“I guess I’m just trying to figure out where I fit into all of it.” I don’t know how to hint any longer, so I’m just going to finally ask the question. “What are we, exactly?”
“Well, I’m Carlton. And you’re Dot.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “So, I guess that makes us Carlton and Dot.”
I fold my arms. “You know what I mean.”
“Last I checked things were going well. Why the sudden need for all this heavy talk?”
“It’s not that heavy,” I mutter. But at the same time, I know he’s probably right. I’m just feeling insecure because of all these plans being made about Carlton’s future. Last I checked, none of the eight Ivy League colleges are in Los Angeles, so him moving there would probably mean goodbye for good.
Unless you don’t get into an Ivy, Dot.I try to ignore how light inside I feel at the concept of not going Ivy. Of possibly going to an unconventional school like Underwood.
I try to tell myself that’s not what I really want, that I’m only thinking like this because I miss the impulsive structureof homeschool and still haven’t adjusted to the linear setup of Fallbrook.
“Hey,” Carlton says, lifting my chin with his finger. “Let’s just start over. Come here.”
We both get out of our chairs, and he gives me a light hug, patting my back a few times. I don’t know why, but the gesture irritates me. Being patted on the back reminds me of how I would pat a dog for behaving well. Not how I would comfort someone I care about.
But then Carlton kisses me lightly on the lips, and all negativity drains from my mind. I shut my eyes, enjoying the soft warmth of his lips.
You’re overthinking things, Dot,I tell myself.Just relax. Be cool.
When the kiss stretches out and becomes deeper, the remaining insecure thoughts I’ve been harboring evaporate. If only I could just stay here in this moment, never returning to reality. Just stay here, feeling Carlton’s lips on mine, and letting my arms wind gently around his neck.
A whistle sounds in the room, followed by another. I belatedly realize that the noise is not a person, but our phones going off.
A Little Birdie blast.
Carlton breaks apart from me, eager to read whatever the anonymous blogger has to say. A prick of annoyance stabs me.
Seriously? Little Birdie is more important than this moment we’re sharing right now?
I heave a dramatic sigh, not hiding my irritation, but otherwise take out my phone to check the blast as well.
And I read:
Fledglings!
My goodness, do I have a scoop of something yummy for you to snack on until I return next!
How could I, after all, keep something this delicious to myself? It wouldn’t be fair.
Just yesterday, none other than Dot Bennett, arguably Fallbrook’s new It Girl, was spotted in a restaurant sitting across from—you guessed it—Zayne Silverman! But what could easily be mistaken as a friendly rendezvous in fact appeared to be much more! See from the photo—snapped by an anonymous bystander—the look in Dot’s eyes, the way she stares longingly at Zayne, who is obviously just as enraptured by Dot’s beauty as she is by his appeal.
Now the question is only what Carlton, her original beau, will do in response.
Eagerly awaiting some action is Yours Truly,
Little Birdie
When I look up from my screen, cheeks burning in rage, Carlton is already done reading. His lips are pressed together in a tight line, and he’s staring not at me, but past me, like I’m not right in front of him. Like I don’t even exist.
“Carlton—” I start, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.
“I don’t want to hear it, Dot.”
My heart hammers against my ribcage. Caught. I’ve been caught, and I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, but how can I explain that to Carlton? If I were in his shoes, this would all cutme so deep, I wouldn’t be sure who or what to believe. I’d like to think I’d believehim, trusthim,but how do you deny what’s right in front of you, picture evidence?
“It’s not what it looks like,” I try again.
