by RH Tucker
“Knowing you’re not ugly, isn’t being conceited. It’s being confident.”
“That’s what Jen says.”
“She’s right.”
"Anyways, people like what they like, right? I could be a swimsuit model, and he may be into grunge girls who wear beanies and flannels."
He lets out another laugh. It’s infectious and starts to make me smile. “Wow, been watching 90s movies lately?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “I watched Clueless on TV last night.”
“That’s a good one.”
“But you know what I mean? People have types.”
We get to the art building, and he leans against the wall, just waiting for the bell. As if he would remain there the entire day until I told him to leave.
“Well, he’d be an idiot to see you and not be interested.”
There it is again. I know it's flirting. But the way Carter says it, it doesn't sound like it. It sounds like an honest statement. The kind your family tells you because they're so proud of you. Because they love you so much, they couldn't imagine anyone in the world not liking you. It's wholehearted, and as much as it makes me blush and spread warmth throughout my chest, I don't understand it. How can Carter act as if he knows me so well? Like he knows who I am, inside and out, and everyone in the world is crazy if they don't see it.
I push the butterflies away and say bye. He just stands there, grinning at me as he leans against the wall until I walk through the door.
Before class starts, Ms. Hales asks me to meet Micah at the gym again, in preparation for the art show and I don’t know what I’m more nervous about - My artwork on display or showing up and seeing Carter in the gym again. Shirtless. Sweaty. Smirking at me.
Stop it, Emma.
It's not like I'm trying to think about him, but after the last couple days, my brain is frayed. He's not exactly flirting, but sometimes I think he is. He's asking me sincere questions. Not just regular stuff like how my day is, but asking about my art. Why I'm painting my abstract painting with the certain colors. He actually asked if I paint with emotions. Not colors, or brushes, or types of canvas. Emotions. It honestly threw me for a loop, making my stomach go queasy. In a good way.
“Interesting,” Ms. Hales says, taking a step behind me as she looks at Heartbreak. “So, you’ve got all this torment and catacombs of clouds.” She points to the bottom of the painting, where I’ve painted a cracking brick and a gold dahlia, the tips of the pedals are silver. “But then here, you have maybe the most important part.”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” She stares intently at the painting. “Chaos. Pain. It’s swarming all around, but there’s still something growing. Still something beautiful, trying to reach out. It reminds me of love.”
I stare at her, blinking.
“Love can be fickle. It can hurt, and torment, and sometimes we never want to feel it again. But deep inside, we do. Maybe not at first, if we’ve been hurt, but eventually there’s something inside of us growing. Yearning. May I ask what you call it?”
It’s not like she has to ask or be as polite as she is being. But that’s Ms. Hales, and it’s why she’s my favorite teacher. It still doesn’t help the shyness in my voice, as I look at the ground to answer her.
“Heartbreak.”
She stands there as the seconds tick by. Finally, I feel like I have no choice and I have to look up to meet her eyes. She gives me a sincere smile and gently squeezes my arm. “Perfect.”
After class, I meet with Jen outside of the gym, and I make a conscious effort to steady my breathing. I haven't told Jen that Carter has been walking me to class and I don't know how I'm going to try and stay calm when I see him. Now that all the rumors have unfolded and I'm getting to know him better, he seems like such a different person to me. Then again, I guess he was always that person. He just let the rumors change everyone's perception of him.
Jen gives me a flirty look, remembering the last time we were in the gym, and I smile back. It’s no use, I’m feeling … something. We walk inside and see Micah and Lana going over the paperwork, looking around.
“We got the whole gym to ourselves,” he says triumphantly.
"Oh." I look around, and disappointment hits me.
“Yeah, they have an away game.”
“Really? Carter was in history. He didn’t say anything,” I say, then immediately regret it, as Jen shoots me a look.
“Oh, you two must be getting close?”
“No.” I bite my lip, avoiding eye contact. “He’s just walked me to art a few times.”
“A few times?” Her look goes from suspicious to slightly hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Jen, there’s nothing to tell. He just does it for some reason. It’s right after history. You know, the class we have together.”
“Yeah, right. For some reason.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it’s not. But you seem awfully disappointed he’s not here today.”
“I am not.” I cross my arms.
Micah gives me a funny look, while Lana and Jen both look at me like I'm lying. I'm so not ready to have a conversation about liking Carter right now.
“Anyways, they’re playing Beckman.” Micah ignores our banter. “Since it’s just across town, they didn’t have to miss class.” He looks around the gym. “Ms. Hales says we’re gonna have ten to fifteen dividers. Each wall can hold anywhere from three to six paintings, depending on the size of the piece. You’re the only person who’s gone as big as six feet.”
“Yeah, she likes ‘em tall,” Jen snarks, sticking her tongue out at me.
I groan, rolling my eyes. “You are so funny.”
Chapter 31
Carter
I spend half the week trying to get to that moment I felt on Monday. The moment where I had Emma right in front of me, ready to tell her everything. That I’m BigBaller27. But I can’t do it.
