The Second We Met

by Hughes, Maya

  The bus’s probably-not-safe-for-the-road brakes squealed, signaling the arrival of everyone else. I grabbed my water bottle and chugged half of it. Heading out to meet the new arrivals, I helped Rick get everyone assigned and set up.

  Nix hung back, tugging his hat down over his eyes like that would be enough to deter the attention of everyone there. Jules was right—even when he attempted to be inconspicuous, he stood out. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, and an ass made for jeans and manual labor. Not that I was checking him out, but damn—that was a great ass. The earlier level of shit I’d given Krista & Co. came back to bite me.

  I jammed the nail gun into the wood, leaving an indent before pulling the trigger. Back in the workshop with Nix, the few minutes’ reprieve hadn’t been enough. Everyone kept shooting him looks and talking about how big of a pro contract he’d get and what team he’d end up on. James had talked about going pro like it was a foregone conclusion, and I’d lapped that up along with everyone else in our high school. Never mind he’d attended a D3 college without a scholarship and no one from that school had ever gone pro. After seeing how real football players played, my fawning over him made me feel dumb even all these years later.

  “Seems it’s not just me who gets your horns. I’d have thought once your hanger wore off you’d be in a better mood.” Nix laughed and picked up the saw.

  Swinging around, I glared at him. “I wasn’t hangry.”

  “My mistake. You weren’t hangry—this is just your natural state.”

  My eyes narrowed, but my stomach was full. The rumble died down with the egg, cheese, and sausage—that he’d shared. “Not hangry, just don’t feel like making small talk. We’re here to do a job, not socialize.” I should’ve been over it. James and then Mitchell…I mean, it wasn’t like all my long-term relationships ended with me getting cheated on—or wait, that’s exactly what it was. Swearing off relationships didn’t mean those feelings didn’t rear their head every so often. It was always a gnawing, ripping-open-an-old-wound feeling, and I hated it. Don’t be that stupid girl. You’re stronger than that, stronger than them. Stop fixating on the fact that you’re completely and totally the kind of girl guys have no issue cheating on.

  “What kind of good deed would it be if we weren’t all trudging around whipping ourselves to prove how special our contributions are? God forbid people enjoy themselves while doing something good.”

  “I never said people can’t have fun. I have fun.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He could’ve at least had the decency to pretend to say it under his breath.

  “Maybe our ideas of fun are completely different. Did you ever think that’s possible? Oh, I forgot, you have a serious lack of empathy and no ability to put yourself in other people’s shoes.”

  “What the hell kind of thing is that to say? One second we’re cool and the next you’re biting my damn head off. It’s been like this since the second we met.”

  The back of my neck heated up as the flashes of Nix wearing nothing but a towel on his head played in my mind.

  “One minute you’re checking me out and the next you’re flipping your shit.”

  I whipped around. “I have never checked you out.” Okay, maybe a little. “Why are you even here?” Did I sound territorial? Yes, but that’s what happens when someone gets under your skin, especially someone like Nix who I wanted to pretend could never do so.

  The muscles in his neck strained. Was it with frustration? Good, at least I wasn’t the only one pulling into that station. “Can’t I want to do something nice? Can’t I take the time to give back to a community that’s given me so much? You’re the one who can’t put herself in other people’s shoes. No wonder they still had spots for this project—apparently you have to be the right kind of person to help others or they get nothing but shit on by you.” His words bounced off the wooden rafters of the workshop, and I stood there stunned into silence. He threw down the hammer and stalked off. “I’m going to get some water—if that’s okay with you.”

  He walked through the open doorway and I slammed my eyes shut. Damnit, why’d he have to have an actual point? I ran my fingers through my hair. Guilt soured the breakfast meal he’d shared with me. I was an asshole and the one whose altruism had an agenda. He was there to help out of the kindness of his heart.

  Nix came back with two bottles of water and slammed one down next to my stuff. Why’d he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he be the arrogant asshole I’d pegged him as since day one? Time to suck it up and make amends. How hard could that be?

  10

  Nix

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled beside me, picking up the water bottle I’d brought her.

  Had I laid it on a bit thick about why I was here? Yes. She didn’t know I was here for my reputation rehab. I could only imagine the roasting she’d give me over that. She didn’t have any idea I hadn’t signed up for this on my own. How’d I know? Because if she had, that would’ve been rubbed in my face from day one.

  Everyone always thought they knew exactly who I was from the moment they met me.

  Pro-football-player dad. Entitled prick. Went to private school and lived in a big house. Spoiled rich kid. Even in the kitchen when I’d visit my grandfather, everyone assumed I was there to be an asshole and make their lives miserable. At least at FU people just assumed I was a braindead jock with a libido in overdrive. In the grand scheme of things, it was probably the least terrible assumption. Usually people didn’t assume I was out to get them, except for Elle, who’d had me pegged as all those things from the first day she moved in next door. One post-shower peep show and she’d decided to hate me with the fire of a thousand suns.

  “I didn’t hear you. Could you speak up?” I cupped my hand around my ear.

  “I said I’m sorry.” The words barely made it past her lips, like she was giving a forced apology in the principal’s office to avoid getting detention.

