by F N Manning
I cleared my throat and aimed for a civil tone. “We should catch up.”
Max rolled his eyes again. I bit my lip to avoid asking if he learned that from his little sister. Get along with him! I told myself. “I doubt we have anything in common anymore,” he replied. “You a big man on campus at whatever fancy rich kid school you go to?”
“I don’t know about that,” I protested. Plus, Max might not be on the pep squad or anything but was probably popular. Well, people likely knew who he was and wanted to know him better.
“Don’t be modest,” he mock scolded.
“Alright, fine,” I conceded. “I’m as popular as someone who plays competitive chess can be.”
“You nerd,” he said like my supreme uncoolness wounded him.
“That’s right,” I replied proudly before sending him a sly look. “It’s better than being a delinquent.”
He put a hand to his heart like I wounded him. “Ouch, a delinquent? Are you 60 years old?”
“Is this what happens to all runners up?” Our jibes weren’t really antagonistic or biting and the mood had turned almost playful. I only realized once it ended. Max scowled and his hands clenched. Oh well, might as well take the advantage when it’s offered. “Touch a nerve?” I asked. And good, this would serve as another reminder why this was a bad idea: I’d ruined his life when I beat him.
Just when I thought I might get the upper hand, Max smirked. “You touched more than that,” he leered. His face turned wolfish. I wanted to smack that look off his face or bite and kiss it away.
It was my turn to grimace. “About that.” I couldn’t let my stupid libido win. I had to be reasonable about this. Being reasonable and careful was as easy as breathing for me. Except when Max was around.
“We should keep it between us?” he whispered, sounding mocking as he stepped closer. We probably looked ridiculous: two teens outside a library acting like we were auditioning for West Side Story as we postured and glared. Or maybe Romeo and Juliet. “Well, what’s in it for me if I do?” he flirted.
“The feeling of being a good and decent person?” I suggested, struggling not to lean into the tempting heat of his body.
“Maybe I’d rather feel you instead.” His hands ghosted right above my chest. I prided myself on not moving into the touch. It was just a little chilly out suddenly, so his broad, hot body next to mine was alluring. Because of the temperature. It’s not like I had a leather jacket to keep the cold at bay.
“This doesn’t have to be a big thing,” I said and immediately realized my mistake.
Max grinned. “Oh, you didn’t just say big thing.”
I made a frustrated noise. “Can you take anything seriously?”
“Do you wanna see what I can take?” he shot back. I was the one to walk away this time even though Max followed merrily after me.
“Is that we’re going to do? Just annoy each other to death?” I asked while he trailed behind me.
“Why, you can’t handle it?” Max caught up and stopped me before I entered the library. His hand rested on my arm where I wore a navy long-sleeved shirt; the heat of his hand bled through easily. I didn’t say anything. “Hello?” he asked after a few moments.
I thought of and rejected several responses to his question. “I just don’t know how to answer in a way that won’t sound like an innuendo,” I admitted.
His lips pressed together in a mocking pout. “You’re no fun.”
“You’ll stop teasing me then?”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I didn’t say that.” Yeah, I didn’t think it would be that easy.
I longed to close the distance even though we were in public during the day, but the moment ended when the kids exited the library.
“Meet me tonight,” I rushed to say before the kids were with us.
“Tempting,” he said while looking up and down my body, “but I thought we weren’t doing that anymore?”
“Do you even want to ‘do that’ with me anymore?” I snapped. It seemed clear he didn’t like me very much, yet his face went shocked and I plowed on, “Let’s just get this sorted out between us.”
He evaluated me for a tense moment before nodding and we made quick plans before the kids dragged us in separate directions. I remembered how virile and lewd he looked with the motorcycle between his legs only moments ago. He was downright adorable now as April sat on the bike and Max helped her secure a little pink helmet on her head; that image was just as hard to look away from as the previous one.
***
“Can we agree we both made mistakes?” I asked as we sat at a table tucked away in the back of a coffee shop. I bought us both coffee as a peace offering. Max held his without drinking it like he couldn’t because it had been bought by the enemy. Not that were enemies. We just weren’t exactly friends.
“I can agree you made mistakes,” he replied. If we couldn’t be friends or even acquaintances, I might settle for being enemies. At least he was more attractive than Nicholas Stewart. I suppose that meant I wanted to keep him around. Had time really changed us so much that we couldn’t be in the other’s world anymore? I didn’t like the idea of that.
If it wasn’t for Max’s tone and us both wearing the same clothes from earlier, it would almost feel like a date. It was dark outside, the place had cozy lighting, and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air.
Max had apologized earlier but was back to being stubborn and unflinching now. “You can’t make anything easy, can you?” I asked, exasperation already coloring my tone. I was a wasp, so I should be able to speak with polite indifference for hours. Why did he wear on me so easily?
“It wasn’t my finest hour,” he admitted. I wasn’t sure if he was referring to our fight five years ago or his stunt at the prep school. Both, probably. “But you, you were…” he trailed off.
