Becoming His

by Mariah Dietz

  We don’t travel far before Max pulls over to a park that I’m familiar with. It’s the same park I’d met Kyle in all those years ago. I untangle my hands from around his midsection and brace myself with his shoulders as I dismount. Max pulls off his helmet and runs a hand over his short hair, grinning at me. I’m pretty sure I have a matching expression as the muscles in my cheeks begin to slightly ache from smiling.

  “How was your first ride?” His eyes shine as he looks to me for a response and I feel like the last couple of weeks of awkwardness between us never occurred. It’s just back to us hanging out once again with easy familiarity.

  “That was kind of intense!” I admit, “It’s an adrenaline rush!”

  Max smiles at me, looking proud. “I wanted to make sure you had a little dose of crazy.” He slides the helmet from my hands and places them both in a compartment on the bike as I go back to the conversation we’d had over ice cream at Maggie Lou’s.

  He unties a black string holding a rolled up blanket on the back of the bike and nods his head forward. “They’re playing Pretty in Pink. A little birdie told me you’re quite the Molly Ringwald fan.” I look at him in surprise and manage a nod. It comes out much more like a head jerk, but he, smiles, offering his arm to me.

  “What little birdie do you keep talking to?” I ask curiously.

  Max gives me another giant grin as we set out across the large grass field dusted with couples. My eyes travel across them; some are having picnics, others are shamelessly making out, and a few younger couples look nervous as their eyes search for clues as to what they should be doing. My heart goes out to them, knowing exactly how they feel.

  Max stakes claim to a stretch of grass that’s off to the side where we’re fairly secluded by spreading the blanket with a single snap of his wrists. The movie is just beginning and I’m relieved, feeing more and more nervous at the prospect of talking things over with him. I kick off my shoes and take a seat beside him, leaving a large enough gap between us so I won’t accidentally brush him with my arm.

  I stare at the screen for a while, working to avoid the pull of Max’s gaze on me. Eventually, I give in and turn my head slightly to look over at him.

  His eyes are bright, and his smile playful, as he gently shoves me with his forearm, causing my body to sway. “Afraid I’ll bite?”

  “Amongst other things,” I reply before I can stop the slight innuendo from escaping. Max’s smile spreads a bit further, and he reaches over to gently tickle my side. I swat his hand away with a quiet laugh, but he’s relentless, somehow seeming to find the location of my most ticklish spots. The more I ignore him, the more he tickles. Finally, I grip his fingers in mine and bring them to the blanket between us. I feel his fingers move ever so slightly, gently wrapping around mine, so we’re not exactly holding hands but our fingers are loosely tangled.

  I don’t dare look at our hands or over to Max. Instead I focus on the large screen in front of us. I want to laugh at myself; here I am being more skittish about holding a boy’s hand than I was when I was twelve … and I’m not even holding his hand!

  We sit like this for a while, occasionally one of us moves to stretch out a leg, or shifts slightly to get more comfortable, but both of us are incredibly vigilant to not disturb our link.

  Halfway through the movie a soft brush against my thumb catches my attention and I peer down to see Max’s thumb gently skimming back and forth over mine. He continues for a few moments, and I’m transfixed by the simple action. His thumb pauses, and I watch as he moves his hand so that his fingers lace securely with mine.

  “I’m not dating, Felicia,” Max says quietly, “I haven’t been dating anyone since Karli’s party. I just, I don’t know, I needed to distract myself from you. I don’t want to interfere. I know you’re with Eric. I don’t understand it, but I know you are.”

  “So you distracted yourself by sleeping with Felicia?” The accusation comes out before I can think of a more tactful way of asking.

  Max shakes his head, carefully keeping eye contact with me. “We hung out a few times, but this incredibly distracting blonde that lives next door made me realize I was just making everything worse.” He gives me a small, hesitant smile that causes a flurry of excitement to unleash inside of me.

