Becoming His (10 page)

“Maybe.” I watch my finger draw a star in the condensation on my glass.

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” I confirm.

“You’ve never been in love?”

I look up feeling Max’s eyes on me and shake my head. “I’m only nineteen.”

“Love has age requirements now? I’m pretty sure I was like eight when I fell in love with Pamela Anderson.”

My head tips back as I laugh. “I’ve been in
like
plenty of times; I’ve even been in love with the idea of being in love. But big gesture, life-sacrificing, stalking, jealous, craving, crazy kind of love … no.”

“That’s a lot of adjectives. Sounds like you’ve put some thought into it.”

I shrug nonchalantly and take another drink of water.

“You’re definitely dating the wrong type if you’ve never felt jealousy.”

“Do you feel jealousy?” I’m not sure if Max is aware my question is laced with the question of whether he’s dating the right type or not.

“I have before,” he admits, glancing at me. “Each time Pamela had to go save another idiot I felt a little jealous.” I laugh again and watch as Max smiles in response. He clears his throat and looks over to his phone. “Do you know this band?”

“Sure, they’re one of my favorites.”

“Why do you like them?”

“Good music is like poetry. The lyrics are more than just words, they’re a story of emotions.”

“Do you think love does that?”

He’s looking at me with uncertainty making me wonder if it’s the subject at hand, or my answer that he isn’t sure he wants to hear. “I hope so.”

There’s a long pause as I try to recall how exactly we got to discussing love in the first place when Max breaks the silence, a cocky grin across his face. “You really plan to stalk the person that you’re in love with?”

I softly chuckle, thinking of the many hours of stalking experience I’ve gained recruited by my sisters or friends. Just the time devoted to Max alone is fairly substantial, but if guys are anything like us, he already knows.

“I hope that I’ll want to. Not like creepy, installing an app on his phone so I can track his whereabouts or anything, but healthy stalking … like wanting to know what he’s doing and where he’s going.”

Max lets out an easy laugh and leans back in his chair before sliding the plate closer to me. “Eat. It will make you feel better tomorrow.”After we finish the pizza that went cold from talking, I stand to leave. Max walks to the door with me, and I expect him to stop as I make my way across the porch, but he continues with me up to my front door.

“Do me a favor.”

I turn and look at Max, my mind racing with possible requests.

“Stay the hell away from Marshall.”

A small grin spreads across my face as I reach forward to pull the door open. “See you around, Max.”

He nods in reply and then turns and disappears back to his house.

O
n Thursday I find myself surrounded by a small group of people that I’ve known since grade school. We’re out in the middle of the lake, where alcohol is being poured freely and often and jokes and stories are exchanged with the sole intent of upping the last one told.

Jolene leans against my shoulder, giggling as she recounts a story involving alcohol and streaking.

Eventually the conversation turns to dares leading several people to line up for a diving contest. I watch Kelsey jump off the side. She attempts to flip backwards in a somersault and only manages to partially rotate before her back slaps against the rippling water making me cringe. She surfaces nearly instantly in a fit of giggles.

Emory and John help her back into the boat as Lisa gets ready. She’s nimble and more daring than probably anyone I know. She throws her arms in the air as she leaps off the back and flips through the air, gracefully gliding into the water looking like an Olympic contestant.

“Ace, your turn!” Emory shouts.

“I’m just judging for accuracy.”

“You and lakes. I forgot.”

I smile and give a brief nod of acknowledgement before he turns to prey on the next victim while I sit back and continue nursing the same bottle of beer that I’d accepted a few hours ago. I try to lose myself in the web of memories being spun around me.

“M
ax Miller, what’s up, man? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

“Hey.” Max nods in our direction as I climb out of the car and close the passenger door.

“This is the ticket we need. Max is crazy smart when it comes to cars.”

“That’s okay, really. My parents have Triple A. I’ll just get it towed,” My words come out so fast I can see Emory’s eyebrows draw together, trying to untie them.

Emory yells out the passenger window next to me, “Hey, man, could I ask you for a huge favor?”

Max glances from Emory to me and back to Emory before he saunters over to the driver’s side. “What’s going on?”

“A bunch of us were down at the lake and her car wouldn’t start. We tried jumping it but that did nothing.”

“Sure. I’ll take her.” There’s a strange edge to Max’s voice. I haven’t seen Max since Kendall and I had our TP adventure.

Emory glances over the hood of the car to me, and I nod to let him know that I’ll be fine.

“Alright, well if you don’t mind, I’m supposed to be at work soon,” he says, rotating his wrist to glance at his watch, “but if you guys need anything, call me.”

“She’ll be fine,” Max replies, sounding a bit defensive to the silent insinuation.

I nod again and smile to Emory, trying to be more convincing than I feel. “Thanks again for the ride home!”

“Anytime, beautiful.” Emory winks and flashes a smile before he climbs back into his car and drives away.

I fall into step next to Max as he makes it to his Jeep parked in the driveway.

“Where’s Eric?” Max asks.

“He didn’t go. He’s doing something with his parents in San Diego.”

“And you didn’t go?”

I’ve met Eric’s parents. Neither of them are overly friendly and mostly discuss business, which bores me senseless. Even when they do talk to me, it’s mostly at me rather than to me leaving me feeling judged and awkward. Now I just opt not to attend, and Eric never seems to care.

“Shouldn’t you be choosing wedding colors or something?”

The question makes my eyes widen in both shock and horror. “You’re under the impression I’m going to marry him?”

“Haven’t you guys been dating for like a year?” Max grabs a set of keys and unlocks his Jeep before going to a keypad by the garage and entering a code to make it open.

“Do you have multiple personality disorder?” I ask.