“A pretentious dickhead?” I filled in. He smirked while I sighed. I took a breath before starting over. “Look, I’m not proud of how I acted back then or what you walked in on recently with—”
“Are you sure?” he interrupted. “Isn’t that who you are?” That was who my father was, treating people as inconveniences who were below him. I’d always hoped I was better than that.
“I try not to be,” I told him earnestly. “Just with school, with you, there’s a lot of pressure,” I admitted. “I reacted poorly.”
Max frowned. “You’re just saying that. You like having money to throw around.”
“My parents do stuff like that,” I sighed. They tossed out orders no matter where they were and tried to solve every problem with money.
He looked skeptical. “Are you trying to tell me it’s not your fault because that’s how you were raised?
“I didn’t really think about it,” I admitted and expected Max to immediately deride me for that, but he must have seen something on my face that made him quiet as he waited for me to elaborate. “Recently, I’ve discovered I don’t want to be like that.” I worked hard in my classes, studied all the time, and pushed myself with a host of activities. What’s the point if my parents were just going to throw money at any problems I faced? I wanted to be deserving of the things I earned.
He appraised me and almost nodded, then seemed to reconsider. “That doesn’t explain your little powerplay earlier.”
“Call it a relapse,” I suggested. “It’s hard to turn that part of me off. I’m trying.” I stared right into his eyes. “I can’t promise I’m succeeding, but I’m trying.”
That was as much as I felt comfortable sharing with Max. There’d been a lifetime of little things that I only started thinking about after being unsettled by a few bigger instances. When I hadn’t become captain of the water polo team, my parents talked about paying for the school to get a new pool, provided their son led the water polo team of course. I’d convinced them against that idea once Brendan wanted to join a football league by saying I’d have more time for him and other things without the captaincy.
The other part had been Katie. Mother had made some comment questioning why Katie broke up with me when our families were such good friends. Like Katie shouldn’t be able to break up with me just because our families had summered together in the Hamptons. What if one of my parents actually talked to her parents about it? I had 17 years of experience with how powerful their disapproval could be. I’d been terrified that Katie would come back to me because my mommy and daddy complained. I didn’t want to buy success or love; I wanted to be worthy of it on my own.
I thought he’d say something scathing or dismiss what I said, but Max nodded instead and thought about it. Eventually, he muttered, “We used to be so comfortable around each other.”
“You don’t feel comfortable around me?” I asked. Good, at least we were on the same page.
“I feel lots of things around you now,” he admitted, and my heart lurched while I tried not to ask about what those things might be. “At ease is never one of them.”
“Yeah,” I agreed quietly. We could get somewhere now. I straightened up in my seat and continued in a sensible tone. “Our siblings like each other. We’re probably stuck with each other while they compete. We don’t have to make each other’s lives harder.”
It was senior year. I was supposed to look at everything I accomplished thus far and be proud and ready to conquer the future. I tried to sell colleges and interviewers on how Calvin Winthrop-Scott was the full package, an asset. It wasn’t true. Calvin Winthrop-Scott didn’t know who he was. Or maybe he did, but he wanted to be someone else. That’s what higher education was about, right? It wasn’t just for those who knew who they were and where they were heading but for those who wanted to figure it out or start over. College offered the chance to be something new. Someone new. Someone better.
Max grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
How rich. He was the one who undressed me and deserted me. No, going down that road would only lead to bickering. “Why do you still care?” I asked instead.
His mouth tightened. “I don’t,” he responded gruffly.
“How reassuring,” I responded sarcastically. “Should I look forward to more emotional whiplash and petty taunts or are you just going to surprise me with your erratic behavior instead?”
“I’m trying to be civil,” he defended. At my disbelieving look he amended, “I’m going to try to be civil, going forward. I can’t guarantee anything.” The look he sent me stopped any response. It was tender, aching, something I’d never seen from either Max, the boy of the past or the teen in front of me. “It’s not our fight that bothered me.” He shook his head, then said quietly, “What you said about my dad. I didn’t know until you told me.”
The room tilted as my stomach dropped to my feet. I could barely hear him over the ringing in my ears. “I know it wasn’t your fault,” he continued.
My mind went back to the moment, seeing it in a new light, watching our fight with a sort of horror. I overheard my parents talking about how his dad has lost his job; that’s why the man was bitter and angry when his son didn’t make it to the finals. I’d accused Max of being upset for the same reason. It didn’t occur to me at the time that it was one of those things parents knew but kept from children or that he hadn’t known yet.
Shit. No, don’t panic. That was years ago. He’d surely found a new job by now. “Things with you and your dad are fine now though, right?”
Max blinked like he didn’t expect the question. “Uh, yeah, sure, it’s… Like I said, it really wasn’t you fault.”
Still. “I probably deserved it. I’m sorry.” Maybe it wasn’t strictly true but it also was. I’d hurt him and he lashed out, whether deserved or not, I understood it. And I felt terrible. No wonder he hadn’t tried to get in touch with me again. And I’d been too proud, convinced I was in the right, to reach out to him. Things with his dad had surely been patched up by now but he hadn’t seen me again, so the wound had never healed. And he hadn’t come back the next year. Had still been angry with me? Or did he just decide he was better off without me?
