and why is this a big deal? do tell.
I’m still deciding whether to confirm it or not when Mabel responds first.
Mabel
it’s true. saw it happen myself
I stare at her message, mouth falling open.
Me
Mabel!
Mabel
what?? you were gonna tell them eventually!
Meredith
okay so this is huge. you two are officially official
Dot
definitely
Carlton
are you all for real?
The texts keep rolling in, one after another. My phone pulses against my palm like it’s laughing at me. I want to crawl under the nearest cover and never come out. Because even when I’m the reason it happened, I hate being the center of attention for anything other than acting.
Shoving my phone into my book bag, I push open the theater doors and head toward my next class, trying to ignore the way people glance at me as I pass. Two girls from choir glance my way and whisper something behind their hands.
“That’s Rue,” one of them says. “The quiet one.”
The quiet one.
Story of my life. Plenty of others are whispering too, and some are grinning. Either way, despite my efforts, it’s nothing new.
The gym smells like sweat, rubber soles, and fresh paint. It’s a combination that brings me right back to middle school dances for some reason. Maybe middle school is only on my mind because that was the last time I had positive emotions about Ezra.
Until now. I even kinda hope he wins today, which is a huge step, compared to how I used to feel about him.
Mabel loops her arm through mine, bouncing a little with each step as we climb the bleachers to find seats. “You look so good in his jersey,” she gushes. “Like, I want to take a picture of you and make it my phone wallpaper.”
I tug self-consciously at the hem. The navy fabric hangs just past my hips. “I look like I borrowed my brother’s laundry.”
“You don’t have a brother. And if you did, he wouldn’t make your cheeks pink,” she teases.
The band strikes up the school fight song, trumpets blaring while the crowd claps in rhythm. The metal bleachers shake beneath my shoes from everyone’s excited stomping.
When the Fallbrook Falcons burst through the banner at the far end of the court, the cheers are deafening. Ezra is easy to spot thanks to his curly hair, his broad shoulders, and the number 12 on his back.
Mabel squeezes my arm. “I think he’s looking for you. Look, Rue, he’s totally scanning the stands.”
My pulse skips when his gaze sweeps over the crowd and lands directly on me. For half a heartbeat, the noise of the gym fades. It’s just his eyes locking with mine. Then he grins, sending a strange, fizzy warmth straight through my chest.
The game starts, and even though I don’t really know what’s going on, the scoreboard confirms the Falcons are winning, along with the cheering on Fallbrook’s side of the gym. Ezra seems to be everywhere at once, passing, shooting, shouting at his teammates. Everyone on the court listens when he speaks,and he seems good. Like, really good. Every time he scores, the bleachers shake with cheers.
