Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(100)

Of course, I immediately turn to look at Nessa, to share in this bizarre but kind of awesome twist with her. Only she’s not there. Because I yelled at her. And told her she didn’t care about the movie. That she wasn’t welcome here.

And before I know it, I’m up and out of my seat.

Running toward the exits.

Charging through the theater doors. Into the lobby. Then out on the street. Searching for the nearest subway station.





MY BODY WAS ON THE SUBWAY. And then the train. And the bus. And finally on my bike pedaling like crazy through the streets of Lower Rockville. But my mind was on Nessa the whole time. Thinking about what I want to say to her. Questions I want to ask. Things I hope she says to me.

And now here I am. In front of her house. Having built up this elaborate end-of-the-movie fall-into-each-other’s-arms finale in my imagination. And I’m suddenly wondering if showing up unannounced like this — after having publicly told Nessa off — is a cool Han Solo move or just another one of my Jar Jar Binks-isms.

I mean, sure, maybe she was going to apologize profusely and confess her undying love for me when I cut her off.

But maybe she was just going to apologize. And give me the old “Can’t we please just be friends” speech.

My stomach sours. Oh, good Gandalf. Of course that’s what she was going to say. Just like it was with Leyna. What the hell was I thinking? I’m such an idiot.

Forget it. I’ll just go home. Hop into bed. Tell everyone I was feeling sick and that’s why I ran out of the theater. Nobody has to know. If I get out of here now I can save myself bucketfuls of humiliation.

I look around to make sure nobody’s seen me. Hop on my bike. Set my foot on the pedal. And am just about to make my escape when I feel Nessa’s necklace thump against my chest.

I stop, remembering what she said about crossroads and choosing our paths. Do I really want to be the guy lying in the cemetery who let everyone else make his choices for him? Or do I want to take charge of my life, do what I want to do? Okay, sure, maybe I’ll be humiliated. Maybe Nessa will shoot me down and I’ll cringe every time I see her for the next couple of months.

But at least I’ll know I tried. That I took a chance — a chance Maggie Stillman never got to take.

I muster my courage, my heart slamming so hard in my chest it feels like I might actually die, and force myself to swing my leg off the bike.

As I do, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide it out and see a text from Nessa: gt the hll n here alrdy, wld ya!

I look up and see Nessa staring down at me from her window. How long as she been standing there, watching me choose my fate?

I don’t know why this makes me smile, but it does. I quickly text her back: b rIt thr.

I start to jog my bike toward the back of her house.

“Drop it on the front lawn,” Nessa calls out her window. “I think we’re past all the clandestine stuff, don’t you? Just come in. The door’s open.”

I do as I’m told and am standing in front of Nessa’s mystical magical fairy-tale bedroom door in under thirty seconds, my stomach all twisted in pretzels. Does she want me in here so she can yell at me for totally losing it earlier and barring her from the screening? Or could she actually be as excited to see me as I am to be standing here, a door’s width away from each other?

Nessa opens the heavy wooden door and ushers me in. “I have to say, I’m kind of surprised to see you. Isn’t your movie screening at this very moment?”

“Our movie,” I say quickly. “Look, Nessa, I’m really sorr —”

“Don’t,” she says, looking pained. I flash back to Leyna’s living room, to my awkward confession of love — well, lust, really — and how horribly I misread that whole situation. Nessa’s screwed-up face hits me harder than any rejection from Leyna ever could. The tears that I’d suppressed earlier come screaming back. If I don’t get the hell out of here right now, I’m afraid I’ll give Nessa all the ammunition she and Cathy need to mock me for the rest of my life.

I reach behind me, fumbling for the doorknob. “I should go,” I say quickly. “I don’t know why I —”

“Sean, wait.”

I look up and finally meet Nessa’s gaze. That pained expression that I thought was revulsion actually looks more like . . . regret. “You still haven’t let me apologize,” she says. “I never meant to hurt you. Cathy and I . . . we just thought we’d have a little fun, that you’d show zero interest in me and Cathy would know that she wasn’t alone, you know? That you were just like her. But it was pretty clear from the start that you weren’t gay. I should have stopped as soon as I realized it, but I kind of liked hanging around you. I thought your movie was awesome, and I was flattered that you seemed to think my ideas were helpful. And I was also flattered that you . . . seemed to find me attractive.” Her pale neck blots pink as she admits this, and as amazing and adorable and hot as I’ve found Nessa in the past, seeing her neck flush with pleasure and embarrassment totally does me in. I’m but a humble Padawan to her Jedi Masteress.

“I like you, Sean,” she says. “And I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

So, here it is: time for me to put all my cards on the table. I stand up straight and try to take a deep breath, though I can’t seem to get much air. “I like you too, Nessa. And . . . not just as a friend. Or my sister’s friend. I like you like you. Like, really like you.”