What Love Means

by F N Manning

  “Wasn’t like that,” I responded shortly. Cal probably hadn’t said anything embarrassing about me. Joey didn’t have the patience to play it cool if he had dirt on me. I tried to imagine his reaction to my past. His short attention span stemmed from too much weed and video games, so he’d probably give me shit for five minutes and then forget all about it, but it wouldn’t be that way for everyone.

  I hung around with bad seeds who liked acting tough. It was already no secret that I adored my kid sister, and I wasn’t private about hitting on guys. Being a former spelling bee champion seemed like pushing it. Okay, I didn’t know if mattered that much, but it felt safer to keep this to myself. Plus, it was just so embarrassing.

  “Right, that guy’s just your SAT tutor?” my boss Tony asked, walking into the room and raising an eyebrow while he grabbed a cup of coffee.

  I barely paid attention to high school. Why did I need college and a bunch of student loan debt? I was hot, employed, and had lots of other low achieving friends that were always up for partying and wasting time.

  I sighed. “Not you too.” Dealing with April and my mom was bad enough, but they’d recruited my boss. I planned on working here full time when I graduated while I started learning everything there was to know about souping up bikes, but now he’d started saying things about how it was okay to ‘consider my options.’ My family had corrupted him.

  Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Well, that guy who came in… was he, you know, a guy?”

  “Wow, I’ve never heard you sound more like my sister,” I told him.

  He didn’t respond to that. “How do you know him?” We stared at each other. I couldn’t think of anything.

  “Is he your partner?” Joey broke in to tease. “Are you going to take him to prom and get matching corsages?” Joey asked. “Are you going to adopt a dog together and name it something dumb like Janet?”

  I shoved Joey. “It was nothing. And I don’t do partners.” Fuck, we were only in high school. Not that I had boyfriends either. Gross.

  “Are you sure? Isn’t it time you a grew a heart?” he mocked, reaching over to pat my chest while I swatted his hand away.

  “I will after you grow a brain,” I retorted, slapping at his head.

  “It’s no use then,” Joey told Tony. “That day may never come.”

  “Why don’t you go work on that Volvo that just came in?” he told Joey.

  When Joey left, I tried to ignore Tony’s stare so maybe he’d go away too.

  “You’ve never acted like that around someone before,” Tony said with fond amusement on his face when I finally looked over at him.

  I considered playing dumb by saying I acted that way around Joey all the time. I sighed. “It’s hatred.” Was it? 13-year-old me thought I hated Cal. I definitely hated my behavior around him and that he could fluster me without even trying.

  There hadn’t been hate at first. I lost and knew I had to smile through a concession to Cal, but I’d been thrown off by the ire dad threw at his family. Then I thought it was okay to be furious and that Cal had done something wrong because dad had been so pissed. All the good sportsmanship talk went out the window, but it was okay. Since it was an adult, my dad, making a fuss. An adult wouldn’t just complain like that unless there was a valid reason. Had I really been naïve enough to think that back then or had I just let myself believe it because it was my dad? Either way, I got caught up in dad’s tantrum and caused my own, lashing out at Cal and causing our fight. Then the things he said… yeah, I’d definitely hated him. Did I still?

  Tony shrugged. “You know what they say, there’s a fine line.” Whoa, there was definitely no love in this love/hate equation.

  “Not in this case,” I maintained, scowling.

  “I said the same thing about my first two ex-wives,” he laughed.

  I looked him in the eye, hoping to clear this up. “He’s an annoying little brat from my past. I wanna punch him in the head every time I see him.” And make out with him, but I didn’t add that. Either way, there was no love.

  He only raised an eyebrow. “Strong emotion. That’s pretty rare for you.” Internally, I could admit I overreacted now that Cal was gone. Tony was right. No strings attached, just fun, that was my M.O. Cal caught me off guard and I didn’t like feeling that way, nervous and unsure in front of a cute boy. Lashing out at him was easier than being pathetic and batting my eyes and wondering if he liked me liked me. I spent time with a preteen girl but didn’t have to turn into one.