  This was a moment I couldn’t let pass. It was like spotting a once-in-a-lifetime astrological event. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I shouldn’t have assumed you were here for any reason other than to help. I judged you based on previous experience with people who only volunteer to snap selfies.” She cringed. Her shoulders were nearly jammed into her ears. “It’s a great thing you’re doing and more people should do it. You’re right about my assumptions and that I’m an asshole.”

  Wow, that was an actual full-on apology. “I never said asshole.”

  “Not in so many words, but I’m sure it was on the tip of your tongue.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. So there was a mildly soft center beneath her hard-ass façade.

  “Maybe.”

  “Truce.” She held out her hand.

  I squinted at her offering and quickly assessed her for hidden weapons. “No.”

  Her face scrunched up. “What do you mean ‘no’? That was a super gracious apology.”

  “We’re not calling a truce. The war is over. I’m calling for an armistice.”

  She laughed, a big laugh with a bright smile to go along with it. It was a rainbow on a rainy day kind of wide. “Should I get out the full treatise or will a handshake be enough to mark the occasion?”

  “A handshake will do it.” I stuck my hand out.

  She slid hers into mine. My fingers enveloped hers, and an electric warmth shot up my arm. Her soft fingers tickled the inside of my palm. Her smooth softness brushed against the callused pads of my fingers. My heart hammered in my chest, and I swore there was an orchestra outside ramping up to a crescendo.

  A massive bang outside broke the connection and we jumped apart, snatching our hands back like we’d been burned. How long had we been shaking? Why hadn’t she let go? Had she felt that same jolt that made my skin tingle? Was she trying to read my pulse and figure out if I was a liar? Okay, that last one was a bit paranoid. I cleared my throat and handed her a screwdriver.

  She took it from my hand, careful not to touch me at all, and read thro
ugh the checklist for finishing off our project. A bead of sweat raced down the curve of her neck and ran along her collarbone before disappearing under her tank top. I’d never wanted to be a bead of sweat more than I did right then.

  She kept her head down but didn’t snap at me while we worked together on the ramps and railings.

  “Knock, knock.” Rick thumped on the doorjamb, balancing a cooler in his arms. “Everyone else is taking a break. You guys want some ice cream?”

  Elle dropped everything from her hands, and it clattered to the dusty wooden worktop. “Yes, you’re a freaking saint.” She hopped over to him and stuck her hand into the blue, plastic cooler. She pulled out two and I hung back. Rick ducked back out the door.

  “Here you go.” She held the white plastic-wrapped ice cream bar to me.

  I took it from her hand and nodded my thanks.

  As she opened hers, her shoulders shook in a dance like a little kid who’d chased down the ice cream truck and actually caught them.

  Laughing, I ripped mine open as well.

  She took bites, cracking the chocolate coating and eating it before touching the ice cream. Every bite covered her lips in more chocolate, the lips she kept licking before wrapping them around the ice cream bar once all the chocolate was gone…the lips that were so full and pink, glittering as her tongue swept over them once again…the lips that would have a starring role in my dreams that night.

  Her gaze locked with mine and the corner of her mouth turned up. “You’re dripping.” She lifted her chin, and my eyes dropped to my hand.

  It was covered in ice cream. Droplets of sweet, melted cream dripped to the floor. That jerked me out of the trance she’d put me in with the licks of her lips and tugs of her mouth on the frozen treat.

  “Shit.” I lifted the bar to my mouth and took huge bites, finishing it in less than a minute. Mistake—big mistake! A searing hot pain sliced through my brain. Blindly chucking the wooden stick into the trash, I squeezed my eyes shut and hissed.

  A gentle touch landed on my back, running along my shoulders. “You okay?” Her low words and touch would’ve been enough to reset a bone.

  My headache was forgotten in an instant.

  Her hand paused over the raised scars wrapped around my shoulder. The thick bands of the healed tissue stuck out even under my t-shirt.

  She jerked her hand back. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  The loss of her touch hit me harder than it should’ve. “Brain freeze, and don’t worry about it. It’s an old injury.”

  “What happened?” Her gaze was riveted to my shoulder, and she interlocked her hands and bent her fingers back. “You don’t have to tell me. That’s personal. I’m sorry I asked.”

  I lifted my arm, rotating it and making a circle with my elbow. “Surgery to repair some muscle damage a few years ago.”

  “Was it an accident?” She stared at me intently. It was probably the first time she’d held my gaze with anything but anger. Any other time, she defaulted to the closed-off look in her eyes like a house being boarded up for a big storm raging off the coast.

  A sharp blast of air shot out my nose. “Yeah, it’s called a three-hundred-pound defensive linesman.”

  Her shoulders tightened and she lifted her chin in a half-nod of understanding. “Those types of on-the-field injuries suck.”

  What did she know about sports injuries? “You played?”

  She laughed. “Cheerleading back in high school, but not the crazy acrobatic kind, so no, I’ve never experienced it before, but I’ve been around athletes.” Her mouth tightened and a small crease appeared between her eyebrows.

  “It’s not pretty.” How much longer could I keep pushing my luck? “Should we get back to work?” That was enough talk of the path I wasn’t going down. I held out my hand, palm up, gesturing to the last of our projects for the day.

