Page 37 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

“Sophomore year. Kristy Schumer, remember? They dated for three months, and then nothing.” I think back, trying to remember the last time I saw Adam even flirt with someone.

“We’re about to be seniors, and he hasn’t shown interest in anyone this summer.

Except Jameson’s cousins, and I think that was less him wanting to score and more that Robbie was doing it, so he figured he should too. ”

“That is weird.” Rita steers us toward an empty bench facing the ocean. “Adam’s got that whole brooding quarterback thing going on. Girls literally throw themselves at that type of charisma.”

“Right? Robbie told me that at our birthday party, a girl from Central spelled out her number in sunscreen on his arm, and he never called her.” I settle onto the bench, careful not to drip blue syrup on my shorts. “It’s like he turned off that part of his brain.”

“Maybe he’s focused on football?” Rita suggests, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

“Maybe.” Glancing out at the sandy sight below, I watch a college guy with a comb over struggle with an umbrella that clearly wants to become a kite. “Or maybe he’s hung up on someone.”

“Ooh, a secret crush? Who do you think it could be?”

“No idea. Adam’s harder to read than a book written backward. He keeps everything locked up tight.” I think about the Stanford secret. “Sometimes I wonder if my brothers tell me anything real.”

Rita nudges me with her shoulder. “Hey, Robbie told you about asking me out. That’s real.”

“True.” I take another bite of my snow cone, the cold making my teeth ache. “I just wish Adam would let someone in, you know? He carries it all by himself.”

“Maybe that’s why he hasn’t dated,” Rita muses. “Hard to let someone close when you’re busy being everyone’s rock.”

We sit in silence for a bit, watching the ocean do its eternal push and pull as we enjoy our snow cones. The band has moved on to butchering “Margaritaville,” which somehow sounds worse than their “Sweet Caroline” attempt that follows soon after.

“Two weeks,” Rita says again, as though she’s testing the words. “I can do two weeks.”

“You can. What’s two more weeks in the grand scheme of things?”

“Everything!” She titters. “Because now I know there’s an end date. Now I know he’s going to ask, and I’m going to say yes, and we’re going to be disgustingly happy together.”

“And I’m going to be the perpetual third wheel,” I say, but I’m smiling.

“Only until Jameson gets the chance to tell you that he likes you.”

“ If .”

“ When ,” Rita says firmly. “Mark my words, Kevin Pryor. By the time school is back in session, we’re both going to be in relationships.”

The thought makes my heart take flight. Jameson and I, Rita and Robbie. Adam and whoever he’s secretly pining for, if anyone. Our quirky little family is growing, becoming more complicated, but perhaps also happier.

“Come on,” Rita says, standing and pulling me up. “Let’s walk off these snow cones. I want to stop by the arcade and win something from the claw machine.”

“Those things are rigged,” I remind her.

“Everything’s rigged, Kevin. The trick is playing anyway.”

When I get home, I find Adam in his room, hunched over his laptop at his desk. His door is open, which I take as an invitation to enter.

“Hey,” I say.

He glances up, and something in my expression must give me away because he immediately closes the laptop and swivels his chair to face me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I close the door behind me. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure.” He points at the edge of his bed, and I sit down. “Is this about Stanford? Because I swear I’m going to tell Robbie?—”

“It’s not about that, not entirely. It’s about Jameson.”

Adam’s expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “What about him?”

“I think he was going to tell me something important at the beach. Before Tyler showed up. And again at Tyler’s party, but Robbie nipped that in the bud by dragging him onto the dance floor.

And I know you think I’m reading too much into things, but Adam, he kept touching my hand and said it was the best afternoon he’d had in a long time. ”

“Kevin.” Adam holds up a hand, stopping my rambling. “Breathe.”

I take a shaky breath. “I’m falling for him. And I think maybe he’s falling for me, too, but I’m not sure. It’s driving me crazy.”

Adam studies me intently, causing me to squirm under the pressure. “I owe you an apology.”

“What?”

“The other week, when I told you to back off, that Hart was just being polite…” He shakes his head. “That wasn’t fair. I was projecting my fears onto you.”

