Maxed Steel by M.J. Fields

Not My Thing

Max

“You don’t look pumped, man,”Beau says as we walk up the path to what he called The Brotel. “You need me to hold your hand, Steel? Give you a pep talk? Promise to stay close all night?”

“You need me to kick your ass?” I joke.

He chuckles. “Taking it easy on you tonight. Just the tip, man.”

“Getting me ready for what’s to come?”

“Tonight’s gonna be chill. The Brotel is mostly stoners and hippy—”

“You told me back at the dorm it was the surf crowd. Now you’re saying—”

“One in the same, man.” He grasps my shoulder and laughs. “One in the same.”

I shrug off his hand. “Uh-huh.”

“Boone, Boone, Boone, Boone,” a group of guys holding red Solo cups and wearing board shorts chant from the porch.

He holds his arms up in the air. “Let the fucking party begin!”

As soon as we walk inside, a guy about our height approaches us and gives Boone a bro hug as he says, “I owe you a Grant.”

“And two red cups, man.” Boone steps back and makes the introductions. “Max, this is Oakley. Oakley, Max.”

“No introduction needed.” Oakley extends his hand to me, and we shake. “Been a fan for a couple years. Got a lot of questions. But tonight, let’s party.”

“Anytime, but I straight-up got lucky.”

He laughs as he waves us into the house. “Heard your old man used to surf.”

“Still does.” I smirk as I shift my gaze over to look at Boone. “It’s not like football, not just for testosterone-filled meat heads; it’s a lifetime sport.”

“Not gonna lie, Steel, I was pissed when I found out I got you as a roommate, but I think it’s gonna be a good match.”

“For this semester, yeah.” Oakley chuckles. “You’ll get off probation after this semester and be back at Baller.”

Boone lifts a shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“The hell did you do to get put on probation?” I ask quietly as we follow Oakley toward the bar made from old surfboards.

“Long story,” he grumbles.

Oakley yells to the chicks behind the bar, “Two cups for our guest of honor and this guy.”

“I’m the guest of honor, right?” Boone laughs.

“Even if I wasn’t, you’d take it as such.” Oakley hands us each a cup. “Kegs behind the bar, and so is the heavier stuff. If you’re drinking that, just lie and say it’s beer. Only Brotel boys and their babes drink the good stuff.” Someone yells his name, and he nods. “You two have fun. We’ll catch up soon?”

I nod.

“You have a Grant for me,” Boone says.

Oakley reaches in his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, handing him a fifty. “Next time you come, you pay.” Then he looks over at me. “You drink for free anytime, man.”

“Appreciate it. Catch up soon.”

Then I look back at Boone. “You just make fifty bucks off bringing me here?”

“Hell yes, I did.” He chuckles.

“Gotta make it any way you can, huh, Boone?” one of the girls behind the board bar asks.

“Do I know you?” he asks in a dick-ish tone, and her freckled face turns red.

“Um, no, but—”

“Then how about you get me a drink and mind your business, doll.”

“Boone, man …” I begin.

The other girl, the brunette with the faded blue highlights and her back to us, whips around. She looks familiar. “How about you ask for a drink or piss off, Boone?”

The redhead starts to stammer, “I shouldn’t have … I was … I tried to be funn—”

“Do not dare apologize to any asshole like these two,” Blue interrupts her and points at Boone.

Okay, so maybe she’s pointing to me, too. Yep, there she goes, pointing right at me.

“The hell did he do, Mila?” Boone jumps to my defense with Mila.

She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You want a drink, or are you just gonna stand there, staring?”

“Pretty sure I’m just gonna stand here, staring.” I smile and lift my chin. “How do I know you?”

“She—” the redhead starts then quickly stops as she slaps both hands over her face and screams into them. I’m pretty damn sure her friend, the feisty and familiar brunette with blue faded streaks in her hair, kicked her or something.

“Oh, I see how it is.”

“You players see what you wanna see. But, right now, I see a crowd behind you waiting on drinks. You’re standing between me and making tips tonight, so order a drink or step back.”

“Not a player, Blue.”

“Bullshit.” She grabs Boone’s empty cup and fills it from the keg. “You’re all into hookups, just some are man enough to admit it.”

“I’m not into hookups, but if that’s your thing, go ahead, try to convince me to try it out. No judgment here,” I joke.

She looks at me like I am lower than whale shit, and it hits me.

“I saw you on the quad. I bought the shirt you were wearing.”

She slams the draft beer on the bar and gives me the meanest smile that I have ever received. Not gonna lie, it’s kind of a turn-on. “You’re right, genius. Now step aside so the others can get a drink.”

I look at Boone. “Tip the ladies.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the fifty that Oakley just gave him. “All I have is a fifty.”

I snatch it from his hand and set it on the bar. “Perfect.”

“You fucking kidding me, Steel?” he grumbles.

“Easy come, easy go, man.” I smile at Blue, turn, and then push through the crowd, feeling sky-blue eyes lasering into the back of my head.

I look over my shoulder just to see if I’m right. Nope, not right. She’s checking out my ass. I stop, knowing she will look up, and when she does and sees me smiling, she gives me the finger. And you know what, that’s pretty fucking hot.

