I am used to being woken up by Charlotte on Saturday mornings, usually earlier than I would like. Her parents run marathons, and so they are always out on the weekends getting in a couple of miles around the neighborhood. As soon as they're down the block, she's sitting on the floor of my room with her nose buried in my laptop. My clock will read 7:30 at the latest. She says it's because friends are supposed to do things like this, but I know it really is because we have a much faster internet connection.
This morning, however, I wake up and it is almost ten. I'm only a little surprised neither of my parents has tried to wake me if for nothing else than to ask where she is.
When I call her, I do not get an answer. I peek out my window and crane my neck to try and survey her driveway.
It's empty.
She's not home.
"Her mom's probably got her running errands." I say to myself. "I'm sure I've got some I need to do, too."
Twenty minutes later I'm standing in the bathroom, half-dressed, when my phone rings. It's Charlotte.
"He's at work!" She yells, and I slam my hand on the screen to turn off the speakerphone.
"What?"
"Stuart. He's at work." Her voice is pitched up at least an octave above normal.
"Again I must ask...what?"
"He just pulled in a couple minutes ago. Probably starts his shift at 10:30."
I pinch the bridge of my nose and stare into my reflection. This is my fault. I had told her to think about Stuart and her and Montana. She must have really thought about it.
"Charlotte?"
"Yeah?"
"Where are you?"
Silence.
"I'm, uh, sitting in a parking lot. A parking lot that is, um, across the street from Valley Brew."
"Stuart works at Valley Brew." This is not something he or Montana had ever told me, but two things made it a pretty easy fact to gather. The first was that he occasionally wore his work visor around at school. The second is that getting anywhere from our neighborhood meant driving past it and its parking lot, and it was hard to miss seeing Stuart's metallic green Mini sitting with all the other employee vehicles. "Did you talk to Stuart?"
"No."
"Then—"
"—I've just been, like, waiting for him."
"Waiting? Since when?"
"Like 7 or so."
"Charlotte."
"Yeah?"
"You've been sitting in your car for over three hours waiting to see if Stuart worked today?"
"When you put it that way it sounds insane." She titters and then coughs. "I wasn't going to go to his house, Alex."
"I—"
"—Maybe we should wait until after the lunch rush to talk to him. He'll probably have earned a break by then."
"We?"
"If I'm going to out myself to Stuart Crane, I'm not doing it alone. You need to be here. He needs to know that this is serious."
"You mean your crush on Montana?" I asked. I was pretty sure I saw my reflection gag.
"We won't talk about you, okay? Not at all."
"That was not up for any sort of debate, Miss Monaghan." I heard her groan. "But please don't tell me you're going to stay in that parking lot for three more hours."
"Hell no." She huffed. "I'm starving. You want breakfast?"
After being plied with grocery story donuts, iced coffee, and four different kinds of muffins, I was more ready to crawl back into bed and take an afternoon nap than I was to take a trip out to Valley Brew and put my stupid plan into action. Charlotte had spent the last two hours see-sawing between being very excited and completely terrified at the prospect of having to look at someone other than me or our parents and out herself.
"What if he thinks I'm an idiot?"
"He already might. I honestly don't know how Montana talks about you, but since until yesterday she believed you were my girlfriend I'm not sure it was always in the best light."
This was not what she wanted to hear. "You think she doesn't like me, like, at all?"
"She doesn't know you, Char. Has she ever even talked to you without me around?"
"Uh, yeah. We've talked." She had been concentrating on a chunk of blueberry left on one of the muffin liners, dabbing at it with her finger and then sucking off the juice. My question brought her eyes to mine. She almost looked upset. "We got partnered up in English. Tenth grade." She sighed. "It was a nightmare."
"Did you like her then?"
"No." She said it very matter-of-factly. "Can we just get this over with?"
"I was waiting on you."
"You're really going to do this?"
What kind of look is that she's giving me? "Do what?"
"See Stuart."
Oh. "This isn't about me. This is about you."
I keep telling myself that, over and over, as I drive us out to Valley Brew. Charlotte fidgets next to me. She looks exactly like I feel, but I keep everything on the inside. The last thing I want to do is have a total freak out.
I am not ashamed of my sexuality. Fear isn't the right word, either. It's not confusion. It's just...intense.
I don't know about Montana's part of the family, but mine are not big on going to the beach. When I was younger we would try to go maybe once or twice every summer, but that was about it. For them it wasn't the heat, or the sand, or even the time spent getting there. It was all of the people. They hated dealing with all the people.
