by Gia Riley
“Can’t argue with that,” Rhett says, with a knowing smile.
Being teammates for a couple years, he knows all too well how much my brother enjoys partying and female attention. “He can be a jackass, I know.”
Rhett laughs, “Can’t argue there, either.”
“Most guys in this school are though–especially the ones on the team.”
“Ouch,” he says, covering his heart.
“I didn’t mean you. You’re different.”
He looks up at me, a confused expression on his face. “Thank you, I think.”
“Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“What did you mean?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear, thankful it’s dark enough in here to hide the fact that I’m turning red. “I don’t know what I was trying to say. They definitely wouldn’t be talking to me right now if they were in your shoes though, that’s for sure. That already makes you a non-asshole—at least for today.”
His shoulders shake, as he laughs at me. I regret ever opening my mouth. “Forget it, sorry.”
“Na, I get what you’re saying—even if you did have a shitty delivery.”
“Thanks, I wasn’t trying to call you an asshole. You aren’t.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Why am I so bad at this? “My opinion doesn’t really matter anyway.”
I wait for him to laugh at me, again, but he doesn’t. This time, he looks at me with a straight face when he says, “Your opinion matters, Kinsley.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Probably not.”
“Well, it matters to me.”
I stop what I’m doing to look at him. The way he said it matters to him, was kind, caring even. It makes no sense why he of all people would care. “It does?”
He nods his head, turning to face me. “Of course it does. You’re real. You don’t bullshit. I respect that from a chick.”
“I’m a girl, not a chick. Chicks are usually bitchy—at least from my experiences. Wyatt’s had enough of them at the house over the years for me to know the difference.”
“Sounds like you met some winners.”
“I have, but I have a lot of time to think, too. People watching is my thing. You can figure out a lot about a person just by watching them.”
“Okay, then tell me what else you think—about me.”
If I answer him, I’m pretty much admitting I watch him. Though he did ask for my opinion, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to give it. I swallow, chewing on my lip, as I try to come up with something to say that won’t result in any embarrassing confessions or hurt feelings. “Um, well. I don’t know, Rhett.”
“Sure you do. You have lots of opinions, you just don’t say them out loud very often.”
He couldn’t be more right. I’m usually too afraid to speak up, so I don’t. “True.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because everyone has too much dirt on me as it is, and nobody really cares what I have to say anyway. I’d rather stay invisible than stand out.” I don’t need anyone slinging trash at me about my past. It’s not worth being heard if I’m only going to be mocked. Plus, until this year, my brother did enough talking for the both of us.
“Kinsley, we’ve known each other a really long time. Just because we don’t hang out, doesn’t mean I don’t observe things, too. You don’t think people see you, but they do. I see you. Every single day.”
“I like to blend in.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not some spray tanned, cheerleader Barbie with long legs, hair extensions, fake nails, and a push-up bra. Those girls are living one big lie. Their appearance is as fake as their personality. And I can’t be fake.” I have too many skeletons to pretend to be anything other than what I am.
“And that’s why I notice you, Kinsley.”
“You notice me? You want me to believe the Rhett Taylor notices me.”
“Yes.”
“Why? You’re you, and I’m me. We’re opposites.” I don’t ask him because I’m fishing for compliments. I ask because I’m intrigued—genuinely curious as to why Rhett would ever be trying to figure me out.
“Maybe I like you,” he says, without a hint of mockery in his tone. “And opposites attract.”
“Okay, Paula Abdul.” I try to play off what he said, but all I can do is swallow around the lump in my throat. I wasn’t expecting an answer like that one. “What’s the deal?”
“There is no deal, Kinsley. Can I borrow that?” He gestures toward the bottle of developer in my hand.
I stand, staring at him, wondering what the catch is. There’s no way Rhett likes me for me. There has to be more to it.
“The bottle,” he says, again.
I hand it to him. “Sure, I’m finished.”
As he takes it from me, our fingers touch ever so slightly. I pull my hand away from his like he electrocuted me, again earning a chuckle from him.
“You okay?” he questions.
I clear my throat. “I’m fine.” I want to ask him what he means when he says he likes me, but I don’t. The dreamer in me wants it to mean exactly what it sounds like, but that’s only setting myself up for disappointment. High school isn’t a Disney movie.
He lets me concentrate on my assignment for a few minutes, and I’m thankful. We had a half hour to take a picture of something inspiring. I knew right away I’d find my greatest source of inspiration in the art lab. Considering Rhett took less time than I did to complete his assignment, he must have shot the football field or the weight room, where all the magic happens, before hurrying back.
I swirl my picture around and around in the tray, waiting for it to finish. Out of the corner of my eye, I chance another impatient peek at Rhett’s tray. His picture is farther along than mine, and I have to blink my eyes a couple times to make sure I’m actually seeing what I think I’m seeing. It’s like looking into a mirror with my own face staring back at me.
“Why did you take that?” I ask him. He’s going to fail today’s assignment if he doesn’t go take another picture. He doesn’t have time to mess around, or Mr. Jasper will kick him out of the darkroom.