Max looks over his shoulder at me, raised eyebrows and rounded eyes goading me. I briefly wonder if he’d overheard the loud discussion when Jenny, Kendall, and I were hanging out in the pool and they took turns doing Eric impersonations and loudly encouraged me to dump him.

“We like to do our own thing,” I finally answer, watching as Max shuffles things around in a tool box. He glances up at me as he latches it and carries it with him to the Jeep.

“That sounds very … convenient.”

I’m slightly taken aback when he uses the same word I’ve used so many times to describe my relationship. He walks to the passenger side of the car and opens it. He doesn’t wait for me to get in but walks to the back and loads his toolbox.

I’ve seen this car hundreds of times over the years, but I’ve never been inside. It smells of Max, like clean soap, cologne, and him—sweet and a little musky. I take a deep breath and fight the urge to look around as Max climbs in the driver’s seat. His scent and my nerves are distraction from the annoyance caused by his snide remark.

We ride in silence for several minutes, my fingers tracing the seams of the seat as I wonder why we take two steps back for every one that we take toward being friends.

“So what’s your deal with Emory?”

My eyebrows rise in surprise as I try to shuffle my thoughts, keeping my eyes focused on the windshield. “There’s no deal. We’re friends.”

“You know he likes you, right?” I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to look over at him.

“Should I feel like I’m getting the third degree on
all
of my relationships?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you better.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic so I look over to him, but his focus is directed on the road and obscures anything he might be revealing.

I sigh with irritation and roll my eyes. He’s trying to ruffle my feathers, and unfortunately it’s working. Even though he can’t see it, I’m fairly confident he knows by my tone. “Emory and I have been friends since high school. We had a humanities elective together, and we disagreed on the necessity of every American owning a gun. We became friends because we could respect each other’s opinions.”

“You like guns?” Max asks, looking over at me.

“No,” I answer, shaking my head, “My brother-in-law Caulder is a cop. He and my mom both feel guns are essential. They wanted the whole family to go through gun training and safety classes a few years ago. Luckily my dad’s pretty much on the same page of thinking as me when it comes to weapons so it never really came to fruition. But my mom does own like three guns. She likes to play the Texas card, saying it’s in her blood.” I turn to look at him and this time I make my eye roll evident to show him I think she’s full of it.

“If I had five daughters I think I’d want some guns too.”

I laugh and shake my head.

“Seriously, I still remember your first day of high school because every guy in school was talking about you. The day you turned sixteen was practically a holiday for the male race.”

I’m stunned to hear that Max knows we had to be sixteen to date which causes my response to be slightly delayed. “As I recall, you dated the entire senior class your junior year.”

Max looks over to me and smiles a wicked smile that makes my heart race.

“So you’re good friends with Jess?” Max asks, avoiding commenting about his previous conquests and steering the conversation back to me. It takes me a moment too long for his words to finally process as I try to change lanes in my head, and I turn toward the windshield to form a coherent thought.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other forever.”

“She speaks really highly of you.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I continue to stare out the windshield seeing nothing but the occasional blur of color as we pass.

“You do know Emory likes you, right?”

I glance over at Max and see that he’s studying me. “Emory dated Kendall.” I watch as he attempts to ascertain what my statement means. “I’d never date him, and he knows that.” The wind from Max’s open window blows a strand of hair across my cheek and I tuck it behind my ear. “Emory and Kendall ended things as friends, but I don’t date guys that have dated my sisters.”

“Did Nathan Hudson date Kendall?”

“Does Nate ever really date anyone?” I ask.

“He dicked around with her?”

“He’s an asshole. There’s a lot of reasons I don’t like him.”

“What did he do to you?” Max’s eyes flash to my face and I turn to look out the windshield once more.

“It isn’t important.”

“If it isn’t important why won’t you tell me?”

“For the same reason I’m not telling you what I ate for breakfast: It doesn’t really matter, and it affects nothing.”

“Usually people refuse to discuss something when there’s something to hide.”

“Usually people can catch a hint.” I raise my eyebrows.

Thankfully we’re pulling into the parking lot of the lake, and I hop out of the car before Max even turns off the engine.

I start in the direction of my car as I hear his Jeep door close. My foot slides on some loose gravel and my arms fly out in an attempt to balance myself as I squeeze my eyes shut with anticipation of contact. Instead, I feel two hands grip my waist, anchoring me. My hands clutch to the support, and I open my eyes to find myself staring into Max’s chest, still gripping his forearms.

I glance up at him with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

He nods once and loosens his grip. “You should really break that habit of closing your eyes when you fall. It helps to actually see what’s around you.”

Max tinkers around quietly under the hood of my car as I hover by the driver’s side door.

My phone rings, making me acutely aware that I’m staring at Max’s tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve. I pull it out quickly and see that it’s my dad.

“Hey.”

“Hi, sweetheart. I just wanted to touch base with you since I’ve missed you the last couple of mornings.”

I back away from my car, turning toward Max’s Jeep, and keep my eyes trained on the ground to watch my steps. “Do you mind if I call you back? I’m actually at the lake. My car won’t start.”

“Why didn’t you call? Do you need a ride?”

“No, Max is actually looking at it.”

“You went to the lake with Max?” My eyes snap to Max. He’s still fiddling with unknown wires. I take a few steps forward, pressing the phone harder to my ear ensuring he can’t hear.

“No. Dad, I have to go. I’ll see you soon. Love you,” I say too quickly and hang up before he can respond.

I slide my phone in my pocket and collide into a wall as I turn back to my car. The impact knocks me backwards and once again, Max’s hands grip my sides; only this time when I reach out to grab something for support, I hold on to his biceps. His muscles bulge under skin that feels hot against my hands.