Page 50 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

She was supposed to come with us, but she texted me this morning saying that she was going with her parents up north for the day. I know she and Robbie both said that if anything came between them that it wouldn’t affect our friendship, but I think it has.

“She’ll come around,” he says back, squeezing my hand for good measure.

“Okay, ground rules,” Matthew says, spinning the volleyball on one finger. “No spiking directly at Kevin’s face?—”

“Hey!”

“—and no using your height advantage to block the shots, Hart.”

“That’s literally the point of being tall,” Jameson pouts.

“New rule: Jameson plays on his knees.”

“New rule: Matthew stops making up rules.”

They go back and forth, and I notice Robbie watching me. Not obviously, just these little glances when he thinks I’m not paying attention. Each time our eyes do meet, he turns away, suddenly interested in adjusting his bathing suit or checking his phone.

When the game starts, I quickly remember why I avoid all sports. The ball comes at me with alarming speed, and my instinct each time is to duck rather than hit it.

“Kevin!” Tyler shouts as the ball lands in the sand behind me for the tenth time. “You’re supposed to hit it!”

“I’m protecting my face! Plus, Matthew said no spiking it!”

“He meant their team spiking at you, not the general ball!”

Jameson appears at my side. “Here, like this.” He demonstrates the proper form for bumping the ball. “Arms together, bend your knees, let the ball come to you.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not afraid the ball has a personal vendetta.”

He laughs. “The ball doesn’t have feelings, Kevin.”

“That’s exactly what it wants you to think. Have you never seen Cast Away ?”

The next serve comes our way, and this time I manage to bump it. Not well, not gracefully, but it goes up for Tyler to set it, and for Jameson to spike it over for a point.

“Yes!” I throw my hands up, and Jameson high-fives me.

“Nice job, Kev,” Adam calls from the other side.

Robbie doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s proud of me. Then Matthew serves, and the moment’s gone.

We play until the sun gets too hot and we’re ready for a water break. I collapse on my towel, sweaty and sandy and weirdly happy despite being terrible at volleyball.

“You did good,” Jameson says, flopping down beside me.

“I hit it three times. Total.”

“Three more than I expected.” He grins when I shove him. “Kidding! You were great.”

“Liar.”

“Great at being adorable while dodging the ball.”

I bury my face in my towel to hide my blush. “Stop.”

“Never.”

The morning flows into the afternoon. People come and go from our spot—friends from school stopping to chat, underclassmen brave enough to talk to the senior football players, a few theater kids who are shocked to see me without Rita.

“Hi, Melissa.” I wave awkwardly.

She glances between me and Jameson, clearly doing the math. “Oh my God. Are you two…”

“Dating,” Jameson supplies easily. “We’re dating.”

Melissa’s eyes go wide. “Wow. Okay. That’s unexpected but also kind of perfect?” She grins. “Rita’s going to flip when she hears—oh wait, she probably already knows. Well, enjoy your beach day! See you at school! Don’t forget, auditions are in two weeks!”

She hurries off, probably to text everyone she knows about this new development in my life. I groan and flop onto my back. I stare up at the cloudless sky and wonder what it would be like to soar through life as a seagull.

“Auditions?” Jameson asks.

“Fall musical.”

“Are you trying out?”

I shrug. “Probably just for ensemble again.”

“Why not try for a bigger part?”

The question hangs there. Before I can answer, Tyler announces he’s hungry and demands we all go to the boardwalk for food. There’s some debate about whether to pack everything up or leave someone to guard our stuff. Eventually, Adam volunteers to stay behind.

“I need a break from you idiots,” he says, pulling out a book. I recognize it as Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. I know it’s my copy because Robbie’s footprint is on it.

“I’ll stay too,” Robbie says quickly. Too quickly.

Everyone pauses. Adam and Robbie exchange a look I can’t read.

“Sure,” Adam says carefully. “That’s…good.”

We leave them to whatever conversation they need to have and head for the boardwalk.

The wood burns under our bare feet, and we do that awkward, quick-step dance, trying not to linger too long on any one plank.

I normally never go anywhere without my sandals, but Jameson keeps forcing me out of my comfort zone.

“Food first, then arcade?” Matthew suggests.

“Definitely arcade,” Ethan pipes up. “They have the new Street Fighter game.”

We get pizza from a place that claims to be “World Famous,” despite being a tiny shack that probably hasn’t updated its menu since 1995. The slices are greasy and perfect, and I manage to drip sauce on my swim trunks because I’m me.