  “I don’t even want to see him again.” His boyish good looks could only get him so far, and I wasn’t impressed by the money his family had. Still, a part of me wanted to know him.

  “Okay, okay,” Tony relented. “Just. Something permanent isn’t bad.”

  Permanent? I could barely even handle the suggestion. Cal just came back into my life, and sure, I was crazy attracted to him, but wanting something serious? There was no way. With him or anyone else. “That’s enough of a pep talk for today,” I told Tony.

  “Are you sure?” he smiled wryly. “I didn’t even get to really dig into the stuff about college.”

  I waved him off. I couldn’t handle another serious topic. I ignored him every time he tried to tell me it would be alright with him if I went to college instead of working for him right out of high school.

  After trying not to think about it, and then doing it anyway, I didn’t know why Cal inspired such forceful reactions. It could have been something about him or transferred anger from my dad or maybe just unease at the way life had gotten boring and predictable. Maybe some combination of all three. It wasn’t really him I had a problem with, or not enough of one, and I just used him to feel better about myself when I left him stranded at the prep school. There were better ways to do that. Ways where we both won.

  And I thought life had gotten stale. Now dad was on the periphery of my life while Cal was back in the middle of it. This didn’t make things easier, but I guess I’d only wanted more interesting, not easy. Be careful what you wish for. Now my life was complicated and more difficult. But it wasn’t just the fault of my dad or Cal. Well, okay, dad sucked. He was totally to blame in that case. But outside forces weren’t the problem with Cal. I was the one who kept acting like a dick around him. That blame lay squarely on my shoulders.

  ***

  April and I were hosting her spelling study group at a library, which basically meant we had to arrive ten minutes early to reserve a room and I snuck in snacks for them to share. That was me: badass biker by night and den mother by day. I hoped Brendan and April were in sperate groups but wasn’t surprised when he showed up first with Cal in tow. Brendan had lost his blazer and I smiled at seeing Cal without the tie.

  The two kids started chattering excitedly with each other.

  “Oh god, study group is one thing,” I interrupted. “Don’t tell me you two are friends now.”

  Brendan’s lips quirked up. “Okay, we won’t tell you.”

  My poker face was better than his, so I didn’t let on that I actually liked the little smartass. It was just his brother I couldn’t stand. If only Brendan could share his sense of humor with Cal.

  “We don’t have to hate each other just because we compete,” April told me, judgement clear in her voice.

  “I could think of other reasons to hate him,” I offered.

  “That’s rude,” Cal voiced. “Are you really being mean to an 11-year-old?”

  Dammit. I glowered at Cal but didn’t press the issue. “Good point,” I muttered, then perked up. “It’s not your fault your brother is a stuck-up dickhead,” I told Brendan.

  “Is that really appropriate language to use around children?” Cal asked in his stuck-up dickhead voice.

  Brendan spoke at the same time as his brother. “I know, isn’t that punishment enough?”

  “Hey!” Cal gasped when the words registered while April and I laughed. Yeah, Brendan was definitely the better brother. We got to work once the othe
r kids arrived. Spelling club met bi-weekly, but it was recommended to have a study group to practice with in addition to the at home studying.

  These were my grand weekend plans: me, Cal, and ten kids crammed into a study room combing through obscure parts of the dictionary and dissecting words for their roots and suffixes. Maybe my mom and April had finally worn me down because I agreed to take the SAT. I blamed them for thinking I might as well put tutor on my college applications. I should get something out of this. Well, I did plan on having some fun.

  Maybe I would have been a great boy scout because I’d earn a merit badge for being prepared. Too bad their uniforms sucked and I’d been allergic to the outdoors when I was a kid. I had a list of words ready in case Cal showed up. Okay, I was even worse at apologies than I thought I’d be. I couldn’t picture myself leveling with him and just admitting I was too harsh.

