But nothing about Rex feels false. I know this is going to sound crazy, but in the hospital, he came to me in a vision. There he was, on the other side of my operating room doors, same face drenched with the same tenderness.
It felt like déjà vu, as if it was the same moment I first saw him on the basketball court wrapped in different skin. Instead of burning up, I was freezing cold. Instead of catching me with his arms, he caught me with his words.
And now all I want to do is write down his name. And around and in between his name, I want to paste the things I just cut out of my magazine: a tree with blush-pink leaves, a luna moth with lime-green wings, a boy standing on a double helix reaching for purple stars. Signs I’m hoping will somehow find him in his dreams and let him know my heart.
But my rules.
Feel so small compared to what I feel for Rex. The smallest specks of dust in a gleaming stain-glassed cathedral.
I sit down in a pew, allow my long, skinny fingers to pull the royal blue Pigma pen from the crevice between open pages and write:
Rex Carrington
Rex Carrington
Rex Carrington
Rex Carrington
Rex Carrington
Rex Carrington
Rex Carrington
Over and over again until I’m beaming with a thousand colors. Then I scribble tiny hearts around his names in the shape of a giant heart. Does it look like the work of a first grader? Sure, but ask me if I care.
Outside, the yellow school bus stops in front of our house. Through the window above the sofa, I see Cole hop off.
“Let’s go!” Cole shouts as soon as he’s in the house. A few fast and squeaky footsteps across the wooden floor, and now he’s standing in the entrance of the living room in his basketball warm-ups, out of breath. He’s not supposed to be here. His game starts at five. His team is shooting around, like, right now.
“Go where?” I ask, alarmed, my mind sprinting off to the worst fear it can find. Car accident. Mom and Daddy. I quickly lift my legs and turn around so that my feet are on the ground. Ouch!
“Rex is playing at our school tonight, and I’ve decided that you’re coming.”
I let out a sigh. “You seriously came all the way home for that? What’s wrong with you?” I yell. “You know I can’t go anywhere.”
“What’s wrong with me? Really? I don’t get you, Carli,” he says, face going bright red like he’s about to explode from exasperation. “You know . . . you’re always worried about what this random thing means and what that completely arbitrary thing means. But when something simple is staring you right in the face, it’s like you don’t see it. I should be at my game, right now, but I’m standing here ready to take you to see Rex. And you’re really telling me no?”
I want to get defensive, but the bright sun swinging inside my chest won’t let me. I can’t believe I’ve never considered going to the game. Maybe because my stomach hurts like hell. Or because the doctor ordered me to stay home until Wednesday. Or because a teacher or coach or any of my teammates could spot me. But they’re even smaller than the smallest specks of dust—not even about to stop me from seeing Rex.
REX
Carli. Is. In. The. Building. Can you believe it? I mean, I dreamed of her coming, but there’s no way I thought she’d be here this soon after surgery.
I’m sitting high up in the stands, a couple rows above my team. The JV game is about to start. Carli’s walking along the sidelines with Cole, who’s suited up for the game. A few of his teammates, standing in a huddle around their coach, look back at him like, What the fuck? But he doesn’t pay them any mind. His attention is on Carli, his arm around her for support. And judging by how slow they’re moving, she needs every bit of it.
I stand up, ready to run to her and relieve him so he can get on the court.
But the first horn on the game clock sounds, and I sit back down.
Coach is sitting in the bleachers above me, so he can keep a good eye on the team. He likes us to stay put during the JV games, stay focused. I mean, we can run to the bathroom or go get a bag of chips from the vending machines if we want, but if he catches anybody wandering around trying to holla at girls, he benches them for the game.
But man, this feeling inside me right now has me thinking crazy. Has me thinking this moment is bigger than a game on the bench. Has my whole body feeling like it’s about to explode into some rainbows and shit. I’m telling you, another minute of trying to contain it, and people are gonna be picking me up as Lucky Charms scattered around the gym.
The second horn sounds. Game time. Man, forget this. I run down the bleachers and sidelines until I’m standing in front of Carli, looking straight into her brown eyes, taking in their surprise, their delight.
I wrap my arm around her other side. “I got her,” I tell Cole, and he flashes me a giant smile before letting go.
CARLI
Rex’s hand is around my hip and I’m floating. Dreaming. I must be dreaming. Sleepwalking. I must be about to fall flat on my face. But the strength of Rex’s hand holding me up, the light grip of his fingers pushing into my skin, the tingles moving up and down my left side and through my body, tells me I’m not. Tells me this is real, just like I thought.
“Hi,” he says, in a low voice, his smiling eyes wandering across my face.
“Hi,” I say in return, and let my eyes travel, too. From the tight, spiraling curls in his high-top . . . to his thick brows . . . to his hooded eyes . . . to the mole on the right side of his nose . . . to his big, curvy lips. I can’t help but pause there for a bit. They look so soft.
“Is here good?” he asks, and points to the opening on the first row we’re standing in front of.
“Perfect,” I say, thinking about how I’m going to get my butt all the way down to the wooden bench without ripping my stomach open. He must read my mind because as we turn to sit down, he pulls my body closer to his until he’s taken almost all of my weight and our bodies are sitting down as one.
After we sit down, we hold hands, interlocking our fingers. It’s automatic. Like we’ve done it a million times.
My hand is on top—his long, brown fingers reaching over my knuckles showing his short, shiny nails. Not just-got-them-buffed shiny, more like really clean shiny.
Looking over my left shoulder, I take in more of him—the way his strong neck eases down into his collarbones, the way his chest bulges underneath his dark green uniform, the way he smells like a pine forest. It’s making me want to lean in, put my nose right up to the crook of his neck, and take a sniff. Or maybe even kiss his chin or bite his cheek or eat him up or have him eat me up or bury myself forever inside his earthy-sweet-smelling uniform. Clearly, I’m losing my mind being this close to him.
REX
My nervousness makes me start bursting with words, spitting them out right and left. “It’s crazy you’re here. Man, that surgery had to be no joke. How are you feeling? I can’t believe you’re actually here . . . sitting next to me. Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me . . . it’s just that I’ve been dreaming . . . nah . . . never mind. You healing okay, though? Cole said you’ve been feeling better every day.” This is not me. This is not how I talk. It’s like some whack, diarrhea-of-the-mouth dude has invaded my body and won’t shut up.