Becoming His by Mariah Dietz

Saturday night arrives with some tension. I’d originally agreed to attend a bonfire with Kendall. Jameson’s supposed to be going, and she’s still trying to decipher where things stand between them, so she was livid when Eric called and asked that I attend a party with him, proposing that we go to the bonfire afterward. Feeling guilty that I haven’t spent much time with him, and still uncertain about the situation that Jenny had texted me about, I agreed.

I turn to Eric as we pull up to the party, excitement emanating from his anxious grin. “You’re friends with Tim Evans?” I ask, trying to hide the surprise I so rarely feel around Eric.

“Tim who?” he asks, his enthusiasm slightly waning as he turns to look at me.

I nod my head toward the house. “Tim Evans, the guy who lives here.”

“Oh, I don’t know the guy that lives here, I just know some people here. They say the parties are insane.” It’s not common that I see this much excitement on Eric’s face, and I want to share in it and see this side of him that I haven’t before. However, I feel the tentativeness in me rising, being semi-familiar with stories about parties here.

Eric pushes open his car door and heads up to the house. I follow behind him, reaching for his hand that I quickly lose as a man falls into Eric. I wait to see his response and watch as the quick flash of anger that initially overcomes him quickly dissipates into laughter as he clutches the guy’s shoulders in an unfamiliar act and then drops his hold and takes a couple of steps forward into the throng of people.

The house is packed with unfamiliar faces that all show signs of this being a party that is fueled by something more potent than beer or the screeching heavy metal music jarring my nerves. I immediately feel out of place. Even when I used to drink too much at parties, I never participated in drugs, recreational or otherwise, and have intentionally avoided this kind of party.

 

“Kendall?”

“Ace?”

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at the bonfire where you’re supposed to be. Where are you? What’s all that noise?”

“I’m … at Tim Evans’s.” I cringe. Kendall knows these parties are all about drinking and drugs.

“Tell Eric it’s time to go.”

I take a deep breath, sidestepping a group of people as they begin cheering on a couple of guys doing some sort of drinking competition. “I can’t find him.”

“What do you mean you can’t find him?”

“I mean …” I take a deep breath, preparing myself for her reaction. “I think he left.”

“You think he left?” Her voice rises and I know this is going to be ugly.

“Yeah, we somehow got separated, and I think he left.” I’m half expecting her to tell me I should call him, something I’ve already done a dozen times after realizing his car was no longer where we’d parked it.

“What a bastard! I can’t believe him!”

“Trust me, I know,” I say, making my way through a crowd of drunk guys trying to talk some girls into strip poker. “I just want to get the hell out of here. Can you or Jameson drive at this point?”

“No, we’ve both been drinking. You can try Max. He hasn’t shown up yet. Or Jenny, I think she mentioned being over on that side of town.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know.”

“Ace wait!” Kendall says, and I hear her dip her phone to her shoulder and can make out a few of her words as she explains to someone, likely Jameson, what has happened. I inwardly groan at the shame, knowing the looks of pity and confusion I’ll be receiving.

“Ace, Max is coming to get you. He hasn’t had anything to drink tonight and he just got here.”

“No, tell him to have fun. I’ll try Jenny, or call a taxi.” She’s ignoring me; I know this because I can hear her reciting my whereabouts over my protests.

“Kendall. Kendall. Kendall!”

“Hey, baby, I bet I can get you to scream my name.”

I jerk my head to see a tall, skinny guy with dirty blond hair. His face is round for how thin he is, but his jaw and chin are strong, and by the way he’s approaching me I can tell he’s used to women fawning over him. His eyes fall to my chest, missing my look of disgust.

“He’s on his way, Ace. Slap that guy and walk away. He’s going to call you.”

My phone begins ringing almost instantaneously, and I glance at the screen to see an unfamiliar number.

“That’s him. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, be safe.” Loud squeals slightly obscure Kendall’s parting words before she hangs up.

