Becoming His

by Mariah Dietz

  “He’s around,” I answer vaguely. He nods with a cocky smirk, and I can tell he knows I’m lying.

  “You want to get a drink or something? You used to promise me you would, and it still hasn’t happened.”

  “Maybe that’s a hint.”

  “Oh, come on, you know you want this.” I watch from the corner of my eye as he reaches down and lifts the hem of his T-shirt exposing his stomach muscles and part of his chest.

  I refuse to play his game and don’t break eye contact with him. “Do you want me to congratulate you on knowing how to do a sit-up?”

  A loud scoff bursts from his lips as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “A sit-up? Do you know what I do to train my body to keep it in this kind of condition?” He still has his shirt pulled up, and I still refuse to let my eyes wander from his as we stand there in a silent stalemate.

  “Come on, I showed you mine now you show me yours,” he says, practicing his wicked, I-know-you-want-me smile once more as he shifts closer and grips the hem of my blouse in his free hand.

  I instantly take a step back and smack his hand away, glaring at him as I feel my heart accelerate. “If you touch me again, I’ll break. Your. Nose.”

  “You and I need to have a serious talk; you still think I’m a bad guy. That or you’re playing hard to get. If that’s the case, I’ll play along.”

  Max stops talking and takes a few steps closer, breaking my attention from Nate for a second. The realization that he’s hanging out with Nate, and may be just like him, makes my stomach falter.

  “I’m not interested in you, Nate. I never have been. You don’t understand what personal space is. And let’s face it, I’ve heard enough of your reviews to know that your open garage houses a very compact car.” I glance at his crotch.

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with all of me, baby.”

  “It’s a good thing we’ll never have to find out.” I eye him again with a silent threat to leave me alone before I turn and walk away.

  “You need to talk to me, Ace, trust me. You may even find that you like me,” he calls to my back, but I don’t bother replying.

  The backyard’s mostly filled with smokers, which taints the fresh air appeal, but I need a few moments before distributing more fake smiles and playing cat and mouse games with Kendall and Jameson.

  I make a beeline to an empty picnic table at the far corner of the yard and sit on the table with my feet resting on the wet bench emanating the stench of beer. My head drops back to stare at the night sky. There are too many lights to see any stars, but the wide expanse is comforting and allows me to breathe a bit easier.

  “You know you’re a game to him.”

  I look up at the familiar voice that’s been haunting far too many of my dreams over the past week and see Max. He leans the top of his thigh against the picnic table, his eyes hidden beneath dark lashes as he looks down and shoves a hand in his pocket.

  “He needs to find a new opponent, because it’s not going to happen.”

  Max shrugs. “It might be easier just to sleep with him and get it over with.”

  My eyebrows shoot up as I look at him incredulously. “I appreciate your advice, and you thinking so highly of me.”

  Max shrugs again as if completely impassive. “I’m not trying to be offensive.” He doesn’t even glance in my direction as he continues, real sincere. “He likes you and seems like your type.” His shoulders lift in another shrug, and I find the gesture to be maddening as all hell. I can’t believe my thoughts have been so consumed by him lately.

  “My type?” My voice rises in contempt.

  “You know, pretty boy, likes to talk about himself and how great he is. Spends a decent amount of his day on his hair.”

  “That’s what you think my type is?” My mind races in multiple directions: first to the last few guys that I’ve dated, then to why in the hell Max is out here doling advice. “Isn’t he your friend?” The words burst from my mouth as the minor detail rushes to the forefront of my mind. “It’s good to know it’s not just people you don’t know you have no problem insulting.”

  “Hell no.” Max shakes his head. “He came by to say hello, and you showed up.”

  I turn away from him, feeling my neck and shoulders burn with tension, and follow an airplane as it flies overhead. I’ve always loved airplanes; to me they signify defying convention. “I don’t have a type.”

  “He and Eric seem pretty similar. Plus, I went to high school with you.”

