by Mariah Dietz
“What are you thinking about over there, Ace?” My eyes flash to his and I feel my face flush as I turn to look away, trying to formulate a comprehensive sentence.
Thankfully his phone rings saving me. We both glance down to see the name ‘Megan’ light up across the screen. I glance at the clock and see that it’s nearly two in the morning.
“You can get that if you want,” I say, folding my hands in my lap and regretting my earlier admission.
“That’s alright,” he says, clicking ignore as we pull into his driveway.
I wrench the door open as soon as the engine shuts off and slam it behind me, trying to convince myself to not care that a girl is calling him at two in the morning, and the reason for it. He stops me at the back of his Jeep.
I open my mouth to say a forced thank you when Max’s frustrated tone stops me in my tracks. “Why are you still dating him?”
This is not where I had anticipated the conversation going, and it makes me feel defensive since he’s been ignoring me to hang out with Felicia, and possibly Megan. I take a breath and close my eyes. I don’t want to fight with Max. I miss his friendship.
“Why does it matter?” My voice comes out quiet as I work to keep it level and calm from the rush of conflicting emotions.
“Are you kidding me? Why does it matter?” Max lifts both of his arms in the air like he wants to grip something, and then lets his hands fall behind his head tilting up. He stares at the sky for a long moment. “Why are you doing this?”
“You’re dating Felicia!” The words come as an accusation. I’m not even positive that he’s referring to us; I’m hardly ever certain because he dances on this gray line so often it’s making me go half insane.
“What do you want me to do?” His voice is raised with frustration. “You confuse the shit out of me, Ace!” He quietly growls as he runs his hand over his head which is now dipped to the ground.
“I’m tired of trying to read through the lines, Max!”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you! As your friend, I’m telling you, you should dump the fucker and get it over with. He’s a complete dick.” And with that he’s done it again, bringing me back to a lighter shade of gray as we return closer to the friendship line. “You deserve better than him.”
“I appreciate your friendly advice, Max,” I say dryly, taking a wide step around him.
“Ace …”
I turn, waiting for him to say what I need to hear. His lips part, but before he says anything, his phone rings piercing the moment.
“It sounds like she’s looking for you,” I say, looking at him, willing him to object or deny it. He stares back at me for a long moment before I turn around and make my way to my house.
“Dammit!” I hear Max growl in frustration, but I don’t turn around. I know if I do right now, I will reveal too much.
It’s been six days since I’ve seen Max. I’m driving myself crazy as I overanalyze everything about my relationship with him.
I’ve been cleaning for the past couple of days, using the excuse of going back to school and needing to pack to remain holed up in my room. I know from the looks and the many check- ins that I receive from my family that they can see through my excuse, and I won’t be able to hide out much longer.
“Are we okay?” I look up from scrubbing the baseboard and see Max making his way into my bedroom. He sits on the edge of my bed, waiting for my reply.
“Are we okay?” I repeat, wishing to know the answer myself.
“I haven’t seen you since Dante’s.”
I shrug noncommittally. “I’ve been busy. You’ve been busy.”
“I haven’t been busy. Did I do something?” Max stands up and takes a step closer to where I’m crouched. I have no idea what he’s thinking by the guarded expression on his face.
“No, of course not.”
“Do you want to go get something to eat?”
“I’m busy right now,” I answer, reaching into the bucket of diluted bleach to rinse my sponge.
“Scrubbing the walls?”
“Why do you care?”
“Why are you upset with me?”
“I’m not upset with you.”
“What are you, then?” He fires.
“Busy,” we both answer his question.
“I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me what it is.”
I shake my head, turning my attention back to the baseboards.
“Is this about Felicia? Because I’m pretty sure you’re still dating Eric.”
“No, we’re friends, Max. Friends don’t see each other every single day. There’s nothing weird between us.” I’m not able to hide the irritation in my tone.
“Alright,” Max says, retreating to the door. “I’m not going to push you to talk to me. But when you’re ready…” he changes directions and walks over to the window with the shade that has been permanently closed for the past nine odd years and tugs the strings to raise it “…you have my phone number. You can call me, text me, send me an SOS, throw a damn rock at my window. Hell, I’ll leave it open so when you’re ready, you can just yell to me. But don’t push me out, Ace. You don’t want that either.”
Before I can respond he strides out my bedroom door. I let out a deep sigh, dropping the sponge back in the bucket as I lean against the wall. Agitation bubbles inside of me with the knowledge that he’s right, and even more so because he knows he’s right. I stand up. I need to get out of here for a while.
The next day is Sunday. Typically I stick around the house on Sundays, offering help to my parents with cooking and preparing for the family to come over as I spend time with my parents, but I need some time out of the house and away from Max. So instead I take Abby up on her offer when she calls to hang out.
She recently began dating a guy named Jesse that I’m moderately familiar with. The two have been spending a lot of time together, and I’m happy for her, even though my love life is really sucking lately. She adamantly declares it’s just a “casual relationship” and I know she’s doing it to try and protect my feelings so I try to be overly enthusiastic about everything she shares with me.
When we pull up to my house it’s obvious we’re some of the last to arrive based on the congested driveway.