I plug my right ear pressing the phone hard to my left and try to move away from the noises surrounding me.

“Hello?”

“Ace, are you okay?” I hear Max’s deep voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really sorry you—”

“Yeah, you’re fine!” The same skinny, dirty blond appears and I glare at him to indicate I’m not interested.

“Sorry,” I grumble, pushing through more people “This place is crazy.”

“It sounds crazy.”

I lower my shoulder and brush by a group of guys.

“Find a bathroom or a room with a lock,” Max instructs.

“I’m looking.” I watch a couple stumble backwards as they work to rip each other’s clothes off while engaging in a kiss that looks nearly painful, it’s so intense.

“What? I can’t hear you?”

I’ve reached a congested area where three tables are set up surrounded by a large congregation of people playing beer pong, all extremely vocal. Beside them is an even louder group of mostly men, crowded around a girl doing a keg stand, wearing such minimal clothing I feel certain that if she can recall any of this by tomorrow she’ll be mortified.

I slip through a few more groups, trying to go undetected as I avoid eye and any physical contact.

“Ace, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m trying to look for a room,” I answer, gripping my phone tighter.

I reach out to try another door handle and discover that it, like all of the ones I’ve already tried, is locked.

“There aren’t any rooms, I’ll just meet you out front?”

“I’ll find us a room. You ready to go for the ride of your life?” I don’t even turn toward the slurred voice to give a reaction. I just want to get the hell out of here.

“Max—”

“I’m almost there, Ace, just stay on the line and keep looking.”

I slide along the edge of the room and through a hallway to where I spot another door that’s slightly ajar. I sigh in relief as I approach it, slowly pressing it open with my fingertips to reveal a small laundry room.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah, I found a room.”

“Where’s that?”

“The laundry room.”

“Alright, tell me how to get there.”

“No, when you get here I’ll meet you out front.”

“Ace, it will make it a lot faster for me if you tell me where I’m going.” I hear a loud thunder of yelling coming from Max’s end.

“Are you here?”

“Yeah.” I stand up from where I’m leaning against the washer and place a hand on the door. “Just tell me how to get to you. If you leave, we’re going to have a really hard time finding each other. This place is insane.”

Even though I want to rebuke, I know he has a valid point. Begrudgingly, I give in, trying to recall the turns I took to get here, hearing the party sounds echo from behind the door and through the phone.

When the door slowly opens, I sigh with relief as Max fills the doorway. His face really is so beautifully handsome.

It seems wrong to use the word beautiful when I think of how to describe Max, because the term is so often used to describe feminine attributes, and there is nothing even remotely feminine about Max, but I’ll be damned if the word doesn’t join the mass amount of expletives that always seem to float through my mind when I see him.

“Hey.” His deep voice fills the small room, and a wave of self consciousness washes over me as I watch his eyes travel the length of my body. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just ready to be out of here.”

Max nods, extending a hand to me. “Why don’t you lead, I don’t want my back to you in this crowd.”

“They won’t bother me,” I say, pushing off of the washer.

“Humor me.”

I take a step closer and reach my hand forward, placing it within his. I feel the heat of his hand sear through me.

“Ready?” he asks, applying a gentle squeeze of pressure to my hand.

I nod and brace myself for the crowds of crazy.

I attempt the path of least resistance, avoiding groups that look rowdy as I lead us through the house holding Max’s left hand in my right. Periodically, he lifts his right hand as a shield, even though the few times he’s done so, no one has come close to running into me.

We’re nearly out. I can finally see the front door when a guy comes barreling toward us with another man quickly chasing after him, looking enraged. Before I can come to a complete stop, Max is half pulling, half lifting me so I’m behind him as he raises one arm and keeps his other securely wrapped around my waist in a protective stance.

“Let’s see if there’s a back door.” I plead as several more guys begin running toward the commotion, throwing punches and yelling.