  “One second.” She grabbed her phone from her bag and unlocked the screen. “We could use some music.”

  “I didn’t think it was allowed during our sentence.” The corner of my mouth twitched.

  Her eyes narrowed, but in a playful way I hadn’t seen before. “The warden is feeling kind today.” Classic 80s tunes floated through the air from her phone’s speaker, and we hummed along to the melodies and lyrics everyone seemed to be able to sing along to. Don’t worry, Simple Minds, we won’t forget about you.

  We worked side by side, the tension drained out of our tight space. Stilted words turned into full conversation and made the work we did that much faster.

  “I can’t believe you don’t like Some Kind of Wonderful.” She lobbed a rag at my head.

  “It’s ridiculous. If I had a badass best friend like Stix by my side the whole time, there’s no way I’d be going after Lea Thompson’s character.”

  “He didn’t get it. He wanted the popular girl.”

  “Screw the popular girl. He was an idiot, and that movie should’ve been over in three seconds when he walked in on her playing the drums.”

  “Not all guys are that perceptive.” She laughed.

  Didn’t I know it. LJ and Marisa had been doing their little dance for years now.

  We finished almost all of the ramps then stood beside our cars. The bus had already taken off, so the flurry of activity was now a low rumble as people on site closed up shop.

  “You did good work.” The words fell from her mouth like droplets of water breaking free from a dam.

  “So did you. Maybe tomorrow we can skip straight to being friends without the verbal daggers.”

  She popped open her car door and braced her hands between the roof and the open door. “Who said we’re friends?” The twist of her lips did little to hide the humor glittering in her eyes.

  “Who said we weren’t?” I folded my hands on the hot metal of the top of my car.

  She tipped her head back and climbed into hers. Her engine roared to life, knocking and clanking. “See you tomorrow, Golden Boy.” With a two-finger salute, leaning out her window, she smiled at me—the first unsolicited, non-I’m-about-to-gleefully-hand-your-ass-to-you smile ever, plus a nickname. Or maybe she was trying to kill me with kindness. I stared after her clunker as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  * * *

  “When do we get more food?” Berk clutched his stomach, rocking back and forth like he hadn’t eaten in a week—with a Twizzler sticking out of his mouth.

  “Go get some food, then. Why are you sitting here bitching at us?” Reece picked up the controller and started the game.

  “Because I’m the annoying little brother of the group. It’s in the job description.”

  “And what am I?” Reece’s car jumped over two people in the barren post-apocalyptic scene on the screen.

  “You’re the wild older brother—at least you were until Seph.” Berk swung his controller back and forth like he was actually driving his car. “LJ is the worrier, always freaking out that something bad will happen.”

  LJ crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled under his breath.

  “And who am I?” I sat in my chair wedged in the corner.

  “The dad,” they all said in unison without looking up.

  “Why the hell am I the dad?”

  “You’re the quarterback—of course you’re the dad, making sure your little chicks are all lined up in a row. Plus, you’re the only person I know other than my dad who reads the paper.” LJ pointed at the newspapers sitting on the armrest of the chair.

  “There’s nothing wrong with reading the paper.” I chucked them over my head into the gap between the wall and the back of the chair.

  “Okay, Dad.” Berk snorted.

  “Real mature.” Reece smirked.

  “See, what did I say? I’m totally not the dad.”

  LJ clapped his hand on my shoulder as he passed. “Embrace it. Don’t run from your destiny. Anyone want a beer?”

  Three hands shot up. “Me too.” Marisa’s feet slapped against the wooden stairs.

  She
dropped the towel from her head to her shoulders.

  “You’ve got super hearing when it comes to booze.” LJ shook his head.

  “Only when you’re buying.” She slapped his arm. The oversized T-shirt hung down to her thighs and LJ’s flannel boxers peeked out from beneath it.

  “Marisa, please, for the love of God, let me spot you some money to buy some new clothes.” I reached into my pocket, grabbing my wallet.

  She froze, scrunching her damp hair in the towel. “I’m fine. His stuff is actually super comfy. The money should be here soon from the insurance company, and I might get even more since Liv and I warned the landlord about the electrical shorts more than once. No more nightmares about being burned alive, so all in all things are awesome.”

  Everyone’s eyes widened.

  “And I’m going to get that drink now.” She rushed out of the room and into the kitchen like a cartoon character. The guys gestured with arms flailing for LJ to follow after her. We’d learned our lesson about trusting her in there before.

  I leaned back in my chair and my gaze shot to the window at the flash of pink across the street. It had been a mainstay of her look since we met at the beginning of junior year, even as her hair gotten longer. It seemed once Elle decided on something, short of a nuclear blast, she wasn’t letting it go.

  Standing, I kept my eyes trained on her as she turned and shouted something to her roommate at the top of the stairs on their porch. She’d changed clothes, nothing more than a different t-shirt and jeans, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It wasn’t often I got to just look at her. Where was she going? I was wiped after a long day of building. There weren’t any classes today. Did she have a date? What did she do when she wasn’t volunteering or calling the cops on us?