  The fact that Max admits to paying attention to me in high school makes me want to smile with elation, which is completely irrational since he’s still insulting me so I maintain my focus on the airplane and wonder where they’re going, who’s on the plane, and why are they going? Business? Travel? To escape?

  “Nate isn’t my type. He makes my skin crawl,” I admit.

  “Usually girls say that after they’ve slept with him.” I turn my attention from the sky to see if he’s insinuating that I’ve slept with Nate, or if he’s feeling the effects of the party and doesn’t realize what he’s said. He looks as sober as I am.

  “Who in the hell do you think you are?” My voice startles me as the words come out louder than I intend. Other than the tightening of his jaw, Max looks completely unfazed by my outburst, which just pisses me off even more. “You don’t know anything about me! You think because some asshole pays attention to me, that I should spread my legs? That might be your game, but it sure as hell isn’t mine.”

  Max keeps his eyes focused on mine as an intense stare down ensues between us. The pull that I had felt to him last week seems like a distant memory as I see a dark fierceness in his eyes, as though I’ve in some way insulted him. Finally his eyes fall to the table, and I take the opportunity to leave. I have to force myself not to run and make it obvious just how uncomfortable he’s made me.

  I spend the next couple of hours working to avoid Nate, Jameson, and now Max, as I politely mingle and discuss high school memories with nearly everyone. I find it ironic that prior to graduating all you heard people talk about at parties was the excitement of graduating and plans for after school. Now everyone reminisces about every last detail of high school, even though we’ve barely left. In some ways I can understand it; it’s hard to move forward and it can be scary as all hell. I ended up unable to bring myself to go any further from home than San Diego, even though I’d been accepted to several schools on the East Coast where I’d always imagined myself going.

  “Ace! Holy shit. What are you doing here?” I turn to see Jessica Finley and instantly feel the pull on my cheeks as she rushes toward me and wraps me tightly in her arms.

  Jess and I have been friends since the first day of kindergarten. She’d been upset about being separated from her older brother Keith, and I’d offered her my M&M’s and the sage advice that chocolate would help. From there we became very close. Once we reached high school, Jess had become friends with the art and drama clique, who never seemed particularly fond of me, and we began spending less and less time together. Even though I haven’t seen her in over a year, since before we each left for college, our friendship never seems to skip a beat between lapses. It’s not because it’s convenient, it’s because we both understand that as we grow up our lives change, and some of those changes have brought us closer, and others haven’t. Ultimately we both know who the other is and share a love and respect for one another that time and distance has never lessened.

  “Gosh, it’s good to see you!” I say, scanning her face and noticing a couple of new piercings: one in her nose and one above her upper lip. She has such delicate features that the jewelry only seems to accentuate her beauty, and rather than making her appear like she’s trying to be unique, it just confirms she is.

  “You too! Let’s go outside. It’s getting too loud in here. I want to hear how you’ve been!” She takes my hand in hers, and without waiting for a response makes her way through the crowd toward the back door. I follow close beh
ind her, scanning the room for Kendall. It only takes me a moment to catch sight of her, she and her headband of a skirt have attracted a small crowd of admirers but appears to be safe, dancing and giggling with some girls I know from her class.

  “Is she totally wasted?” The deep voice startles me, and I turn to see Jameson staring in Kendall’s direction. A grimace painted on his face shows he’s more concerned than annoyed. We’re blocking the entrance of the back door people attempt to enter, so I nod my head toward the yard.

  The air has become thicker with cigarette smoke making my lungs constrict in protest. I follow Jess and glance over my shoulder to see Jameson trailing behind us, looking restless.

  “Jameson, this is my good friend Jessica. Jess, this is Jameson.” I introduce the two with a wave of my hand.

  He lifts his chin to acknowledge her and immediately turns his attention back to the house. “She’s testing you,” I explain, brushing imaginary lint from my right thigh. I don’t know why I feel uncomfortable divulging this information exactly when I want to help Jameson. It’s not as though I’m even stating anything that isn’t fairly obvious, but she’s my sister and my best friend, thus causing guilt to whittle through me, making my hands feel restless like they do anytime I’m uncomfortable. I hardly even realize I’m doing it. Generally they seem to have a mind of their own and absently work to occupy themselves until the awkwardness, or in this case guilt, subsides.

