Just for Clicks

by Kara McDowell

  “What do you need me to do?” Poppy asks, because sometimes she really is a people pleaser. Especially if those “people” are her sister, and especially if the topic is a boy.

  “Help me plan a meet up with our local fans?”

  She raises her hands in mock heavenly praise. “I thought you’d never ask!”

  “Don’t get too excited. This is a onetime deal.” I try a toe in the pool again, but nope. Still cold.

  “I have a favor to ask, too. Now that we know Nora was behind the cyberbullying, you should apologize to Emily and Erica.”

  “No way! Nora obviously got her information from them. No one else knew about Jackson and the high five.”

  Poppy winces. “Olivia did. She was the one who sent Nora those pictures of me. They met on some message board, apparently.”

  Olivia’s words ring in my head. At least I’m the same bitch online as I am in real life. I can’t say she didn’t warn me.

  But now I’m filled with even more guilt. I’ve spent the last year blaming two of my old friends for something they didn’t do. “Wait, so you told Olivia about the high five?”

  Poppy shakes her head. “That was all Jackson.”

  I laugh, both stunned and not. I agonized over that high five for months, while Jackson was blabbing about it behind my back.

  “What do we do about Olivia?” Poppy asks.

  I shrug. High school will be over before long, and then I’ll never have to think about her again. It’s not worth the emotional burden of icing her out like I did with Emily and Erica. “I don’t care. But honestly, I knew I hated her for a reason. I felt it.”

  Poppy opens her book and nudges me playfully in the side. “Don’t pretend like you felt anything other than good, old-fashioned jealousy.”

  It’s the Sunday of Thanksgiving break, and autumn has finally arrived in Arizona. Poppy and I are in a crowded park surrounded by people smiling and waving at us while their booties crunch over fallen leaves. We’re wearing matching sweaters and scarves. It’s not really cold enough to justify the scarves, but sometimes it’s okay to make sacrifices for fashion, especially when other people are making sacrifices for me.

  Over the years, Poppy and Mom have scheduled meet ups with fans, and I have always flat-out refused to attend. Today’s event was my idea, but when Poppy offered to come with me, I was relieved. Thanks to an Insta-invite, our fans are at the park this afternoon to chat with us and take pictures.

  There are at least a hundred people here so far, and I don’t recognize a single face. I smile at the three teenage girls in the front of the line and try to ignore the knot in my stomach. I was convinced that my encounters with the girl in Superior and the lady at the shoe store had cured me of my stranger phobia, but now I’m not so sure.

  “I think I need to be angry.” I take a sip from my water bottle as Poppy checks her lip gloss in a compact mirror.

  “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

  “No, but thanks for offering.”

  “Anytime.” She snaps her compact shut with a wicked smile.

  “So how does this work?”

  “Just be nice. Smile. Ask them something about themselves. Say ‘thanks for coming’ and pose for a picture.”

  I take a deep breath and nod. “I think I can do that.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget these.” She picks up a stack of posters from the ground and hands them to me.

  My legs tremble as I walk toward the long line that snakes through the park. “I can’t believe there are so many people,” I say under my breath as Poppy waves to the crowd.

  “People love you. It’s not a crime.” We reach the line and I drop the posters by my feet.

  The girls at the front squeal in high-pitched unison. “I can’t believe it’s really you!” The smallest one launches herself forward and hugs me without warning.

  I stagger back a few steps but manage to put my arms around her and return the hug. “What’s your name?”

  “Sandy. Thank you so much for doing this. I just love you and Poppy!” She clutches her phone in her hands, and I have a feeling I know what she wants.

  “No problem! Want to take a picture?”

  “Yes, please!” She holds her phone out and snaps a picture of us with our arms around each other.

  “I’ll tag you in it so you can see it,” she says as she studies her screen.

  “Great. Thanks!”

  She turns to leave and the toe of her shoes kicks the corner of my posters, reminding me why I’m here. “Wait! Can we take one more?”

  She grins. “Of course!”

  I pick up the poster on the top of the pile. “Will you do me a favor and hold this sign for me?” She reads it and furrows her brow, obviously confused.

  “It’s for a boy,” I explain.

  “A cute one?”

  I nod and she giggles. I hold out my phone and snap a picture while she displays the sign. Then I smile at the next person in line and get ready to do it all again.

  My heart thuds in my chest as I approach the porch. Two large, red-and-green Christmas poinsettias flank the door. My palms are sweaty despite the chill in the air. I wipe them on the legs of my jeans and wrap my scarf tighter around my neck. My sandpaper tongue prevents me from swallowing.

  I have no idea what I’m going to say. I hoped something funny and brilliant would come to me on the drive here but it didn’t. I’m on my own. It’s fine. Who needs to be funny and brilliant when you can be sweaty and tongue-tied?

  I finally knock and Rafael’s dad answers the door. They have the same brown eyes, the same unruly hair. The only difference is that Dr. Luna is graying at the temples.

  “May I help you?” He looks confused. Probably because I’m staring at his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Is Rafael here?”

  “I don’t think so. Hang on.” He turns his head. “Rafael?” he bellows up the stairs. We wait in silence. No response. “He must have gone out.”

