by Naomi Martin
Apparently, my parents did teach me to make good decisions.
Ryan leans in for another kiss, but I put my fingers to his lips and gently push him back. He takes the hint and leans back on his arms, a small smile on his face. It quickly fades, though, as he sits up again, his smile replaced by an expression of contrition.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft. “I didn’t mean to push—”
I shake my head. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s okay. I just don’t want to go too far too soon,” I explain. “I’ve had some bad experiences before. Made some bad decisions I’d rather not repeat.”
He nods. “I get it. I really do. And I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Again, I’m sorry I pushed.”
“You didn’t push,” I try to reassure him. “Let’s just take things… slower.”
He smiles, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “I’m in no rush.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment and it feels like there is a swarm of butterflies loose in my stomach, battering my insides. I haven’t felt like this in forever, and I take a second to savor the feeling.
When I look into Ryan’s eyes, I see the sincerity. I know he means what he says, that he’s in no rush and is willing to take things at my pace. It’s refreshing to be perfectly honest. But the cynical part of my mind, the part that’s been burned more times than I can count, tells me it’s too good to be true. That he’s just saying whatever he has to say to get into my pants. That part of my mind warns me that Ryan is just too smooth and nobody is this, well, good. Nobody, least of all a teenage boy, is this kind and thoughtful. It just doesn’t happen.
He gives me an easy smile. “Why do you suddenly look so skeptical?”
I open my mouth to reply but hesitate. If I tell him what I’m thinking, I’m afraid I might offend him. That’s the last thing I want to do. I’d rather not alienate him before I find out if he actually is as good as he seems.
A slight frown pulls the corners of his mouth downward. “Let me guess. Because of your bad experiences, you don’t think anybody is actually sincere when they say they’re willing to move slow.”
I give him a small shrug and nod. “Well… yeah. I mean, I know that sounds harsh and I don’t mean to be, but experience has taught me to be skeptical.”
“Fair enough. That’s understandable.”
“It’s not you,” I add with a laugh. “It’s me.”
He groans and flops back into the sand. We laugh together and then he sits up and takes my hand. He looks into my eyes, holding my gaze for a long moment, his expression earnest.
“I mean it, Tatum. I’m in no rush, so take your time.”
“You don’t even know me,” I say. “Why are you—”
He grips my hand a bit tighter. “I can tell that you’re different than the other girls around here. And that’s a good thing.”
“Ah, so I’m a novelty. And what happens when the novelty wears off?”
“It’s more than that.”
“What is it, then?”
He flashes a roguish grin. “Fishing for compliments? How unbecoming.”
I laugh and playfully slap his leg. “Shut up. I am not.”
His smile fades and that earnest expression takes hold again. “None of the girls in this town would have ever stood up to Brittany and Lacey the way you did. None of them would have defended Katie.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“It’s really sad,” he agrees. “But that’s how it is here. The mean girls rule, and everybody else cowers in fear.”
“You don’t.”
He waves me off. “Nah. I don’t deal with that crap. I’ve got other things—important things—going on and I don’t need the distraction or the drama.”
“Important things, huh? Like what?”
“I’m training hard and plan on having my best season yet,” he announces. “I’m going to be a pro ball player.”
“Oh, really?”
He nods eagerly. “Scouts have already been sniffing around. I put up numbers this season and I can get drafted early—maybe even get a Spring Training invite, where I can show the big club what I got. I want to make my stay in the minors as short as possible.”
I laugh. “You’re speaking Chinese to me. I’m not really a sportsball kind of girl. Sorry.”
He shrugs. “We all have flaws. I knew it was only a matter of time before I found yours.”
I laugh again. “You’re such an ass.”
“I certainly can be.” He squeezes my hand gently. “But getting back to the point, you’re different than the girls here, and that’s why I’m willing to go at your pace.”
We sit in the sand and stare at each other in silence for what feels like forever. My thoughts and feelings are a whirlwind inside of me. I’ve never had anybody be this sweet to me before, and I don’t quite know what to do with it.
Of course, my cynical mind is trying to tear it all down and point out all the reasons this can’t be real. All the different ways Ryan is trying to dupe me. It’s trying to convince me that he’s just trying to sleep with me and is saying everything he thinks will make it happen. Suffice it to say, I’m conflicted.
“Thank you, Ryan. That means a lot.”
His smile is as radiant as the face of the moon. “Absolutely. Just tell me you won’t get all weird if I text you randomly.”
A wide smile crosses my face as my heart swells with warmth. “I would be sad if you didn’t.”
Chapter Seven
“This place is bigger than I thought it would be,” I remark.
“Yeah?”
I nod as I look around, taking in the Sapphire Bay mall. It’s nothing like the quaint little strip I’d imagined it would be when Katie asked me to go to the mall with her. I mean, Sapphire Bay is a pretty small town, so I just figured the mall would be, too.
“People from the towns around here come to this place, too,” Katie explains. “It’s not just the Sapphire Bay mall, really—it just sits inside the town limits.”