Max didn’t say anything. It took a few moments, then he nodded, tense, but he relaxed into his seat like a weight had been lifted.
“What now?” I asked quietly.
“I guess we’ll see how things go from here. Clean slate?”
“Clean slate,” I agreed. I held my mug up towards him and he smiled, lifting his own and clinking it with mine. He took a drink, and I watched him, suddenly dizzy with relief. Maybe things could be okay with us. That feeling only got stronger as the night passed. Especially when I got the opportunity for a gesture of kindness. Maybe I could make things right.
ə-ˈla-krə-tē, noun.
Cheerful readiness
Max’s fury gave way to ə-ˈla-krə-tē.
Chapter 5
A-L-A-C-R-I-T-Y
Max
I should have known the smug bastard would play dirty. I thought he wanted to be the bigger person and put the past behind us. All of it was just so I couldn’t see this coming. An attack of the most deplorable kind.
“And this packet discusses financial aid and some scholarships you might be interested in.” The guidance counsellor held the material out to me but resorted to shoving the documents in my hand when I didn’t take them.
She’d literally backed me into a corner in the hallway at school. The woman was like half a foot shorter than me and dressed in no-nonsense beige slacks and a blue sweater. Her brown hair sat piled atop her head in a messy bun. She had that typical overworked teacher look that was common at this school. Unfortunately for me, she also sported that bored ‘not impressed with your shit’ expression that came from hearing every excuse and dealing with dumb students all day.
“I didn’t ask for this stuff,” I tried.
“I recognize that grumpy voice.” Stupid Cal called my freaking school as me and told them I wanted a scholarship or some shit. It was a weird form of payback but an effective one. “There are several excellent schools if you want to stay close to your family, not including the Ivies, but I see no reason not to go for them too.”
“No thanks,” I said and tried to push past her. She didn’t budge as her ‘not impressed with your shit’ expression intensified.
“Don’t get second thoughts now,” she implored. “This is within your reach. Someone with your SAT scores—”
I tuned out. I knew taking the SAT was a mistake, but I hoped it would satisfy mom and April. Maybe my scores would suck and that would be the end of it. I guess I could have bombed intentionally, but they’d see through that, and if I was going to spend an extra hour or two in the classroom, I was at least going to do it right. It would hurt my pride too much to bomb on purpose. Except I hadn’t bombed. Dammit.
“Just out of curiosity, what did I tell you when I called?” I asked when she finished her rousing ‘you have potential’ speech and expected a response.
She blinked at me. “You don’t remember?”
“I was drunk,” I deadpanned.
Some educator she was. The thought of a minor consuming alcohol didn’t even phase her. She nodded. “That makes sense.” She put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You told me you’d probably be dead set against this when you came to your senses. Don’t worry. I promised I wouldn’t let you change your mind. I intend to keep that promise.”
“That’s okay,” I assured her. “I absolve you.”
“No way. You’re bright and passionate.” She pitched her voice lower. “You admitted you cried at the thought of walking across a collegiate auditorium in a cap and gown.” She clutched a hand to her heart thinking about it. Nice touch, bastard. “You can be the most famous geologist from Trenton.” Asshole. At least using his old hobby instead of mine meant he recognized that being interesting in freaking rocks was nerdier than my old favorite pastimes.
“Probably the only one,” I muttered
“Maybe, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Oh god, s
he was just getting started. Her hardened façade crumbled at the thought of the poor bad boy making good and going onto higher education. “Applying to college is scary for everyone, but there’s no need for second thoughts. You’re doing the right thing,” the counsellor said, grinning encouragingly but also a bit scarily. She was intense.
“Okay, sure, thanks.” Maybe I was smart after all as I finally realized giving in would be easier.
“Look these papers over, fill out the relevant forms, and come to me so we can discuss this further.” She stared me straight in the eye. “If you don’t fill these out and make an appointment with me, I’ll just hunt you down again.”
I nodded and pretended to the peruse the material to appease her and then threw it in the trash when she walked away. I was going to call her bluff. She had hundreds of kids to deal with. Hopefully I’d fall through the cracks.
I don’t know when college became so repulsive. For me to go to school, I’d need serious financial assistance and doing all the work for no guarantee of a reward… well, I’d already learned my lesson about that. Wanting things was dangerous. The disappointment wasn’t worth it. Plus, there was the shame of it, of trying and failing and having everyone know how bad you wanted it. Nope, that wasn’t for me anymore.
***
I tried to push thoughts of Cal and college out of my mind while I studied with April at home. We sat at our kitchen table surrounded by different colored flash cards. There was a purple crocus plant in the middle. Mom always bought greenery but was crappy at watering them. She said the place needed color. We had a faded red couch and cheap furnishings, so she wasn’t wrong.
I wrote alacrity on a notecard, which was an SAT word. Stupid Cal and his stunt flashed through my mind and I broke the tip of the pencil.
“What’s wrong with you?” April asked. I hated having a smart sister.
I felt like the sulking younger sibling when I said, “It’s so stupid.” She waited patiently. “It’s about Cal, Brendan’s brother.”