But seeing the people at the beach, or at least a certain subset of a particular gender of people, was how I first encountered that intensity that I have since spent years hiding away.
I had finished seventh grade the week before, and Mom decided to spend a day down in Santa Monica at the pier and hanging out on the beach. Charlotte was supposed to go with us, but a surprise visit from some relatives meant she was stuck at home spending time with them rather than being with me. On the drive down, I was upset, but by the time we were making the drive back I was glad I didn't have her with me. I might have had to explain my feelings to her then instead of waiting a year.
We were all on the side of the pier looking down at the packed beach and I heard my mother comment about all the girls wearing 'next to nothing' as they sat in the sun and that they were obviously only doing it for attention. When my dad made a similar statement about how she didn't say anything about some of the younger guys showing off their bodies, I realized those guys were the ones I had been focusing on.
I know he just meant it as a joke. He had laughed as he said it. He didn't care. I'm sure he was looking at those girls just as much as mom, and secretly me, were looking at the boys. But I was also sure that, based on how my parents were talking, I probably shouldn't have been.
Is that what I'm dealing with as I get out of my car and prepare myself to step into Valley Brew to find Stuart? Has he been looking at me like I looked at them? I'm definitely not a shirtless, tanned slab of chiseled marble like some of them were. I'm built like a scallop, and not even a whole piece. I'm like a wafer-thin forkful at best. He's definitely never seen me with my shirt off. I spent one too many summers in elementary school with burned skin peeling from my back and decided I was better off hiding myself away from the sun than continue to give it chances to scorch me.
"Thanks for choosing the Brew!" A girl says as we enter. "I can help you right here."
Stuart is next to her, standing at another register, handing an older woman in a bright pink track suit one of the largest coffees I have ever seen. He is one of the tallest kids in our class, but is hunching himself down over the counter and yet still towers over this woman.
"Here's the usual for you, Missus Barber."
"Are you ever going to do as you're told and call me Honey? I don't tip you 'cause you're formal." She wagged a finger at him.
His body raised a few inches and his hands came up. I could see a little more of his face now and it is turning red. "I doubt Mister Barber would appreciate that."
"He doesn't even drink coffee." She said, then spun on her heels and sashayed away, making sure to swing her hips back and forth as she passed us and went out the door.
"I said I can take you right here whenever you're ready." The girl pointed at her own register, but then Stuart looked up and saw us.
Or maybe he only saw me.
"I'll get them, Kay. They're, uh, friends of mine."
The girl pointed after Missus Barber and smirked. "Seems like everybody around here is friends with you."
"We don't really want to order anything, actually." Charlotte said, stepping up in between the two and leaning on the counter. "We'd just like to talk to Stuart for a couple minutes about, uh, some school stuff."
Stuart's gaze went back to mine. I looked away and then shrugged. I could feel his eyes on me all the way down to my toes.
"I was about to go on my break anyway." He said. "Give me a few minutes, Charlotte. You sure you don't want anything? Alex? Missus Barber's treat."
I had turned all the way around now and was staring back out into the parking lot. My car was right there. I could run out of here, hop in, and escape back to my house before anyone knew what happened.
It was not until I was physically standing within ten feet of Stuart, and we shared a glance, that I remembered that, oh, I had no idea what it was like to be stared at by someone that I knew liked me. Even worse, he didn't know that I knew that. Questions flooded my brain. Was he looking at my clothes? Was he looking at my body? When did he first do it? What did I do to draw the attention of Stuart Crane?
We did share homeroom. Wherever you were put freshman year was where you stayed. Montana and Charlotte weren't together. Charlotte's homeroom was right across the hall. I've never bothered to ask who Montana has.
We both sit in the back row. I'm in the middle, with Daria Morrison and Bradley Washington to my left. They had been farther up, and separated, but retreated back to the only two empty seats next to each other once they started dating. Stuart sat on my right, another empty seat between us.
Is that how this started? We just so happened to sit near each other on the first day of ninth grade? We knew each other before that. Montana and him were just as joined at the hip as me and Charlotte were as we grew up. We might not have been running around together at recess playing games together, but on those occasions were I would be shipped off to my aunt's house while my parents did something alone, he was always there. The Blackburn house and the Crane house were the only two I had ever seen where there backyards didn't have a giant picket fence separating them, or not a complete one. I think I remember my uncle saying something about Stuart's dad trying to remove a tree to then install a pool and the resulting mess left the fence wrecked and no pool in sight.
