“If you want her to go to the festival with you, yeah.”
He groans. “But what if I do it, and the whole school sees and she says no. That would be terrible.”
“You’d survive,” Gabe says, reaching for a grape soda.
“That’s easy for you to say. Norah’s going with you. She has to say yes. You don’t even have to send an invitation.”
I look up and see Gabe run his hand through his hair. To lighten the mood, I reply, “I don’t have to say yes. I mean, what if Trevor sends me an invite? I may have options.” Gabe’s eyebrow raises and I shrug casually. “I mean, he is cute.”
Ben finds this hilarious—me taunting Gabe. He has no idea, though, that it’s really getting under his skin. I smile, kind of liking having a secret between the two of us. Gabe places the soda can back on the table and I glance back at the screen.
That’s probably why I missed the shared look between them—the signal that I’m one second from being under attack. It’s the quiet that gets my attention and when I do look up, they’re both smirking and on the move. Ben grabs my feet. Gabe goes for my arms. The two of them double-team me, tickling me and dragging me, yelping, to the floor.
This is a game we’ve played for years and in the beginning, these two were scrawny punks that I at least had the advantage of height. Puberty changed all of that and they gained the upper hand, mostly using these moments to render me breathless with relentless tickling.
“Don’t! Stop!” I whoop, giggling and squirming on the floor.
“Did she say, 'Don’t stop?'” Ben asks.
“I think she did,” Gabe replies, grin wicked.
We’ve played this little game long enough that I know not to hold back. I twist my hips and kick my feet, getting my legs out of Ben’s grip. He’s taken by surprise and falls backwards, banging into the coffee table. I use his distraction to try to break free from Gabe’s clutches, pushing my back into him and flipping around.
The first thing I do is yank off his hat, tossing it on the floor; he goes for my wrists but I grab his biceps, or try to. The result is me flat against his chest, his hands circling my waist. We’re both breathing heavy and in an instant, something shifts between us. The Difference. The Change.
For the first time, I really feel Gabe. His muscles and strength. I notice what it’s like to be in his hands, the gentle yet possessive feel of his grip. A moment ripples between us, one that makes my already unsteady breath catch in my throat.
“I give,” I whisper, using the code we’d developed at the rules of Ben’s mom, who was tired of coming in to see if I needed rescuing. Gabe swallows and releases me and I quickly move off his body, glancing over at Ben, who has already gone back to the video game.
“You want in on this?” he asks Gabe, gesturing to the screen.
I grab my phone off the floor and slip on my shoes. “I’m headed home.”
Gabe picks his hat off the ground and pulls it over his head. “I should, uh, probably go, too.”
That’s a Change. The boys usually play all night, long after I’ve gone, usually ending in a sleepover. I grab some of the trash on my way out and toss it in the garbage on the way through the kitchen. Mrs. Deborah sits at the kitchen table, laptop propped open.
“Sounded like a death match down there,” she says, looking up at us. The blue of the screen reflects on her glasses. She smiles at me. “Hope you put Ben in his place.”
“You know I try.”
I know this is normal. Everything is normal, but it doesn’t feel like it. And I wonder if she can tell that my neck itches and my stomach feels giddy? I know if I can just get out that door, I can be with Gabe. Alone. Even if just for a minute.
“Night, kids,” she says.
“Night, Mrs. Deborah,” we both say, heading toward the door. One house away, Gabe reaches for my hand and I feel relief combined with desperation. My heart hammers as we walk down the sidewalk, past the houses, down by the little neighborhood playground—the one our parents took us to when we were little. I glance at Gabe in the moonlight. His jaw is sharp, his features defined. I know first-hand what his chest feels like, his biceps. He’s no longer little and neither am I.
Another Change.
He pulls me into the park and climbs up a structure, pulling me with him. I’m pleasantly surprised to find he tastes like grape soda when we kiss.
“I’ve been waiting all night to do that,” he says, running his nose across mine.
“I thought about it a few times too,” I confess.
Hands graze along my back and I stroke his cheek; we smile down at one another, Gabe’s eyes dark and intense. I’ve never seen him look at something like this. Someone like this, and my heart feels like it may burst and my skin may catch on fire as he plants tiny kisses behind my ear, down my neck, and across my collarbone. He shifts my shirt and I reach for his waist, our hands grabby. The cool breeze blows against my skin, tickling where he’d left his trail, and the intensity between us grows.
And grows.
Soon I’m panting, we’re both panting, mouths hot, hands wandering. We’re pressed against one another and I don’t care that we’re outside or that someone on a late-night walk may see us. Because all I want is him. He makes me feel good and I want to make him feel good, too.
No one sees us. No one walks by. There’s nothing to stop us and that little fact nudges into my brain. Gabe’s hands slip under the hem of my shirt, his fingers warm.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says between kisses. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Norah. I’ve wanted this for so long.”
The next kiss is filled with passion, one I feel deep in my stomach, but his words echo in my mind. “I’ve wanted this.”
What is this?
And are we ready for it?
And if we go there, wherever there is, can we come back?
The questions hit me like a freight train. The lack of answers like a bullet to the heart.