“Smooth,” Jameson teases, handing me approximately seventeen napkins.

“This is why I can’t have nice things.”

“Speaking of nice things…” His eyes drift to my wrist. “The bracelet looks good on you.”

I touch it automatically. “Yeah, about that. There’s something I should tell you.”

We’re sitting on a bench overlooking the beach. I tell him about losing it at the lake, the frantic searching, and finding it on the bathroom counter this morning.

“You think Robbie went back for it?” Jameson asks when I finish.

“Who else could it have been? Adam was with me, and my dad would have given it to me directly.”

Jameson shakes his head. “I mean, going back to the lake at night and diving around in the dark? That’s a pretty big gesture.”

“That’s Robbie. He doesn’t do anything halfway.”

“He must really love you.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I don’t think he knows how to say it to my face right now.”

Jameson takes my hand in his. “He’ll figure it out.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Because it’s true.” He squeezes my fingers. “Want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

“I think your brother’s scared. You and Adam have always been his constants, right? And now Adam’s maybe leaving, and you’re dating me, and everything’s changing. He’s probably freaking out about where he fits.”

“He fits right where he’s always fit,” I say.

“Yeah, but sometimes when everything around you changes, you forget that some things can stay the same.”

The neon lights of Lucky Leo’s Arcade assault my retinas the second we walk through the door. A giant animatronic lion wearing a crown greets us from above the prize counter, its mechanical roar competing with the electronic soundtrack playing through the speakers.

Our group scatters like pool balls after the break. Matthew drags Tyler, Cameron, and Brett toward the racing games; Ethan finds the Street Fighter game he mentioned; and Adam appears, heading for the basketball hoops.

I’m about to follow Jameson to the air hockey table when I notice Robbie hanging back by the entrance, looking uncertain.

Our eyes meet for the millionth time today.

He shifts his weight, and I wonder if he’s going to bolt.

Then something in his expression changes—a tiny crack in the wall he’s built—and he jerks his head toward the claw machines. It’s not much, but it’s something.

I glance at Jameson, who’s already witnessed the whole exchange. He gives me a small nod and mouths “Go” before joining Ethan.

The claw machine section is tucked into a corner, away from the main chaos. Robbie stands in front of one filled with those ridiculous knockoff Beanie Babies that no one wants but everyone tries to win anyway.

“Remember when we were ten?” he says without looking at me. “You wanted a purple elephant and made me and Adam pool our allowances to get it for you.”

“Fifteen dollars,” I say, moving to stand beside him. “We spent fifteen dollars trying to get a three-dollar stuffed animal.”

“Dad was furious.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Said we could’ve bought five elephants for that price.”

“But it wouldn’t have been the same.” I dig out quarters from my pocket. “Want to try again? I have…” I count the coins. “Two dollars and thirty-five cents.”

Robbie turns to face me. His eyes drop to my wrist where the bracelet catches the arcade lights, and something passes over his face—relief, maybe, or satisfaction.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Let’s do it.”

We feed the quarters into the machine. Robbie takes the first turn, maneuvering the claw with the same intensity he brings to football. It descends toward a blue bear, grabs it, lifts it…and drops it halfway to the chute.

“Rigged,” he mutters.

“Obviously.” I take my turn, aiming for a small octopus that reminds me of Jameson. The claw closes around it perfectly, and for a second, I think I’ve got it, but it slips out at the last second.

“Nice try.” Robbie’s voice is softer than it’s been in days. “Your aim’s gotten better.”

“All those years of watching you and Adam do these things.”

We continue taking turns, not really talking about anything important. Just commenting on the unfairness of claw machines, the questionable music choices of whoever controls the arcade playlist, and the kid at the next machine who’s somehow winning every time.

“He has to be cheating,” Robbie insists.

“Or he’s a claw machine prodigy.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Could be. Maybe there’s a secret claw machine academy we don’t know about.”

Robbie laughs—a small huff of air. “Only you would imagine a claw machine academy.”

“With uniforms and everything, including little claw patches on the sleeves.”

I’m down to my last quarter when Jameson appears. “How’s the Beanie Baby hunt going?”

“Terribly,” I admit.

“Mind if I try?” He holds up a roll of quarters. “I’ve got a theory about these things.”

Robbie tenses slightly but doesn’t move away. We watch as Jameson studies the machine as if it were a defensive formation he needs to decode. He inserts the quarters, positions the claw, and drops it.

“I want the octopus,” I whisper.