His face remains serious, not giving away a single clue. Maybe it’s a cruel joke, and I’m today’s shark prey, but he only shrugs his shoulders like it’s perfectly normal for him to have a picture of me in his possession. “I’m creating art. What’s it look like?”
“It looks like me, that’s what.” He can’t be serious right now. I’m not art. Kinsley West is a lot of things, but art isn’t one of them.
“I’m glad we got that straightened out.”
“But, Rhett, you didn’t do the assignment. You won’t get any credit.”
He raises his head, searching for my deep brown eyes in the already darkened room. Sometimes they’re so dark, I can’t even find my own pupils in the mirror. “Who says I didn’t do the assignment?”
With the tongs in my hand, I point at his tray. “Rhett, that’s a picture of me.”
“I know it is. Maybe you inspire me. Did you ever consider that?”
Absolutely not.
All I can do is I stare into the red plastic tray as my face floats around inside it. Nobody’s ever told me I inspire them before, but I can’t let him know how much his words mean to me. Not when I’m still trying to figure out if I believe him or not. “Good luck explaining that to Mr. Jasper.”
“I don’t have to explain anything, the picture speaks for itself.”
This is the only chance I may ever have to hear what Rhett thinks of me. Not what everyone else thinks, but his own personal opinion of a girl who has been in his life without every really being in his life. So, I whisper, “What does the picture say?”
He sets the solution back on the table, pulls the photograph out of the tray, and hangs it behind us to dry—where the rest of the class will be able to see it, too. He points to it as it hangs. “That I captured the prettiest girl in the school.”
Is he for rea
l right now?
There is no way Rhett Taylor just told me I was the prettiest girl in the whole school. It makes no sense considering he can have any girl he wants, and most of his choices are more beautiful at eighteen than I will ever be.
Plus, I’m not his type. I’m not one of the bubbly cheerleaders who scream his name from the sidelines every Friday night, and I’m not one of the groupies following him from school to practice, watching as he sips his Gatorade. I’m just me—the girl who gets good grades, has a passion to design, and works part time at the diner to afford my car payments and art supplies.
“Breathe, Kinsley. We all have secrets, even you, but now you know my truth.”
“ARE YOU GOING to tell me why Rhett Taylor can’t seem to take his eyes off you for five seconds?” Becca asks, as she takes a bite of her double cheeseburger, so full of ketchup, it oozes out from under the bun. I don’t know how she can eat complete and total junk without ever gaining a pound.
“What?”
She rolls her eyes like I’m out of my mind. “I’m serious, Kin, he hasn’t stopped checking you out.”
“Maybe you’re the one he’s checking out. Ever think of that?”
I haven’t had a chance to tell her about photography class yet, so her comment catches me off guard. I’m still debating if I want to keep what happened between Rhett and me a secret, or not. Part of me wants to tell her, just to make it seem more real—like I wasn’t imagining him telling me I’m pretty or calling me an inspiration.
“Don’t play dumb, Kinsley. I heard all about his confession from Mandi. Once she found out, it was spread around the school in less than an hour. That’s got to be some kind of record, you know.”
This isn’t good. I don’t want to be the talk of the school. That’s how vicious rumors begin, and they never end well, either. “How did Mandi find out?” I ask, as I push the lettuce from my salad from one side of the plate to the other. I was hungry until this conversation started, but now my stomach is in too many knots to eat.
“Apparently, she was in the darkroom, and witnessed it.”
Mandi isn’t even in advanced photography, but she is taking the beginners class in the adjoining room. My guess, she was hoping to steal some time with Rhett and snuck in the darkroom. She’s had a thing for him for as long as I can remember. They even dated off and on, but each time, it didn’t last long—none of his relationships ever do. “I didn’t see her. I thought it was just the two of us in there.”
“Because you were too busy drooling over Rhett. I don’t know, Kinsley, I never thought I’d see the day you’d go jock on me.”
I smack Becca on the arm. “It wasn’t like that at all, Becca. We were just talking, not that there’s anything wrong with athletes, by the way.” I don’t mention I called them all assholes this morning before I knew one liked me.
She shakes her head in disagreement. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Come on, Becca. I have too many brain cells for him to be seriously interested. It would throw off the school ditz to muscle ratio or something. I can’t screw that up.” Then, just in case she doesn’t buy what I’m trying to sell her, I toss in some extra reassurance by adding rumor to the mix. “And last I heard, Mandi’s the one who’s crushing on Rhett again—not me.”
Becca waves her hand in the air, dismissing my claim entirely. “You’re talking nonsense. Rhett doesn’t care about Mandi or any of the other senior girl drama. He avoids it like the plague.”
“What makes you say that? Do you like him?”
“Pfft. No, not since we were ten.”
Why am I only finding out about this now when I’ve known Becca since middle school? I didn’t even know she knew Rhett that well. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, we used to be neighbors—before my parents split up and I moved across town. I had a crush on him, and he knew it. I wanted to be in his club so bad, I even let him make me eat dirt to get in.”
“You ate dirt for a boy’s attention?”
