Page 84 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“You look good, Kev,” Adam says seriously. “Really good.”
“Very kissable,” Robbie adds with a wink and a kiss to my cheek.
“We’re not going to kiss. We’re going to talk.”
“On a romantic boat ride,” Robbie says.
“With the boy you’ve been crushing on all summer,” Adam adds.
“Who specifically requested your presence,” Robbie continues.
“And who’s been texting you constantly,” Adam piles on.
“And who held your hand during your beach date,” they finish in unison.
“Okay, okay!” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I get it. Maybe it issomewhatromantic.”
“Somewhat?” Robbie falls back dramatically onto my bed. “Kevin, the boy is taking you on a boat. Do you know how many romantic movie scenes happen on boats?”
“Name one.”
“The Notebook!”
“They were in a rowboat surrounded by swans. This is a motorboat surrounded by…fish, probably.”
“Same energy,” Robbie insists.
Adam checks his phone. “We should head out soon. Don’t want to be late.”
My stomach flips. “Right. Soon. Because this is happening.”
“Hey.” Adam puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’re going to be fine. Better than fine. You’re going to be yourself, and that’s exactly who Hart wants to spend the day with.”
I take one last look in the mirror. The boy staring back is no longer an afterthought. He’s someone ready for whatever the day may bring.
“Okay,” I say, grabbing my backpack with sunscreen, water, and an extra shirt—because I’m still me, and I need backup options. “Let’s do this.”
“That’s our Cinderella,” Robbie says, hopping up. “Ready for the ball. Or the boat. Whatever.”
“Just promise me no more Disney songs,” I beg as we head for the stairs.
“No promises,” they say together. And then Adam starts humming “Kiss the Girl.”
“I’m finding new brothers.”
Dad pullsinto the marina parking lot, and my nerves are at an all-time high. The morning sun glints off the rows of boats, their masts reaching toward a sky so blue it almost looks fake.
“Alright, troops,” Dad says, sliding the side door open. “Everyone out.”
Salt air fills my lungs as I step out of the minivan and spot Jameson’s Honda parked nearby. Rita tumbles out after me, her beach bag overflowing with what must be enough supplies for a week-long voyage. She’s wearing oversized sunglasses and a white sundress over her swimsuit.
“This is so exciting!” She scans the dock. “Which one is it?”
“The big one,” Robbie says, pointing toward the end of the pier where a gleaming white yacht sits.
“Holy crap, that’s not a boat. That’s a floating mansion.” Rita’s jaw is on the pier, as is mine. “Kevin, we’re living an episode ofBelow Deck!”
The yacht has multiple levels, a hot tub on the upper deck, and enough chrome to blind someone. My simple anchor shirt is suddenly inadequate.
