Rumor Has It (Rumor Has It #1)(47)

BigBaller27: Will do ;)





He replies but I don't give it much more thought.

The next day at school, Micah is super nervous at lunch, while Lana tries to calm him down.

“It’s just an art show,” she says, running her fingers through his hair.

“You don’t get it,” he answers brashly, earning a scowl from her. “Sorry. Emma, explain please.”

“It’s like …” I try to think of something Lana does and remember she writes for the school newspaper. “So, let’s say you’re working on some a new article, something you’ve worked really hard on. And now, you’re going to throw it up for the world to see.”

“I do that all the time with my blog.”

I wrinkle my nose. "No, it's not the same. It's just different. We put our heart and soul into these pieces. Sometimes, without even thinking. Then we step back, and we're a little shocked we're putting as much of ourselves out there as we are. It's hard to explain."

“She’s right,” Micah says, seeming to have calmed down a bit. “The pieces I did, they tell my story. And yeah, everyone might not be able to see it. Some people will look at it and just see a tree or a bird. But what I'm doing? I'm putting my soul on that canvas, and it's nerve-wracking for people to see it, even if they don't get it."

She lifts her shoulders. “Okay, then.”

It doesn't seem to faze her, but she doesn't seem aloof to Micah's concerns either. She leans against his shoulder, before wrapping her arms around him, kissing him.

I’ve been around them enough to witness much more PDA than I’m sometimes comfortable with, but something about this interaction, this closeness, strikes a chord in me. I want someone who gets me. I don’t realize I’m staring until Jen pokes my arm.

“So, you invite anyone special to see your stuff? I mean, besides me of course.”

“Yeah, but he can’t make it.”

"Holy shit. You asked Carter to come to the gallery?"

“What? No.” I narrow my eyes at her, as Micah and Lana look on curiously.

“Then who are you talking about?”

Oh crap. I forgot I didn't tell her about the texts I sent. Feeling her mood shift, I glance to the side and see her reprimanding look. "Emma! You did not invite him to the art show.”

“Who?” Lana asks.

"Mr. Big Baller, ugh! The loser-and-a-half who should no longer be invited anywhere!"

“I know.” I groan. “But Carter said if I really wanted to meet him, then I should invite him. It’d show if he was serious or not.”

“Carter said?” Jen’s disapproving look turns into incomprehension, as she put her hands to her waist.

“Yeah.” I look away.

“Speaking of Mr. Dixon,” Lana says in a quieter voice. Her eyes move behind me.

I turn around and see Carter walking over to us, his gym bag hanging over his shoulder. He's still wearing the sunglasses even though most signs of the black eye have faded. I like them. He smiles, and I feel the butterflies. I can't deny that I'm feeling something for him.

“Hey, Carter,” Jen calls out in an over-the-top, flirty way.

"Hey." If he notices her tone, he doesn't react to it. "Hey, Emma."

“Hi.” I smile, breaking my eye contact with him, only to see Jen give me an impish grin.

“Um, can I talk to you for a second?” he asks.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” He looks around the quad. Is he nervous? Why would he be nervous? “I have to catch the bus to head out to the game against Northwood.”

“Oh yeah,” Micah says. “I hope you guys win. It’d be awesome if we finally make the playoffs before we graduate.” Carter grimaces. “Sorry, I meant that in a good way.”

“It’s cool,” Carter says, looking back at me.

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

I motion for Jen to watch my stuff. I wish I didn't even look at her, because as I do, she licks her lips, before giving me a nod and wicked smirk. Micah stares at me cautiously, Lana raises her eyebrows, and my anxiety begins to build as we walk away.

"Sorry about—" I look back at Jen, who's now making fish lips at me. I give her a hostile stare, and she just winks at me. "That. What's up?"

“Hmm, oh, nothing. Sorry, um …” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You know, you do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Rub the back of your neck. Are you nervous?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well, it’s a big game.”

"Right … the game." He lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't sound right. If he isn't nervous about the game, what else would he be worried about? Surely, it isn't talking to me.

Wanting to keep the trepidation from building, I keep the topic on basketball. “You guys still have a game next week, right?”

"Yeah, but tonight's the big one. If we don't win, then we're done." I nod, and he seems to calm down. "But, anyway, I wanted to talk to you before I left. So, um, did you, uh …" He bites the inside of his lip. Of course, that makes me stare at his lips now.