Page 66 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Me

Easy. Mac and cheese. But the fancy kind with multiple cheeses and breadcrumbs on top.

Jameson

Solid choice. Mine would be tacos. Endless variety potential.

Me

Smart. You could have dessert tacos, breakfast tacos…

Jameson

Exactly! You get it.

You know, we should go to that taco truck by the beach sometime. They have the best tacos in town.

My heart comes to a screeching halt. Is he asking me out? Or is this one of those casual suggestions? There’s no rulebook for these kinds of things. And for someone like me, who is socially awkward and entirely inept at all things not musical theater, there really should be. What do I say? What do I do?

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and think of what Rita would do. If she were me, and Jameson were Robbie, what would her response be?

Opening my eyes, I watch my thumbs fly over the screen in an out-of-body experience that leaves me lightheaded.

Me

That sounds like a good time. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it first. I’m down if you are.

Jameson

Cool! How does this weekend sound? Are you free?

Me

I’m free.

And there I go again. Taking risks, consequences be damned.

CHAPTER 16

first date/last night

My fingers strangle the door handle as the familiar streets of Arcadia blur past the window. Normally, I love taking in my hometown, but today, I can’t appreciate it. I’m this close to throwing up.

“You’re going to rip that clean off if you’re not careful,” Dad says, glancing at me with that knowing smile that means he’s about to ask questions I don’t want to answer.

“I’m fine.” My voice cracks on the second word, completely undermining my attempt at appearing calm, cool, and collected.

“Sure you are.” He turns onto the main road, and the salty air drifts through the cracked windows. “That’s why you asked your old man for a ride to the beach instead of having Adam or Robbie take you.”

“They’re busy.”

“Uh-huh.” Dad drums his fingers on the steering wheel to whatever classic rock song is playing softly on the radio. “So this lunch date?—”

“It’s not a date!” The words explode out of me. “Sorry. It’s just two friends getting tacos. Completely platonic Mexican food consumption.”

“Right. And that’s why you changed shirts four times before we left.”