Heartthrobs Don’t Date Wallflowers (Texting the Boyband)

Chapter 4

four

“Are you excited for your first day of school?” Mom asked brightly.

I could feel her glancing at me every couple of seconds, in a way that seemed unsafe given that she was also driving at the same time, but I kept my eyes focused on the school building that was getting closer and closer. I twisted a loose thread from my backpack around my finger so tight I thought it might just snap off.

“Just think of it as an adventure!” She chirped when I didn’t answer. Great, another pep talk. Seriously, she pulled this line out every time I started at a new school, like I was about to star in some feel-good movie, instead of being the awkward background character. The one who trips over her own feet and ends up standing in the corner, praying nobody sees her.

“More like a horror movie,” I muttered under my breath, but Mom was too busy enjoying her own hopeful daydreams to hear me. I wondered if she knew that most of my first days of school ended with me eating lunch alone on the bleachers and pretending to be super interested in my phone even though I had no texts.

I glanced at my reflection in the car side mirror. I thought pulling my curly brown hair into two braids had looked cute when I left the house, but now I was questioning everything. Some loose strands had escaped the hold and were framing my face in a way that could look cute on anyone else but looked horrific on me. And that wasn’t even mentioning how much I hated the school’s uniform—my options of polo shirts were yellow, white or navy, for crying out loud. White might have been fine if I wasn’t certain I’d spill something on it at lunch and have a stupid stain on my chest for the rest of the day, so I’d gone for navy, but it made me look washed out. And the splash of lip gloss I’d put on as a last minute touch before I left the house was supposed to make me look more put-together but I could see now that it was way too shiny and I had no good way of rubbing it off before I got inside.

In short: I was a mess. Just like I had been from the moment I arrived in this stupid town.

“Okay, you’re here,” Mom said. I pried my eyes open to find us parked at the front of the drop-off line and facing a bunch of half-asleep students walking into the building, looking like they were about to face a firing squad. In contrast, Mom sounded like a motivational speaker as she said, “Time to face the day! You’re going to crush it!”

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, forcing a smile as I opened the door.

“Remember,” she called just as I stepped out, “just be yourself!”

Sure, because being myself had worked out so well the first sixteen years of my life.

I shuffled toward the entrance and kept my chin down, avoiding eye contact with anybody. If I was lucky, maybe I could get through this whole day without having to actually talk to anyone. Each step felt like a countdown to disaster, and I was one more nervous thought away from diving behind the nearest plant and hiding there until the end of the day.

But, miracle of miracles, I made it all the way to the office without any embarrassing moments. A serious upgrade from my last first day, when I wiped out on a wet floor in front of everyone. The worst part? Not a single person stopped to help—just walked around like it was totally normal to leave the new kid lying face-down on the floor.

A bell chimed above the door in the office, like I was walking into a store, and the secretary sitting at the desk looked up. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m…” For a second, I actually forgot my own name. My mind went completely blank. I had to blink a few times before I said, “Ivy. Ivy Wade. I’m new.”

“Oh, welcome, Ivy! We always love to see new faces around here,” she said, typing something into her computer. “Let me just pull up your schedule.”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, glancing around the office. Luckily there weren’t any other students. The waiting area was small and squished, and I wasn’t sure more than two of us would be able to stand side-by-side here. It seemed like a fire hazard.

“Looks like you’re in Room 304 for first period,” she said, finally looking back at me with a friendly smile. “That’s Ms. Miller’s English class. You’ll like her. She’s really engaging.”

“Great,” I replied, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. I wondered what ‘engaging’ really meant. Was that code for lots of homework or I’m about to make you recite Shakespeare in front of the whole class?

The door creaked open again behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of someone stepping into the office. I turned my focus back to the secretary, hoping that we could get through this quickly, before whoever-it-was got impatient.

“And here’s your map of the school,” she continued, handing me a paper that looked like a mess of colours and lines. “If you get lost, just remember that the auditorium is in the main hallway and everything branches off from there. You’ll be just fine!”

“Thanks,” I said. I shoved the paper into the side pocket of my bag while I spun on my heel, ready to make a break for it. Instead, I rammed my head straight into something .

Well, more like someone.

My face collided with his chest and I stumbled back with wide eyes, an apology ready on my lips. How did I forget he was even in here? But the words got stuck in my throat when I finally looked up and locked eyes with him.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Leather jacket that definitely wasn’t part of the school uniform.

The boy from the window.

After the window incident—as I’d taken to calling the whole dance thing—I’d done some research on the band so I wasn’t totally clueless about who was living next door to me. It was just enough for me to be able to identify him now—Zach Miles, the most mysterious member of the boyband Take Five.

“Mr. Miles,” the secretary said.

He glanced at her over my shoulder, barely giving me a second glance. I might have been offended if I wasn’t too busy being worried that I might faint right here in the middle of the office.

What a second impression that would be.