I blink at him, confused. “Your fears?”

“About Stanford. About leaving. About everything changing.” He leans back in his chair. “I’ve been so scared of disrupting our lives that I tried to keep you from taking any risks too. But that’s not right or fair to you.”

“Adam—”

“No, let me finish.” He meets my eyes. “You deserve to be happy, Kev. And if Hart makes you happy, then I’m all for it. He’s a good guy. One of the best, quite frankly. He’d be lucky to have you.”

My throat grows tight. “You mean that?”

“Yeah, I mean it. You’re my little brother. All I want is for you to be happy.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Plus, if you two date, maybe you’ll stop mooning over him during practice.”

“I don’t moon!”

“You also apparently sing love songs while watching him catch footballs.”

Heat floods my face. “Rita told you?”

He laughs at my mortified expression. “Relax. It’s kind of adorable, in a way.”

I throw a pillow at him, which he dodges easily. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime.” His expression grows serious again. “But Kevin? Whatever Hart was going to say, you’ll never know unless you ask him directly. Stop waiting for the perfect moment. Learn from my mistakes and talk to him.”

“When are you going to talk to Robbie then?”

“I plan to tell him this weekend. I promise. No more excuses.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You were right. He needs to know sooner rather than later. I’ll sit him down on Saturday and?—”

The door bursts open, and Robbie barrels in. “Guys! Best news ever!”

“Dude! Ever heard of knocking?” Adam grumbles.

Robbie ignores him. “Jameson called. His uncle got a boat—a real boat, not one of those dinky fishing things—and he’s inviting us out on the water this weekend! All of us! You, me, Matthew, Tyler, and Rita!”

My heart gallops. A whole day on a boat with Jameson? I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do a rain dance.

“When?” Adam asks.

“Saturday. We’d leave early and spend the whole day out on the water.” Robbie turns to me, grinning. “And get this—Hart specifically asked if you were free. Said he wanted to finish your conversation from that day on the beach.”

Adam shoots me a meaningful look. “Sounds like someone really wants you there.”

“I…yeah, I’m free.”

“Awesome!” Robbie high-fives me, then Adam. “This is going to be epic. Sun, water, good friends. Rita in a bikini…”

“Gross,” I say automatically.

“Oh, and Hart said to bring sunscreen. Lots of it. He’s worried about people burning.” Robbie waggles his eyebrows at me. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”

“Shut up.”

“What? All I’m saying is the guy sounded extremely concerned about skincare.” Robbie plops down on Adam’s bed beside me. “So, what were you two talking about before I interrupted?”

Adam and I exchange glances. This would be the perfect opening for him to bring up Stanford, but he shakes his head slightly.

“Brother stuff,” I say.

“Boring.” Robbie stretches out, taking up most of the bed. “Let’s talk about cooler, more important things. Like, what snacks we should bring on the boat. I’m thinking fruit roll-ups, maybe some chips…”

As Robbie launches into a detailed analysis of optimal boat snacks, I catch Adam’s eye again. He mouths “Saturday,” and I nod. Two conversations that need to happen, both scheduled for the same day.

My phone buzzes.

Jameson

Hope you can make it Saturday. Would love to have you there. Plus, I still owe you the rest of that beach conversation.

I show the text to Adam, who reads it and grins.

“Told you,” he says quietly. “He’s into you.”

“Think so?”

“Know so.” He ruffles my hair. “Now stop overthinking and enjoy it.”

Robbie notices my phone. “Is that Jameson? Tell him I’m bringing my Bluetooth speaker. We need boat tunes.”

“No,” Adam and I say in unison.

“You guys are no fun.” Robbie sits up, pouting. “I’m at least bringing my sunglasses. The cool ones that make people think I’m a pilot.”

“You look like a douche in those,” Adam informs him.

“A cool douche,” Robbie counters.

As my brothers bicker about sunglasses, I text Jameson back.

Me

Wouldn’t miss it. And I’m holding you to that conversation.

Jameson

I’ve been thinking about it all week.

Saturday can’t come fast enough.