Maxed Steel

by Fields, MJ

  Total bullshit, too.

  The six-foot, probably close to two hundred pounds of lean muscles, all disgustingly defined, as currently showcased by his white tee hugging … all that, with the backpack slung over his bulging, broad shoulder is far from innocent.

  He’s Max Steel.

  He’s all sorts of grown up.

  And he’s my enemy … even though he doesn’t know it, not yet.

  Peering over Sandra’s shoulder, I see him stop, his chest expands with a breath, and then releases it as he turns and smiles. Then … then he walks toward us.

  I want to run, but he would certainly see that.

  I want to crawl under Sandra’s … flouncy floor-length, earthy brown gauze skirt or whatever the hell she’s wearing, but the thought of her leg hair scratching my skin makes me … itchy.

  “How much for a tee?” Max freaking Steel asks with an amused tone to his voice.

  “They’re free, if you march with us,” Lindsey retorts.

  I wanna pop her in the mouth just to shut her up.

  He pushes his aviators off his eyes, and yes, they’re dancing. He winks—freaking winks—and says, “Moving in today.”

  “We plan to be out here for a while.” Lindsey hoists her “Real Men Are Feminists” sign back up. “Come back and march, and we’ll—”

  “Lindsey, sell him a freaking tee,” Sandra insists and is suddenly my favorite feminist ever.

  “But—”

  “Twenty-five bucks.” Sandra steps forward, leaving me exposed to the elements, meaning Max Steel, who legit strains his thick neck to look at me.

  What the hell? I think as I scowl at him then look around to see if any of the girls are seeing this crap. That’s when I realize I’m the only person with a sign still held over my head.

  He chuckles and points at me, and I am totally ready to give him more shit back than he could even imagine dishing out. “Please tell me you have one of those left.”

  That’s when I realize he’s pointing at my shirt that says, “I’m too clumsy to live amongst fragile masculinity”. But he hasn’t a damn clue who I am. I mean, why would he? I dropped twenty pounds, and my teenage acne has cleared up, but still …

  He continues, “That would be perfect for my mom.”

  “So, you’re saying your mom is clumsy? Isn’t that a bit degrading?” Tanya, the leader of this little group, quips.

  “Not at all. My mom is a highly intelligent woman who also has a sense of humor.”

  “It’s the kind of shirt a woman buys for herself,” Tanya retorts.

  He lifts a shoulder, amusement lacing his voice as he says, “Or a man who knows the woman well enough that he’s sure it would be perfect.”

  He’s not backing down, and neither is Tanya. I just want him to go away before he’s given a chance to get a closer look at me, and maybe …

  “Screw this.” I grab a tee off the table and toss it at him. Then I turn my back to him.

  “Thanks, um …?” he says this like he’s asking a question.

  “Twenty-five bucks,” Sandra says.

  “Keep the change.” I assume he gave her a hundred-dollar bill.

  Tonya huffs, “Can’t keep giving in to the man, Mila.”

  I whip my head around to see if he heard her use my name. Thankfully, he’s walking away.

  I glare at her and snap, “How the hell was that giving in? I tossed one of twenty-five shirts you have left over; should help recoup the cost of two of them that are sitting here that you planned to give away.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “Look around, Tonya,” I cut her off. “No one else is coming out to join the demonstration. Geesh.”

  “Oh, they’ll come.”

  Half an hour later, all the tees are gone, but not one person has joined the demonstration. They all come to buy the shirt that “Max Steel gave to his mom.”

  The Max factor is as alive today, as it has been since the day I first saw him when he walked into my freshman homeroom at Seashore Academy. Even with his little legal trouble our senior year, everybody loved Max, especially the ladies. But not this one. Nope, not me.

  I despise him. The way he just gets his way all the time and every freaking thing he wants, it pisses me off.

  I stop dead in my tracks when realization hits like a freight train. Holy freaking shit. No, scratch that. Holy fucking shit, Max Steel is at my school. God, I despise that son of a … clumsy feminist.

  I. Despise. Him.

  After depositing my sign into the nearest trash can, I hurry toward Pitcher Hall.