“Finally! I thought you were going to be a no-show!” Kyle cries, kicking a soccer ball across the yard with an impressive arc that I catch at chest height as Abby squeals and jumps.
“Sorry, Abs!” he calls, jogging over to us. I’ve stopped paying attention though because I’ve spotted Max. He’s standing beside my dad, holding a beer, as Jameson and my dad laugh at something. His face is stoic as he stares at me.
My line of sight is interrupted as Kyle wraps me up in an aggressive hug that has my feet dangling a few inches off the ground.
“You want to go golfing Thursday? Dad said you were on fire last week!” He sets me down and steals the soccer ball from my hands.
I close my eyes to move my focus and nod. “Sure.”
“I’m glad you’re so excited to hang out with me!”
I laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so excited that I’m overcompensating to keep it all in.”
“That’s better.” I laugh, wrapping my arm around his waist as he wraps one around my shoulders. We walk to the yard, dribbling the soccer ball back and forth.
“How come you never get that excited to see me?” Caulder teases.
“Seriously,” Mindi says with a laugh from her lounge chair. “He doesn’t get that excited to see me.”
“Obviously he gets pretty excited to see you,” Savannah says, lifting an eyebrow as she motions to Mindi’s growing stomach, making us laugh. Kyle and I head to the back corner of the yard as Abby sits down to chat with my two oldest sisters.
“You’re rusty.” Kendall approaches with Jameson and Max flanking her.
“Don’t provoke her. She can still kick my ass,” Kyle says, dribbling the ball on his knees.
“Don’t lie.�
�� I watch as he begins alternating from his feet to his knees with his dribble; Kyle taught me everything I know about soccer.
He grins and catches the ball with his hands and tosses it to me. “I wish I were. I need to go check on Mindi before she really does kick my ass.” He grins.
I watch Kyle make his way over to her chair and dip down as he kisses her sweetly on the cheek. I turn back to Kendall and offer her the ball.
“Don’t be a smartass,” she mutters, eliciting an innocent smile from me. I drop the ball and watch it roll.
“What did you guys do today?” I ask, trying to ease the awkwardness that’s quickly swallowing us.
“I want to see your mad skills,” Jameson says, nodding to the soccer ball that has ironically stopped a few inches short of Kendall. He’s either oblivious to the mood, or trying to distract them as well.
“You’d feel like you lost a piece of your manhood if I showed you,” I tease.
“She is pretty good,” Kendall admits.
“Why don’t you play anymore?” Jameson asks.
“I just was.”
“Like for college.”
I shrug. “We’re pulling your leg, really, I kind of suck.”
“She’s lying.” Kendall’s growing annoyance with me is evident in her tone as she kicks the ball at me in frustration. I laugh, raising my sandal-clad foot to stop it from hitting me in the shins.
“What did you guys do today?” I repeat.
“Mom and I made a bazillion tamales. Since you weren’t here to help it took forever.”
“You should’ve called. Abby and I would’ve come.”
“We did! Guess who answered your phone?”
I look at her confused, trying to recall where my phone is. “Who?”
“Eric! He said you left it there yesterday! I thought you were breaking up with him!” I don’t mention that I’d left it because Eric was acting like a complete idiot and had friends over that made Nate look like a boy scout and didn’t feel safe going back to get it by myself.
“Call Abby next time,” I reply, earning a scowl.
“Want to go do a shot before dinner? It’s a full house tonight.”
Kendall looks at me and slowly gives her head the slightest shake. “You’re such a pain in my ass.”
I grin, knowing that she’s just agreed to drop it at least for the moment. I wrap my arm around her shoulders directing her to the house. After a few steps I look over my shoulder at Jameson and Max. They haven’t moved. “Are you guys coming?”
Jameson grins and immediately falls into step with us, but Max lags behind, staring at me again with the same puzzled expression that he looks at me so often with.
Once inside, Kendall grabs a short stack of shot glasses and heads to the living room where I’m showing the guys their liquor choices.
“We’re having tequila.”
I furrow my eyebrows at Kendall, finding this demand to be ridiculous and bizarre.
“Unless you’d like to continue our conversation, we’re drinking tequila,” Kendall says with a glare.
I grab the bottle of Jose Cuervo and lift it up in response. Kendall sets down the glasses and fills each of them before raising her glass for a toast. We each follow suit, and look at her expectantly.
“You waiting for something?” Jameson asks, cocking an eyebrow at Kendall.
“All of my toasts are filled with bitchy comments.” She makes it a point to look directly at me.
“To Utter. Fucking. Confusion,” Max declares. My eyebrows rise when I turn to see if there’s more. Max looks down at me with hard eyes.
“Cheers to that,” Kendall says, sounding exasperated as she leads us in throwing back our shots.
When we emerge from the house I notice Paul’s arrived and quickly shuffle myself behind my dad and Caulder, who are talking as my dad grills. Although I’m standing right beside them, their words fail to penetrate me as I watch Abby sit beside Max.
“Why are you avoiding Max?” I give a sideways glance to Caulder and realize he and my dad are both looking at me.
“I’m not.”
“Then what’s going on with you two? It seems like you’re avoiding him.”