“Yeah, I’m not proud of it, but I did call him names for making me do it. His mom was hanging wash on the line and heard every single word I said to her darling little boy.”
“What happened?”
“She sent me home. I wasn’t allowed to play at their house anymore because I was a bad influence with a potty mouth. Her words, not mine.”
I laugh into my napkin. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She takes a sip of her iced tea before continuing. “Trust me, Kinsley, he would never make you eat dirt. Not with the way he’s looking at you today. He might want to get you dirty though.”
“I’m not getting dirty with anyone, Becca.”
How she can draw these conclusions from a meaningless rumor she heard floating around school, is beyond me. Considering Mandi was the only witness, people should know better than to believe a word she says—even if there was truth to it this time.
Though I don’t have to worry about what she said one way or another, because when I glance in his direction and find him looking at me exactly the way Becca described, the suspicions are confirmed. If everyone didn’t already know, he’s proving every word Mandi said to be the truth. That fact alone makes my heart rate speed up—my palms even start to sweat. I try to look away, but not before I catch him winking at me.
What is going on?
To anyone sitting around him, he appears engaged in the conversation at his table—not the least bit distracted. But each time I look his way, he senses it. It’s like he’s in two places at once—he’s with his friends, and with me. It’s the strangest feeling in the world sharing moments only the two of us know exist.
“You see it now, don’t you?” Becca asks. “You can’t keep your eyes off him, either.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t mean anything. We’ve known each other all our lives, and now the first day of senior year, I’m supposed to believe he suddenly had an epiphany? I don’t buy it.”
“Don’t do that,” she scolds like a protective mother hen. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Any guy in this school would be lucky to have you as his girl.”
“No guy in this school has ever had me. Have you thought about that? I’m a senior and I’ve never had a boyfriend.” That sounds even more pathetic as I say the words aloud. It’s also the reason I lack any kind of confidence when it comes to the opposite sex. I have nothing to compare to—no first kiss, no first time. Nothing.
“So what?” Becca says with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “There’s a first time for everything. That’s why it’s called your first.” She’s not going to let me give up on the idea of more with Rhett, I can already tell.
“Becca, he has all kinds of experience. Why would he even look my way knowing I’m not easy? I don’t want a random hookup with him or any other guy. I don’t operate that way. ”
That’s probably why I’ve never had a boyfriend in the first place. They know I won’t give it to them without a real relationship, so they don’t even bother trying. Because why would an eighteen-year-old guy want to take a chance when he could have a sure thing?
“Then what do you want?”
“I want a guy to want me. And I want him to treat me like I matter. I mean, I know this is high school, and none of us are going to get married after we graduate, but I don’t think wanting a relationship is too much to ask for. Is it?”
“Not if that’s what you want.”
“I’m probably crazy for imagining I could have anything real with Rhett, but all day long, I watch these girls throw themselves at guys like him. They look pathetic, and none of them are respected. Ten years from now, when I look back on high school, I don’t want to remember it with regrets.”
Becca nods her head, understanding what I’m saying, but I can tell she has an opinion. “What if you regret not hooking up with people?”
“Then that’s something I’ll have to live with, because right now, I think I’d regret it more if I just threw myself at a guy to sa
y I did it.”
“I wish I had your self-control, Kin. There are a couple guys in this school I’d jump on, no questions asked.”
“That’s where we differ. You were born an animal,” I joke. She’s a romantic, but she has a wild side, too. My brother couldn’t resist the appeal along with a lot of other guys. Problem is, Becca is willing, but she’s not easy. She has standards, high ones, and expects as much as she demands.
Becca smacks the lunch table with her palm. “That’s it, Kinsley!”
“What? I’m not following.”
“You’re not an animal, and maybe that’s exactly what Rhett needs. There are guys a lot worse than him when it comes to hooking up, but he can’t change until he finds someone worth changing for, you know.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Becca. Come on, we have to get going or we’ll be late for class.”
Becca gathers her trash and stands up next to me. Rhett stands up from his spot at the other end of the cafeteria at the exact same time. Our eyes lock once more before I turn toward the trash cans to throw away my barely eaten lunch.
My stomach can’t handle all these butterflies.
THE FINAL BELL rings, ending the first day of classes. Not wanting to be late for my shift, I scramble to pack up my bag and get to my locker as fast as I can.
“Jeez, slow down, woman,” Becca says, as she hurries to catch me. “What’s the rush?”
“I can’t be late for work.” I can think of a million other things I’d rather do on a Thursday night, but at least I have Friday night off for once. Tomorrow I can hang out with Becca and do whatever I want before the long Labor Day weekend.
“I thought you cut back your hours since school started? Is Kate giving you a hard time about money again?”
“No, she’s been fine since Carson moved in and took some of the financial burden off our shoulders. This is my choice.”
“I still can’t believe Carson Hill lives with you. How do you function with that man-meat walking around all day long?”
“Did you forget who my brother is? I put blinders on and keep moving. Plus, Kate’s there.”
“And Kate was cool with it? No questions asked?”