  Check In

  Max

  “We good with the pictures, baby?” Dad asks Mom after snapping another by the boxes sitting outside my dorm room door.

  “I suppose so.” Mom smiles up at me. “You ready to unlock your future and unpack?”

  I give her a wink. “Let’s do it.”

  When I open the door, I see some shit I don’t need to see on day one, some shit my mom definitely doesn’t need to see, either. And when I say doesn’t need to see, let me just say it’s a girl bouncing up and down on my roommate, wearing a fucking black cowboy hat, and she’s loud enough that you don’t need to get a visual to know exactly what the hell is going on.

  I quickly shut the door and look back at my parents.

  Dad’s scrubbing a hand over his face, trying not to laugh. Mom looks surprised but not as mortified as I would expect. She stares at the door then finally looks up at me.

  “Well”—she scrunches up her nose—“I guess we could just hang here until they’re finished, um, unpacking?”

  A little peeved that this asshole clearly gives zero fucks about the fact he has a roommate moving in. I turn and beat on the door, open it a crack, and yell in, “You got sixty seconds.”

  “Shit! Beau! You said tomorrow—”

  I shut the door and let them fight in private.

  Grumbling, I cross my arms and lean against the wall.

  “Offer still stands to get you a place off campus.” Mom smiles sweetly.

  “Nah- I still want to do the first year here. You know, get the full college experience.” And yeah, that, too, is for her. “Cowboy and I will have a chat; come to some sort of agreement. It’ll be just fine, Mom. Besides, if I had moved off campus, I would have never found this shirt.” I grin, tugging at the hem of the tee she insisted on wearing as soon as I gave it to her when I got to the SUV.

  “Cowboy?” Dad asks.

  Mom looks over her shoulder at him. “His, um, friend was wearing a cowboy hat. You know, giddy-up.”

  The fuck, I grumble to myself as I look at Dad, who has a shit-ass smirk on his face.

  “Let’s talk about the hypocrisy here,” I can’t help but point out.

  “Meaning?”

  “What if that were Bell’s or Kiki’s roommates? Better yet, what if it were Bell or Kiki giddy upping in there?”

  Mom giggles. “Kiki has a white hat exactly like that, and I see Bell more as a beanie or backward baseball cap kind of girl.”

  Dad grumbles, “The fuck,” his eyes about popping out of his head as he looks down at Mom.

  I point to her shirt. “Says the woman proudly wearing the feminist shirt.”

  Her face turns more serious but also excited, like it does when she goes into geek mode. “Feminism is not misandry, although it certainly is construed that way in the media, isn’t it?” She scratches her head. “Strong women, those truly ‘woke’” —she air quotes, and I’m waiting for the jerky lane switch and the smashing of the accelerator to the metaphorical off ramp where she will go into detail about the fact that, although their hearts are in the right place, the “woke” generation has yet to truly be, yet everyone seems to follow them these days and not guide them— “women know what they want, and it’s not to be repressed. Doesn’t mean they won’t love a true alpha male, which is a man who—”

  The door flies open, and the blonde who is still wearing the cowboy hat whispers,
“I’m so sorry. He’s such a dick,” as she flies by.

  “D, my hat.” Cowboy chuckles as he throws a shirt over his head.

  “Screw you, Beau! It’s mine now!” She flips him the bird as she stomps down the hall, in a tee-shirt, just covering her ass, and a cowboy hat.

  Opening the door wider, he grins as he waves his hand for us to enter. “Welcome to JU.”

  I narrow my eyes at him as Mom walks in, Dad following her with a hand on her hip, jaw tight as he sizes Cowboy up.

  Eyes fully smiling, but obviously he’s smart enough to catch the look on Dad’s face, he looks back at me.

  Walking past him, I say, “You and I need to set some ground rules, Cowboy.”

  “Little mix up in the info passed to me on your move-in date. I apologize.” He leans over and whispers, “Trust me; you’ll thank me for that.”

  Thank him for that? I think as I step back into the hall and grab the first of four boxes.

  “Feel free to pick your bed,” Cowboy says.

  “Gonna go with the one you didn’t just—”

  “Like I said”—he winks—“pick whatever bed you want.”

  I look at the beds and see that both have obviously seen some action.