  I want to wrap my hands around Max and finally kiss him, but I don’t. I’m not even worried about betraying Eric at this point. I’m worried about betraying myself. Kissing Max and telling him how much I like him, and how long I’ve liked him right now, would be a breach of trust to a relationship I’ve been stubborn and admittedly stupid about maintaining. I need to end it before I begin something with Max in order for our relationship to begin on the right path.

  Simultaneously I’m trying to process the last few weeks. Seeing him with Felicia hurts even though I know it’s completely hypocritical because I’ve been doing the exact same thing. And then there’s Megan, and I don’t even know who Megan is. And Max seemed to waffle between his feelings even before Felicia. Was that before Megan? Who’s Megan?! But Jameson warned me that he wouldn’t act on anything until Eric and I broke up.

  My head’s spinning faster than the Tilt-A-Whirl at the circus.

  “What are you thinking?”

  My eyes focus on his, my heart beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, as I try to articulate my emotions. “I’m worried that you’re going to go back to the gray.”

  “Back to the gray?”

  “Every time I think you’re telling me that you like me, something happens and you seem to go back to the land of gray where I can’t fully decipher your words or intentions.”

  “It’s always been black or white,” he says, shaking his head. He grins as my face balks at his response. Max has been anything but white and black for me.

  “I have to finish some things.”

  Max nods and then doesn’t ask or say anything more about it. I don’t know if he understands my silent explanation, or is just being polite and allowing me to sort through my feelings. We sit through the entire movie, and he never moves any further than keeping his fingers interlocked with mine.

  That night as I enter my room, my cheeks ache from the smile that’s been spread across my face for the past few hours. I head to my closet and stop when I notice Max standing in his window, motioning with his arms for me to open mine.

  “Do you want to go with me to San Diego tomorrow? I have to go do a walk-through at seven. We could go grab breakfast and then go.”

  “I have something I need to do tomorrow. But I’ll see you when you get home.” I can tell by his bright smile, he knows I’m referring to Eric.

  “Thanks for talking to me, Max.”

  “Always, Ace. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The next morning I try to contact Eric to see if we can meet up so I can finally end things. He has to realize this is coming; all summer we’ve seen each other only a handful of times and none of them have been even remotely romantic, usually ending in a disagreement or him leaving early, like the barbecue or the party at Tim Evans’.

  He agrees to meet me at five, and I spend the afternoon mentally preparing what I’m going to say.

  I pull into the parking lot at 4:57 p.m., intentionally parking a few spots away from him. The words that I’ve been rehearsing all day run through my mind again as I step out of my car. I feel slightly guilty for suggesting we meet at a restaurant when I know I’m going to break up with him, but for the first time since Tim Evans’s party, I don’t feel confident in knowing what Eric’s reaction is going to be.

  “Finally! You’re late!” Eric says, striding over to my door. He hastily closes it and grabs my hand, pulling me in the direction of his.

  I raise my eyebrows at his annoyance. “What are you doing?” I ask as he opens his passenger door. “We’re supposed to be going to dinner.”

  “We are, but not here. I promised some people we would be there by now. We can talk after dinner. This is a big deal. We need to go.” He spea
ks as though I’m his errant child. I frown and cross my arms across my chest, refusing to move.

  Eric releases a loud sigh, making his nostrils flare as he avoids eye contact with me by looking over my shoulder. He works to maintain a temper that I’ve only seen a small number of times.

  “Harper, I’m sorry. I would really appreciate you doing this for me. Afterward we can talk all you want, but this is really important to me.”

  I let out a deep breath and get in the car. As soon as I’m in, I regret my decision to be compliant and try not to visibly cringe when he places his hand on my bare thigh. He hands me my cell phone that I’d left at his house, and I accept it and try to fight the impulse to text Max and see how things went.

  We arrive downtown with the wish I hadn’t gotten in his car running through my mind for the thousandth time in the last fifteen minutes. My mind wanders to Max again, and I wonder what he’s doing as I follow Eric inside the dimly lit restaurant.