Max looks at the chaos ensuing and nods. As he turns, his hand readjusts to my hip, and his long calloused fingers wrap around me. The feeling shoots a foreign surge of energy through me, distracting me from the task at hand.

“Lead the way, Captain.” Over all of the chaos, Max’s deep voice becomes a singular sound for me as I feel his lips graze the shell of my ear.

I focus on working our way against the crowd of people that have now come to either observe or participate in the growing fight.

“This way.” Max tightens his grip on my hip and steers me to the right. I look over and see a set of glass French doors leading outside and take Max’s hand in mine as I head toward them.

We make our way out into the dark night. Most of the blinds in the house are closed and the darkness seems utterly endless as my eyes work to adjust to the contrast, my ears ringing as they do the same.

Max’s hand loosens around mine, and I automatically release my grip and turn to face him. He’s right behind me, closer than I’d expected, and I’m surprised to see the distinct look of ire across his face forcing me to take a step back. His scent that I’ve become so drawn to over the past several weeks is more distinct now that we aren’t surrounded by so many people. It causes a contrasting emotion to his visible anger that I’m scrambling to prepare for.

“What in the hell was he thinking bringing you to a place like this? And he left?” he yells. “Why in the hell did you agree to come here? Do you know what goes on at these parties? Did you drink anything?”

I shake my head, feeling slightly offended by his accusation. “I’m not an idiot, Max. We were here like fifteen minutes and then I lost him.” Or he lost me … I silently wonder why in the hell he would ask me to come here with him and then leave me.

“I’m going to kill him!”

“Why waste your time?” I mutter, nervously gliding my fingers up and down my outer thighs, following the seams of my jeans.

“Why in the hell are you wasting your time with him? The sex can’t be worth all the other shit.”

“Let’s just go.”

“I’m serious, Ace, if I see his face around, I’m going to break his fucking jaw,” Max promises.

“Fighting’s barbaric,” I reply, annoyed that he’s suddenly turning his macho side on.

“What?”

“Barbaric. Ruthless, savage, wicked, cruel. Fighting. Is. Barbaric.” Max looks down at me and the storm that has been stirring in his eyes slowly recedes.

“Would it be barbaric if I run him over with my Jeep?” he asks, raising that single eyebrow again.

“We can discuss it on the way to the bonfire.” Max falls into step beside me, placing a hand to the small of my back as I hear a quiet chuckle escape him. I try with an exhausting level of effort to not look over at him and lose to the crushing desire to see his face while he’s laughing.

 

When we reach the bonfire it’s inescapable that Kendall’s had too much to drink, and I instantly feel guilty. I look over to see how Jameson’s fairing with it and am interrupted with Kendall’s angry spew.

“You’re dumping him!” she cries, spotting me. She’d been distracted when we first arrived, loudly talking to a couple of people still standing beside her.

I cringe, hoping some sensibility of not discussing my personal life in this forum dawns on her. Quickly.

“I know, I told her even if he’s great in bed, it’s not worth this shit.” That’s not going to help deter Kendall.

She turns to Max. “Like Ace would know!”

“No way, he’s not your first!” Max doesn’t pose this as a question, but rather a fact, and Kendall stares at him for a long moment, filling me with unease.

“Who are you to judge? You’ve slept with how many girls?” I watch the girls beside her turn their attention to us, obviously intrigued. Although I’m relieved to have the attention diverted from me and my sexual encounters, or lack thereof, I really don’t want to discuss Max’s either.

“If he’s your first, I’m really going to kill him, barbaric or not.”

“He’s not her first!” Kendall shouts, making me cringe.

“Shhh!” I hiss, grabbing Kendall’s arm and looking over to Jameson pleadingly. He’s staring at me as if lost in a trance, and I roll my eyes at him, realizing he’s probably drank too much as well.

I’m not sure why the idea of my virginity being known to Max, or anyone else for that matter, embarrasses me exactly. It’s something I’m proud of in many ways, but I suddenly feel very young and inexperienced, and the combination makes me feel a strange sense of inferiority.

