Spotlight on Nobody

- 8 -

 ~ song: Crush by Tessa Violet ~

"Nell, go long!" Ella shouts as she whips the frisbee across the field at me. Reaching out, I just miss it and fall to the ground empty-handed, belly laughing. Parker jogs over to me and grabs both my hands, pulling me up and into him. There're only a few inches separating our faces and I crack a smile at the unforeseen intimacy. He returns one easily, staying close until I untangle myself and pick up the frisbee, tossing it back to Ella.

As we make our way back to our stuff we left shaded under an ancient maple bordering the field, Ella wraps her arm around my waist.

"So Parker, huh?" She whispers so that he doesn't hear her from a few strides ahead.

"Parker what?" I ask, confused.

She gives me the side eye, then realizes I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about and smiles to herself. "You, my love, are so oblivious. Parker likes you. Likes you likes you," she says, poking me in the side.

Giggling, I deny her false claims. "You're on something," I gasp between tickles. "We are just friends, and he knows that as well as I do." Parker and I have been best friends for two years; if he liked me, he would have made it obvious earlier. Plus, after all the embarrassing things he's seen me do, not to mention that I look like a complete slob half the time we hang out, he'd have to be absolutely delusional to be harboring some secret love for me.

"Whatever you say. I just call it how I see it."

"Call what as you see it?" Parker asks. We've caught up to him, sprawled under the tree, already halfway through a sandwich.

"Favoritism. How come you never pass the frisbee to me?" Ella asks with mock indignation.

"Because it's much more fun to see Nell struggle to catch it," he laughs.

"Ha ha ha, make fun of uncoordinated Nell all you want," I say, but really I don't mind. I'll be the first to admit I am not particularly athletic, but nothing beats messing around with my best friends in this lovely weather.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of the pack pocket of my shorts perhaps a bit too eagerly, but it's just an email. However, the subject line catches my eye: To My Friend. I unlock my phone and open the email.

Dear Nell,

After the way we carried such an adult conversation last night, I figured you are too mature to carry on a conversation over Instagram dms, like a pair of star-crossed middle school lovers. So naturally, I reverted to the most sophisticated form of communication: email. Well, I tried LinkedIn but a connection to Leo Griffiths may make your fellow professionals a little wary.

I'm going to be in Philadelphia for a few more days and would love to see more of it from a local point of view. I hope it's not too much to ask? I know how busy you are, so feel free to turn me down. But I'd love to see you again... as friends.I'll bring the ruby guitar as payment, or as an excuse to hear you play Blackbird again – we will see.

Leo

My heart beats hard in my chest and I suddenly feel nauseous. Leo wants to hang out with me? I had a really fun time last night, but I thought it would have been pretty mundane by his standards. Was our conversation over Wawa hoagies that enthralling? I feel like puking at the prospect of hanging out with him again. Not from disgust, but from nerves. Last night was different, unplanned and spontaneous, very unlike me might I add. But now, in the light of day, when I have ample time to think about what to say and do when, if, we hang out... I'm not sure I can do it. Daringly, I open up my Instagram again, fighting through the literal thousands of notifications to find the messages between Leo and me. I stare at the picture he sent me. My face is flushed with wonder and awe and happiness. I'm not sure if it was from adrenaline or Leo or a mix of both, but I want to feel that way again. Soon. I press reply.