Chapter Fourteen
With BamBam safely at brunch, I decided to begin sorting and editing all the footage Ethan and I had collected so far. The editing software had just started to load on my computer when my phone dinged, and Dad’s name floated across the screen in the family group text. The muscles in my neck tensed.
Dad: Mess, checking in on that essay. Early decision deadline is coming up. Please provide an update. Thx
If I hadn’t been irritated, I would have laughed.
Whenever Dad was serious about something, he texted like he was writing an email to the other partners at his accounting firm and not talking to one of his kids.
If he really wanted to escalate the situation, he’d send it on the group text as if he were cc’ing someone’s boss.
Holding my breath, I pulled up the document, took a picture of it on my screen, and typed back.
Working on it right now.
I could almost hear the you’re-not-taking-your-future-seriously-enough lecture I would get if I didn’t finish this before I got home.
Kina: Go Jamie! You got this. You are a smart girl and STEM needs you.
My sister’s reply came in lightning fast. It was so older-sister of her that I wanted to both throw my phone at a wall and hug her at the same time.
Of course, she genuinely believed that I was about to be the next Mae Jemison or something.
In her mind, I would be famous and successful no matter what I did, so why not study in the science, technology, engineering, or math fields with her.
If it just happened that math aligned with Mom and Dad’s expectations, so much the better.
Win-win for us all! It was sweet of her and also totally not what I wanted—no offense to Mae or NASA.
Mom: Just think how happy you’ll be when it’s done.
As if reminding me that future me would be grateful for their badgering. I was not convinced she was correct about this, much like my driver’s license.
Trevor: Hang in there!
My brother texted, followed by four GIFs of Muppets, cats, comedians, and a coffee cup with arms typing.
I suspected he was less invested in cheering me on than he was in doing a chat cleanse so he wouldn’t have to be triggered by my dad putting pressure on any one of us to achieve the next time he opened up the family text.
That thought genuinely did make me laugh.
Dad: Good. Looking forward to reading it soon. Love you.
I smiled in spite of myself. My dad had only recently started using emojis. Much like his business-formal texting, the emojis were kind of weird but also his way of implying lightheartedness when he didn’t immediately have a math joke on hand.
Love you, all
Gritting my teeth, I closed my editing software and focused on the document containing all my supplemental college essays, blinking at the cursor and trying to force myself to finish.
Taking a deep breath, I desperately tried to think of an answer to the question on-screen.
What are your career aspirations?
None were coming to mind that weren’t completely snarky, when someone knocked on the door. I jumped out of my chair and walked over to it with maybe a little bit too much enthusiasm. Plus, I was starting to get hungry again. Maybe BamBam was back and bringing me a muffin?
I threw the door open and froze. Ethan appeared startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to answer the door so fast. I probably seemed startled, too. After this morning, the only person I would have less expected to see than him at my door was Buzzy.
“Hi,” Ethan said.
“Hi.” I tried to hide my body behind the door.
I still had on my glasses and my retainer, which would have been fine if not for the still-glitter-laced messy bun, Gatorade-blue running shorts, and oversized bootleg Doc McStuffins T-shirt I’d stolen from my brother’s throwback T-shirt collection that I was sporting as an excuse for pajamas.
Unlike my brother, I did not look cool. I wouldn’t even want someone to bury me like this.
“Is that a—”
“Don’t ask.” I cut him off, narrowing my eyes at the smirk crossing his lips.
“It’s kind of hard not to.” He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head.
“My brother was a fan.”
“Just your brother?”
I shook my head. “You can’t tell me you didn’t take some of your older sisters’ clothes.”
“Not the embarrassing ones.” Ethan grinned.
“You’re a very on-the-internet person, so if that is even a little untrue, I’ll find out,” I threatened. I glanced down the hallway as the elevator dinged, the sound sending my pulse through the roof.
“They’re probably still at brunch, so we’re good,” Ethan said, reading my mind.
As he looked down at his shoes, his voice grew quiet.
“I ran into Nittha and Gabby at Beginners Luck, and they told me your room number. I thought you might want this. It’s your coffee order. Not that there is any coffee in it.”
He held a cup out to me. I blinked at him. “You remembered my order?”
“It’s kind of hard to forget.”
The quadratic equation was hard to forget. A complex coffee order that nearly everyone had to write down was not. He’d remembered a thing that I liked. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. My stomach fluttered, and I tried to push my excitement down. This didn’t mean anything.
“Thanks.” I stepped out from behind the door and took the drink. Inhaling the earthy blueberry scent, I grinned. “That is really sweet of you.”
“It’s no big deal.” Ethan shrugged. Still, a blush had crossed his cheeks. “So, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out tonight?”
For a flash of a second, my heart was in my throat. A million scenarios raced through my head. Was this like a real date hangout? Friends-walking-around-the-resort-malls hangout? Or a filming-for-business hangout?
He must have read my confusion, because he rushed to add, “Since we only have like two days left to get footage, and my mentor, Michael, ate a bad fish sandwich at a gas station.”
“What?” I wrinkled my nose. “Who would eat a fish sandwich at a gas station? And what does a bad fish sandwich have to do with us?”
“Michael’s an expert car wrapper and he got me into making videos.
He mostly works on exotic cars in LA now.
Outside of bad judgment when it comes to food, he is great.
” I tilted my head at Ethan and he laughed, the sound shaky as he ran a hand through his hair.
Taking a slow sip of his black coffee, he said, “That didn’t make sense either, did it? Let me try again. Sorry.”
“Please do. So far tonight sounds gross,” I deadpanned. Was he nervous? Last night, he was trying to ask me something about us. But this was about filming. Why would he be nervous about filming?
Ethan smirked. “Michael, my mentor, had an agreement to make a vid about a rare car that has a custom wrap. Because of the fish sandwich, he can’t drive it.
He suggested the company give it to me for the evening, and they agreed.
So we have a car. We can go anywhere we want.
” He smiled, then added, “For roughly five hours.”
“Oh. I get it.” I waved the hand holding my drink around in the universal gesture for this makes sense, even as a little piece of my heart sank.
He was nervous because he was asking for my help to film another car while we worked on our project.
Shrugging off my disappointment, I said, “Sure. What time should we meet?”
Ethan’s face lit up, and I couldn’t even regret that it wasn’t about me. “Maybe six o’clock? Same place as last time?”
“Okay. I’ll bring my gear.”
The elevator dinged, and this time both of us looked down the hall. The same relief coursed through our veins as a parent with a very small toddler rounded the corner.
“I’d better go. I don’t want Ms. Mini to impale me with a pen or something.” Ethan grinned, and part of me was sad to lose that smile. It made everything seem brighter. And with the prospect of that college application waiting for me, I could use some of that brightness.
He took a step back into the hallway and gave me a small nod. “See you tonight.”
“See you.” I closed the door gently, then stood there, the butterflies in my stomach flapping away. He needed my help filming a car. But who was going to help me with this crush?