This almost instantly makes the logical side of my brain irate. I know without thinking this is in no way true, and I feel annoyed with both Kendall and Max for so publicly discussing this.

“This is none of your business. Either one of you.” I glare between Max and Kendall.

“Did you at least ask him about the other girl?” Kendall’s voice is hesitant and filled with pain as she looks at me waiting for my reaction. I can’t believe Jenny mentioned seeing Eric with another girl to Kendall and didn’t warn me about it! I look back at her impassively.

“He’s cheating on you?” Max’s eyes widen and his voice rises. “Why are you still dating him?”

“Because she doesn’t care about him. She never has,” Kendall answers, ignoring my look of contempt. “But seriously, Ace, you’re going to let him embarrass you? I don’t get it!”

“Kendall, this isn’t the place to discuss any of this. You’re drunk, and—”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” she whispers, grabbing my arm. “I teased you for being a serial dater. That’s why you haven’t pulled the trigger!”

“It has nothing to do with you,” I snap, pulling my arm away from her. “Neither of you need to worry about it. I’m fine.”

“But—” Kendall begins to object with a look of fury on her face.

“Kendall, you’re drunk and yelling about my personal life in front of everyone. No. I’m not discussing this here or now.”

“Ace—” Max starts, which only elevates my frustration.

I take a couple of steps back. “I appreciate you coming to get me, but I’m done. You guys have fun.” I turn around and head back to the house with the intention of calling a cab home.

I make it to the house before realizing my cell phone is locked safely in Max’s Jeep.

I slump into a patio chair on the front porch with a sigh, letting my anger for Max and Kendall distract me from facing the fact that I need to end my relationship before things get more complicated.

“You didn’t make it very far.” I look up, surprised to see Jameson. “Kendall can be loud as fuck when she’s drunk. I realized this was one of the times that you were referring to. I’m sorry I didn’t help. I was distracted by my light bulb moment.”

“A drunken epiphany, great. I can’t wait to hear it.” I groan, leaning my head back on the chair.

“I’m a little buzzed now, but not drunk.”

“What was your light bulb moment?” I ask, not caring to get into the details of his inebriation level.

“You like Max.”

I straighten in my seat and look at Jameson, suddenly very interested in his inebriation level, hoping he really is drunk so there’s a chance he won’t remember this or that I can possibly distract him. Drunk people have amazingly short attention spans.

His hazel eyes are sharp as they stare at me. I watch the recognition dawn on him and know instantly that I’m screwed.

“I knew it!” He quietly cheers. “So, you’re staying with your loser boyfriend to pull the shade down on everyone from realizing you like Max. Why?”

“Because,” I answer with a groan, dropping my head against my forearm resting on the table.

“So you’re still trying to pull the shade on yourself as well. Great, we’re really starting at square one here.”

I glare at him as I lift myself back up.

“Why don’t you want to like Max?”

“I’m not Max’s type.”

“Have you considered letting Max make that decision?”

“He’s my neighbor, Jameson. My neighbor that up until a month and a half ago I’d barely spoken to. If I tell him I like him, it will make things really awkward.”

“He likes you! But he’s not going to act on it until you dump the douche.”

I scoff, closing my eyes against my arms, trying to resist allowing myself to hope that he’s right.

“Seriously. If Max knew you had feelings for him, he’d be all over that.”

“I’m not Max’s type, Jameson,” I repeat, sitting up to face him. “I don’t hookup and bounce from one guy to the next.”

“According to Kendall you date guys you aren’t that interested in. Maybe you both need to try something new.”

“Look, I really don’t want to discuss this tonight. Any of it, Eric, Max, sex, none of it. I just want to go home. Can I borrow your phone?”

Jameson fishes his phone out of his pocket and keeps a firm grip on it as he places it in my hand until I meet his eyes.

“Just think about it.” I open my mouth to protest, and Jameson shakes his head. “Don’t just be logical about it.”

