Maxed Steel by M.J. Fields

Never Gonna Get It

Mila

“Hate’s a strong word,”I say, filling Beaner’s cup and handing it to him. “Right, Beaner?”

“No room for that out on the waves, right, Max?” He raises his cup to him.

I feel eyes, like laser beams, blasting the side of my head and glance over. He’s staring at me, in a different way this time. Then his lips start to turn up like he … aww … hell, he knows.

“No room for hate anywhere.” Not even bothering to have the decency to look away, he lifts his beer and takes a sip before licking the foam off his upper lip and smiling.

I roll my eyes and turn away.

“You got a minute, Mila?” he asks.

“Nope.” I pop my P.

He chuckles. “Half a minute?”

“Not even a quarter of a second.” I fill another cup then set it in front of Adley, who I know from the party scene. Not much of a partier, four drink limit at every party I have played barkeep, and too sweet for most of the guys around here, especially guys like Max.

“Thanks, Mila.” She smiles as she lays a dollar on the bar.

“No problem.”

Still feeling the heat from his gaze, I turn, cross my arms, and ask, “You need another drink, or are you going to just stand there being annoying all night?”

The girls in the group behind him all gasp and begin to whisper.

“I’m good on the drink, just enjoying the hell out of the view. Jesus, you glowed u—”

“Max,” I huff as I make my way toward the side door, the closest exit to us, and throw the door open.

Standing outside, I wait, and not all that long for him to follow.

When the door closes behind him, he smiles brighter than the damn moon. “Always had a glow about you, but damn, Miller.”

“I don’t need your approval, and I don’t want to be your pal, so turn down the thousand-watt smile and stow the nice guy act.”

His smile falls as he cocks his head to the side and a rush of air escapes him like someone just knocked the wind from his sails. “Jesus, Miller.”

“It’s Mila, not Miller. Not Miller Moo. Not—”

He steps forward as if he’s going to … touch me?

I step back. “I worked my ass off to blend in here, to leave all that shit behind, so do what you do best, Max, and pretend I don’t exist, because I’m damn sure gonna do the same thing to you.”

“Why the hostility? I never—” He snaps his mouth shut when realization kicks him in the junk. “I fucked up, yeah?”

“I don’t believe in fuck-ups. I believe in things happening for a reason, and I believe in learning from your mistakes.”

“I got in that accident and—”

“I also believe in leaving the past in the past and not wasting your time on people who can’t even send a damn message.” I step around him.

He steps in my way. “I’m sorry. Things were a bit—”

“You need forgiveness? You got it.”

“More than willing to make it up to you.”

“Yeah,” I huff, “I bet you are.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He has the audacity to look offended.

“It means you stood me up because I was a fat chick with bad skin.”

“That’s bullshit, Miller, and—”

“It’s Mila.” I try to keep my tone even. “And now I look a lot like one of the multitude of hoes you dated the remainder of our senior year. But I’m not anything like them, and you don’t deserve a friend like me. I’m kind of fucking awesome, Max Steel, always have been. And you’re a dick and always will be.”

He looks all kinds of shook when I step around him and see Lindsey peeking out the window, throwing a victorious fist in the air. I smile at her even though I would really like to cry. She’s not going to treat me the same way now that there’s a chance Lindsey will see the real me, pre … pre-peak.

God Lord, I seriously hope this is not my peak.

* * *

“We did good tonight, right?”Lindsey, who’s definitely a pro at reading the room and has come leaps and bounds from the girl I met freshman year but still has a deep-seated need to make sure everyone is okay, asks cautiously as we get into my truck.

“Yeah, we killed it,” I say reassuringly as I turn the key and send up a silent prayer that my old Chevy, Becky, starts. She does, bless her engine.

“And tomorrow?” she nearly squeaks.

“Baller should be good, too.”