  “Why in the hell do you girls play with our heads like this?” he demands, obviously unaware that I’m being a bit of a traitor at the moment—that, or not caring.

  “Kendall?” Jess asks, and I nod turning to see her pulling out a cigarette.

  “No! You don’t smoke!”

  She laughs, ignoring my protest. “Kendall’s trying to see if you’re going to be worth the effort. Ace should learn a little from her.” Jess replies, lighting her cigarette and taking a long pull before blowing the smoke away from us. Her quip about me makes me frown at her, before I turn my attention back to Jameson.

  “She’s right; she wants you to fight for her attention.”

  “I told you.”

  I turn to see Max approaching us, his gaze locked on me, and I sigh in annoyance before I can stop the reaction.

  “Max!” Jess cries out his name with adoration, shocking me even more than the cigarette, which she carefully holds out in an extended hand as she gives him a small hug. How did I not know they were friends?

  “Hey, Jess.” He greets her and the warmth in his tone annoys me for reasons I’m not interested in dissecting at the moment. I turn my attention back to Jameson again.

  “Blondie giving you some good advice on what to do, or you ready to bounce?” Max asks, as if I’m not a foot away hearing every word that he’s saying. His dismissal intensifies my irritation with him.

  “Blondie wasn’t offering advice,” I reply snidely. I have to tilt my head up slightly to look at him, and as I do I catch his blue eyes that seem too familiar peering back at me and wonder who he is and what he did with the Max I was introduced to just a few days ago. This conflicting side reminds me that I have no clue who in the hell Max Miller is, regardless of the fact that he’s been my neighbor for the past ten years.

  “Max, do you know Ace?” Jess asks, taking a drag of her cigarette. I know her well enough to realize she’s trying to diffuse the situation because I also know she knows me well enough to realize I’m pissed.

  Max nods, raising an eyebrow as if the answer is apparent.

  “Obviously not very well,” Jess says, tapping the end of her cigarette with a delicate finger. She eyes me and I see her silently prepare me for what she’s about to say, warning me that she’s about to compare me to one of my sisters, something I despise. “Kendall’s the spitfire, Ace is the chill one.”

  “Nate hit on me,” I explain quietly. She knows the history. “Max thinks I should just sleep with him, to make things easier for myself.” Sarcasm drips from my words.

  “What in the hell’s wrong with you?” Her hand flies out, making contact with his chest. “Just because she’s nice doesn’t mean she’s going to take your shit! And why in the hell are you trying to set anyone up with Nathan Hudson? You hate him.”

  I don’t bother to allow Max to respond, I’m not sure I want to hear it after all that I’ve heard him say tonight. “Thanks for defending my honor,” I tease, batting my eyelashes several times before she rolls her eyes at me and grins, “but I should check on my spitfire sister, make sure she doesn’t need a reminder on her limits. Plus, if she finds out I’m being all Benedict Arnold, she’ll take her vengeance out on my shoes.” I turn to Jess. “Call me, I want to see you again before you head back to New York.”

  “Hell yes! You’re one of the few people I was hoping to see. I’m just shocked to see you here of all places.”

  “Yeah, I’m still paying an old debt, otherwise you wouldn’t have.” I wrap my arms around her, and the lingering scent of cinnamon that always seems to follow her tickles my nose.

  “You should quit with the cancer sticks,” I say, raising my eyebrows as I watch the toe of her black heel rub it into the cement. “You’re too pretty, and you’ve got a great laugh without the guttural cough.”

  “I’m working on it,” she says with a grin.