Laughter, the buzz of voices, and squeals of excitement echo around the cavernous interior of the shopping center. We walk past jewelry stores, clothing shops, and shoe stores, the crowd suddenly growing thicker as more kids decide to spend one of our last days of summer inside window shopping.
We walk past one of the biggest carousels I’ve ever seen, the calliope music obnoxiously loud. Soccer moms and nannies line the fence that surrounds the circle, watching their kids riding the horses round and round the track.
Katie grins at me. “Want to ride it?”
I roll my eyes. “Hard pass.”
We turn and head down another wide avenue and I look up at the railing on the second floor. Faces I don’t know peer down at me before turning away and going on about their business. The air is redolent with the aroma of popcorn, Cinnabon, and some of the other sweets and candy stores that live in this section of the mall.
Up ahead, I see a large yellow tent in a wide rotunda and motion to it. “What’s that?” I ask.
Katie shrugs. “Not sure. Let’s go check it out.”
We head over and see the signs out front advertising Markham’s Talent Services with the slogan in big, bold letters—“Do You Have What It Takes?” It’s a challenge as much as a call to action, daring high school kids from all over to step right up and be ripped to shreds for not having that Hollywood look.
I notice small groups of guys and girls heeding that call to see if they have what it takes. They mill about outside of the tent, waiting for their turn to be judged and found wanting, a buzz of excited conversation filling the air around us.
“What’s going on here?”
Katie shrugs. “No idea. Let’s find out.”
We walk over to a small group of girls she knows, and she introduces me to her friend Tessa. The girls all greet me in return and we make small talk for a couple of minutes.
“So, what’s going on? What’s with the tent and why is ever
ybody hovering around out here?”
“This guy Markham,” Tessa starts, “he’s a talent scout. He’s looking for models and actors—he’s offering free headshots to anybody he thinks has what it takes.”
Katie turns to me, her smile wide. “You totally have to do this. This is like, your thing, Tatum.”
A pang of sadness rings through me. “It used to be my thing. It isn’t anymore.”
Tessa is called and she gives us a smile as she turns and heads for the tent. Her friends follow behind her and gather just outside. Katie grabs my hand and drags me over to a small table set beside the tent’s opening. She snatches up a clipboard and gives me a wicked grin.
“Katie, no,” I protest. “Don’t put my name down.”
She scrawls out my name before I can stop her. “Oops. Too late.”
I scowl at her. “You’d better put your name down, too, then.”
“I don’t have what it takes,” she says, a note of sadness in her voice. “I’m not as pretty as you.”
“Oh my God, shut up. You’re very pretty, Katie.”
“Not really. But at least I’m smart.”
She chews her bottom lip and looks away. With sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, and a curvy frame, she’s not stick-thin like a runway model, but she’s got the wholesome, girl-next-door sort of appeal that’s popular these days. I hate to see her running herself down the way she is.
“You just need some confidence, girl,” I counter. “You’re a knockout.”
“Thanks.”
Her voice is soft and uncertain. I can tell she doesn’t believe me. But it’s true. If she’d only carry herself with more confidence, she would see how pretty she actually is. I grab the clipboard away from her and dodge her hands as she reaches for it. I turn my back and sign her name to it before she can stop me, then drop it onto the table and laugh.
I stick my tongue out at her. “There, now we’re both doing it.”
“You are such a brat.”
“I know.” I give her a wink. “It’s probably going to be a little while yet, so let’s go grab something to drink. I’m thirsty.”
We go to the Cinnabon and grab a drink and a box of cinnamon roll bites to share, then take a seat at a table near where the tent is set up. I watch as the kids file in and out, some looking elated and others crestfallen, their dreams of stardom reduced to dust. Which is ridiculous. But I see the nervous anticipation on Katie’s face and realize she’s taking this a lot more seriously than maybe she should.
I give her an encouraging smile. “You know this doesn’t mean anything, don’t you? This is all just for fun, right?”
Her smile is weak. “Yeah, sure.”
Reaching across the table, I take her hand and give it a firm squeeze. “I’m serious—”
“This is your thing, Tatum. You’re the one who wanted to be an actor,” she says. “This is your chance to get your foot in the door. I’m only going along with it because of you.”
“I really doubt that some guy in a tent in the mall is going to help me get my start in Hollywood,” I reply. “Besides, I don’t even know if I want to do that anymore.”
Her expression changes from one that’s bordering on self-pity to one of firm resolve as she looks at me, and I see her make the turn from suffering a personal indignity to doing something to help me achieve my dreams. It’s the whole caretaker syndrome at work. I have a feeling I know what she’s about to say before she even opens her mouth.
“Don’t give up on your dreams just because you had to move away from your last school and Mr. Worley,” she urges. “You said you always wanted to act—did you mean it? Or did you only want it because Mr. Worley wanted it for you?”
It’s a reasonable question and I can understand why she’d ask it. Being taken away from a theater program I loved and a teacher who inspired me, I lost my steam. Lost my desire. But as we sit there and I look at the tent, I feel the first faint smoldering embers of my passion beginning to reignite. I know this whole thing is probably just to get you to buy something—acting lessons, or whatever. It’s a tent in a mall—I’m pretty sure this isn’t how stars are made. But then again, I’ve heard some crazy stories about how actors have been “discovered.” I let my imagination off the leash just a little bit and think about the possibilities. Thanks to Katie, I guess I just realized I have a big hole inside of me—one that being up on stage always used to fill. If nothing else, this whole episode is serving to spark my interest and passion again.
