Beneath

11 DON'T PICK UP THE PHONE

C A M I L A

In a sea of students, I'm cozy in my hoodie and sweats during Applied Microeconomics. I fiddle with a little note, the edges worn from being handled. Two days ago, I found it slipped into my pocket while walking home from the boys' place.

"Miss Delgado, care to tell us the implications of applying game theory to this scenario?"

My gaze snaps to the chalk-covered board, deciphering the scrawl. "It may predict behaviours of competing firms in this market structure, considering each firm's strategy to maximize payoff, through collusion or competition, could be either."

Prof. White blinks, then nods with a wry smile. "Get a new wardrobe, Miss Delgado."

The dressed-up class murmurs at that—at weirdo delinquent me. I don't want to wear a blazer. Sue me.

Slumping back in my chair, I read my note again. Noah's writing is messy.

Roses are red, boxing gloves are blue,
Rocky called Adrian, and I'm calling you.

Wanna go out? Eat some...pie?
I've got a plan. It's not very sly.
Please see below my number, give it a spin,
No pressure, though.
But we are going on a date. Soon.

At the bottom of the page are three sets of phone numbers—the phone by his bed, the main apartment, and the one at his house.

If those wicked fingers are bored,
And you've got time to spare,
Dial those digits—if you dare.
I'll sit by the phone and stew,
Hoping my next history lesson involves you.

With a ridiculous smile, I fold the note back up.

I'm so gone.

......

Home's not far, but I slow when I spot them: Maddie and Fox on the porch, dusted in setting sunlight. He's cupping her face, thumbs sweeping something from beneath her eyes.

I duck behind a hedge. Is she crying? Why's she crying? What did he—

She kisses him. Her hands wind into his hair and his slide to her waist, pulling her closer.

Holy goddamn!

When they ease apart, I slap my cheeks into neutrality and walk up, pretending I haven't been watching like a creeper.

"Hey-o," I say as if I'm just now seeing them. "What's up? Nothing? Cool. I'm going to go inside and stay there. Bye now."

"Me too," Maddie blurts.

Fox's flushed face falls. But he nods. With one last look at her, he pockets his hands and ambles down the steps, hitting the sidewalk.

Maddie follows me in, letting me close the door behind us. We head to the kitchen.

I pull an orange soda from the fridge and hand it to her. "Are you okay?"

A sob breaks free and she's suddenly bawling. "I really like him, Cam."

"Come here."

She flies around the counter and slams into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"It's okay," I murmur, patting her back. After a few minutes, her sobs start to quiet down, turning into sniffles and then just shaky breaths. She pulls back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Fox is a good guy, and he's really into you."

She nods, pulling away to grab a napkin from the drawer. "I just don't want this one to be ruined."

The kitchen is quiet for a moment, just the two of us standing there, contemplating things over things. Then Maddie breaks the silence. "He invited me to his birthday dinner—again. He wants us to go. I talked to his cousin Paige on the phone today. I like her. Please, Cam?" She wipes her nose, coughing a little. "Please come."