Page 257 of Something Rad
“So youdolike it?” I grin.
“I think I love you.”
My body goes limp in Robbie’s arms, my eyes widening.
The words just came out of his mouth as easy and gentle as a breath. I blink several times, replaying him saying them in my head so many times that the words don’t even seem like words anymore, and I start to question if he even really said them.
“Did you just casually tell me you love me in the middle of the school hallway?” I ask.
Robbie’s eyes flick between mine, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Shit, I guess I did.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “So I guess it’s okay if I just nonchalantly say that I love you too?”
“Only if you mean it.”
I nod, slowly and then near frantically. “I do.”
Robbie’s smile widens, his tongue pressing against his bottom lip. “Sweet.”
I try to keep my lips pressed together, but fail, bursting out in chuckles. My head falls against Robbie’s chest that’s also shaking with laughter as he sets me back on my feet. He leans down, brushing a kiss against my temple.
“I love the yearbook cover, Cooper. Really, it means the world to me.” I pull back from his chest, smiling up at him. He brushes my hair away from my face, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t for you,” I say, making Robbie tilt his head. “And Ididhave to do it. Like Mr. Hughes said, that photo perfectly represents our school at this moment in time. And that was my job when making the yearbook. To tell our class’s story. There’s no Bay View High story without Robbie Summers.”
Robbie sighs. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You never stop surprising me, Sara Cooper.”
I give Robbie a smile, holding out my yearbook to him. “Will you sign my yearbook?”
“Only if you sign mine.”
Robbie and I exchange books, settling our backs against the wall behind us to sign each other’s inside pages. We lean away from one another, poking our tongues out and making idle threats towards the other person, neither of us wanting the other to see what we’re writing. By the time we each finish our messages and signatures, several basketball boys approach us, all of them asking Robbie if he’ll sign their yearbook.
While Robbie’s busy with that, a handful of people approach me for signatures as well. I can’t help but smile as I sign their yearbooks, thinking about how, as depressing as it might sound, I never would have expected half of these people to care to remember me at the beginning of the year. In fact, the only person I ever really thought about caring if I signed their yearbook was…
“Hey.”
My posture stiffens at the gentle voice behind me. I turn around slowly, finding Alice behind me, holding her yearbook open against her chest.
“Oh, hey,” I say back, my voice equally quiet and hesitant.
Alice and I have barely said more than a few words to each other in the last few weeks. Ever since…whatever it was that happened between us. I’m not mad at her, but I don’t know why I still feel a sharp pain in my chest when I look at her. She glances behind me, craning her neck to look for something, and I just know that something is Robbie. I can’t tell if she’s looking for him because she wishes he were here or if she’s hoping he’s far away. Either way, she smiles tightly at me now, taking a step closer.
“The yearbook looks beautiful, Sara,” she says, sounding entirely sincere.
“Thank you,” I tell her. I try to think of something else to say. Anything I can add. We’re both quiet for a few seconds, and then both suddenly try to speak at once.
“Do you think you could–”
“Would you maybe wanna–”
We both close our mouths awkwardly.
Alice lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Sorry, I was just going to ask if you wanted to sign my yearbook.”
“Oh, yeah. Me too. Sure,” I blurt, holding my yearbook out to her.
She gives me a small smile as she takes it, handing me hers in return. I let out a breath as I flip the book open to the blank inside page. I sit there twirling my pen for a moment, trying to think of something to write. After a few seconds, I decide to sign my name further down first, hoping the perfect message will magically come to me once I’ve done that. It doesn’t, but it doesn’t matter.