  I smile and turn to Jameson. “She may be a spitfire and a pain in the ass at times, but she’s worth it.” I give him my best reassuring smile as I gently squeeze his forearm in an attempt to convey my honesty, then glance over to Max and see he’s looking at me like I’m some complicated math equation to solve. Apparently I seem to confound him as much as he does me. I force myself to give him a small smile before walking back toward the house and catch the faint scent of Max that makes my body feel all too aware and slightly buzzed.

  “I love your pants, Ace. They make your ass look amazing!” Jess calls.

  “Stop, you’re making me blush.” I shoot her a wink before turning into the house.

  Kendall’s moved on from dancing and is now playing beer pong with her friend, Chelsea, against two boys that I don’t recognize. Her glassy eyes and vulgar language confirm she’s had way too much to drink.

  I tease and flirt with the boys and eventually convince them to quit the game early. Thankfully Kendall doesn’t object when I lead her to the door. Instead, she links her arm with mine and leans into me.

  “He didn’t fight for me, Ace.” Kendall pouts as we step into the warm evening air that feels cool against my skin after being in the sardine-packed house.

  “I think he was a little caught off guard.” I take the half-filled plastic cup she still holds loosely in her hand and set it on the edge of a large planter box that’s already adorned with several other half-full cups.

  “He doesn’t like me.” She whines. Kendall doesn’t take rejection or even the idea of rejection well. Drunk Kendall takes it even worse.

  “He likes you. You’re just turning him in circles. I don’t think he knows which way is up right now.” I don’t know why I’m even wasting my breath arguing with her. I know she won’t remember any of this by tomorrow and we’ll be having this same conversation, but hopefully this will pacify her and she won’t be a cranky, crying mess for the trip home.

  “You really think he likes me?” Her voice lilts with hope.

  “I do,” I say confidently, neglecting to mention that I’d spoken to him and confirmed the fact.

  As we head down the driveway, Kendall clings to my side for support and veers us both to the right as she clumsily staggers forward.

  “I also think these shoes are really difficult to walk in with you when you’re drunk.” Kendall giggles, tightening her grasp on my waist.

  “Those are great shoes,” she says with a sigh, leaning her head on mine and supporting more of her weight on me that has us turning further. “I love you too, Ace.”

  “I love you too.” I grunt as I maneuver her back to the left, narrowly avoiding her trampling into the f
lower beds lining both sides of the driveway.

  “I’m glad you’re breaking up with Eric. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  To avoid responding, I tell her to be careful as we reach the edge of the driveway where some loose gravel slides under our feet.

  The familiar scent of slightly burnt toast cooked the way my dad prefers it greets me, along with his smile, as I enter the kitchen the next morning. I kiss his cheek before taking a seat beside him, and he slides me the cup of coffee waiting for me.

  “Did you have fun last night?”

  I wrap my hands around the warm mug bringing it to my mouth, desperate for the caffeine. I’m tired enough both mentally and physically that I can’t seem to muster an adequate response, so I nod and give a shrug to convey my indifference. Normally I’d still be sleeping after staying up so late, but Kendall had fallen asleep in my bed last night and woke me up talking in her sleep. I tried to go back to sleep, but Max’s accusation ran through my mind like a pinball, causing my brain to go into overdrive trying to process thoughts and fears.

  We sit in silence for a moment, my mind still at half speed as I practically gulp my coffee.

  “I heard Sharon say Max went to the party you guys were at last night. It’s nice you guys are finally spending some time together after all these years.” I avoid looking at him as I place my empty mug in the sink, hoping he’ll change the subject as I focus entirely too hard on tying my shoes. “He’s a nice looking guy—”

  “Have a good day, Dad. Love you.” I stand up, pressing another kiss on his cheek before making my way out the front door, not caring that I’m being rude. The last thing I want to do is discuss Max’s attractiveness, especially with my dad.

  I stretch my legs and arms and sigh realizing that in my haste to get my things out as quietly as possible so I didn’t wake Kendall, I left my iPod. I don’t have Zeus as a distraction this morning either. He was passed out along the foot of my parents’ bed with my mom, and I felt too guilty to disturb either of them.