I bite back a smile.
“Anyway, it’s like twelve of us, and we’re really deep in the forest, and then I just—freaked out.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “It wasn’t even the curfew thing or getting into trouble or being in the woods with bears—”
I gasp. “There were bears?”
“I don’t know,” Noah says. “I kind of wish there were, because then I could just be like, yeah, I broke my arm running from a giant fucking bear. But no—I was just, like, overwhelmed. It was just the whole situation and the random girls and thinking, what am I even going to talk to these girls about, and not knowing if it was supposed to be like a hookup thing or a chill thing, or what. And anyway, we were basically all the way at the meeting point, but I just, like, bolted.”
“Which is when the bear started chasing you.”
“Right.” He smiles. “Then the bear—ha ha. Anyway, I tripped over a root and landed like this.” He demonstrates on his cast-free arm, pressing his hand flat on the concrete. “So yeah. I broke my wrist running away from hot girls. Voilà.”
I grin into my fist. “Oh, Noah.”
“I know.” He exhales. “So here’s the thing, and I’m just going to say it. And it kind of ties back to last night.” He shuts his eyes. “I don’t really tell people this, but I’m kind of . . . not good in social situations? I just get really weird and overwhelmed and I don’t feel that comfortable, which is why I drink sometimes. And I know that’s bad—”
“It’s not bad.”
He smiles slightly but doesn’t speak.
“It’s not, like, necessarily healthy, but it doesn’t make you a bad person. It just sounds like social anxiety. Also, anyone would be overwhelmed by that party. A bunch of hot girls and bears in the middle of the woods?”
“Good point.”
“And don’t even get me started on whether the bears were wearing pants.”
He nods soberly. “They weren’t.”
“Didn’t think so. Pervs.”
Noah laughs. “So you think I have social anxiety, huh?”
“It’s not a bad thing.” I shrug. “I think I’m like that, too.”
“But I don’t see you drinking and making an ass of yourself.”
“Yeah, because I’m not a fuckgirl,” I say, and he bursts out laughing. “But seriously, why do you think I do theater?”
“Because you suck at sports?”
“Shut up.” I swat him, smiling. “Because I like having a script. I like being told where to stand and what to do with my hands. Like—I don’t know. I would have run from those girls, too. Because it’s the ambiguousness of it, right? No one gives you lines. No one even tells you what show you’re in.” I sigh. “Theater’s so much better than real life.”
“Theater is pretty great,” he says. And then he looks at me so intently, I feel like I’ve swallowed a sunburst.
“Anyway, now you know why I was acting like a drunk fuckboy last night.”
“It’s okay. Seriously.”
“I just don’t like that I was so focused on making myself feel comfortable that I made you uncomfortable. Like. That’s not cool.” He shakes his head. “I need to learn how to be cool around you.”
I bite back a smile. “Please don’t be cool around me.”
“Deal.” His eyes catch mine. And suddenly our faces are inches apart.
It feels like stepping onto a stage. It feels like every cell in my body waking up all at once. He leans forward.
“Kate? Hello? Noah?”
Noah jolts up straight, eyes huge, shooting me a quick, awkward smile.
“Guys, it’s 2:28. Where are you?” Devon Blackwell’s voice carries faintly from around the corner.
“Hey! Sorry.” I jump up, scrambling to collect our pizza plates and bottles. “We’re right here. We’re ready. I’m so sorry.” I speed walk back around the perimeter of the school, Noah drifting behind me. When I glance back, he looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.
I try to glare at him, but it’s hopeless.
For the rest of the afternoon, every time I look at him, I get goose bumps.
Scene 69
Naturally, Ryan’s ignoring my texts. Which is great. Because Brandie’s riding with Raina, and Raina’s only allowed to drive one person. And it’s not like I can call Mom, because she’ll want to know why I’m not just riding home with Matt and Anderson.
Looks like I’m riding home with Matt and Anderson.
