by RH Tucker
“Hey, Carter,” Jen calls out in an over-the-top, flirty way.
"Hey." If he notices her tone, he doesn't react to it. "Hey, Emma."
“Hi.” I smile, breaking my eye contact with him, only to see Jen give me an impish grin.
“Um, can I talk to you for a second?” he asks.
“Right now?”
“Yeah.” He looks around the quad. Is he nervous? Why would he be nervous? “I have to catch the bus to head out to the game against Northwood.”
“Oh yeah,” Micah says. “I hope you guys win. It’d be awesome if we finally make the playoffs before we graduate.” Carter grimaces. “Sorry, I meant that in a good way.”
“It’s cool,” Carter says, looking back at me.
“Um, yeah. Sure.”
I motion for Jen to watch my stuff. I wish I didn't even look at her, because as I do, she licks her lips, before giving me a nod and wicked smirk. Micah stares at me cautiously, Lana raises her eyebrows, and my anxiety begins to build as we walk away.
"Sorry about—" I look back at Jen, who's now making fish lips at me. I give her a hostile stare, and she just winks at me. "That. What's up?"
“Hmm, oh, nothing. Sorry, um …” He rubs the back of his neck.
“You know, you do that a lot.”
“What?”
“Rub the back of your neck. Are you nervous?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Well, it’s a big game.”
"Right … the game." He lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't sound right. If he isn't nervous about the game, what else would he be worried about? Surely, it isn't talking to me.
Wanting to keep the trepidation from building, I keep the topic on basketball. “You guys still have a game next week, right?”
"Yeah, but tonight's the big one. If we don't win, then we're done." I nod, and he seems to calm down. "But, anyway, I wanted to talk to you before I left. So, um, did you, uh …" He bites the inside of his lip. Of course, that makes me stare at his lips now.
“You know?” he says, regaining my attention.
“Did I what?”
“Ask your texting-buddy? About going tonight? I wanted to see how it went.”
I frown but not because of the answer Baller gave me. I'm not nervous or scared or apprehensive. I'm annoyed because I don't want to think about that guy.
Staring down at the sidewalk, we walk to the parking lot where the bus is waiting for him. I can’t believe my thoughts. I’m not thinking about Baller at all. And I don’t want to think about him. I want to be thinking about Carter. My shoulders tense and I try to remain calm as the revelation hits me.
"Oh, wow," I whisper, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“What?”
“Sorry.” I let out a nervous laugh. “I, uh, I did ask him. He said he couldn’t make it.”
“That sucks.” Carter’s confidence seems to return. “He say why? Lots of homework, or something? Job?”
“No,” I feel my confidence return also, annoyed with Baller all over again. “He just said he couldn’t make it. I asked if he had a lot of school work, and he said, ‘something like that’. What does that even mean?”
“That’s lame,” he says, giving me a worried look. “Sorry.”
"No, it's okay. It is lame. Anyway, I told him whenever he wants to meet it's up to him now. I'm done chasing him."
"Good. You shouldn't chase anyone, Emma. Any guy worth anything should be the one chasing you."
There it is again. The assuredness. Only this time, as we stop near the fence of the parking lot, I stare at him. I want to really see him. The golden flakes that bounce off his light brown eyes. The same gold I added to my painting this week. I feel my cheeks get hot, but I can’t look away. I didn’t do it consciously, but looking at him now, I realize I’m adding bits of brightness to Heartbreak from my interactions with Carter. I can feel my breath quickening as I stare at him.
“Yeah, right.” I try to play off his compliment.
He stares back, and I realize how close we're standing. My feet know what I want before my mind does, as I take a step closer to him. He welcomes the closeness, and I feel his hand under my chin, holding my gaze to his as if he's afraid I'll look away. The angst inside should force me to, but I don't want to. His hand reaches higher, as his thumb caresses my cheek.
“It’s the truth, Emma.” He whispers, leaning closer. “I’d chase after you.”
I feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. And then his meet mine. It’s soft. Timid. Like he isn’t sure if I want him to kiss me. But I do. I really do. My hand grabs the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him closer. I feel the pressure of his lips, harder against mine.
Returning the fervor, his tongue slides across my bottom lip. My body tells my brain to step aside, and my arms instinctively reach up and wrap around his neck. My tongue meets his, and the electricity shoots through me. Then, like a bolt of lightning, a car horn shakes us both awake. Or rather, a bus horn.
Carter snaps his head to the side as someone yells out, “We don’t have all day, Dixon!”
I blush and put my face into his chest, peaking over his shoulder to see what looks like his coach standing on the steps of the bus.
“You can kiss your girlfriend after we win tonight!”
Carter lets out a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that.” I give him a confused look, unsure what he’s sorry for. Reading my expression or my mind—maybe both—his hands grab mine. “About the interruption. Not the kiss. Are you?”
I shake my head, a smile curling on the edge of my lips. “No.”
He takes a step towards the bus but still holds my hand. "I'll talk to you later. After the game."
“Okay,” I nod again, the smile still on my face. It may be permanently attached.
Turning around, he walks to the bus. I can see some of his teammates scowling at him. Whatever happened, they must not all be over it. But from others, I can hear teases being shouted. As he takes a step on the bus, he turns around, giving me a small wave. I return the gesture and watch as the bus drives away.
It's only then that my brain finally catches up. A million questions race through my head, but two keep floating to the top. His coach said 'girlfriend'. Is that what I am now? Is Carter my boyfriend? The other question I wish I can forget. What am I going to do about Baller?
Chapter 33
Carter
There’s no removing the smile from my face. Not during the bus ride to our game, in which Jeremy and others make stupid comments about me finally ‘getting some’. Not as we pull into the parking lot of Northwood High and exit the bus, with all of Northwood’s students giving us the evil eye. Not even during half-time, when we’re getting chewed out by our coach, for being down by fourteen points.
Don't get me wrong; it sucks trying to do everything we can to beat Northwood, only to keep getting knocked back down. They're stronger and faster, one of the main reasons they have already secured a place in the playoffs. And as much as I want to win, I can't get the kiss out of my head. I can't keep the way Emma's lips tasted, or her intoxicating smell off my mind. It was everything I thought it would be and more and there's no way in hell I'm letting her go now. Now all I have to do is finish the plan, finally confess I'm Baller and hope she still wants me.
"This is it!" Coach yells at us as we huddle around, only ten seconds left in the game. "We're down by four. Two possession game. It's now or never. McCormick, you post up, and we run the three." Coach circles some x's on his dry-erase board. "Mitchell, you take the shot or dump it off to Dixon. Just like we practiced, boys!" I look over at Lucas, who I know will take the shot if he needs to.
The referee whistles for us to get going and Matt throws the ball to Lucas. He dribbles around a defender and stops, about to take the shot, but a new defender jumps to block him. He throws me the ball, and I shoot it, sinking a three-pointer.
Northwood gets the ball and Matt runs over to foul them, stopping the clock. It's our last
foul to give in the game, so Northwood isn't going to get a foul shot. But we need a steal and to score again, or else that's it.
They throw the ball in and try to delay the clock. With only six seconds left, we have to steal it without a foul. Matt runs to defend, but the player throws the ball to his teammate right in front of me. I dart towards the ball, my fingers making just enough contact to deflect it. Everyone scrambles as the clock ticks down to three.
Matt and Lucas run ahead, as I dribble towards the hoop. All we need is two points. A simple lay-up can get us the win. Northwood’s defenders catch up and get in front of me, blocking me from the basket. Lucas is open at the top of the key, so I throw him the ball. It barely touches his fingers before he jumps in the air and lets it go. The game clock winds down and a buzzer sounds through their gym.