  “I’d go with this one.” Mom points left.

  Dad sighs, and she looks back at him, smirking.

  Cowboy hurries to the bed before Mom reaches it. “Let me get rid of these sheets, Miss …?”

  “Mrs. Steel.” Mom smiles brightly.

  Ripping the sheets from the bed, he chuckles. “So, the man behind you, who looks like he’d like to rough me up, is …?”

  “Mr. Steel.” Mom gives him some of that sunshine smile of hers.

  He stands up, arms full of sheets and the mattress cover. “And the new roommate who looks about the same?”

  “Our son, Maximus Steel. He’s—”

  “Shiiiit.” He shakes his head then quickly says, “Pardon my language, Mrs. Steel.”

  “So, you’ve heard of Max?” Mom asks as she opens the box in which she labeled Max’s bedding.

  “Pretty sure everyone has.” He smiles tightly.

  “Don’t worry, Beau,” Mom tells him. “He’s a good man and, for eighteen years, was a wonderful roommate, right, Jase?”

  Dad nods once. “As soon as he was out of diapers, he was a joy.”

  “No need to sell me, Mom.” I wink, taking one side of the mattress cover as Dad takes the corners. “I’m a big boy.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet the two of you. I’m gonna head down to, uh, give y’all some time to get settled, yeah.’” He pushes back his shaggy brown head of hair from his eyes, hair that has an obvious ring from his now missing hat. “Settled.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  Before Mom finishes her sentence, he boots, scoots, and boogies out the door.

  “Well, he seems, um, nice?” Mom looks up from the bed.

  “Yeah, sure.” I chuckle.

  “Max, if we weren’t here, and you walked in on … the um … unpacking, I’m sure you’d find this amusing.”

  “It’s all good, Mom.” I force a smile as I grab the fitted sheet from her and shake it out.

  She cocks her head to the side and studies me. “If it’s not, then—”

  “On my name, it’s all good,” I promise.

  * * *

  An hour later, my clothes are hung, folded, and refolded at least twice before my folks are ready to leave. Mom gives me her signature smile, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears as she looks up at me and says, “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I know you are, Mom,” I say, pulling her into a hug then kissing the top of her head. I look at Dad, who gives me a wink, one that’s of thanks and pride.

  Knowing Mom would need some extra help taking that first step toward the exit, Dad rests a hand on her shoulder, the other on mine. “Family hug, then we jet.”

  * * *

  A knock on the door has me looking up from my phone screen and away from my sisters who FaceTimed me.

  “Who is it?” Kiki and Bella ask at the same time.

  “How the hell do I know?” I push my ass up off the bed and walk the four steps it takes to get to the door.

  “Turn the phone camera,” Kiki insists.

  “Gonna turn it off if you don’t hush,” I warn her as I open the door.

  Four girls stand in the hallway outside the door. Two squeal as soon as they see me, and the other two try to keep their shit together.

  “And he’s already got a fan club.” Bella laughs, and I shove the phone in my damn pocket.

  “Beau will be back to hand out hats a bit later.” I smile politely and step back to shut the door.

  “Wait!” one of them yells.

  I open the door a bit and peek out.

  “You’re Max Steel, right?” the girl with the pink hair asks.

  “Last I checked, yeah.” I smile politely.

  “And you’re rooming in this dorm with Beau?” the cute little Asian with the purple-streak in her hair asks.

  “I believe Beau was the guy I met briefly- he was a little tied up.” I answer, and they all giggle. Not sure why it’s funny but whatever.

  “Oh, man, he must be pissed.” The brunette snort-laughs.

  “Why would he be pissed?” comes from my pocket, in unison, of course.

  “Oh, shit, we’re interrupting.” The pink-haired girl cackles.

  “Two. Two girls.” The brunette snorts.

  “Maximus, oh, Maximus,” Kiki groans, making me want to vomit.

  All breathy-like, Bella adds, “Come back to bed. We miss you.”

  “Jesus, will you two shut up?” I hiss.

  “Daaaang,” pink hair drawls out. “Beau is totally gonna win with that kind of attitude.”

  They all agree with pink hair, look me up and down, turn at the same time, and then walk away.