“I miss it,” I confess. “I miss being on stage.”
“So, get back to it. This could be your first step.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
We both turn as we hear Katie’s name called and see an older man with salt-and-peppered hair standing outside of his tent, looking around. The expression on her face is one of near panic, but I see her swallow it down. She turns and looks at me, holding my gaze, and I feel like a butterfly pinned to a board.
“If I go do this, then you have to,” she says. “No backing out. Deal?”
I clear my throat as the man calls Katie’s name again. She raises her eyebrows and leans forward, urging me with her eyes.
“Deal?” She repeats her question.
I sigh. “Deal.”
“Good girl.”
Katie hops to her feet and, with a spring in her step, she marches toward the man in front of the tent. I watch as he greets her, watch the way he eyes her up and down and see the judgment in her eyes. Although he’s got a smile on his face, I can see that he’s going to turn her down. He hasn’t even spoken to her for a full minute, but I can tell he doesn’t think she “has what it takes.”
Katie disappears into the tent with the man, leaving me out here alone with my thoughts. I take one of the cinnamon bites and dip it into the cream cheese frosting before I pop it into my mouth, chewing it slowly. I doubt this guy, Markham, is going to be able to do anything to jumpstart a career in acting for me. But it’s at least got me thinking about getting back into theater again. That’s something I really didn’t think I’d do again after leaving Norfolk. And maybe I’ll see what sort of theater department Sapphire Bay High has to offer.
“Well, look who we have here—it’s the new girl.”
The voice pulls me from my thoughts and snaps me back to the present. I turn and see Renee, Brittany, and Lacey coming toward me, looking for all the world like models strutting down a catwalk. And they all do look like they could be featured in a Victoria’s Secret catalog. I’m pretty sure the talent scout in the tent is going to love them.
They stop in front of my table, all three folding their arms across their chests at the same time, like it’s a choreographed move, and glower down at me. Brittany and Lacey both look like they want to tear my face off while Renee simply looks down her nose at me like I’m beneath her, some object of disgust.
She looks me up and down, a sneer on her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Conducting brain surgery,” I reply. “I’d offer to work on yours, but…”
“Cute,” Renee spits. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“I do. I much prefer being funny to being a raging bitch. But that’s just me.”
Her face darkens. She exchanges looks with her friends, who have remained silent to this point as if waiting for her cue to speak, then looks back at me, anger etched into her features.
I give her the phoniest-looking smile I can muster. “Did you know that when you’re mad, your nose flares? It’s cute, though. It kind of reminds me of a pig snout.”
She takes a step forward and flexes up as I shoot to my feet. She’s got a couple of inches on me, but I can tell she’s never been in a fight in her life—she doesn’t know how to make a proper fist, for one. It’s like she’s hoping that her height advantage will intimidate me into backing down. She pulls up short as I square up to her and I see a flash of fear in her eyes. But she’s committed and can’t back down in front of her girls or she’ll lose her
credibility with them.
“What is your problem with me?” I ask. “What have I ever done to you?”
She scoffs. “Have you ever met somebody, and you just didn’t like them? Yeah, that’s you.”
I laugh. “Yeah, pretty sure I’m not going to be losing any sleep over it.”
“You should rip her face off, Renee.” It’s Lacey—or maybe Brittany, I can’t tell one from the other.
“You’re welcome to try,” I offer. “But I have a feeling you’ll just end up getting bitch-slapped like the Barbie twin over there.”
Lacey and Brittany turn to me in unison, their faces twisted in rage. Renee shoots them both a warning look, though, and like the obedient little lapdogs they are, they both back down.
Renee turns back to me, a feral smile on her face. “You here to meet the talent scout?”
“And if I am?”
The three girls exchange looks then burst into laughter, leaning against each other and holding their bellies as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
“Sweetie, I hate to break it to you, but you don’t have the looks to make it in Hollywood,” Renee says. “Not by far.”
“Not unless they’re casting for a dog food commercial.” The Barbie twins laugh like they just scored the hit of the century and high five each other for good measure.
I smile sweetly at them. “Well, if they’re casting for mentally challenged prostitutes, I’m sure you two will be shoo-ins.”
Even Renee struggles to keep the smile off her face as the two blondes clench their tiny fists and stomp their perfectly manicured feet in outrage. Her face grows serious as she takes a step forward, putting us mere inches from each other. She glares at me with what I guess is supposed to be a menacing expression.
“You’re new here, and if I were you, I’d watch my ass,” she growls. “I’d hate to see something bad happen to you.”
“Jesus, Renee, give it a rest, you wannabe badass.”
I turn and see a boy standing there with an amused smirk on his face. He’s every bit as gorgeous as Ryan and when our eyes meet, I get a sensation of weightlessness in the pit of my stomach. The Barbie twins mumble to each other and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, the tone is one of sheer annoyance.