“What are you cheesing at, jackass?” Boone asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing, man, nothing.”

“That fifty didn’t do shit to help your cause. She hates you, bro.”

I look at him, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Fucking fascinating.”

“You ain’t right, Steel, you ain’t fucking right.” He rolls his eyes. “Come on; let’s introduce you to your kind.”

* * *

Standing at the bar,I look down at my watch. Five minutes has turned to ten, and the thirty people who were behind me have all been served. Blue—or Mila—and Red are now doing shots with two of the guys I met earlier and completely ignoring me.

Not a big drinker, and not at all interested in any of the offers I’ve been given tonight, and they have been plentiful, because of one feisty bartender who’s piqued my interest.

Once the others have left with full red cups, I clear my throat. “The fact you’re ignoring me is fascinating.”

“Let’s do Todd,” Red says.

Mila quickly replies, “Easy on the eyes. In a relationship, but probably cheating on his girlfriend.”

“Brad?” Red asks, wiping down the opposite side of the board bar from me.

“King of wearing his hat backward and the first to throw a punch.”

“Chase?”

“Taller than Brad but has a smaller dick.” She wiggles her pinky.

Red snort-laughs.

“How about Max?” I ask, setting myself up for some shit, but at least I will get a response.

They completely ignore me.

“Nick…”

“Cares about every girl he talks to for about one week. They have an unbelievable whirlwind relationship, but when they find out he’s packing a less than average peen, they call it off but remain friends.”

Red giggles. “Tony.”

“Set to take over Daddy’s spot as CEO of a family business and will never truly have to work a day in his life.”

“Chet?”

“Thinks he’s so hot that he only posts shirtless pics on his social media pages but is really painfully average-looking.”

“Dylan?”

Mila lifts a shoulder. “So vain he probably thinks this song and every conversation is about him.”

Red throws her head back and laughs as she asks, “Did he walk into a party like he was walking onto a yacht?”

“I get the Carly Simon reference. Does that win me any favors?” I ask.

I feel a hand grip my shoulder. “You need a drink, man?”

I look back. It’s Tyler, one of the guys I met, holding out a bottle.

“I’m good on the hard stuff. A beer will do me just fine.”

“Take mine.” A girl with big brown eyes, short as hell dress, and huge tits attempts to hand me her cup. “Amber. We met just a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks, but that’s all you, Amber.” I wink.

“Trying to get me drunk?” she asks before setting down her drink and stepping closer. She puts her hand on my chest and runs it down my abs.

I put my hand over hers, stopping her from getting any lower. “Amber, babe, I think you got yourself drunk. Maybe you should chi—”

“The pictures online don’t do you justice. Your body is insanely hard. I bet the rest is—”

“Here’s your beer. How about the two of you take it elsewhere, preferably to a room that has a door that shuts,” Mila says.

“Sounds like a plan.” Amber takes my hand.

“Not feeling it tonight,” I tell her, taking a drink.

“I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before,” she purrs.

Mila chimes in as I take a drink, “She’s not lying. Half of Baller can confirm she gives one hell of an itchy, burning feeling, accompanied by some painful urination.”

My mouthful of beer is now covering Amber’s face. The whole place starts laughing, and I try my best not to.

“You … you …” Amber, begins wiping at her face as I look for napkins.

“I’m so damn sor—”

“It’s fine,” she says, lifting my shirt and wiping her face off with it. “You’ll make it up to me.”

When she’s finished drying off her face, she runs her hands up my abs, under my now wet and makeup stained tee-shirt.

“Amber, you do know that no means no, right?” Red snarks.

Amber looks over at Red. “And you do know that, until you lose the freckles and the baby fat, start using makeup, and get some tits, you’ll remain untouched, right?” She fists my shirt and looks up at me. “Get me out of this shit hole.”

Mila hisses, “Skank-ass—”

“I have two sisters,” I cut Mila off and step back, “and if one of them were here right now, they’d verbally tear your ass apart for saying that bullshit to another woman.”

A loud whistle draws my attention behind me to see Mila pulling her fingers from her mouth while walking around the bar. I hold my arm out, blocking Mila from advancing on her when, in all reality, I’d love to let her have at it.

Nasty smiles. “Good thing they’re not here. I wouldn’t want you to have to pick me over them this early on.”

I step back. “No one comes before family. And no rude-ass chick gets my time or my dick.”

“All right, Amber, let’s get you back to campus.” Oakley grabs her hand and pulls her away.

“Why do we hate him again?” I hear Red ask.

I lean in, plant my elbows on the bar, and smile at Mila. “Great question. I’d love to hear the answer to that myself.”

She turns her back to me, bends down, and grabs a cup, her long hair falling over her shoulder and exposing the back of her neck. Right there on the upper left side, I see it. An almost perfect, pale blue, little heart-shaped birthmark that has always been fucking adorable. I know it like I know the back of my hand. I stared at the damn thing for close to four years of high school in nearly every class I took. Not gonna lie, I wanted to lick it a few times. Truth be told, I would love to do so now.

She looks different, and she certainly acts that way, too.

Miller babe, what the hell happened to you?