  Eric gives a name to the hostess, and we’re taken to the middle of the restaurant where there’s a table with three other couples already seated. They seem to notice us before we’re halfway across the restaurant and one of the men waves to us, grinning.

  Dinner is just short of being considered ugly. The “important people” are a bunch of social climbing snobs trying to see whose face they can step on to reach the next rung.

  I’ve met plenty of people like this in my life and partially due to the fact that I’ve never cared for them, and partially due to the fact that I’ve just hit number three thousand and eighty-two of times that I’ve regretted agreeing to come to this dinner, I don’t even bother trying to be polite and courteous. When one of them makes a scene to the waitress and acts like a complete scumbag, I snap, excusing myself from the table and leave.

  “Babe, slow down,” Eric pleads. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his chest and he leans forward and kisses my neck, making every muscle in my body constrict.

  “Eric, stop.” His breath reeks of expensive brandy, causing my stomach to churn, and his clawing hands make me feel dirty and restless. I push his arm away and continue down the sidewalk.

  “Babe, why are you mad? Maybe you just need to get laid. That always puts girls in a good mood. You just need to give it up already, stop playing hard to get.”

  I whip my head around, glaring at him. “I’m done Eric! We,” I say, motioning with my finger between the two of us, “we’re done.”

  “Harper.” He spits my name, like it’s the answer to all evil as he jogs a few steps to catch up to where I’m heading toward a line of cabs. “Why are you being so damn difficult?” People are starting to stare at us, making me regret for the three thousand and eighty-third time that I got in his damn car. “They were just kidding around, Harper. There’s no need to be so uptight,” he says, fishing around in his pocket.

  I stop and face him. “No, they aren’t. But, really, I don’t care because they’re your friends and I don’t expect to ever see them again.”

  “You’re not done.” He reaches forward and grips my hip with a sense of possessiveness that sends another wave of anger to course through me. “You’re so damn dramatic and such a tease. Just get in the car, we’ll go back to my apartment and I’ll make sure you feel all better.”

  Bile rises in my throat. The combination of the anger that I have right now for Eric, and for myself for staying in this relationship as long as I have, and for getting in the car when I knew that I shouldn’t have, pushes me to the breaking point. I grab the keys he’s twisting around his finger in some maneuver that’s intended to be suggestive but really just makes him look like a perv. He curses as they dig into his skin, and I throw them into an open dumpster some twenty odd feet behind us. All of those years of pool basketball finally pay off and the keys fall with a satisfying clank.

  “What the hell? You fucking bitch!” He grips my arm, just above my elbow and whips me back roughly so I’m facing him again. He seethes as his fingers constrict. “I’ve been sleeping with other girls the entire time we dated! You think you’re so special? You aren’t! You’re just an uptight, spoiled bitch!” he yells in my face.

  The admission shouldn’t hurt, though it does. I already knew there was a good chance he was sleeping around, but hearing it from him, and wondering exactly how long it’s been going on causes a twinge of pain.

  My eyes dance to a few bystanders that I can tell are debating on whether to interfere. I hate that this is becoming such a spectacle.

  Retaliations and accusations flood my mind with a plethora of four letter words that would make Kendall proud, but I clamp my mouth shut and walk away. My pride screams at me to go back and let him have it, but a small voice urges me on, reminding me that this isn’t a battle worth fighting. You fight to keep things you want, things that you believe in, and neither of those apply.

  I quickly flag down a nearby cab and don’t bother looking back as I climb in and recite my parents’ address. I figure it’s best to worry about my car tomorrow, when I’m not angry and don’t have to wonder if Eric will try and follow me there. The cab driver glances at my reflection in the rearview mirror several times, and then politely inquires if I’m alright as he too just witnessed the end of Eric and me.

  Heat rises to my cheeks as I nod and quietly thank him for his concern, assuring him I’m fine.

  “Do I want to know?” Kyle asks, getting out of his truck as I climb out of the cab.

