Page 23 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

too darn hot

I have never been closer to spontaneous human combustion than I am now.

The sun is a bully with a magnifying glass, and the surface of my skin sizzles as if it’s one big strip of bacon.

I try to burrow deeper into the inflatable donut I’m floating on, but the thing is sticky and half-deflated, and there’s no escaping the fact that the East Coast heat wave has finally broken me.

Rita floats beside me in a watermelon slice pool raft, shapeless and starfish-sprawled.

She’s wearing her “hey, sailor” two-piece, a red-and-white striped vintage number she bought online for five bucks, and her hair is a frizz-ball.

She has her sunglasses on, but I know she’s awake because she’s humming “Anything Goes.” The radio sits perched near the edge of the pool, balanced on a faded blue towel, and the DJ is giving a play-by-play of the historic temperatures.

“We’re officially at one-oh-four, folks, and still rising!

Downtown Arcadia has set a record for the second day in a row.

If you’re not already inside, get there and stay hydrated.

I repeat, stay hydrated . The city is opening cooling centers at—” The wind shifts and the radio static swallows his words.

It’s too hot to move, too hot to think about moving, but I try anyway. I paddle with one foot, drifting over to where Rita floats, and nudge her raft with my elbow. “You dead?”

She peels one eye open and aims it at me, then closes it again. “Nah. I’m manifesting my higher self. Did you bring the popsicles?”

I reach blindly for the cooler floating beside me and unzip it. The popsicles have melted into a soup of colors—blue razz, cherry, and artificial lime all sloshed together. “We have achieved slush,” I report. “Want a hit?”

Rita sits up with effort and dips her finger into one of the bags, then licks it thoughtfully. “It’s like a unicorn bled out in here,” she says, sounding pleased. “Hand it over.”

I paddle the cooler her way and watch as she drinks straight from the bag. “You’re not worried about double-dipping?” I ask.

“Kevin, we’ve shared eight tubes of ChapStick.

I’m pretty sure our DNA is already intermingled.

” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and lies down again, popping her sunglasses up onto her head.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s on your mind, or am I supposed to intuit it from the shape of your aura? ”

I roll onto my stomach, arms dangling over the edge of my donut, and stare at the bottom of the pool. The sunlight refracts in weird, wiggly lines on the vinyl, and I try to focus on that instead of everything else. “I don’t get it,” I say finally.

“Get what?”

“Jameson Hart.” I poke at a waterlogged leaf that’s drifted into the pool. “I keep trying to figure him out, but I can’t.”

Rita makes a noise that’s half snort, half hum. “You want to know if he likes you.”

“No! That’s not—” I pause. “Okay, maybe. But also, like, why did he lie to me about the books? Why say he was buying them for Ethan if his brother never even asked for them?”

She thinks about this, squinting up at the cloudless sky. “Maybe he was embarrassed to admit he wanted to read them?”

“Why would anyone be embarrassed to read young adult romance? That’s the best section in the whole store.”

“Society is weird, Kev.” She flips over, her legs trailing in the water. “Maybe he thinks people will judge him. Or maybe he’s overcompensating. Or here’s a crazy idea, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.”

I run my hands over the donut’s sticky seam and watch my fingers leave little ridges behind. “But if he wanted to talk to me, why not just do it? Why come up with the whole Ethan excuse?”

“Because you’re intimidating,” Rita says.

I laugh, a short, ugly bark. “Me? Intimidating?”

She splashes water at me. “You have a Kevin-ness about you. You don’t see it, but I do. You’re smart and funny, and you walk around as though you don’t care what anyone thinks, even though you totally do. That’s catnip for guys who aren’t sure about themselves.”

I float for a while, letting what Rita said sink in. The sun is extremely bright today, and when I close my eyes, I see orange and yellow fireworks for minutes afterward. “I thought maybe I was imagining all of it. That it was all in my head.”

“Even if it is, who cares?” Rita turns, facing me. “You’re allowed to imagine. That’s your whole thing.”

I sink lower into the donut until my chin touches the plastic edge. “Maybe I’ve imagined everything, and he’s simply being nice.”

She shrugs. “Or he’s into you and doesn’t know how to deal with it. You know how many times you’ve replayed your bookstore interaction for me? About eighty, give or take. And every time, you add more detail. That’s not nothing.”

I glance over at the house; the kitchen window glints in the heat haze.