“If you want to cancel or—”

“Like you said, we need to bank as much as we can before our birthdays.” Giving her a reassuring smile, I turn on the lights, throw the truck in gear, and then press the gas.

Lindsey screams and grabs the dash.

I smash on the brakes, seeing a male figure directly in front of us.

“The fuck, Mila.” I lean forward to see Beau reaching down, and then … of course, he pulls up one Max freaking Steel.

I throw the truck in park and fling the door open as Lindsey does the same, crying out, “Are you okay?”

I hit Max Steel. Of, course I fucking did.

“Why the hell are you walking in front of a moving vehicle!” I yell at him as I look him over to make sure he’s not bleeding or broken.

He rubs his hands on his pants and chuckles. “I’m good, thanks.”

I point to his pants, to the blood on them. “You’re bleeding!”

“Chill, Blue,” he says with a damn smile and holds up his hands. “Just a few scrapes.”

Blue? What the fuck? Why is he calling me …? Who cares?

“Well, stay off the damn road.”

“You think we should walk in the fucking trees?” Beau asks.

I look back and realize there are no cars that don’t belong to the Brotel boys then look back at Max. “Where’s your vehicle?”

“We planned on drinking, so we walked.”

“What? No car to drive you?” I snap as I turn back to get in my truck.

“No,” he calls after me.

Beau yells as I get in the truck, “Maybe you could give us a lift back, since you almost killed Max and all.”

“I’d rather walk. She shouldn’t even be driving,” Max tells him.

Pissed, I slide right back out and stomp toward him. “I haven’t drank a fucking thing. As a matter of fact, I think drinking and driving is the most selfish shit a person could do.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Saw you tossing back shots.”

“Of water,” Lindsey defends me. “We pretend to get bigger tip—”

“Lindsey,” I cut her off.

“Sorry. My bad,” she says then gets back in the truck.

“About that ride?” Beau asks as he walks to my truck.

Max calls after him, “How about you and Red get in the back so I can check out my ankle? I think it’s fucked up.”

“I didn’t say yes,” I say to his damn back as he heads to my truck.

“Not even going to attempt to explain right now why I know that ain’t you,” he says, walking with absolutely no fucking limp at all.

“You don’t know me!”

“You’re dead-ass wrong, Blue; I know you.” He opens the passenger door and helps Lindsey out.

“She can ride in the front, too!” I snap, catching the smile on her face as Beau pulls her up in the back.

I swing the door open but, before I get in, I point at Beau, who’s looking at Lindsey like she’s a snack. “I will scoop your balls out with a rusty spoon and feed them to your dumb ass if you even think about it. She’s not part of a damn contest. She’s the fucking prize.”

“Freckles, is that so?” He chuckles as he looks at her.

She lifts her chin, squares her shoulders, and nods her head once. “Yes, I am.”

If I wasn’t so pissed at my damn passenger, I would launch myself in the back of the truck, hug Lindsey, and tell her how proud I am of her, but I am pissed at my passenger and the sooner I get him out of my truck, the better.

I shut the door and throw the truck in drive.

“You weren’t even limping,” I snap at the same time he says, “I wasn’t driving drunk.”

“Okay, one at a time.” He chuckles like this is some sort of joke.

“Better plan—save it.” I reach over and turn on the radio. “Someone To You” is playing, and he starts singing along. It pisses me off that he isn’t tone deaf.

One flaw, Lord. Expose just one more flaw to me.

The song ends as I focus on the road and try not to inhale the scent that is Max Steel, a scent that wafted over my shoulder all through high school, a scent that was more enticing than Aunt Pams homemade snickerdoodles or double fudge cookies.

And then a commercial about lube begins making me incredibley uncomfortable, and when it ends, a song begins and Max reaches up, turning the volume up and starting to sing again.

“I’m a million miles smarter, but I ain’t learnt a thing. I’ve been a teacher and a student of hurt. I’ve kept my word, for whatever it’s worth.”