Thankfully of the ten numbers I actually have memorized, I’m able to get a hold of Jenny, who comes to get me with few questions. When we pull up to our parents’, she looks over at me and smiles warily before she offers me one piece of advice. “I’m not really sure why you’re holding on to this one, Ace. We both know you don’t need a man to be successful, or to define you, or for anything else. You’re a strong, smart, and beautiful woman, and I hate to tell you this, but he isn’t bringing out those qualities in you, babe.” She turns off the car and opens her door before I can respond or ask about her and Paul. It’s obvious things still aren’t going well since she’s staying here.

 

 

Feeling stubborn, I head to see Eric the next day. I plan to confront him about the girl, and the party, but when I get there he beats me to it. I listen as he profusely apologizes giving me the same excuse I’ve heard countless times over the last nine months—a printing error occurred and he had to leave. He continues, explaining he thought Kendall would be able to come get me since the bonfire was so close.

I know I should probe further, demand more of an explanation than the lame one resembling a colander with all the holes it bears, but I don’t. I sit beside him on his suede designer couch as he flips through the channels and try to banish Jameson’s words from my brain—where they’ve been replaying all night.

 

“What do you think they’re going to do? I don’t understand what they’re trying to accomplish,” I comment, turning from the news station he’d turned on.

Eric’s head is down, his thumb racing across the screen of his phone, completely distracted and obviously preoccupied. A fleeting thought passes through my mind as I wonder if it’s the girl Jenny had mentioned. What the hell am I doing?

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that wanted to watch this.” I’m annoyed as I glance at the clock on the wall, which tells me I’ve only been here a little over two hours. It feels like it’s been days.

Apparently he doesn’t realize I’m talking to him and not the coffee table. My anger builds as the realization that even if I’d been speaking rhetorically, he should still be paying attention.

“Eric,” I snap, narrowing my eyes on him.

Eric’s fingers pause as he tilts his head up and raises his eyebrows without tearing his eyes from his phone. Even without fully looking at me, I can see the clueless expression on his face and I find myself picking at every detail of him. I hate this expression, and I know it well; he’s trying to look boyish and innocent, and instead I just find it unattractive and dense. I look at his cheekbones that seem almost hollow, and his eyes which look more like murky pond water rather than the soft, warm caramel I’d thought when we’d first met.

“What are you doing?” I demand, and for the first time I don’t really care that I sound impatient and rude.

“Just checking on things. Did you need something?”

“Checking on what things?”

“Things you’re too pretty to worry about,” he replies, trying to pacify me with a grin that I begin mentally critiquing as well.

I let out a sigh and stand up. “Alright, well I’m going to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” I answer almost vehemently as he stands up beside me.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Because you’re not even paying attention! You’ve said all of twenty words to me in the last two hours.”

“Harper, you’re being needy,” Eric says with an exasperated sigh.

“Needy?” The word feels foreign and uncomfortable leaving my mouth. “Needy!” This time I nearly spit it. “You think expecting you to pay attention to me is needy?” A laugh follows my words as I look to the ceiling in disbelief. “I’m going home.” I grab my purse and head toward the door.

He doesn’t object or follow as I wrench it open and head to my car.

 

When I arrive home I’m still seeing red and kick myself for not clearly ending things when it had been the perfect opportunity.

“What’s wrong?” I turn my head as a familiar voice infiltrates my angry thoughts. Kyle and Max stare at me from Max’s driveway. I hadn’t even seen them upon pulling up; come to think of it, I can’t recall a single detail about my trip home.

Max drops a grease rag and shiny tool on the piece of cardboard his motorcycle rests on. They land with a dull thud as he makes his way over to me, wiping his hands on his dark gray shorts, all the while keeping his eyes trained on my face.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ace, what happened?” His eyes beseech mine as he closes the last couple of feet between us.

I let out a tired sigh and close my eyes in defeat. “I’m just realizing what an idiot I can be sometimes.” I smirk, waiting for him to make a jab after creating a perfect stage to do so.