“She is,” my mom says, coming up behind me carrying a couple of glasses of slushy red margaritas to my dad and Caulder.
“I am not.” My voice goes higher with each word.
“She’s been busy with getting ready to head back to school.” I look at my dad appreciatively, but catch the look of concern that crosses his face as he covers for me.
“So what do you think? Which Bosse do you think is the hottest?” I turn at the sound of Paul’s voice and watch as he takes a swig of his drink. His inappropriate comment thankfully distracts the prying eyes of Caulder and my mom, who looks at him with disdain, and for the first time that I can recall I feel grateful for Paul and his dickish ways … until I realize he’s posing his question to Max. Great.
“I think the Bosse women are in a class of their own,” Max responds gracefully, seemingly unfazed by Paul’s question, or the fact that he’s settling in next to him, looking eager to discuss more inappropriate topics.
“You played that card very safely, my friend,” Paul says, grinning and slapping Max on the back.
“So, you’re friends with four and five?” Paul leans in closer to Max with a cocky smirk that has me straining to hear what he’ll say next.
“Four and five?” Max asks, raising his eyebrows.
Paul’s smirk widens to a grin, “Kendall and Ace, four and five,” he explains as though this is the cleverest of ideas. Max gives a single slow nod, and I can tell from just seeing his profile that he thinks Paul’s a complete tool.
“Dinner time!” my mom calls, interrupting the focus that’s quickly moved to Max and Paul.
With my plate piled with tamales, I search for a place to sit. Mindi’s seated at the patio table with Savannah, discussing pregnancy and kids, and I can tell by her tone she’s in need of more of those strawberry marshmallows. I opt to take a seat on one of the patio chairs near the pool. I’m still working to get myself situated when Paul sits beside me, and I instantly regret thinking I was grateful for him being here.
“So are we playing some pool basketball after dinner, Ace?” he asks, knocking his knee against mine.
“I don’t know if the others are, but I’m not.” I have a strict policy about remaining fully covered at all times around Paul. He has a tendency to have wandering eyes and hands that has led to pool basketball being permanently canceled in his presence.
“Come on,” Paul cries, setting a hand on my bare knee. “You never play anymore.”
The chair beside me fills and I glance over to see my dad and feel relief and embarrassment wash through me as he gives me a tight smile. “I actually had to add some extra chemicals into the pool today. The PH balance was off, so it’s closed for a couple of days.”
“We could play volleyball, those still require bikinis,” Paul says with a grin.
“Ace and I have plans. Sorry, no bikinis tonight, Paul.” Max stands in front of me.
I try to disguise my shock as I glance at him, feeling confused and uncertain about whether he’s expressing jealousy or just trying to be a good friend and save me. His attention is on Paul, daring him to object.
“You should probably go sit down next to Jenny. She’s looking for you,” he adds. Paul looks up at Max like he’s trying to size him up and gives a small grin, shaking his head before wandering away.
Max takes his vacant seat, settling in as my dad begins discussing the idea of remaking a new vintage car with him while I move my food from side to side with my fork.
When my dad gets up to go for seconds Max leans towards me. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not really.” I move my attention from my nearly full plate to Max’s eyes. I had been starving, but trying to decipher Max’s intentions filled my stomach with nerves.
“Are you ready to go, then?”
“Where are we going?”
“We need to talk.” Standing up, he takes my plate and stacks it on his, balancing it in one hand and offering me his other. I feel the familiar warmth and pull I’ve been missing as I slip my hand in his, relieved that he seems less upset than when I’d arrived.
“You have to put your Converse on though, or something close-toed.” I eye him curiously but willingly go and trade shoes as instructed.
Max loosely wraps an arm around my shoulders, making me forget why I’m diligently working to avoid him as we travel across to his driveway. “Alright, so I swore to your parents that you’d wear this, and that you wouldn’t get hurt. So don’t get mad that we’re not going far.” Max says, lifting a black helmet and offering it to me. I look at him for a moment and then to his motorcycle, my eyes rounding with excitement.
“We’re going for a ride on your motorcycle?” The words come out sounding far too similar to a squeal, but I can’t help it. He gifts me with his full Max-smile that always makes my lungs feel like they can’t get quite enough air.
“We are.” Grabbing the helmet from my hands, he gently slides it over my hair and works to fasten it below my chin before he reaches for his own helmet and clips it into place. With one graceful move, he swings a leg over the bike and then offers me his hand. I follow suit, feeling nervous as I climb on, and straddle the seat which has a slight incline, which forces me to automatically slide a bit closer to Max.
“Alright, Ace, hold on tight. If you need anything, touch my thigh. That will tell me I need to stop. I won’t be able to hear you very well, so just remember, if you need me to stop at all touch my thigh,” he repeats. I nod before realizing he can’t tell and pipe out an excited understanding.
Max grabs both of my arms and gently pulls me forward so my chest presses flat against his back. He then crosses my arms over his torso and softly rubs the back of my hands with his rough thumbs before gripping the handle bars and revving the engine to life.
Adrenaline courses through me. I’m not certain if it’s due to the fact that I’m this close to Max, or because I’m on a motorcycle for the first time in my life.