I huff, and his stupid smile lights up the entire cab, and then … he begins singing again.

I pull into the student parking lot and throw the truck in park. Kill the engine, and Becky sputters as she shuts down.

“Better get that looked at, Blue, or—”

“Cut the shit, Steel. Your stupid little nickname doesn’t make me want to be your friend. And honestly, it’s ridiculous that you’d want to be friends with someone who despises you.”

He grabs my elbow as I reach for the keys, and a shiver runs down my spine. I look over at him. His eyes widen for a moment, but he doesn’t release my elbow.

“I sat behind you in school for years, even classes that we didn’t have assigned seats. On the back of your neck, left side, close to your hairline, you have a tiny little birthmark that’s shaped like a little heart. It’s blue.”

I feel my nipples pebble and yank my arm free of his grip.

“You always smelled like vanilla and kind of like home. I know you, Blue, Miller, Mila, no matter what name you want to go by, I know you.” He opens the door, but before he slides out, he looks at my eyes then down my body. “I am a man of my word I promised you a dance. Even though shit went bad, I’m still breathing and it’s still gonna happen. Stop fighting and accept it.” He gets out of my truck then looks back at me. “You look incredible, but then again, you always did.”

The door is closed, and I try to inhale, only to realize my lungs are already full.

* * *

“Are you mad at me?”Is the first thing Lindsey asks when I walk back into our room after a shower.

“Not at all,” I say, flipping my head forward and letting the towel wrapped around my head fall loose.

“Okay. Good. ’Cause I really want to talk about what happened tonight.”

I look up at her from under the towel and start drying my hair. “I’d rather not.”

“Not about Max; it’s Boone.”

“Lindsey, he’s—”

“Sexy. Hot. Knows how to sex a girl up. All of the above?”

“Whore-ish.”

“Experienced.” She smiles. “If I’m gonna get back on the saddle, I’d prefer to ride someone wild like a stallion and not a painted pony standing on a pedestal, turning in slow, mind-numbing circles. I want reckless and untamable. I want to leave here in two years not wondering if being overly cautious caused me to miss out on the best moments of my life. Moments I can look back on when I’m lying next to a Chet or Chip, a man my parents deem perfectly adequate for me, so that I can call up the times when someone fucked me stupid and broke my heart. Then I won’t look at Chet or Chip and get angry at myself because I never lived, and I never will.”

“What happens if Chet or Chip can fuck your brains out and love you the way you deserve to be loved? And what the hell has gotten …” I stop and shake my head. “That fucker got under your skin.”

“No,” she squeaks.

“He said that shit to you. Those are not Lindsey type things to say. That asshole said all that to you.”

She flops back on her bed and sighs. “He calls me Freckles.”

“And Max calls you Red, so what? Chet or Chip may call you much classier things, like …” I scratch my head. “I don’t know, sexy?”

“Pfft.” She rolls to her side, props her head up on her hand, and says, “Neither Chet nor Chip would ever say those things. They’ll be home by six, expecting dinner on the table, and asleep by nine. Sex will be scheduled for Friday evenings, and possibly Saturday, if he doesn’t get home from the country club too late, because Chet or Chip would never miss their bedtime.”

“With a wife as hot as you waiting for him, lying next to him, he couldn’t control himself.”

“Yes, he would, because Chet and Chip bang their secretaries and give their wives five minutes and three kids.”

I stand up and toss the towel over my desk chair, and I see her eyes glossed over. Then I walk over and sit next to her. “Why are you getting upset?”

She throws her arms around me and sniffs. “My dad is Chet, and my brother is Chip, and I hate men like them, and I’m going to have to just deal with it.”

“Oh, Linds, I’m so sorry.” I hug her tightly.

“And you can’t scoop his balls out with a rusty spoon or even a silver one to feed them to his ass. I want him to fuck me like he said he wanted to. Okay?”

What the hell do you say to that?

“Okay.”