Abruptly, I press my hands against his chest and push him away. He looks up at ,me glassy-eyed and confused. “What’s wrong?”
I hop down from the play structure, creating some distance. It hurts, physically, because all I want is for him to keep doing what he was doing. I run my hands through my hair. “We need to stop.”
He blinks, clarity returning to his face. He shifts uncomfortably, swallowing, before rubbing his eyes. “Right. Yes. Sorry. That was too much.” He hops down and reaches for my hand, linking us together, and says, “Won’t let that happen like that again.”
I slowly extricate my fingers from his. “I don’t just mean now. I mean…we need to stop.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
He frowns. “What? Why?”
Nausea rolls over me, but I force myself to explain. “In the week that we’ve been 'dating' it’s been one slippery slope after the other. Lack of focus, getting behind on school work, on your deadlines, on my obligations. We’ve lied. Tricked. Snuck off. Neither of our parents would be okay with what we’re doing right now or where we’re doing it.”
“I know some of this hasn’t been ideal. Lying to everyone sucks. I hate it too, but we agreed it was better for now.” He leans against the structure. “If we’re moving too fast, we can slow down. I have no problem with that.”
I stare at the ground. “That’s the problem, Gabe. I don’t want to slow down. There’s something about being with you that makes me want to go full speed ahead. There are no barriers. We know each other so well—too well. We skipped all the normal stuff, I mean, we’ve never gone on a date. Our relationship is everything it used to be plus a bunch of make-outs.”
“Is that the worst thing? Having a best friend you can kiss seems pretty freaking awesome to me.”
I reach out and flick him in the forehead. “Are you serious?”
“Ow!” he rubs his head dramatically. “A little.”
“You’re such an idiot.” Ang
ered, I turn on my heel and walk away, arms crossed over my chest. It’s only a few seconds later that he’s fallen in stride.
“Nor, you know how important you are to me. I never want to do anything that hurts you, but I don’t get where this is coming from. We’ve been fine all night. Great, even.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “And I know that went too far, and I know we’ve been slacking. I’ve got that deadline and need to finish at least twelve panels and that meeting with Reese is coming up next week.” He sighs. “It’s just been nice being with you and not thinking about all of that.”
We’re two houses from my own and I turn to face him. There’s a look of hurt in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It guts me that I put it there. “I think this is all moving way too fast and maybe, like we talked about that first night, a really big mistake.”
“What? No. This is not a mistake.”
“Right now, it may be. We have too much on the line. You have too much on the line. And I’m just really confused.”
“So you’re dumping me. After like, six days.”
I glare at him. “I’m trying to salvage our…our everything. I told you I was afraid to lose what we have.”
“You just want to be friends again?”
I nod. “For now. Yes. We’ll do what we always did. We’ll get the work done. Focus on the future, then maybe one day.”
His jaw clenches and I think I catch a shine in his eyes. Oh man.
Seeing him like that brings over the wave of my own emotions I’ve been holding back. “I’m sorry.”
He jerks his chin. “Me too, Nor.”
I step toward the house, feeling like we’re ripping off a painful, sticky Band-aid. At my driveway, I call, “Are you mad?”
He shrugs, already moving down the street. “I’ll get over it.”
When I get to my door the first tears fall, spilling down my cheeks. The truth is that I do think Gabe will get over it. I don’t know if I will.
16
Gabe
In what can either be the best timing or the worst, I miss school the next week.
The Photobooth Society project deal gains traction and things move swiftly. I guess that’s what happens when a major Hollywood actor gets involved. My mom and I are flown to L.A. for a series of meetings that involve movie studios, streaming services, and networks. Right now, the rumors are crazy. These people are talking millions and I can’t wrap my head around it. Aaron told me not to get my hopes up. That sometimes these deals are made and then things sit for a while.
The break from school comes at the most unfortunate time—at least, for me and Norah. It’s on the heels of our whirlwind relationship and subsequent breakup; it’s hard not seeing her every day to make sure we’re still good. At least professionally. Success with the graphic novel isn’t as sweet without her by my side. I don’t want to do this without her, even if it means I have to give up on what I want most—a romantic relationship.
In that manner I try my hardest to play it cool, which of course means I just seem like a dork. I’ve texted and video-chatted her. I’ve sent her what I can for her to share on the Photobooth sites (which isn’t much.) All along, she’s been her normal self. Everything is back to normal.
Except how I feel.
I feel like someone reached into my heart, grabbed it with their bare hands and tore it from my chest. I feel like crying all the time. It’s not manly and I’d die if Ben knew I was moping around over Norah like this, but there’s no way around it. I feel like crap.
I walk over to the window of the hotel and look out at the view. Aaron set us up in a suite overlooking the city. I’d agreed with my mom to visit UCLA today, just to get her to settle down about the college stuff. The university is nice—the art department impressive. Satisfied with our tour, she decided not to attend the dinner tonight. Aaron agreed it may be good for me and Reese to just take a minute to get to know one another. To be honest, I’m glad my mom is here. I have so many worries over this situation. What if I sign the wrong thing? Take a bad deal? What if I screw up and screw Norah in the process?
