Grown(12)

After the movie, I change the Littles for bed, sing them a song, and shower. As soon as my head hits the pillow, my phone vibrates with a text.

Maybe

Burying myself under blankets, I let out a gleeful shriek, eyes glued to the message.

Maybe! With a kissing emoji!

I stay up studying the message, interpreting the various layers of its meaning. Body buzzing, I may never sleep again.

On Instagram, Korey posts a video of him in a studio, singing Luther Vandross. I like the video.

Within minutes . . . he follows me back.





Chapter 13


Biology




“You look how I feel,” Gab says, yawning into her sleeve as we enter biology. “Busy weekend?”

“Just didn’t get much sleep.” I once again spent most of the night scouring Korey Fields’s social media. Then I went down a rabbit hole of his old home videos, playing drums in his church band. Even as a young teen, he was hot.

My phone buzzes. Korey.

How’s ur day?

The question is a loaded gun, shot in broad daylight for all to see. I want to duck and hide, pull the invisible covers over my head. How can such a simple question feel so . . . complicated? I’m so many things. Mostly, I’m the definition of Aretha Franklin’s “Day Dreaming.” Grandma loved that song. Daydreamin’ and I’m thinking of you . . .

“All right, class,” Mr. Amato says. “Let’s begin. Take out your assignments.”

What would happen . . . if I text him that very thought. Slice myself open so he knows how I really feel? Before I can overthink it, I do a quick search and send him the song via a YouTube link.

The link sits in our chat, a ticking time bomb as a wave of nausea hits me sideways. This isn’t right, my gut whispers. But I’m in a room full of people, and there’s no one here to tell me it’s wrong.

Except maybe him. But he says nothing.

“Miss Jones, phones away please,” Mr. Amato says.

He’s the kind of guy that you give your everything.

You trust your heart, share all of your love.

Till death do you part . . .

The lyrics dance through my head as I listen with one ear for my phone. Nothing. After bio is lunch, and I can’t just check messages in front of Gab.

It’s a grueling forty-five minutes before the bell. I scoop up my books and rush into the hall, hoping for a spare minute alone.

“Hey, slow down, girl,” Gab says, jogging after me. “What’s the rush? It’s not taco Tuesday.”

“Oh, I . . . gotta go to the bathroom.”

Gab follows me, talking about Jay’s college roommates, how they all look at her like she’s something to eat. In the stall, I check my phone. No response. My stomach hits the floor.

Did I read this all wrong? Was it too thirsty, too pressed? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Gab and I grab trays and head to our spot. As soon as I sit, my phone vibrates and I nearly knock over my plate to check.

One message.

A link in response:

Al Green, “Simply Beautiful”

“Who you texting?”

I snap the phone to my chest.

“Um, Creighton.”

“Ew, what does he want?”

“Nothing, just talking about the bus for Cluster. Not everyone is as lucky as you to have a car.”

Gab sticks her tongue out at me. “Yeah, and I’m paying for it with my youth. I’m exhausted.”

I’ve never lied to Gab. Ever.





Chapter 14


When Souls Collide




I feel like summer.

I feel like crashing waves, hot sand, sticky ice-cream cones, smoky charcoal, and fireworks, all wrapped up in skin.

Korey and I volley songs for four days straight . . .

Donny Hathaway, “A Song for You”

Billie Holiday, “The Very Thought of You”

Etta James, “A Sunday Kind of Love”

Minnie Riperton, “Lovin’ You”

Each song more dreamy, more magical, more bright. We’re speaking our own coded language. Dancing without touching. It’s hard to concentrate. Even in the mornings, when I dive into the water at practice, my laps are in slow motion as I hum, notes bubbling to the surface.

After school, I wait for Mom on the steps while Shea heads to a friend’s house to study for midterms.

WYD? At swim practice or reading?

I smile. I love the way he remembers all the little details about me.

Reading. WYD?

Sound check. Want to see?

He sends a selfie of him in a massive, empty stadium. There’s a little gray in his stubble.

Are you about to fill all those seats?

And then some Ma!

He makes it sound like a walk in the park.

What U reading?

I can’t tell you. Hides face

What? LOL! I thought we told each other everything?

We do?

OK. It’s called Eclipse. From the Twilight series.

Bella and Edward right?

Yup.

I read that.

Really?????

Yeah. Why all the ?? U don’t think I can read?

No! Of course you can read. You just seem so busy.

Lots of time on the road.

And . . . I’m surprised you’d like that kind of book.