"He said he'll meet us outside." Charlotte said as she walked past, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me along as she went. "Water?" She swung her hand around and two bottles were hanging from her fingers. "It was free."
"Uh, sure." She let me go as I took one, then popped off the cap and tossed it in the trash. I wasn't going to need it. I already felt like I was drowning. Might as well make it a tad more realistic. "So...school stuff?"
"What else was I supposed to say?"
"Are you in any of his classes?"
"No. You?"
"Nope." I shook my head. "Just homeroom."
"Then why did he—"
"—if you're mad about Montana, I don't want to fucking hear it." Stuart's voice cut through the air over our shoulders as we stood on the sidewalk. "What's done is done."
"The fuck are you talking about?" Charlotte snaps, looking past me and, presumably, straight at him. "Mad about what?"
"I told her to tell you first." He said. I could see by his shadow that he was now standing just over me. I had to push my heels into the concrete to keep from shivering. "I didn't want her just posting it like that on the internet, either, and I was the one that took the picture!" I see the shadow of his head shake. "I know you aren't super close, but if I had some shit like that to spill I'd definitely tell my cousin and his girlfriend before everybody else, especially if we went to school together. Give them a nice heads up."
One second I'm standing still on the sidewalk with Charlotte in front of me and Stuart somewhere behind me. The next I am against the wall of the Valley Brew, my shoulder dug into the brickwork where Charlotte shoved me out of the way in order to quickly and easily lunge for Stuart and grab him by the arms.
"Stuart." I rolled to put my back against the wall. She has started to shake him. He has at least ten inches on her, if not a foot, and the sight of her attempting to thrash him around is almost too much for me to handle. His shaggy blonde mop was bouncing back and forth like the curtains of a car wash. "Stuart, no!"
I expected him to start to panic, but he didn't. He let the jostling continue, Charlotte staring up at him with her eyes wide, and gave me a questioning look.
I shrugged. "I think this is her way of giving you a heads up."
"What?"
"I want Montana." She said. "Me and Alex aren't a thing. Never were. I'm gay, Stuart."
"I, uh, was just acting the part to keep anyone that she didn't want finding out." I said. "Congrats. She decided you should find out."
Now the look goes to Charlotte. "You want Montana?"
The thrashing stopped. She laughed. "I like her. I like Montana. I'm attracted to her. That's it. I would like your help to, like, get to know her better."
"Okay." The two of them stood there for a moment and stared at each other. "Can you let me go now?"
"Sorry." She released her grip and took a step back. Stuart brushed himself off, not that he needed to, and adjusted his visor, which he did need to. "You can't tell her what I said. If we hang out and I find out I'm making a stupid mistake, I just want to be able to get out without any problems."
Stuart nodded. "Whatever. I won't say anything. I've been telling her she should hang out with Alex more, cause family and all, and since I thought you were two were a package deal I would assume you'd have been there too if she did. I'll just try to be a little more convincing."
"That'll be great." Charlotte grinned. She was bouncing up and down on her toes. "Since you and Alex share homeroom, you can let him know how things are going. Just, like, don't be too loud about it."
"That works." He took a step back and massaged at his arms where she had gripped him. "I also told her that as soon as people knew she'd probably have girls after her."
"What? What girls?" Charlotte appeared ready to make another lunge, which Stuart also noticed.
He threw his hands up to block. "Nobody specific. Just girls. Didn't think it'd be you, though." He gestured in between us. "You two really aren't a thing?"
"Nope." I said. "Just been a fake boyfriend all this time. For her."
"Yeah. He did it for me." Charlotte said, maybe a little too quickly. "And as far as anyone else knows he's still just my real boyfriend and you're going to keep it that way."
Stuart mimed zipping his lip, locking it, and throwing the key into the street. "I didn't hear anything." He said, then sighed. "I mean..." He shut his mouth and mumbled through pursed lips.
"Get back to work, Stuart." Charlotte said, once more taking me by the wrist. "And thanks for the water."
"Yeah, thanks." I said.
"Mmmmmhmmmph." He gave us a wave, but Charlotte was already back to pulling me across the parking lot.
When we were back in my car, she hunched down into her seat and slapped her hands over her face. A few groans later, I barely heard her whispering to herself.
"What did I just do?"