Becoming His (15 page)

“What’s wrong?” I turn my head as a familiar voice infiltrates my angry thoughts. Kyle and Max stare at me from Max’s driveway. I hadn’t even seen them upon pulling up; come to think of it, I can’t recall a single detail about my trip home.

Max drops a grease rag and shiny tool on the piece of cardboard his motorcycle rests on. They land with a dull thud as he makes his way over to me, wiping his hands on his dark gray shorts, all the while keeping his eyes trained on my face.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ace, what happened?” His eyes beseech mine as he closes the last couple of feet between us.

I let out a tired sigh and close my eyes in defeat. “I’m just realizing what an idiot I can be sometimes.” I smirk, waiting for him to make a jab after creating a perfect stage to do so.

“I’d be happy to break his legs. Or an arm. Maybe his nose?” Kyle calls from the driveway, making me laugh.

“Thanks, Guido.” I tease, shaking my head as I turn back to Max.

I feel the smile slip from my face as I see the concern in his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I made things weird between us. I don’t want things to be weird—”

“I know, me too.” Max wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest. My entire body melts a bit as I’m enveloped in his warmth.

“Let me finish this, and then I’ll come over.” Max’s voice comes out slightly muffled from being buried in my hair, and I simply nod in response as I reluctantly extricate myself from his embrace.

“I love you too, Ace,” Kyle calls out as I reach the door.

I turn around with a grin. “I love you too!”

“A
ce, will you pass the popcorn over here, please?” Kendall crosses her ankles as she extends her legs on the ottoman in our basement. I want to ask if her legs are broken, until I look up from her feet and realize she’s leaning into Jameson’s side. I work to cover my grin as I slide the popcorn over to her so she doesn’t have to move.

When Max had finished working on his motorcycle with Kyle, he’d texted me that he was going to shower and I’d asked if he and Jameson wanted to come watch a movie. The four of us are now comfortably sprawled on the sectional in our family room.

“Are you kidding me?” I cry as the menu screen for the movie Kendall put in reveals a horror film about a psychotic serial killer.

“It’s supposed to be really good!” Kendall tucks a strand of hair behind her ear exposing her lie. My eyes narrow at her as I shake my head.

“Not a fan of scary movies?” Max asks from his seat beside me.

“That’s an understatement,” I admit, already feeling my heart race in anticipation. “I hate them.”

“Max will keep you safe.” Kendall winks at me, and my glare makes her chuckle as she snuggles further into Jameson’s side.

Within the first ten minutes of the movie I have my hands covering my face. “What’s happening?” I whisper to Max.

“You want to know what’s going on?”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Isn’t the point of covering your eyes … so that you don’t know?”

“No, it’s so I don’t actually see what’s happening. But I need to know. It’ll freak me out even more to not know,” I admit.

“Come on.” Max peels a hand from my face and wraps it in his. As I turn from the screen, shrill screams and slashing sounds echo through the dark basement, making my heart accelerate even without the image.

“Where are you guys going?” Kendall whispers.

“We thought you guys might enjoy some alone time,” Max replies.

He leads me out to his driveway where he opens the door to his Jeep for me. I look at him curiously, and without question, I climb in.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere your poor heart won’t have to work so hard.” Max reverses down the driveway with a small grin.

W
hen we pull into Maggie Lou’s, the old fifties diner that my dad and I used to frequent during soccer season—and now with Lilly— or on the occasional outing when he’s feeling nostalgic. I look over at Max accusingly.

“What?” he asks a broad smile upon his lips.

“Don’t what me! How’d you know?”

“Know what? That this is your favorite place to get ice cream?” I give him half an eye roll, not able to stop the amused smirk on my face as I shake my head and follow after him as he climbs out of the Jeep.

We settle into a booth, sitting across from one another, and place our order. They’ve added a new milkshake flavor: chocolate fudge marshmallow. It sounds like the cure to any and all ailments and problems, so I go with it. Max orders a brownie fudge sundae with caramel, coffee, and chocolate-toffee ice cream with caramel, marshmallow, and chocolate sauce—no nuts. This is terrible; I’m officially head over heels for this guy just because he ordered the most perfect ice cream dish ever.