  “What the hell?” I think aloud as I shut the door.

  “It’s some sort of bet.” Kiki’s voice startles me.

  “Jesus, Kiki,” I say, pulling the phone from my pocket.

  “Did you forget we were stuffed in your pocket?” Bella rolls her eyes as I look down at the screen.

  “Don’t you two have kids and husbands?” I ask, mildly irritated.

  “Our baby brother just started college and asked us not to join in the drop-off festivities. You owe me, Maxi. You were at mine, flirting with my roommate, if I remember correctly.”

  I flop down on my uncomfortable bed. “Yeah, well, she’s probably kicking herself in the ass now. I mean, look at me.”

  “You just pissed off the welcoming committee. You better thank your lucky stars for the good genetics; you may still have a chance,” Kiki taunts.

  “Yeah, what the hell was that about? Who’s Beau and why is he going to be pissed?” Bella asks.

  I sit back up. “Keep up, Bella. Beau is Cowboy. And if I wasn’t sitting here, chatting with my sisters, I might have a chance to find out.”

  “Report back.” Kiki grins excitedly.

  Shaking my head, I give a resounding, “Hell no! This is—”

  “Max, you owe me this,” Kiki cuts me off sternly.

  “Owe you?” I bark out a laugh.

  “If it wasn’t for me getting knocked up, you’d never been dubbed the Seashore seducer.”

  The Seashore Seducer was but a blip in my junior/senior year. It all came to a crashing halt after the accident and is still straight-up the worst fucking name on the planet.

  “Oh, gee … Thanks, Kiki.” I give her some obnoxious mock gratitude.

  She continues, “Because I got knocked up, I was never able to go to college.”

  “Calling BS. Apparently, it’s never too late to start.” I roll my eyes.

  They know I’m doing this more for Mom than any other reason.

  Bella stands up. “Report back tonight. Don’t leave it on a cliffy. Love you, Max. You, too, Kiki. Chat later.” She ends the call on her end. />
  “Did she just hang up on us?” Kiki feigns annoyance.

  “Come on,” Bell calls from somewhere in the same damn house as her. “Tags is probably getting his ass kicked by one of your horses.”

  Kiki stands up. “They know he’s nervous around them. He needs to chill.”

  Bella snorts. “They need to chill. They caused this shit by bucking him off.”

  “They’re animals,” Kiki tells her then looks back at the screen and says, “No cliffy. Knock ’em dead, Max. Love you.” And then she hangs up.

  “Crazy asses,” I mumble as the door cracks opens and Beau peeks in.

  “You alone, man?” he asks, looking around, confused.

  I nod as I stand.

  “So, the two chicks thing? Total bullshit?”

  I nod again.

  “Well, shit.” He walks over and flops on his bed. “I thought you were trying to get ahead.”

  “Ahead of what?” I ask.

  He looks over and answers, “Beave contest.”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Total bullshit. I know what a “beave contest” is; just real curious as to what the hell it has to do with me.

  “Yeah, okay.” He chuckles.

  “Care to explain what this contest has to do with me?”

  He rolls to his side, props his head up on his hand, and smirks. “Seashore Seducer meet the Carolina Casanova.”

  “Who the hell comes up with these names?” I cringe.

  “I traveled farther than my hometown reputation.” He sits up. “Mine didn’t follow me here like yours did. First test in roommate loyalty, shit gets around, and I know it’s you. But yours did. So did your rep as a braindead, stoner, hippy surfer dude.”

  I narrow my eyes. “That’s a whole lot of adjectives to describe one man that not one student on this campus knows a thing about.”

  Reaching over, he opens a nightstand drawer full of condoms, pulls out a short red straw, and pops it into his mouth, letting it hang out the corner as he continues, “Prove ’em wrong, dude.” He waves a shaka before pushes up off the bed. “Because every other swinging dick on campus thinks they know you. The jocks will give you shit because surfing isn’t a real sport. The stoners”—he scratches his head—“they won’t give a fuck. They’ll claim you as one of them, like it or not. The elite are gonna try to make you feel less than, given your family situation. And the nerds are gonna make you think they are Switzerland, but they’re the ones who started this beave contest shit.”