“I was told you had some paper for me,” Zach told her. I took in a quick breath as I heard his voice, so soft and smooth. He had an accent I couldn’t place but that I immediately adored—which was absolutely ridiculous because there was nothing about this boy I should have been adoring.

“Yes, I do,” the secretary said. “They’re right here.”

There was the sound of paper shuffling, then Zach reached past me, practically pressing his body to mine. I froze in place, my low back pressed against the sign-in table in front of the secretary’s desk, unable to move or breathe.

“Sorry,” Zach mumbled. I just stared at him wide-eyed, gaping like an idiot and not quite sure what to say. He pulled his hand back—paperless—and I stared at it in confusion for a moment, until he put his hands on my upper arms and shifted me to the side so I was out of his way. I flushed bright red as I realized how stupid I’d been for just standing there when he clearly needed to get to the desk.

“Uh, no problem,” I managed to stammer out, not that he seemed to hear me. He was completely focused on the secretary, who was now rifling through a file cabinet, rambling on about how she’d forgotten something. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking less than thrilled to be there, but still somehow much more at ease than I felt.

I looked past his shoulder, to the wooden door that led to the hallway. Maybe I could just slip out unnoticed? But no. We were too cramped in here and I’d end up shoulder-checking him on the way out or something. So, I was stuck here until he left. Perfect.

And then he turned, catching me in a side-glance that sent my stomach into full somersault mode. “You’re new, right?”

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, instantly wanting to kick myself for how nervous I sounded. Pull it together, Ivy . I was nervous, of course, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m Ivy.”

“Bee?” His brows wrinkled. “Like the insect? ”

“No—what? No.” Was I really that bad at enunciating? I raised my voice a little to say, “I-vy. Ivy. Like the plant.”

“Ivy,” he repeated. Just hearing my name in that accent made my face go from pale to full-on blush mode. I could literally feel how hot my cheeks were and I didn’t even want to imagine what I must have looked like.

He didn’t say anything else. Just gave me the smallest nod before turning back to the desk to collect his papers. I stood there, feeling like I should say something—anything—to make this moment less awkward. But my mind was completely blank. Instead, I just watched him, trying to act like I wasn’t freaking out about how close he’d been to me just moments ago.

He grabbed the papers from the secretary with a quiet “Thanks,” then turned, his eyes briefly meeting mine again. “See you around.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there, still gripping the straps of my backpack like they were a lifeline.

“Oh, honey,” the secretary sighed as the door swung closed. I blinked and forced myself to look at her, unsure if she was talking to me or herself. “You look like a lovesick puppy. Are you a big fan of the band?”

“Me?” I asked stupidly, even though there was nobody else in the room she could have been speaking to. “Uh, no. Not at all. Don’t even know their names.”

She gave me this weird smile, like she knew I was lying and didn’t want to have to say it. But I wasn’t interested in having a heart-to-heart about my non-existent feelings for the band—especially since that would mean revealing that I lived next door to them, which was something I’d much rather keep under wraps, at least until I was settled in. Nope. So, I just stared at my schedule like it was the most interesting thing ever.

“So, uh…” I cleared my throat and glanced at my first period block. “Room 304, huh? Which way is that?”

I kept my eyes firmly on the paper so I wouldn’t have to see that same look from her again.

“Pretty much right above us,” the secretary said. “Take the same stairs you came in on and go to the top floor. You’ll find it no problem.”

I wasn’t so sure about that—getting lost in schools was a specialty of mine. But I nodded like I believed her and walked out. This time without bumping into anyone.

The second I walked into the classroom, it felt like the walls were closing in. All I wanted to do was back out of here and never come back, but that obviously wasn’t an option, so I went for the second best thing: sitting at an empty desk in the far corner. And if I was lucky, nobody would come to sit beside me.

My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted up three flights of stairs. I kept my head down like maybe, if I tried hard enough, I could will myself to be invisible. I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the screen for a second before I opened my messages. If I couldn’t deal with real people right now, maybe texting someone wouldn’t be so bad.

My first instinct was to text Poppy but she was in the middle of her school day right now and didn’t always have her phone on her. But there was one other person I could text…

Ivy

Please tell me you’re not in school right now.

I didn’t lift my head from the phone after I sent it. I kept just clicking into random message threads as if I was busy texting someone, instead of being the pathetic new girl who didn’t have any friends. I wasn’t sure if I was fooling anyone, but it made me feel better.

Not Zesty

Would you prefer for me to (a) lie and say what you want to hear or (b) tell the truth?

I smiled, my shoulders dropping a fraction as I typed back.

Ivy

Depends. If I say (b), can you keep texting?

Not Zesty

As a matter of fact, I can

Not because I’m not in school but because I’m a terrible student

I snorted, and it was probably louder than I intended because a few people in the front rows glanced back at me. I ducked my head, pretending to dig through my backpack. Rule number one of starting at a new school was not bringing attention to myself.