“I’d be happy to break his legs. Or an arm. Maybe his nose?” Kyle calls from the driveway, making me laugh.

“Thanks, Guido.” I tease, shaking my head as I turn back to Max.

I feel the smile slip from my face as I see the concern in his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I made things weird between us. I don’t want things to be weird—”

“I know, me too.” Max wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest. My entire body melts a bit as I’m enveloped in his warmth.

“Let me finish this, and then I’ll come over.” Max’s voice comes out slightly muffled from being buried in my hair, and I simply nod in response as I reluctantly extricate myself from his embrace.

“I love you too, Ace,” Kyle calls out as I reach the door.

I turn around with a grin. “I love you too!”

 

“Ace, will you pass the popcorn over here, please?” Kendall crosses her ankles as she extends her legs on the ottoman in our basement. I want to ask if her legs are broken, until I look up from her feet and realize she’s leaning into Jameson’s side. I work to cover my grin as I slide the popcorn over to her so she doesn’t have to move.

When Max had finished working on his motorcycle with Kyle, he’d texted me that he was going to shower and I’d asked if he and Jameson wanted to come watch a movie. The four of us are now comfortably sprawled on the sectional in our family room.

“Are you kidding me?” I cry as the menu screen for the movie Kendall put in reveals a horror film about a psychotic serial killer.

“It’s supposed to be really good!” Kendall tucks a strand of hair behind her ear exposing her lie. My eyes narrow at her as I shake my head.

“Not a fan of scary movies?” Max asks from his seat beside me.

“That’s an understatement,” I admit, already feeling my heart race in anticipation. “I hate them.”

“Max will keep you safe.” Kendall winks at me, and my glare makes her chuckle as she snuggles further into Jameson’s side.

Within the first ten minutes of the movie I have my hands covering my face. “What’s happening?” I whisper to Max.

“You want to know what’s going on?”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Isn’t the point of covering your eyes … so that you don’t know?”

“No, it’s so I don’t actually see what’s happening. But I need to know. It’ll freak me out even more to not know,” I admit.

“Come on.” Max peels a hand from my face and wraps it in his. As I turn from the screen, shrill screams and slashing sounds echo through the dark basement, making my heart accelerate even without the image.

“Where are you guys going?” Kendall whispers.

“We thought you guys might enjoy some alone time,” Max replies.

He leads me out to his driveway where he opens the door to his Jeep for me. I look at him curiously, and without question, I climb in.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere your poor heart won’t have to work so hard.” Max reverses down the driveway with a small grin.

 

When we pull into Maggie Lou’s, the old fifties diner that my dad and I used to frequent during soccer season—and now with Lilly— or on the occasional outing when he’s feeling nostalgic. I look over at Max accusingly.

“What?” he asks a broad smile upon his lips.

“Don’t what me! How’d you know?”

“Know what? That this is your favorite place to get ice cream?” I give him half an eye roll, not able to stop the amused smirk on my face as I shake my head and follow after him as he climbs out of the Jeep.

We settle into a booth, sitting across from one another, and place our order. They’ve added a new milkshake flavor: chocolate fudge marshmallow. It sounds like the cure to any and all ailments and problems, so I go with it. Max orders a brownie fudge sundae with caramel, coffee, and chocolate-toffee ice cream with caramel, marshmallow, and chocolate sauce—no nuts. This is terrible; I’m officially head over heels for this guy just because he ordered the most perfect ice cream dish ever.

“Do you have a thing with ordering in threes?” I tease as Margaret, the daughter of the original Maggie Lou, walks away with our orders scribbled down on a tablet.

“Do you often get greeted on a first name basis by fifties diner waitress?” I grin in response and turn my attention to Margaret as she makes her way back to our table holding two ice waters. She makes eye contact with me and then turns her gaze to Max and back to me with a smile as she wiggles her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Max turns to look at her to see what’s holding my attention, and she giggles guiltily as a small blush fills her full cheeks.