  I didn’t know if I could be nice, but I could try for less hostile by joking around instead of being outright aggressive. My dirty word list wasn’t mature or smart, but it was harmless fun. Maybe I’d get Cal to crack a smile or laugh. The tension between us would lessen and I’d be able to force out an apology. That was the plan.

  When it came time to quiz the kids, I went around the room giving each kid a word from my list one at a time. Cal didn’t say anything or look bothered by ‘protuberance’ or ‘liaison.’ I did my best to make the definitions and sentences for the obvious words as boring as possible so the kids didn’t giggle or gasp. Cal seemed to wonder if he was imagining things when ‘tryst’ and ‘stroke’ appeared. Maybe he remembered my mom was a nurse as his shoulders relaxed when I used the medical definition for stroke.

  Alright, stroke wasn’t that challenging. Not all spelling bee words were a dozen syllables and virtually unpronounceable. It was okay to throw some easy ones in there, especially when it suited my purposes. One of the kids snickered at ‘bulge,’ and Cal sent me a questioning look, so I went with a few less obvious words next.

  I stared at Cal while I said the definition for ‘carouse:’ to engage in boisterous, drunken merrymaking and followed it up with ‘convivial,’ which referred to the pleasures of good company. He seemed to get it then but looked like he didn’t quite believe it, so I tossed out intimation: a slight suggestion. He glared at ‘debauch:’ a wild gathering involving excessive drinking, and a muscle in his face twitched with ‘vigorous.’

  It was April’s turn. She sat next to me on one side, but I stared at Cal when I said ‘yearn,’ putting a little heat in my voice. Cal shook his head slightly as his eyes sent me a warning I didn’t heed.

  ‘Purient,’ I asked the boy next to April, which meant characterized by lust. I was proud that I kept my emotions in check even though I was giddy with glee on the inside. Was I imaging it or was Cal’s face a bit flushed? Oh. He didn’t find the words amusing; they were bothering him. No, making him hot and bothered. Maybe I should stop, but he was just sitting there with his stupid face all flushed and adorable.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Cal interrupted when I got to ‘engorged.’ His lips were in a thin tight line.

  The kids all blinked at him.

  “You want to cut our session short?” I asked, pretending to misunderstand him. “Don’t you want the kids to learn?”

  They turned their puppy dog eyes on him. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, indicating for me to continue with a wave of his hand.

  “Erection,” I said innocently.

  Cal jumped up in his chair. “What the hell?” he demanded. I didn’t know if the kids tittered at the word or his outburst.

  “Building, structures, they’re erections,” I shrugged. “What’s your deal, man?”

  He scowled as I felt a smile form on my face. I supplied ‘coccyx’ for Brendan. I’d stopped being subtle. Cal put his head in his hands and sighed while the kids giggled.

  ‘Aholehole’ came next, then ‘bumfiddler.’ Cal stared at me in dumbfounded horror, mouth dropped open. While there was probably a crude terminology on Urban Dictionary, it really meant someone who alters documents to invalidate them.

  “Peniaphobia,” I told Cal gleefully after the last word was spelled. When he scowled, I asked, “You don’t like that one? It applies to you.”

  His pale skin made the blush on his cheeks apparent. I grinned while he froze. “Max,” he warned. He looked from me to the children meaningfully.

  “It means fear of poverty,” I supplied cheerfully.

  “These aren’t going to appear in any bee,” he hissed at me.

  “How do you know?”

  “They keep the words that make children giggle to a minimum.” He pointed to where April, Brendan, and the others were in hysterics.

  “But there’s always one,” I argued. “For laughs.”

  “Good point.” April nodded sagely while trying not to smile. “Continue, please.”

  ***

  Cal

  I thought I was imagining it or that all the interesting word choices were something about his subconscious. Then I realized nothing was ever easy with Max. He was torturing me. The stupid part was how it worked. Hearing him say things like tryst and yearn in a sultry voice while staring right at me made me weak in the knees.