Time seems to slow. Everyone in the gym—our team, their team, everyone in the stands—we all hold our breath. As the buzzer goes off, the ball floats in the air towards the hoop and hits the back of the rim. More collective gasps, as the ball bounces up, before falling back down towards the front of the hoop. It hits the front of the rim. Then it bounces away.
Northwood doesn’t need a win to celebrate, but that doesn’t stop what seems like their entire student body from running on to the floor, everyone screaming in elation. Through the commotion on the court, we carry out our obligatory handshake with the other team, before heading to the locker room.
"What the hell, Carter?" Jeremy yells.
“Shut up, Jeremy!” Matt shouts back.
“He had the shot!”
“No, he didn’t! Thirty-five was all over him.”
“Bullshit!” Jeremy gets in my face, but I’m done fighting with him. “You were right there for the layup. You too much of a pussy, you can’t score with girls that you can’t even score baskets anymore?”
Okay, maybe I'm not done fighting with him. I jump up, grabbing his jersey, and slam him into the lockers. Before anything significant can happen, the rest of the team starts shouting, getting between us.
"Enough! Enough!" Coach steps in. He turns to Jeremy, wrapping a fist around his jersey, then does the same to me. "Listen up!" His head dances around, leering at the rest of the team. "All of you! You played your best, all of you did. This is a tough loss, but you gave it all you had. McCormick hit the showers. Mitchell, Hillard? You two keep an eye on Dixon." Coach's eyes flash between Jeremy and me again. "I don't know what the hell's gotten into you two, but you need to man up. We still have one game left, and I'll be damned if we lose our last game of the season in front of our home crowd."
I keep my distance the rest of the time and after the showers. Matt and I sit in the back of the bus as we make our way back to school. Plugging my earbuds in, I turn on my music and try to forget the game, remembering what I’m going back to. I’m counting on getting back in time for the art show, and thankfully we make it back to the school thirty minutes before it ends.
"Where are you going?" Matt asks as I walk towards the gym instead of my car.
“I’m gonna check out the art show.” I motion to the gym.
“Hope it works out.”
“Thanks, me too.”
Walking into the gym, large dividers are set up all over the basketball court. The show has been open for nearly two hours, but there are still students and parents mingling, looking at different paintings. Some of the dividers are set up adjacent to one another, while others form corners. It almost resembles a tiny maze you can walk around. I don't see Emma as I come in, so I decide to walk through, looking for her while checking out the artwork.
Turning a corner, I see a painting of palm trees on a beach and find Micah's name signed at the bottom. On a neighboring divider sits another piece by him and a few other paintings.
I keep walking and see a gorgeous waterfall painting. It has vibrant blues and greens and looks like something out of a rainforest. In the corner are initials and I know they're Emma's because next to the waterfall piece is an abstract painting exactly how she described it. It's our school colors, different shades of red and gold, with triangles and circles. I know she has a third painting, but there are two more next to hers with different initials. That's when I turn around and see a six-foot painting behind me. The bottom corner has her initials on it. I stand there, gazing at the piece.
All her thoughts about paintings and how they can invoke feelings suddenly hit me. I never thought something like that would, but it does. It's a scene of sorts. Different shades of blues, grays, and dark greens. Above, sits a huge dark purple cloud with what looks like burgundy lightening in it. There's a long, dark red lightning bolt, shooting out from the cloud, towards a small flower that's growing out of a brick. I've never examined art. I never tried to interpret it or figure out what the artist is trying to say, but for some reason, this painting speaks to me. It's hurting.
The cloud is pain, and the pain is shooting out towards this delicate flower down below. And even though the background is swirling around, chaos rushing around the canvas, the small flower stands fearlessly. Preparing for whatever the storm is bringing. Then I see what I missed before with all the other paintings. A little tag on the wall, citing the artist's name and the name of the piece.
“Heartbreak,” I whisper to myself, immediately feeling horrible.
Heartbreak? Did she decide to paint this when she thought I stood her up? Is this how she felt that day? How long after did she keep feeling like this?