He watches her retreat a ways before turning his attention back to me. “So tell me the deep, dark secrets of Ace.” Max slides a glass of water over to me.

“Deep, dark secrets?”

“Didn’t you know? That’s what friends do.”

“There’s not much to tell really, except my name isn’t really Ace,” I answer, keeping my voice and expression serious. He doesn’t look amused, which makes me laugh as I spin the straw in my ice water.

“Too many to keep track of?” There’s an edge to his inquiry.

“No, it’s quite possible that I live one of the most boring lives of anyone that you’ve ever met,” I admit. “I have a tendency to overanalyze things to a fault, if you haven’t yet noticed. Which usually prevents too many acts of crazy, other than the zip line of course … and the whole TP incident at Marshall’s.”

“You haven’t done anything crazy?”

I shrug, looking up at the side of the car that they’ve somehow attached to the wall a few booths over and briefly wonder if it’s real. “No, crazy and I haven’t really been introduced. I’ve met stupid a couple of times.”

Max grins at me, his blue eyes brightening with mischief. “My mom says that crazy and stupid are sort of two strands of the same thread.”

Margaret returns and slides our desserts to us, and the sight of them makes me momentarily forget what we’re discussing.

“Is there anything else I can get you kids?” she asks with a warm smile.

I shake my head turning my attention to her. “We’re good. Thanks, Margaret.”

“I bet,” she answers. Backing away she gives me two thumbs up and fans her face to indicate how attractive she finds Max. I shake my head, trying to stifle a laugh, as Max follows my eyes to see Margaret’s widen as she quickly turns and walks away.

A small laugh erupts from me that he’s now come within half seconds of catching her both times. I turn my attention to his colossal sundae that looks like Christmas morning in a dish.

“Are you ogling my ice cream?” Max asks, lifting his trademark single eyebrow.

“There’s a definite possibility that I am.” He grins and pushes his sundae toward me, offering me the handle of his spoon.

I open my mouth to object, but Max pushes his spoon closer to my hand. “Sometimes you have to go for what you want, Ace.”

I stare back at him for a brief moment before taking his spoon and dipping it into a mound of chocolate-toffee and coffee ice cream and shoveling it into my mouth with great satisfaction before turning the spoon and offering him the handle. The cold ice cream melts in my mouth as the warm fudge sauce coats my tongue, and the fluffy whipped cream melts like a cloud. The bite is heavenly.

Max grips the proffered spoon with a grin.

“You order really good ice cream,” I mumble, taking a drink of my water. “Do you want to try mine?”

“You try it first.”

“You let me try yours first.” Max shrugs, watching me patiently. I smirk, grabbing the milkshake and using my spoon to scoop a taste of it.

He watches me closely. “They make the best milkshakes,” I say, sliding the glass to him.

Max takes my spoon and dips it in the milkshake. His eyes glance toward me as he holds it a few inches from his mouth. “You were telling me about the time you were introduced to crazy.”

I nod, trying to force my attention from watching Max’s lips curve around my spoon as he eats a mouthful of my shake.

“Alright, well other than the one you witnessed involving Kendall and fifteen rolls of toilet paper; my crazy moment, which really, you’ll classify as stupid here in a moment … in high school I drank a decent amount, not like an alcoholic or anything, but certainly past my limit.”

“Uh oh, does this involve streaking or waking up to someone strange?”

My eyes grow with surprise. “Those would be classified as crazy and stupid; I can see your point, but alcohol doesn’t have that effect on me,” I say, shaking my head. “I hear I’m a funny drunk and can get a little … friendly.”

Max throws his head back and laughs, and I feel my cheeks flush, instantly regretting admitting this to him.

“Friendly, huh? I thought you said this doesn’t involve waking up to someone strange?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“So no streaking or awkward one-night stands. What did happen?”