Ivy

A man after my own heart

It’s only my first day of school and I already feel behind

The door creaked open and I jerked my head up. The teacher, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair, walked in, carrying a stack of papers. She let them drop on the desk and blew some hair out of her face, looking a little haggard.

“Okay, everyone, let’s settle in,” she said. The room slowly got quieter as everyone moved to their actual seats instead of just standing beside their friends. I felt the pressure building again, like I was supposed to be doing something—anything—besides staring at my phone.

Not Zesty

Well to be fair it IS two months into the semester

Unless you go to some weird school that starts in November.

Ivy

No no you’re right

Ok so I don’t need to feel bad that I’m behind because I’m SUPPOSED to be behind

Not Zesty

I’m,,

Not sure that’s what I meant

The teacher started calling names for roll, but I was barely paying attention now, my fingers flying across the screen.

Ivy

But you’re also not sure it’s NOT not what you meant?

The three-dot bubble like he was texting back didn’t appear right away, so I glanced up at the teacher again. She was going through the roll-call now, but she was only on the last names starting with C. My name was always at the end of the attendance list—usually last—so it would probably be a bit before she got to me.

Not Zesty

What.

Ivy

I think I made myself very clear

I looked up again. The teacher was on the “T” last names now. Lucy Tall. Geoff Tims. Jude Turner. Everyone’s heads turned in unison at a boy on the far end of the class when she said the name. I frowned and looked at him as well, trying to figure out why everyone seemed more interested in him than anyone else whose name had been called. He was sitting alone at a two-seat desk, sideways on his chair with his legs up on the extra chair and his arm hanging over the back.

The girls sitting in front of him were completely turned around in their seats and leaning forward on his desk, completely ignoring the teacher.

“Here!” He called boisterously, the energy completely different from how he was sitting. I was pretty sure I heard every girl in the room simultaneously sigh and lean in closer to him. As the teacher moved on and the girl in front of him started waving a pen and notebook n front of Jude’s face, I put it together—he was part of the band. Now that I was thinking about it, I’d seen him at the bonfires I’d watched the last couple of weeks and my brief research. He just looked different in his school uniform.

Half an hour in this school and I’d already seen two of the five members of the band. What were the chances of that?

“Ivy Wade?”

My heart lurched and I froze for a second, before I remembered that I needed to react somehow to show that I was here. I raised my hand and gave a small wave, since I didn’t trust my voice to work right now. I was hoping she would just nod and move on like she’d done for every other student, but her eyes locked on me and I knew I wouldn’t get away with just blending into the background.

“You must be our new student!” She said, her voice way too cheerful for nine in the morning. I nodded, my face heating up as everyone turned in my direction. Unlike when they looked at Jude with admiration, everyone’s faces were flat as they looked at me. I kept my gaze fixed on the whiteboard over the teacher’s shoulder, hoping the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

“Well, welcome to Summerfield! I know starting in the middle of the semester can be tough, but you’ll catch up in no time.”

I tried to mumble a thanks but I wasn’t sure it was even audible. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice as she put down the attendance sheet and started talking about what we’d be going over today.

As she turned to the whiteboard, the eyes around me started drifting away, one by one. But I could still feel the weight of a few lingering stares, like they were sizing me up, trying to figure out who I was. I sank a little deeper into my chair, hoping that if I stayed still long enough, they’d forget I was even here.

Once everyone had turned away, and I glanced at the board to make sure I wasn’t already totally lost in the material, I glanced at my phone again.

Not Zesty

No??

I’m confused by the NOT not

You mean it might be what I meant?

That’s not what I meant

Ivy

What’s not what you meant

Not Zesty

The thing you thought I said

Ivy

I’m lost

Not Zesty

How are YOU lost??

You’re the one who started this

Ivy

Sorry do I know you

Not Zesty

That’s a loaded question

What defines “knowing” someone?

For I feel I know you yet I know not your name

Ivy

Are you in poetry class or something

What was that

Not Zesty

Drama

Ivy

You’re in drama class or you were trying to be dramatic?

Not Zesty

Yes

Ivy

Also just so you know, I read the name message in a terrible British accent

Like you were trying to sound victorian and failed

Just want to keep you apprised of what’s going on in my head

Not Zesty

How dare you accuse me of having a bad British accent

I’ll have you know it’s amazing

Ivy

Mh-hmm

(Please read that sarcastically)

Not Zesty

Don’t worry, it came across

Ivy

Good good

I was worried

“Guys, I know it’s early and you’re just coming off the weekend, but let’s focus please!” The teacher called. I snapped my head up, sure she was talking to me directly, but she was looking at some girls in the front row, who also had their phones out—much more obviously than I did. I didn’t want to be the next one to be looked at, though, so I shoved my phone back in my bag and tried to pay attention.

Not that I could focus at all, though. Because for the rest of the period, all I could think about was wondering if he’d texted me back.