Walking her to class is something she doesn't seem to mind, so that's a good sign. I've been bringing Baller up, trying to see how much she still feels for him, er, me. I haven't texted her anymore because I'm focusing on trying to win her over as myself. On our way to her class, it finally hits me. The idea. A way to finally confess everything to her, if I can pull it off and that's a big if.
After history class, I wait for her as I have throughout the week. Only now she seems a little uneasy about it.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She nods, then looks around. “You know, you don’t have to keep walking me to art. I know your last class is all the way across campus.”
“I don’t mind.” I shrug. “I look at it as a win/win.”
“Win/win?”
“I get a head start on practice after school, by running across campus before my last class and I get to hang out with a cute girl like you.”
She blushes but rolls her eyes at me. I have to remind myself to play it cool. This plan is like walking a tightrope.
“Anyways, I was thinking about you yesterday.” Jeez, Carter. You’re supposed to play it cool!
“Really?”
“Yeah, um … I mean, about you and the art show.”
“Oh.” She seems confused. This is not off to a great start.
“Anyways, it’s this Friday night, right?” She nods. “So, I was thinking, and I know this is none of my business but … I don’t think you should wait for this Baller guy to ask to meet you.”
“I don’t know.” She looks to the ground, shaking her head. “I was the one who brought up meeting him the first time. What if he bails again? What if he’s decided he doesn’t want to meet? It’s not like he’s been in contact all that much lately.”
Shit. I was trying not to text her because I didn't want her liking him more than me. Which, on the one hand, makes complete sense and on the other hand makes absolutely no sense. I never thought about the possibility of her feeling like I didn't like her anymore because my texting had go
ne cold.
“Yeah, that is weird. But, it’s your art show. I mean, you’ve been working on these pieces for a while, right?”
“Yeah.”
"And it means something to you. So, maybe this would light a fire under his ass or something, and he'll finally realize how special you are." She stops and stares at me as if trying to understand my words. "What?"
“It’s just … never mind.”
“What?” I egg her on, smiling and bumping her shoulder.
“Sometimes, when you say things, you seem … nothing. Forget it.”
“What is it, Emma?”
She stops walking and turns to face me. "Okay, I'm going to do something totally out of character, and I need you to be honest with me?"
“Okay?” I reply nervously, wondering if she’s figured everything out.
"Sometimes you say things, and I think you're," she swallows nervously, "ugh. Sometimes I think you're flirting with me. But then you stop, and you talk about this guy, who I don't know as if you're trying to hook us up?"
The words come out fast and when she stops speaking the redness in her cheeks is getting brighter. I take a breath. My words have to be honest. But I want her to like me, not Texting Me.
“Truth?”
“Truth.”
“Emma, I think you’re awesome. Amazing.”
“And you’d know this how?”
"I just do." I let those words hang in the air, staring at her, wishing I could kiss her. She's so beautiful, inside and out. This plan has to work. It has to. "But, I know you don't see me like that. And you know my deal, all the rumors, and everything. If you like this Big Baller guy, then I say make a move. You should get everything you want, Emma."
She stares at me, her hot cheeks still uncooled. “Carter, you don’t know what I see you as?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
Maybe she does like me. She bites her lip and looks like she’s going to add something. Then the bell rings. A coy smile covers her lips, while I throw a tirade of expletives in my head at the bell.
"Saved by the bell, huh?" I curl a lip.
She lingers by the art room door a little longer, and I think the moment is still with us. Then her eyes widen as she looks around. "Shoot, you're late."
“It’s okay.”
"Go!" She pushes me away playfully. I can't resist grabbing her arms, holding on to her just a second longer than I need to before I head off to class.
I’m not sure when or even if she’s going to text me, but with the art show only a day away, I’m hoping she does.
The two games we needed to win have turned into one. We lost to Beckman, and that should've knocked us out of contention to make the playoffs. But both University High and Corona del Mar High both lost in upset games. They should've wiped the floor with their opponents, but somehow didn't. That means our next divisional game is it. All or nothing.
We’ll be playing the same day that Emma has her art show. As important as the game is, my plan with Emma is the most important thing because it’s not a game. I’m doing my best to try and win her over and hoping everything plays out right. But a lot hinges on if she ends up asking him to come to the art show. And what her reaction will be to my answer.
Chapter 32
Emma
I stare at my phone for at least thirty minutes, trying to figure out what I want to do. If someone said at the beginning of senior year that I'd be debating on whether to invite a mystery guy to an art show or if I should pursue something with Carter Dixon—a something that seems to have appeared out of nowhere—I'd have called them crazy. I'd have laughed in their face, hysterically, and said they were deranged. But here I am, deliberating that exact scenario.
Did Carter really say he thought I was awesome? That I'm amazing? I don't know what exactly he's basing that off of. I've known him throughout high school, but we barely talked. How does he act like he knows me so well? And why do I honestly believe him? When he said I don't see him that way, I was glad he couldn't read my mind because I was staring at that dimple again, thinking how cute it looked. How cute he looked. Is that why I’ve stared at his lips more lately?