I fold the paper napkin in front of me, avoiding looking at Max. “I drank too much one night at a party over Christmas break. I didn’t follow any of the rules, even my own. It was really stupid. I truly have little recollection of the entire night, but I ended up having to have my stomach pumped because I wouldn’t regain consciousness and they were afraid of alcohol poisoning.” I slowly glide my finger along the crease of the napkin. “Not one of my finer moments.” My eyes travel up to Max’s face; he’s staring back at me with a serious expression. The playfulness is gone, and I appreciate that he doesn’t crack a joke like most. Nothing about that night, nor the next day, or next month while my parents discussed date rape, peer pressure, drunk driving, and every other negative effect, at extensive length with me while I remained at home, grounded, was even remotely humorous.

“Weren’t you there with someone to look out for each other?” Max’s brilliant blue eyes are focused on me, the skin between his eyebrows crinkled with confusion.

“Not really.” I shrug. “I mean, I knew a lot of people that were there. I’d been dating Levi Peterson.” I pause to look at Max’s face and see the recognition in his eyes at the name. “Yeah, he was an ass,” I say, nodding with a sheepish grin as I return to folding my napkin, running the back of my thumbnail over another crease.

“I was angry that night and just felt too …” I stop and stare out the window serving as a mirror, silently searching for the right way to explain how I’d been feeling. “Structured?” I try the word, and it doesn’t quite seem to explain how I’d felt—the pressure, the confinement. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just didn’t want to have the monotony of doing what was expected of me anymore.”

“You didn’t want to do what was expected of you, or you just needing a break from the expectations and conformity?”

“I don’t know, maybe both?” Max looks at me closely. His face is calm and doesn’t hold an ounce of judgment. He’s not looking at me like it was stupid that I had felt this way, or that I had been irresponsible, even though I had been, incredibly so. He’s looking at me with a look of empathy, like he understands the words I’m not saying. It’s a bit unnerving.

“I’m glad nothing more happened,” he says softly as his eyes search mine in a comforting way, like he’s trying to assure me of something. “Crazy isn’t a bad thing. I’d even go so far to say that it can be a really good thing.” He continues looking at me closely. “It’s just they tend to have better results when there’s someone there to look out for you.”

I can tell he’s waiting for me to acknowledge him, so I simply nod in agreement, showing my understanding.

“I’ll take you to do some crazy things,” Max offers, grabbing his spoon and digging into his sundae turning into ice cream soup.

I return my attention to my milkshake, trying not to allow myself to remember his promise.

“Thank you.”

I look up from my milkshake to watch Max dip his spoon back in his sundae. “For what?” I ask.

He looks up at me and his blue eyes radiate a warmth I’m starting to become familiar with. “For giving me that piece of you.” The words wrap around my brain, replaying over and over before I can stop them, and I have to focus to hear him continue. “I want every piece.”

My heart stops.

“Hey, Ace!” I keep my focus on Max, refusing to look away as he shifts his attention over my shoulder. I sigh as I reluctantly do the same.

“Hey, Emory.”

“Hey, there’s a party going on Friday at Silvestri’s. Have you heard about it?” I nod. “You want me to pick you up? It should be a good time.”

I try to conjure the warmest smile I can manage. “Sorry, I already have plans, but I hope you have a good time. Make sure Silvestri doesn’t go streaking this time. His neighbors are seriously going to call the cops on him.”

He looks slightly disappointed but smiles, nodding. “Seriously, I want to call the cops every time I have to see his white ass. I don’t know what about drinking makes that idiot feel the need to get naked.”

I give a courtesy laugh and turn my attention back to Max.

“Alright, well hey, I hope we can hang out again. It was great seeing you at the lake.” Emory adds.

“Yeah, definitely,” I say with a nod.

Emory nods a couple of times with a strained expression, like he’s debating whether to say something more, before he finally moves his attention to Max and lifts his chin toward him, then leaves.

“We should get going,” Max says, standing up as Emory disappears outside. My heart falls a bit as I try to act casual following his lead.