  “Where?” I blurt without thinking. As if Rafael isn’t allowed to have a life I don’t know about. His dad raises his eyebrows with an amused expression.

  “I’m not positive. A girl called him a little while ago.”

  “A girl?”

  “Olive, maybe?”

  My heart drops through my stomach and lands on the floor. I waited too long and now he’s with Olivia. She’s a bully and a blackmailer, but he doesn’t know that. I bet she doesn’t lie to him or yell at him or drag him through her ridiculous family drama. I doubt she has ridiculous family drama. She probably doesn’t talk when he’s trying to kiss her. The thought sears a hole in my chest.

  “Is everything alright?” Dr. Luna looks uncomfortable. “Do you want me to call him?”

  “No. That’s okay. Sorry to interrupt your evening.” I back away from the door, tripping over my feet in the process. But just as he’s about to shut the door, I change my mind. “Can you give him this for me?” I hold out the envelope of pictures that I just had printed at the drugstore. It’s all very old-fashioned, holding actual printed photos in my hand. He nods, takes the envelope, and closes the door.

  When I’m on the road again, I roll down my windows and drive north. The cool air rushes over my arms as I drive. It feels amazing, but my thin Arizona blood isn’t used to the cold, so I turn on the heat to balance it out.

  Windows down. Heat on. Rafael would laugh at me. I know it’s ridiculous, but the contrast makes my skin hum. Thinking about Rafael makes me think about Olivia, which gives my stomach the same feeling I got the year I ate a dozen sour Warheads on a Halloween dare from Poppy.

  I turn on the radio. An upbeat, jingly Christmas song is on the radio. Now that Thanksgiving is over, my favorite radio station will play nonstop Christmas music until December 26. The festive music makes me want to change the station, but I turn it up instead and let the catchy melody and the jingle bells work their way into my brain.

&n
bsp; As I drive, I realize with fresh pain that this whole mess is my fault. If only I’d talked to my mom when I found the journal, or told Poppy the truth about Jackson and me. If I’d told Rafael how I felt about him, maybe he’d be with me right now instead of Olivia. We all text and blog and email so often that we feel connected, but we were never really communicating honestly with each other. And now it’s too late. It’s out of my hands. I can’t control what pictures other people post of me online or what Lena writes in her article, and I can’t control Rafael and Olivia. But I do control my own actions, and I acknowledge the fact that I screwed up.

  I can also acknowledge the fact that I’m a little bit in love with Rafael, and it sucks that he’s not here with me. Tonight, that’s my story.

  I park my car, hop the fence, sneak through the backyard, and am up on top of the mountain in no time. I wait for the familiar sigh of relief that usually accompanies this moment but it doesn’t come. I don’t feel the stress lift off my shoulders. For once, it doesn’t feel good to be alone at the top of the world.

  It just feels lonely.

  I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear a car come to a stop and the crunch of gravel below me. My heart picks up its pace. I look around but there’s nowhere to go and no time to get there. Is it the homeowners? Did they call the police? I don’t know who I’d rather see. Police have guns, but then again, so do lots of civilians. I make the decision to stand out in the open so no one thinks I’m a wild animal or a criminal. I guess I am a criminal, given the fact that I’m trespassing on private property, but at least they’ll know I’m not a violent one.

  I hold my breath as a figure uses his arms to hoist himself over the rocky ledge. He stands up and looks at me as if I’m a pool of water in the middle of the Sahara. Medicine for a dying man. A flame in the midst of darkness.

  He looks at me as if I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

  Now that I know I’m not in danger, I expect my heart to slow down. It doesn’t. It picks up pace as Rafael and I stare at each other. I can feel it beating violently against my chest, straining to get to Rafael.

  “How’d you find me?” It’s not witty or brilliant, but it’s a start.

  “My dad gave me the pictures.” He pulls the envelope out of his back pocket and holds it up.

  “But how’d you know I’d be here?”

  “I didn’t.” He puts the envelope back in his pocket and walks toward me. Now is the time. Now is when I say everything I should have said last week. Last month. The first time he sat across from me at lunch. But before I say that, I need to know one more thing.

  “Your dad said you were with Olivia.”

  He stops short and groans, running his fingers through his hair. The familiarity of the gesture makes my bones ache. “He’s trying to take an interest in my life. Olivia called this afternoon, and we talked for a few minutes. He must have assumed we went out but we didn’t. I was at the park, shooting hoops.”

  I’m so relieved, I tip my head back and send my laughter into the sky. Rafael crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation.

  “You’re not with Olivia.” I shrug.

  “You’re not with Jackson.” He closes the gap between us. After the briefest moment of hesitation, he reaches his hand out to me and brushes my hair away from my face. I close my eyes as he runs his thumb down my jaw, from my ear to my chin and back again. The pressure is as soft as the wind, but it lights my skin on fire. It’s magical. His touch puts a spell on me that freezes me to the spot. Steals my words. Fogs my brain. I couldn’t move or speak if I wanted to. Why would I want to? I could stay like this forever.