We all leave through the auditorium side door, so Ms. Zhao and Mr. D can lock up behind us, and I end up falling into step beside Noah. I smile up at him. “So.”
“So.” He flicks his cast. “Guess how much I hate not being allowed to drive right now.” His voice is light, but there’s this glint in his eyes, and I feel achy and warm all the way to my toes.
I mean. That was real, right? Noah Kaplan almost kissed me, right there. Right outside the auditorium. Completely unscripted.
“I guess I’ll see you Monday?”
“Kate?” Matt appears behind me, lifting his key ring. “You ready?”
“Yes! Sorry.” I shoot a quick smile at Noah.
He does a tiny salute with his cast-free hand and then trails off toward the carpool circle.
And now I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I’d probably be kissing Noah Kaplan this very minute if I had my license right now.
I mean. I’m sixteen years old, I have access to a car, and I’ve already taken Driver’s Ed. There’s literally no reason for me not to have my license. This isn’t a glitch or bad luck or sucky timing. This is me choosing to rely on my friends for rides. Or my brother. Or my parents. And something tells me none of them are dying to deliver me to Noah’s house so we can make out in his bedroom.
I’ve said it a million times: I have no game. I’m my own cockblock. But, like, it’s an actual measurable fact now. I myself am the reason I am not kissing Noah Kaplan on this fine September afternoon.
Instead, I’m third-wheeling it with Andy and Matt. It’s especially great, seeing as Andy and I haven’t spoken since our super-fun talk in the bathroom on Thursday. Which—I’m startled to realize—was only two days ago. It feels like centuries. I think it’s the longest Andy and I have ever gone without speaking since we met.
As for Matt, I’m just too mortified to even look at him.
I stay a foot or two behind the boys all the way across the parking lot and slip straight into the back seat, before Andy can even think of offering me shotgun. And for the first minute or two of the drive, it’s total silence.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say finally.
“No problem.” Matt shoots me a smile in the rearview mirror. “What are you up to the rest of today?”
“Probably homework,” I say.
Or, you know. Sitting in my room, replaying every single second of the forty-five minutes I spent outside with Noah. Especially the moment there at the end where I swear—I swear—he would have kissed me if Devon hadn’t shown up.
Except it’s not the almost-kiss I keep circling back to. And it’s not the closeness or his electric-bright eyes or even his laugh—which just might be my favorite song on earth.
It’s the conversation.
I just keep thinking about the secret anxious Noah—the one who gets overwhelmed by human interaction but goes to parties anyway. The one who literally breaks bones running away from ambiguous social situations. I think I might be the only person in the whole world who knows that Noah.
I kind of can’t wait to know more.
“—if you want,” Matt’s saying, and I look up with a start to find him glancing back at me again in the mirror.
I blush. “Sorry, will you say that one more time? I was just . . .”
“Sure, I was just saying Andy and I were gonna watch Anastasia back at his place. You should come.”
“Oh. Uh. I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s . . .” But I catch a glimpse of Matt’s wrinkled brow and quickly change course.
“I have a lot of algebra to catch up on.”
“Okay,” he says quietly.
Andy shifts in his seat, directly in front of me. He hasn’t said a word this whole trip, and of course I’m sitting in the one spot where I can’t see his face.
I feel this pang of missing him, so sharp I almost lose my breath. Two days of not speaking. I was smart to avoid him. Sitting this close to him is practically unbearable.
It feels like standing on the doorstep without a key to your own home.
Scene 70
Matt stays at Anderson’s house until well after dinner, which is more than fine by me. It just makes it that much easier to avoid him. Of course, he clearly knows I’m avoiding him, which I feel a little sick about. He hasn’t really been pushing the issue, though.
Until tonight. When he knocks on my door.
