Rumor Has It

by RH Tucker

  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 gone 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.

  “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.