After school, I'm still trying to decide what to do. It's not like I can text Carter and invite him to the art show, because I don't have his number, plus he has a game. I think it's an important one too if I remember from the school announcements. So that leaves Baller. Jeez, I still think that's a stupid name. And we haven't talked much. If I do ask him to meet again, what will he say? There's only one way to find out.
Emerald22: Hey
Emerald22: U still around? :)
I’m surprised by how fast he responds.
BigBaller27: Yep. Sorry, I’ve just been busy
Emerald22: Lots of school work?
BigBaller27: Something like that
I stare at my phone. What does that mean? If it's school work, wouldn't he just say that? Maybe he has a job? But why wouldn't he tell me that? Plus, he never mentioned having a job before. A sudden disapproval hits me.
BigBaller27: What’s up?
Emerald22: So…
I grip my phone tightly, letting out a long breath.
Emerald22: U know how I’m in art?
BigBaller27: Yeah
Emerald22: Well, tomorrow night we have an art show. I have three paintings that are going to be shown
BigBaller27: That’s awesome! :D
Emerald22: Yeah. Well…
Emerald22: If u still want to meet, I was wondering if you wanted to go?
Gritting my teeth, I stare at the screen. This is it; if he says yes and doesn't show up, then I'm over it. Why waste my time on someone who stands me up twice? But what if he says yes and does show up? Suddenly, I'm not sure what I want. Thinking about him saying yes and finally meeting him, I abruptly think of Carter. I like talking to him. And it seems like he likes me. No, he does like me. He told me so. I let out an unsure groan, not knowing what has happened to my life these last few weeks.
BigBaller27: Oh man, I'd love to! I really would, but I can't. I'm so sorry. I've been dying to meet u and was waiting for you to bring it up because I wasn't sure how badly I screwed up
I let out a sigh of relief. He can’t make it. But wait, don’t I want him to make it? Don’t I want to meet him?
Emerald22: Ok, no biggie. Just thought I’d ask
BigBaller27: I'm serious. I want to meet u! If I could make it to the art show, I would :(
He does seem to be honest, and I'm not just reading into the frowny face emoji. My nerves a little more settled, I decide to put all the pressure on him.
Emerald22: Okay then. When u think of a time we should meet, u let me know
There. Now I'm not going to worry about it. If he wants to meet, then he'll have to bring it up. He'll have to pick a day and place. A strange calm takes over me. I'm not worried about meeting him, or if I ever do. He stood me up once, and now he's turned me down, even if he did say he wanted to go but can't.
BigBaller27: Will do ;)
He replies but I don't give it much more thought.
The next day at school, Micah is super nervous at lunch, while Lana tries to calm him down.
“It’s just an art show,” she says, running her fingers through his hair.
“You don’t get it,” he answers brashly, earning a scowl from her. “Sorry. Emma, explain please.”
“It’s like …” I try to think of something Lana does and remember she writes for the school newspaper. “So, let’s say you’re working on some a new article, something you’ve worked really hard on. And now, you’re going to throw it up for the world to see.”
“I do that all the time with my blog.”
I wrinkle my nose. "No, it's not the same. It's just different. We put our heart and soul into these pieces. Sometimes, without even thinking. Then we step back, and we're a little shocked we're putting as much of ourselves out there as we are. It's hard to explain."
“She’s right,”
Micah says, seeming to have calmed down a bit. “The pieces I did, they tell my story. And yeah, everyone might not be able to see it. Some people will look at it and just see a tree or a bird. But what I'm doing? I'm putting my soul on that canvas, and it's nerve-wracking for people to see it, even if they don't get it."
She lifts her shoulders. “Okay, then.”
It doesn't seem to faze her, but she doesn't seem aloof to Micah's concerns either. She leans against his shoulder, before wrapping her arms around him, kissing him.
I’ve been around them enough to witness much more PDA than I’m sometimes comfortable with, but something about this interaction, this closeness, strikes a chord in me. I want someone who gets me. I don’t realize I’m staring until Jen pokes my arm.
“So, you invite anyone special to see your stuff? I mean, besides me of course.”
“Yeah, but he can’t make it.”
"Holy shit. You asked Carter to come to the gallery?"
“What? No.” I narrow my eyes at her, as Micah and Lana look on curiously.
“Then who are you talking about?”
Oh crap. I forgot I didn't tell her about the texts I sent. Feeling her mood shift, I glance to the side and see her reprimanding look. "Emma! You did not invite him to the art show.”
“Who?” Lana asks.
"Mr. Big Baller, ugh! The loser-and-a-half who should no longer be invited anywhere!"
“I know.” I groan. “But Carter said if I really wanted to meet him, then I should invite him. It’d show if he was serious or not.”
“Carter said?” Jen’s disapproving look turns into incomprehension, as she put her hands to her waist.
“Yeah.” I look away.
“Speaking of Mr. Dixon,” Lana says in a quieter voice. Her eyes move behind me.
I turn around and see Carter walking over to us, his gym bag hanging over his shoulder. He's still wearing the sunglasses even though most signs of the black eye have faded. I like them. He smiles, and I feel the butterflies. I can't deny that I'm feeling something for him.