For a second, I consider waiting him out. Pretending I went to bed early or something. I’m sure he sees the lights on under my door, but maybe I could pretend I fell asleep doing algebra homework. But I can’t bring myself to lie, at least not so directly. “What’s up?” I ask softly. Probably too softly. Probably he won’t even hear me through the door. Probably—
“Hey!” Matt cracks the door open. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“I’m okay,” he says quickly, stepping inside. He shuts the door carefully behind him. “Are you okay?”
I scoot back against the headboard of my bed, lips twitching into a smile. Matt’s just such a world-class bean. He’s so fundamentally nice. And listen. I may be unbearably clueless and an all-around hopeless case of a girl, but at least I didn’t fall for someone terrible. I have excellent taste in guys I can’t have.
Matt plops right down beside me. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” I feel strange and unsteady. Mom and Ellen are already in their respective rooms, and I don’t even know where Ryan is. So we really are very much alone together, for the first time since Bruster’s.
“So,” Matt says, leaning back on his hands.
“I know you think I’m avoiding you because you’re gay,” I say quickly.
“Wait, what?” He sits back up, peering at my face. “Why would I think that?”
“I mean. I’ve been a shitty friend, and I haven’t been there for you at all, and—”
“No, no, no, no, no.” He shakes his head firmly. “Nope. Don’t you dare steal my apology moment.”
“What could you possibly have to apologize for?”
“Because.” He blushes. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I know Andy told you about—”
My heart leaps into my throat. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
“I know, but I feel bad. I do.”
“No. Matt!” I’m so panicked, I can’t even think straight. My brain feels fuzzy and my stomach won’t stop flipping and I swear, I don’t know how people do this. How do people admit this kind of thing and say it out loud and have it not be a big deal? Someone knowing you like them. Or even liked them. I can’t make it not a big deal. “Matt, you can’t—”
“I feel awful, Kate. That ride home today? You and Andy mean everything to each other.” He sniffs—so quietly, I barely even hear it.
I swallow, trying desperately not to cry. “Matt, I don’t even know what you think you did wrong. I’m happy for you guys. I am.”
And it’s funny. In this heartbeat of a moment, I really am. I’m so happy for them, I’m almost speechless. Andy’s first real kiss, and it’s with a boy he’s crazy about. With a boy who actually deserves him. And I get to be here to see it happen. I get to watch my best friend fall in love.
Suddenly, I’m crying.
Matt grabs my hand. “Kate—”
“You know I’m not mad, right?”
“I know,” Matt says, with that bright smile he does when he’s sad. “But I get it. It’s new territory for you guys. Andy told me this is the first time there’s ever been a guy in the picture for either of you.” He blushes suddenly, like he’s worried he said too much. “I don’t mean—”
I wipe my eyes, laughing. “It’s okay. I have no game. You can say it.”
“Okay, that’s totally not what I mean.” His laugh joins mine, just for a moment—but then his voice grows soft and serious. “All I’m saying is that I know it’s different. I know it’s always been the two of you, and now I’m here, and it’s this whole new kind of competition for his time and attention and—I don’t know, I’m not saying this right. I just want to make sure you know that I never, ever want to come between you guys.”
“No, I know,” I say slowly. And a thought starts edging into my brain. But I can’t quite catch it. “And you aren’t! I’m the one who’s been—”
“Nope. No taking blame. I just wanted to put that out there. You’re Anderson’s best friend, and I completely respect that. I never want to usurp that.”
“Usurp.” I smile. “SAT word?”
“SAT word.”
Then it hits me.
This conversation isn’t about my crush on Matt.
I replay the whole thing in my head, heart pounding. New territory. Competition for time and attention. Not wanting to come between us.
Holy shit.
Matt doesn’t know I had a crush on him.
Which means Anderson kept my secret. Here I was yelling at him in the bathroom and ignoring his texts and calling him a shitty friend, but still. He hid that entire piece of himself from Matt, just to keep from embarrassing me.
And I punished him anyway.
Scene 71
Now I’m desperate to talk to Anderson. It’s all I can think about. But the chances of me getting him alone during tech week are hovering somewhere between Nope and Not Happening.
