Page 29 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
We make our way down to where the sand meets the surf and line up as though we’re about to run a race. Rita positions herself next to Robbie. Matthew and Tyler flank Ethan. Adam takes a spot at the end, still avoiding me, but here, nonetheless.
“Alright,” Adam says, taking charge as always. “On three, we all run. First one to dive under a wave and surface alive wins eternal glory.”
“What about our phones?” I ask, ever the practical one.
“Leave them in your shoes,” Tyler suggests, already shoving his iPhone into his sneaker. “They’ll be fine.”
We follow his lead and create a small pile of electronics and footwear on the dry sand. The beach is mostly empty at this hour—only a few other groups of teenagers who are doing equally ridiculous things in the distance.
“I’m going to regret this,” I say to no one in particular.
“Hey.” Jameson’s beside me again, close enough that our arms brush. “You okay?”
“I don’t love the ocean at night,” I admit. “Too many viewings of Jaws as a kid.”
He holds out his hand, palm up, patient. “I’ve got you.”
I stare at it, unsure whether I should take it. The last time we held hands, it was for seconds. A simple shake, a pleasantry. But this? This would be for a minute, maybe even longer. Am I ready for that? To be taken care of by Jameson, if even for a fleeting moment?
Knowing that there’s nothing gained, nothing ventured, I take him up on the offer. His fingers are warm and solid around mine.
“One!” Adam shouts.
“Two!” everyone joins in. “Three!”
“GO!” Robbie bellows, and we’re off.
The sand is cool under my bare feet as we charge toward the water, a line of teenagers acting as if we’re in some coming-of-age movie.
Rita shrieks with laughter as the first wave hits her ankles.
Tyler does some kind of war cry that has Matthew cackling.
Ethan’s already waist-deep, diving under with zero hesitation.
Jameson and I take up the rear. I know he’s slowing himself down for my sake; I’ve seen him on the field—he’s a bullet.
The kindness he’s showing me makes me fall for him even more.
The first splash of the Atlantic Ocean against my shins is shocking, but not unbearable. Jameson’s hand tightens around mine as we push deeper, the waves tugging at our clothes.
“This is insane!” I shout over the crash of water and laughter.
“I know!” Jameson shouts back, grinning madly. “Isn’t it great?”
A wave bigger than the rest rises before us, and without thinking, we dive together. The world goes quiet and dark for a moment; the rush of water and the pressure in my ears are the only things I can hear. My shirt billows around me, and my shorts grow heavy with seawater.
I surface with a gasp, still holding Jameson’s hand, and see heads bobbing in the waves around us. Rita’s hair is plastered to her head, and she’s never looked happier. Robbie splashes her, and she retaliates with a sweep of her arm that sends saltwater flying.
“I win!” Ethan declares from where he’s treading water. “I was definitely first!”
“In your dreams, little Hart,” Tyler says, launching himself at Ethan in a playful tackle.
The ocean isn’t scary anymore. It’s alive and wild and free because we’ve claimed this little piece of it for ourselves.
My clothes stick to me in places that they shouldn’t, and everything is heightened—the salt on my lips, the pull of the current, the warmth of Jameson’s hand in mine.
“This was such a good idea,” I say, surprising myself.
“See?” Jameson pulls me closer as another wave approaches. “Sometimes you just have to dive in.”
We stay out there until our fingers prune and our teeth chatter, body-surfing waves and floating on our backs to stare up at the stars. I take stock of the fact that, through it all, Jameson never lets go of me.
Adam eventually swims over, bumping my shoulder in what I recognize as an apology. I bump him back. And, suddenly, we’re okay again.
When we finally stumble back onto the beach, we’re all exhausted but exhilarated. Our clothes drip steadily onto the sand as we collect our phones and shoes.
“That,” Rita declares, wringing out her shirt, “was exactly what summer should be.”
“Let’s do this every weekend,” Robbie suggests, and the way he’s checking out Rita as she puts her shoes back on makes my chest warm.
“Our cars are going to be soaked,” Adam groans, but he’s smiling.
“Worth it,” Matthew says, and we all nod in agreement.
We make our way back to the parking lot, leaving wet footprints on the boardwalk. Jameson falls into step beside me. We’re not holding hands anymore, but our arms keep brushing, and neither of us moves away.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “For making me do that.”
“I didn’t make you do anything,” he points out. “You chose to dive in. All I did was offer you a hand to hold.”
And he’s right. For once in my life, I took a risk, consequences be damned. I chose the uncertain thing, the impractical thing, the thing that might end badly but might also end up being magical. And it was great.
Right as I’m about to hop into the minivan, Jameson stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Hey,” he says. “Could I get your number?”
I ignore the gasp from Rita, who’s already buckled in, and give Jameson my phone.