“Do you have a thing with ordering in threes?” I tease as Margaret, the daughter of the original Maggie Lou, walks away with our orders scribbled down on a tablet.

“Do you often get greeted on a first name basis by fifties diner waitress?” I grin in response and turn my attention to Margaret as she makes her way back to our table holding two ice waters. She makes eye contact with me and then turns her gaze to Max and back to me with a smile as she wiggles her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Max turns to look at her to see what’s holding my attention, and she giggles guiltily as a small blush fills her full cheeks.

He watches her retreat a ways before turning his attention back to me. “So tell me the deep, dark secrets of Ace.” Max slides a glass of water over to me.

“Deep, dark secrets?”

“Didn’t you know? That’s what friends do.”

“There’s not much to tell really, except my name isn’t really Ace,” I answer, keeping my voice and expression serious. He doesn’t look amused, which makes me laugh as I spin the straw in my ice water.

“Too many to keep track of?” There’s an edge to his inquiry.

“No, it’s quite possible that I live one of the most boring lives of anyone that you’ve ever met,” I admit. “I have a tendency to overanalyze things to a fault, if you haven’t yet noticed. Which usually prevents too many acts of crazy, other than the zip line of course … and the whole TP incident at Marshall’s.”

“You haven’t done anything crazy?”

I shrug, looking up at the side of the car that they’ve somehow attached to the wall a few booths over and briefly wonder if it’s real. “No, crazy and I haven’t really been introduced. I’ve met stupid a couple of times.”

Max grins at me, his blue eyes brightening with mischief. “My mom says that crazy and stupid are sort of two strands of the same thread.”

Margaret returns and slides our desserts to us, and the sight of them makes me momentarily forget what we’re discussing.

“Is there anything else I can get you kids?” she asks with a warm smile.

I shake my head turning my attention to her. “We’re good. Thanks, Margaret.”

“I bet,” she answers. Backing away she gives me two thumbs up and fans her face to indicate how attractive she finds Max. I shake my head, trying to stifle a laugh, as Max follows my eyes to see Margaret’s widen as she quickly turns and walks away.

A small laugh erupts from me that he’s now come within half seconds of catching her both times. I turn my attention to his colossal sundae that looks like Christmas morning in a dish.

“Are you ogling my ice cream?” Max asks, lifting his trademark single eyebrow.

“There’s a definite possibility that I am.” He grins and pushes his sundae toward me, offering me the handle of his spoon.

I open my mouth to object, but Max pushes his spoon closer to my hand. “Sometimes you have to go for what you want, Ace.”

I stare back at him for a brief moment before taking his spoon and dipping it into a mound of chocolate-toffee and coffee ice cream and shoveling it into my mouth with great satisfaction before turning the spoon and offering him the handle. The cold ice cream melts in my mouth as the warm fudge sauce coats my tongue, and the fluffy whipped cream melts like a cloud. The bite is heavenly.

Max grips the proffered spoon with a grin.

“You order really good ice cream,” I mumble, taking a drink of my water. “Do you want to try mine?”

“You try it first.”

“You let me try yours first.” Max shrugs, watching me patiently. I smirk, grabbing the milkshake and using my spoon to scoop a taste of it.

He watches me closely. “They make the best milkshakes,” I say, sliding the glass to him.

Max takes my spoon and dips it in the milkshake. His eyes glance toward me as he holds it a few inches from his mouth. “You were telling me about the time you were introduced to crazy.”

I nod, trying to force my attention from watching Max’s lips curve around my spoon as he eats a mouthful of my shake.

“Alright, well other than the one you witnessed involving Kendall and fifteen rolls of toilet paper; my crazy moment, which really, you’ll classify as stupid here in a moment … in high school I drank a decent amount, not like an alcoholic or anything, but certainly past my limit.”

“Uh oh, does this involve streaking or waking up to someone strange?”

My eyes grow with surprise. “Those would be classified as crazy and stupid; I can see your point, but alcohol doesn’t have that effect on me,” I say, shaking my head. “I hear I’m a funny drunk and can get a little … friendly.”

Max throws his head back and laughs, and I feel my cheeks flush, instantly regretting admitting this to him.

