him. He’s staring at his ice cream as though he doesn’t know how it’s half gone already.
“I’ve been reading them,” he continues. “Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. Cemetery Boys.Even went back to getThe Fault in Our Stars. They’re all good.”
“Yeah?” My voice comes out strangled, and I take a bite of ice cream to soothe the burn of excitement and the possibility of something amazing making its way up my throat.
“Yeah.” He meets my eyes. “They’re helping me figure some things out.”
The pier suddenly feels very small, like we’re on an island separate from the rest of the world. My mint chocolate chip is melting, dripping onto my hand, but I can’t move.
“Jameson—”
“I know this is probably weird,” he rushes on. “And I know we have different interests, and you probably think I’m some dumb jock who can’t dance?—”
“I don’t think that.” The words fall out, urgent and true. “I think you’re smart and funny and kind to your brother. I think it’s surprising that you’re terrible at video games and sweet that you cry at dog movies and adorable that you secretly love Britishbaking shows. I think you’re complex and interesting, and I’m really enjoying getting to know you.”
Even in the darkness, I see the blush spread across his sun-kissed skin. He ducks his head, then peers up at me through impossibly long lashes.