Adam and Robbie are inside, probably watching sports with the volume cranked to an excruciating decibel so they don’t have to listen to me and Rita talk about feelings.

The air above the backyard shimmers, and a bullfrog croaks somewhere near the bushes.

I kick the donut, and it bobs a little, sending ripples across the pool. “Do you ever think about how nothing in our lives has ever happened the way we thought it would?”

“Every day,” Rita says. “But sometimes that’s a good thing. Sometimes the world surprises you.”

The radio blares again a half-hour later. “We’re up to one-oh-six! Stay inside, folks. And if you’re outside, check on your neighbors, especially the elderly. This is dangerous weather we’re having.”

I decide I’m done with thinking about my romantic disasters for the day and flip the script.

“Have you given any more thought to Robbie?” I ask as I trail my fingers through the water.

Rita bites her lip, and for once, she’s the one uncertain.

“Your brother is…” She pauses, searching for words.

“He’s kind of amazing, Kevin. He makes people laugh even when they’re having the worst day.

Remember when you thought you’d bombed that dance audition for the fall musical?

He drove to the Food Lion and bought you three pints of Ben & Jerry’s and did this entire impression of Mr. Rodriguez until you couldn’t breathe because you were laughing so hard. ”

I remember. Robbie had stolen the show with his spot-on mimicry of our theater teacher’s dramatic hand gestures.

“And he’s secretly really thoughtful,” Rita continues, her voice getting softer.

“He gave me the last slice of pizza yesterday, even though it was obvious how much he wanted it. And did you know he learned all the lyrics to ‘Defying Gravity’ so he could sing it with me while waiting for you to get done at the dentist’s office this morning? ”

“He did what now?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “It was on my playlist. He knew every word, Kevin. Said he’d been practicing.”

Huh. He told me he didn’t know the words to any of the Wicked songs when I asked him to do “What Is This Feeling?” with me. “You like him,” I say when I notice she’s grinning madly.

“I think I do.” She flops back on her raft with a groan. “But it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s your brother! What if we dated and it ended badly? Or what if things are going swell, but we break up anyway?” She covers her face with her hands. “I could never risk our friendship over a boy, even if that boy happens to have nice, broad shoulders.”

“Rita—”

“No, I’ve thought about this. A lot. Too much, probably, if I’m being honest. If Robbie and I dated and then broke up, it would make everything weird.

I’d still want to come over and hang out with you, but he’d be there, and it’d be awkward.

I will never put you in that position. You’re my person, Kevin. I’m not losing you over some crush.”

I paddle toward her from where I’d drifted until our rafts bump together. “First of all, you’re never losing me. Even if you and Robbie got married and had twelve kids and moved to Alaska.”

“Twelve kids? In this economy?”

“Second of all,” I continue, “Robbie would be an absolute fool to break up with you. You’re brilliant and passionate and loyal. Plus, you have the best vintage swimsuit collection in the tri-state area.”

She laughs, but it’s watery. “You have to say that. Best-friend code.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. And because I’ve seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching.

” I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the times I’ve caught Robbie staring at Rita during movie nights, or how he always laughs loudest at her jokes.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. But now, seeing it through the lens of his interest in her, it suddenly makes sense.

He’s been crushing on her for much longer than she probably has for him.

“He’s smitten, Rita. One hundred percent. ”

“Smitten,” she repeats. “God, that’s such an old-fashioned word.”

“Would you prefer hopelessly devoted? Completely whipped? Head over heels?”

She splashes me. “Stop it.”

I keep going. “Utterly besotted? Thoroughly enchanted?”

“I hate you,” she says with a smile.

“No, you don’t. You love me almost as much as you love my brother’s shoulders.”

“They are impressive shoulders,” she admits. “When are you going to get some?”

With a shocked gasp, I splash her back. She cackles the entire time, a redheaded wicked witch.

The radio crackles to life again, and the DJ’s voice is urgent. “Breaking news, folks. We’ve just hit one-oh-seven. This is officially the hottest day in Arcadia’s recorded history. Please, please stay indoors if you can.”

Rita and I glance at each other, then at the pool we’re floating in, then back at each other.

“We’re rebels,” I say.

“Living on the edge,” she agrees.

We float for a while, the heat making everything slow-moving and dreamlike. A dragonfly lands on the edge of Rita’s raft. Its wings catch the light like stained glass.

“Hey, Kev?” Rita says.

“Yeah?”