Monday’s cue-to-cue lasts until eight, and except for when we’re onstage, Andy and I barely even see each other. Even after we finish, Andy’s stuck staying an extra hour to troubleshoot “Song of Love.” I honestly think we’d have a better shot at a private conversation in the middle of history class.
Maybe we should leave campus.
I’ve never done that. Not being able to drive does tend to interfere with that school-skipping lifestyle. But f-boys do it constantly. I mean, on any given day, at least two or three f-boy desks are empty. Even Noah’s absent from history class on Tuesday, though I happen to know he’s not living the lifestyle. Not today.
Here’s the thing. If I’m going to skip class, today’s the day for it. Mr. Edelman’s lecturing on the Founding Fathers, and God knows we have that info locked down. I keep glancing sideways at Anderson to see if he’s thinking the same Hamilton thoughts that I am. And sure enough, there he is, barely suppressing a smile. Dimples and all. And even though his eyes are glued to his notes, I think he knows I’m watching him.
But I can’t quite work up the nerve to poke him or pass a note or whisper his name. Which is crazy. This is Anderson. Not a crush. But there’s this awkwardness that comes with knowing I messed up. It makes me shy. And it makes every interaction feel wrong. Every move feels so loaded—too obnoxiously casual, too cringingly formal.
I can’t wimp out, though. Not anymore. And I’ve got to go big.
Mr. Edelman’s eyes drift back down to his lecture notes, and I stop thinking.
I just go for it.
I heave my whole body sideways, tipping my desk closer and closer toward Anderson’s, until it crashes down into the aisle between us. And for a minute, I sit there, startled. Yeah, okay, it was premeditated, but I didn’t actually think I’d go through with it. I can’t even do a trust fall. And now everyone in the whole class is looking at me.
I wonder if this is what it’s like to be Noah.
Raina gasps. “Holy fuck.” Brandie leaps out of her seat to help me up.
“Guys, can we please be more careful? Please?” asks Mr. Edelman, rubbing his chin wearily. “Kate, are you okay?”
“Absolutely,” I say quickly. “Totally fine. Can I go to the infirmary?�
��
Lana Bennett eyes me suspiciously from across the room. “You just said you’re totally fine.”
“I am. Totally fine. But you never know, right? Internal bleeding and stuff?” I pick my desk back up and slide it into its place. “I think I better get checked out, just to be on the safe side.”
Mr. Edelman sighs. “I’ll write you a hall pass.”
“Thanks! Would you mind writing one for Anderson, too? I might need some help.”
I can practically feel Anderson’s surprised gaze, but I force myself to stare straight ahead. Mr. Edelman closes his eyes briefly. “Why not? Anything else? Should we call an ambulance?”
“Hey,” says Jack Randall, “how about a whaaaaaaaaaambulance—”
Raina kicks his chair leg. “Shut up.”
“You okay?” Brandie whispers, brows knitted.
“I’ll text you,” I mouth.
“Okay, here you go. Hall passes for Kate and Anderson.”
I jump up—and then catch myself, forcing a wince, like I stepped on my ankle wrong. It’s such obvious bullshit—at least I think it’s obvious—but maybe I’m a better actress than I thought. Because Anderson hooks his arm around my waist and says, “Try not to put weight on it.”
I smile up at him. “Got it.”
“Why are you making that face?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you in juuuuuuust a second.”
He side-eyes me. “I’m intrigued.”
We make slow progress out of Mr. Edelman’s room, but the minute we’re out of sight distance, I wriggle out of Anderson’s arm. “Okay, you know I’m totally fine, right?”
“I was getting there.” He raises his eyebrows. “What’s up?”
“I had to break us out of there.”
Anderson looks like he’s trying not to smile. “It’s Mr. Edelman. You can just leave.”
“I know,” I say. “But I wanted you to come with me.”
“To the BTF?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I just—I want to talk where I can see your face.”
Kate in Waiting Page 23