  “No,” I reply, making my way over to him. Kyle slings his arm loosely around my shoulders, and we walk up to the house together.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but why are you still dating him? I understand you want to make your own decisions, and when it comes to dating, that is your choice, but he’s such a loser!”

  My sisters have all changed tactics, and rather than complain about Eric, they simply work to discuss Max as much as possible. Kyle prefers to avoid the topic of Max with me, sticking to bashing Eric, which I’m more than fine with.

  “I know. I ended things tonight,” I reply as he opens the front door.

  Kyle’s eyes snap to me and a smile lights up his face. “Thank God! It’s about time! Sunday, I’m pouring you a drink and we’re celebrating!” He exclaims.

  “What are we celebrating?” Kendall asks.

  I look up to see her sitting at the kitchen table with Jameson, Abby, Landon, and Max. All have towels wrapped around themselves as they devour pizza. My heart flutters at the sight of Max as he hovers in his chair, like he’s debating whether to stand and greet me, or remain seated.

  “Ding dong the douche is gone,” Kyle sings, reaching for a slice of pizza.

  “Seriously?” Kendall asks, her voice a few octaves higher as she looks to me for confirmation. “What happened?”

  I shrug and walk to the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice. As I add some cranberry juice to it I see Max slide back into his chair. Obviously neither of us knows the proper etiquette currently.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to do it tonight! What happened?” Kendall asks as Kyle comes up beside me and extracts a bottle of vodka from above the fridge that he hands to me with a grin.

  “Who cares, he’s gone!” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “Seriously, there were a few times I really wanted to punch that guy. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get the chance.”

  “Don’t worry, you can always punch Paul,” Abby chimes.

  I feel relieved for the impending breakup to finally be done and over with. However, I have no desire to discuss the details until I can think up a vague enough explanation so I’m not lying but craftily omitting large portions of the evening. Not to mention I really don’t want to discuss this in front of Max, who I can still feel staring at me, willing me to look at him.

  It’s taking a ridiculous amount of energy for me not to. I want to bathe in his attention, but something feels wrong about grinning at someone an hour after breaking up with another guy, even if it is Max.
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  “What did you guys do today?” I ask, looking to Abby as I take a seat between her and Landon. They’ve been intentionally avoiding each other since their impromptu make out session at Dante’s.

  “Are you okay?” Kendall asks, reaching her hand across the table and wrapping it around mine. I look down at our joined hands. Kendall’s always been envious of my olive-toned skin, but I’ve always loved the alabaster with soft pink undertones that she and my sisters all have. I look up to see her light blue eyes staring at me with concern.

  I take a long drink and squeeze her hand. “I’m great,” I say with a smile and I am. My break up was just a bit more exciting than I had intended, and I’m sure the stress of it shows on my face. I take another drink and push the thoughts further from my mind.

  “The offer still stands. I’d be more than happy to throw a few punches,” Kyle says, standing behind me as he finishes a slice of pizza.

  Kendall knows me too well to know if things had gone fine I would give her a brief summarization and wouldn’t be drinking. Surprisingly though, she doesn’t push it. She doesn’t have to.

  Kyle grips my arm, roughly pulling it back and twisting it in an awkward Cirque Du Soleil move. “What the hell?” he yells. His hand grips my arm and I know I must already be sporting a bruise from where Eric had grabbed me. “Has he hit you before?” he demands, his green eyes bright with fury as I face him.

  “What?” Kendall jumps up as the others slide their chairs back to get a look.

  “It’s nothing.” I work to pull my arm back and try to conjure up a smile that will set Kyle at ease. Instead, he glowers at me with an intensity that I’ve only seen a few times in all the years I’ve known him.

  “Ace,” Kyle repeats, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, “has he hurt you before?”

  “No.” I can feel the others’ attention on me and can already picture their pity and anger.

  Kyle’s eyes slowly open and find mine. I don’t avoid it. I know he won’t believe me unless I meet his challenge. His eyes quickly dance between mine, beseeching the truth. “No,” I repeat a little louder, shaking my head.