  After Max’s immature, juvenile display, I figured the kids would have more luck coaching themselves since we were more distracting than helpful. We left the kids to it and Max exited the library ahead of me while I stopped to catch my breath. When I ventured outside, he was leaning back against a motorcycle. He’d almost look absurd resting on a bike outside the freaking library, but I don’t think I’d ever seen him look absurd. His 12-year-old self, sure, but not this sexy, confident bastard.

  Yes, there was the persistent niggle of doubt in my mind, the fear of something I couldn’t control that could come back to haunt me later, and the ever-present specter of parental disapproval. I needed Max and I to get along. I could say I was just trying to smooth out the rough edges like I always did or fall in line at my father’s requests. That was the wise course of action after the internship fiasco. Except the part of me that felt drawn to Max was so damn loud that I couldn’t pretend my motives were all simple and innocent. Some part of me beyond reason and rational thought found him appealing.

  Perhaps that was why I went to talk to him instead of keeping distance between us. “Was that really necessary?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but it was fun.” He straightened a bit. “Listen, I shouldn’t have left you at the school like that—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “Please don’t tell me you’re apologizing for one cruel prank right after performing another one.”

  “This wasn’t a prank.” He made an aborted gesture with his hands. “It was supposed to be funny.”

  I wanted to scream. “What in the world about that was intended to be amusing?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know, man. I can’t explain humor to you. Rich kids don’t find dick jokes and shit like that funny?”

  Oh holy god. My face flamed. Dick jokes. Stupid macho posturing. Harmless innuendo. Of course. I assumed he was trying to taunt me by hinting at our liaisons, lording them over me, but he was just trying to have fun. And why not? It wasn’t as if liking another guy was shameful or worrisome to him. It shouldn’t be to me either scolded a little voice inside my head, but I hadn’t reached the acceptance stage yet. I was still firmly in freaking out territory whenever I thought of it, which meant I tried not to think about it. Yet? Did that mean I would accept it sometime? Did I want to? Nope, no, I was going back to not thinking about it.

  When I managed to look at Max, his face was seemingly at war with itself. I would have found it amusing if I wasn’t too busy being mortified. He seemed to realize what I’d assumed. I could just see the jibe forming on his lips, a petty attempt to goad me because gruff cynicism seemed to be this Max’s go to defense. He struggled with the right response for several moments until he cleared his throat and forced out a tense,
“Look, I’m sorry or whatever. Take it or leave it.”

  It felt awkward but sincere. I could suddenly see the boy I’d been friends with years ago. I didn’t know what to do or say, so I nodded and did what I did best: deflection. I pushed away the weird surge of emotions this conversation stirred in me.

  “That yours?” I gestured to the bike, the first conversation topic I could think of. My face heated up again as he swung one leg over the stationary vehicle so the bike sat between his legs.

  He gave me a lewd smile. It seemed fairly obvious that it was his since it was unlikely he’d make himself at home on someone else’s bike or that any other library patrons owned a motorcycle, but he shrugged again. “Something like that.” After painting an enticing picture, he hopped off the bike and came to stand in front of me.

  I tried not to gasp. “Does that mean you stole it?” There was a swoop in my stomach, but the words were more alarming then exciting… that’s what I reminded myself.

  His flirty mood disappeared as he took a couple steps back. “Yes,” he replied with sarcasm. “I don’t go to some fancy school, so I’m obviously a criminal.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He didn’t say anything. “But I wouldn’t say anything. Snitches get snitches and all that,” I babbled inanely.

  He looked impassive and stoic for moment, then he huffed out a laugh. “It’s a loaner, I guess. My boss bought it, I fixed it up, but I still have to pay him for it and the parts before it’s really mine.”

  Making payments on a bike? Sure, the thing was a reckless death trap but that sounded downright responsible. Why did I find that super hot? There were two helmets on the handlebars. Since Max didn’t seem to like when I accidentally implied he’d stolen the bike, I didn’t try joking about the small pink helmet being his. Still. “You’re doing the whole,” I made a growly face, “bad boy thing but you’ve got a helmet.” It wasn’t what I expected.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it really hurts my rep,” he replied sarcastically, “but it’s the law in New Jersey.”