  He moves his head back and I open my eyes. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

  The fog clears enough for me to speak. “What’s that?” I stare into his dark eyes and realize I can’t stay like this forever. I want to move, to pull his body against mine. The need to touch him is a compulsion I can’t ignore any longer. I run my hands down his arms. He cocks an eyebrow as a slow smile spreads across his face.

  “We have all these stupid devices that are supposed to keep us connected. I didn’t want a phone, but now that I have one I sleep with it on my pillow, waiting to hear from you. Your entire life is chronicled online. It should be so simple. We’re both available to talk or chat or text twenty-four seven. But we’ve been kept apart by these stupid misunderstandings that could have been avoided if I’d been braver. All I had to do was open my mouth and tell you the truth.”

  “It’s my fault,” I say. Rafael looks like he’s going to respond, but I don’t give him the chance. “I’m sorry about our fight. I know you were just trying to keep me safe.”

  He takes my hand in his and rubs a small circle on my palm. I feel my concentration slipping again and fight to regain it. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve known you’re more than capable of protecting yourself. And you’ve already apologized more than enough times.” He takes out the envelope and opens it as proof. He pulls out the stack of pictures that I took at the meet up. Each one is me standing next to a person I don’t know, with one or both of us holding up a homemade sign.

  Claire is sorry.

  Please forgive me!

  Rafael was right.

  Let’s be friends?

  “You didn’t need to do this.”

  “I wanted to. I was afraid that, if I tried to say it in person, I’d screw it up.”

  He looks down at the top picture and smiles to himself before putting them back in the envelope, which he returns to his pocket. “Our last conversation got all messed up, and that’s on both of us. But it doesn’t matter, because I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I first saw you. The second you told me you weren’t with Jackson, I should have done the thing I’ve wanted to do since our first conversation.” He slides his fingers through my hair and rests his hand on my neck. A shiver runs down my body. He leans in until our lips are almost touching. I close my eyes and wait for him to close the final distance between us.

  “Is your phone with you?” The scent of spearmint clouds my senses. My head spins and it takes me a few seconds to process his question. When I do, I lean back.

  “It’s in the car. Why?”

  He grins. “I tried to kiss you once before, and your phone got in the way, if I remember correctly.”

  “And I tried to kiss you once before, and what happened? You felt guilty because you thought I had a boyfriend?” The feeling of embarrassment that burned through me the night we went through the haunted house is not one I’ll soon forget.

  “Bingo.” He touches me on the nose and then takes both of my hands in his. “But if you’re sure your phone isn’t going to interrupt us . . .” He leans in again and presses his lips against mine.

  Explosions erupt in my head, in my chest, in my stomach. An ache runs through my body, all the way to my fingertips. His lips are soft but firm against mine, and it’s better than I ever imagined a first kiss could be.

  He pulls back slightly. “I hope that was okay.” His lips brush against mine as he speaks. A cold wind blows around us, but his breath is hot and sweet. I tilt my head forward in response, and this time, I really kiss him. His hands slide out of mine and rest on my hips. I loop my arms around his neck and pull his body into mine. A soft moan escapes his lips, and I know I’ll never be the same again.

  “I’ve been falling in love with you since our court-ordered eye contact,” I whisper.

  His lips smile beneath mine, and I can’t help but match the gesture. “I’ll send Ms. Grant a thank-you note,” he whispers in my ear before moving his lips down to my neck.

  “When we first met, I used to worry about all the other girls,” I confess. We’re lying on a picnic blanket from the trunk of my car. Above us, the dark sky sparkles.

  “What other girls?” he asks. I’m folded into the crook of his body, and he scoots me closer.

  “The ones from around the world
that you charmed with your questions and answers and your hair. Priya and Gloria and Ada.”

  The corners of his mouth turn up in amusement. “You named my fake girlfriends?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  He plays with a lock of my hair, brushing it lightly against my neck. “What changed?”

  “Even if you had a new girlfriend every year—”

  “It was not like that,” he cuts me off.

  “But even if it was, it doesn’t matter because you always make me feel like I’m the only person in the room. At first, I thought it was because you didn’t have a phone to distract you. But then you got one, and you still treated me like I’m special, like I’m not just one half of The Dixon Twins. You make me feel seen, and I love that about you.” A breeze blows around us, and Rafael rubs his hand up and down my arm.

  “You’re giving me way too much credit.” He props himself up on his elbow. “The reason I see you is because you demand attention. You’re smart and beautiful and thoughtful and stubborn and impatient—”

  “I thought these were compliments!” I accuse with a laugh.

  “They are. Every single one of them. They make you shine. If I did anything right, it’s only because I was trying to get you to dump your boyfriend and chose me instead.”

  “When you put it that way, you don’t come off so great,” I tease.

  “I regret nothing.” He kisses my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. I’m about to turn and sink into the kiss when I remember something else I wanted to ask.

  “You said earlier that your dad is trying to take an interest in your life?”

  “We had a good talk. This year is the first Thanksgiving he’s been home in ages. He even dug around the boxes in our garage until he found an old memory book.” His eyes are closed, his face smooth and relaxed. A smile plays at the corner of his lips. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.

  “That’s amazing!”

  Rafael opens one eye and looks at me. “It’s not much. A few pictures. Important dates. My first words.”