“Friendly, huh? I thought you said this doesn’t involve waking up to someone strange?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“So no streaking or awkward one-night stands. What did happen?”

I fold the paper napkin in front of me, avoiding looking at Max. “I drank too much one night at a party over Christmas break. I didn’t follow any of the rules, even my own. It was really stupid. I truly have little recollection of the entire night, but I ended up having to have my stomach pumped because I wouldn’t regain consciousness and they were afraid of alcohol poisoning.” I slowly glide my finger along the crease of the napkin. “Not one of my finer moments.” My eyes travel up to Max’s face; he’s staring back at me with a serious expression. The playfulness is gone, and I appreciate that he doesn’t crack a joke like most. Nothing about that night, nor the next day, or next month while my parents discussed date rape, peer pressure, drunk driving, and every other negative effect, at extensive length with me while I remained at home, grounded, was even remotely humorous.

“Weren’t you there with someone to look out for each other?” Max’s brilliant blue eyes are focused on me, the skin between his eyebrows crinkled with confusion.

“Not really.” I shrug. “I mean, I knew a lot of people that were there. I’d been dating Levi Peterson.” I pause to look at Max’s face and see the recognition in his eyes at the name. “Yeah, he was an ass,” I say, nodding with a sheepish grin as I return to folding my napkin, running the back of my thumbnail over another crease.

“I was angry that night and just felt too …” I stop and stare out the window serving as a mirror, silently searching for the right way to explain how I’d been feeling. “Structured?” I try the word, and it doesn’t quite seem to explain how I’d felt—the pressure, the confinement. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just didn’t want to have the monotony of doing what was expected of me anymore.”

“You didn’t want to do what was expected of you, or you just needing a break from the expectations and conformity?”

“I don’t know, maybe both?” Max looks at me closely. His face is calm and doesn’t hold an ounce of judgment. He’s not looking at me like it was stupid that I had felt this way, or that I had been irresponsible, even though I had been, incredibly so. He’s looking at me with a look of empathy, like he understands the words I’m not saying. It’s a bit unnerving.

“I’m glad nothing more happened,” he says softly as his eyes search mine in a comforting way, like he’s trying to assure me of something. “Crazy isn’t a bad thing. I’d even go so far to say that it can be a really good thing.” He continues looking at me closely. “It’s just they tend to have better results when there’s someone there to look out for you.”

I can tell he’s waiting for me to acknowledge him, so I simply nod in agreement, showing my understanding.

“I’ll take you to do some crazy things,” Max offers, grabbing his spoon and digging into his sundae turning into ice cream soup.

I return my attention to my milkshake, trying not to allow myself to remember his promise.

“Thank you.”

I look up from my milkshake to watch Max dip his spoon back in his sundae. “For what?” I ask.

He looks up at me and his blue eyes radiate a warmth I’m starting to become familiar with. “For giving me that piece of you.” The words wrap around my brain, replaying over and over before I can stop them, and I have to focus to hear him continue. “I want every piece.”

My heart stops.

“Hey, Ace!” I keep my focus on Max, refusing to look away as he shifts his attention over my shoulder. I sigh as I reluctantly do the same.

“Hey, Emory.”

“Hey, there’s a party going on Friday at Silvestri’s. Have you heard about it?” I nod. “You want me to pick you up? It should be a good time.”

I try to conjure the warmest smile I can manage. “Sorry, I already have plans, but I hope you have a good time. Make sure Silvestri doesn’t go streaking this time. His neighbors are seriously going to call the cops on him.”

He looks slightly disappointed but smiles, nodding. “Seriously, I want to call the cops every time I have to see his white ass. I don’t know what about drinking makes that idiot feel the need to get naked.”

I give a courtesy laugh and turn my attention back to Max.

“Alright, well hey, I hope we can hang out again. It was great seeing you at the lake.” Emory adds.

“Yeah, definitely,” I say with a nod.

Emory nods a couple of times with a strained expression, like he’s debating whether to say something more, before he finally moves his attention to Max and lifts his chin toward him, then leaves.

“We should get going,” Max says, standing up as Emory disappears outside. My heart falls a bit as I try to act casual following his lead.