I pull out my phone, take a photo of the view and text it to Norah.
G: Meeting Reese tonight. I’ve never met a movie star before. Can you teleport down here?
My heart squeezes, just the tiniest bit, when the little dots appear telling me she’s replying.
N: if only there were a real magic Photobooth, or a TARDIS at my disposal. But there isn’t. Plus, I have math homework.
G: I’m pretty sure this is going to be a disaster.
N: Reese is nice. You’ll like her. What are you wearing?
I put down the phone and put on my jacket, the one Norah and I found at the thrift store. It has a patch on the chest that says, “Fred.” I know it’s straight hipster, but I like it and I’m trying to establish my personality here. Not let them run me over. I stand in front of the big mirror hanging on the wall and send it to her.
N: Perfect. They’ll think you’re a broke hobo and want to give you all their money.
I laugh and start to reply something snarky. Something funny. But all that vacates my brain. I say what’s on my mind. The truth.
G: I wish you were here.
I instantly regret it, knowing it sounds desperate.
N: They’re not ready for the two of us in one room yet. But no worries, you’ll do great.
G: Thanks
There’s a call from the front desk telling me my car is here. I call out to my mom that I’m leaving and head to the lobby. The car takes me through the city, stopping in front of a restaurant—it’s a sushi place. Awkwardly, I’ve arrived first. The hostess suggests I go ahead to my seat and a few minutes later there’s a flurry of activity near the door. Hushed murmurs roll through the crowd and I look up, momentarily stunned at the sight of the beautiful woman by the door. Long blonde hair, tiny frame. She’s wearing a ridiculous fake-fur trimmed jacket and heels that look like torture devices.
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a real star before. I’ve met Lucy Harrington, who is drop dead gorgeous, but I knew her when she worked as a waitress at the pizza shop. Dean Turner has a certain appeal even I understand, but this woman crossing the restaurant floor, commanding the attention of every diner in the room, has a compelling quality I can’t exactly name.
The woman smiles, broadly, genuinely, and says, “You must be Gabe.”
“Right.” I blink, realizing I’ve been staring. “Hi.”
Reese Weatherly—my wannabe partner.
I stand stupidly in my stupid jacket feeling stupid and shake her hand. I’m in so over my head.
We sit and servers appear, pouring tea and saki.
Thankfully Reese isn’t as socially inept as I am, asking me about myself, about my trip. I try not to sound immature as I talk about UCLA and a few other spots I’ve visited. I mean, it’s not like she’s that much older than me. Norah showed me her bio. Aaron told me a few things. She’s twenty-one, the youngest on the Avondale cast.
“Gabe,” she says, blowing on her hot tea, “I want you to understand one thing. I am all about your vision. Doing this your way. Bringing your story to life. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy it.” She smiles. “I’m in love with Gunther. Absolutely in love. And Thea. Her character totally speaks to me.”
Thea is one of the nerdy, smart characters. Shy and quiet. Brilliant. Cute. There’s no doubt who inspired me. I push my glasses up on my nose and grin. “It’s hard for me to pick favorites but yeah, I like those two.”
“So do Thea and Gunther ever hook up?”
It’s a girl question. Norah asks me this all the time, too, and tells me everyone wants to know. I haven’t decided, I guess I know that the will-they-won’t-they propels some of the storyline and interest. The fact Reese is asking me proves it.
I shrug. “We’ll see.”
Aaron looks annoyed that I haven’t answered but Reese just smiles. “Good. Don’t tell me. I want to be surprised with the rest of the wor
ld. I ship them, though. Hard, but I have a thing for the quirky nerd and the hot guy, or girl, getting together. It’s the trope that keeps on giving.”
For whatever insane reason my mind flashes to Norah and Trevor.
“Yeah,” I say, sharing a smile, “I guess it is.”
The waiter brings over plates of artistically arranged sushi. I pick up my chopsticks and listen to the rest of Reese’s vision, more excited about starting this venture than ever before.
17
Norah
How many times is too many times to check your phone in one hour? Five? Ten?
I toss the phone on the floor and flop back on the bed, crinkling my math papers under my feet. I’m sure I’ve looked at least triple that waiting to hear from Gabe.
No news is good news, right?
I pick up the homework and stack them in a pile. I have a B right now and if I can keep it there, my parents will stay off my back. It’s just that stinks and I keep getting distracted by more interesting things. Like the list I’d scribbled over lunch that I stuck to my binder.
Choose Your Photobooth Adventure
It’s a little game I’m creating and planning on posting. It’s one of those little viral games. You pick from column A, B, or C using your last name, birthdate, letter of your first pet. They’re kind of dumb but people love to play games like this and then share them. It’s my fifth interactive post since the breakup. Yes, I’m trying to keep myself busy.
I open up the ChattySnap account and scroll through the notifications. People love to tag us (us being the official Photobooth Society account) and I see a few interesting ones about Gabe being spotted in L.A. I’m struck by how good he looks, the thrift-store jacket fits nicely over his shoulders and his jeans have that perfect worn-in style.
Norah and The Nerd: Best Friends Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 4) Page 7