“Carter?”
Emma stands behind me. Her usually straight black hair has slight curls in it, and she's wearing a dark green skirt that sways around her legs, cutting off at the knees. She looks adorable and sexy at the same time. My eyes drink her in, but I can't overcome the sinking pit in my stomach.
“What are you doing here?”
"Oh." I look around. "The bus dropped us off, and I know it's your art show tonight. I thought I'd check it out."
“Really?” She beams. Her fingers fiddle with one another and a cute rosiness hits her cheeks.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to bat down my guilt.
I remember our kiss earlier and offer my hand to her. She looks at it nervously. For a split-second, I think I dreamed what happened before. That I was off in la-la-land, only wishing that we shared that kiss. But she calms my fears, taking my hand.
“This is amazing.” I look back at the painting.
“Really? You like it?”
I nod, then motion to the tag. “Heartbreak? How come you named it that?”
I try to keep my hand from squeezing hers too tightly, as the fear builds back up. When she doesn’t answer at first, I look over to see the hesitation on her face. I know what she’s going to say before she says it.
“I decided to paint it a little bit ago. That day you saw me in the courtyard.”
“It’s so … powerful.”
"I have a confession." She looks over at me, giving me a slight smile.
“Oh yeah?”
“This piece is about you.” My eyes widen. She finally figured it out. “I mean, not totally. But a piece of it, um, you kind of inspired.” She seems calm. And she’s still holding my hand. Would she be doing that if she knew? “You see the flower?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s you.” My fears halt, replaced by curiosity. “Sorry, you’re not the flower.” She giggles. “I mean, this whole thing, it is powerful. But, um …” She looks down at our intertwined fingers, gripping my hand a little tighter. “Well, okay, the flower is me. And the gold and silver in it? That’s you.”
I look back at the painting and see all the chaos and confusion of it. Then the flower, lined with gold and silver. It reminds me of strength. Hope. Does she mean I give her hope? Me, Carter? Not Baller? I grin as my confidence returns.
"So, the flower's you?" I ask, and she nods. "And I'm the silver and gold in the flower?” I arch an eyebrow, making her cheeks blush.
“Oh my God, Carter!” She slaps my arm. “That
’s so not what I meant.”
“Sorry.” I laugh. “So, I’m on the flower.”
She pulls her hand away, crossing her arms. She shoots me an angry stare, but her smile tells me she isn't really mad. "Again, not funny."
“I’m kidding.” Pulling her closer, I’m pleasantly surprised by how natural it feels. And how easy her arms wrap around me. “Seriously. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
Leaning over to kiss her, I'm not sure who is around, but I don't care. Her hands come to my face, and the skin warms where her fingers touch my cheeks. The smell from when we kissed earlier returns, and I never want to forget it. Our lips only touch for a moment before someone clears their throat behind us.
“Didn’t you two get enough of that during lunch?”
Emma breaks away, embarrassed. I grin at her shyness, before looking over at Jen. “Wait, how do you—”
“BFF,” Jen says proudly. “And not that I like interrupting my bestie playing tonsil hockey, but Ms. Hales is asking for you, Emma.”
I smirk as I watch Emma's reaction. She looks like she wants to rip Jen's hair out. They're complete opposites, but I can see why they're best friends. They even each other out.
“I guess I better go.” Emma looks up at me with a disappointed look.
“Yeah, I better get home.” I hold on to her hand, as Jen walks away. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Okay.” She smiles, and I lean over and give her one more kiss. Taking in another breath of her scent, I hope it’ll tide me over for the weekend.
Getting to my car, I gaze down at my phone. The endgame is in sight. I'm glad she didn't remember to ask for my number. Hopefully, she won't ask anyone else for it. I've won her over, and now it's time for the final stage of my plan—revealing myself as Baller. I'm just praying that once that happens, she doesn't go back to hating me.
Chapter 34
