Hearts At Sea

Chapter 8: June 14th, 4:15pm

Something gave you the nerve / To touch my hand

("It's Nice to Have a Friend")

- - -

For the past thirty minutes of the play, Carter and I had been whispering commentary to each other, the almost-kiss forgotten. At some point, we began quiet-laughing hysterically at some joke I made. I don't remember exactly what it was because then Carter was patting my hand as he chuckled, sending sparks up through the top of my hand at every touch. And then he stopped. Stopped patting it and just left it there, his hand right on top of mine.

Suddenly, all my thoughts had vanished. All that was left in my head was a loop of a new version of "How Far I'll Go": "I've been staring at our hands for the past half hour..." Of course, that was an exaggeration, but my eyes hadn't left our touching hands, and minutes blurred together until I had zero awareness of the time or the people around me.

"Sashaaaa," a high-pitched voice hissed from beside me. Emily was tugging my other hand. "I need to go potty. Please take me."

"Okay." I reluctantly slid my hand out from under Carter's. "Excuse us," I said to him, Emmy and I passing by and slipping into the aisle.

The darkness of the theater causes us to be blinded the second we walk outside. I halt, blinking my eyes a few times to adjust them. "I really need to go, Sasha," Emily urges.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I let her drag me to the nearest bathroom before she flies into a stall. I wait outside until she comes out. "Did you scrub for twenty seconds?" I challenge.

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

Gosh, she's really getting her sass on. "Good job, kiddo. Thank you."

We take our time heading back to the theater now that no one desperately needs to use the restroom. "Hey, tell me about Carter's girlfriends," I request. Jealous girlfriend vibes much, Sasha? Jesus. Way to not be "one of those girls".

"Well," Emmy starts. "Tabitha was his last one. But she dumped him not too long ago. I never liked her anyway. She treated me like a little kid."

"Hate to break it to you, Em, but you are a little kid."

A scowl takes over her face. "I'm almost ten!"

"In two years."

"Almost ten," she insists. "Also, she didn't believe me when I told her I was Carter's sister." She delivers this in a can-you-even-believe-it tone. And actually, I can. Emily is white — like their dad — while Carter and Beau share their mom's darker skin. So if someone doesn't know the Davidsons and sees them out and about without Matt, they assume Emmy is like a stray puppy, following them in hopes of care and safety when in reality, they're all blood-related.

"Aw, man, Emmy," I grab her hand and squeeze in apology. "I'm sorry. It's a good thing Carter broke up with her, then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. But anyways," she carries on with a shrug. "Before that was Katie. They dated for a year before Carter broke up with her. Too bad because I liked her. She reminded me of you." I could not help but read into that. Why was he dating someone like me?

He missed his best friend, my conscience reminds me.

Yes, but then why was he dating her? I argue. They could have just been friends. Jeez, I'm letting this whole mixed feelings thing with Carter get out of hand. I seriously need to stop ping-ponging around. I need to get rid of these feelings once and for all — and fast.