by F N Manning
She smacked him on the back of the head. “You think you get to be rude just because you have a leather jacket for every day of the week?” I would have to remember this the next time I was intimidated by him or another more muscular guy. Even the toughest people had a mother figure who was completely unimpressed with their juvenile antics.
“Mom,” he tried, “It wasn’t like that.”
“Kids these days might be different from my generation, yet I still doubt ‘uptight virgin loser’ is a compliment.” She looked at me. “Oh my god, Calvin?” Max smirked at me when she said my full first name but dropped the look when she glared at him again.
“It’s Cal,” I protested before being swept into a hug.
“What a surprise; it’s so good to see you.” It was the kind of polite thing my mother would say too but Theresa sounded like she meant it. Especially as she continued, “What amazing things have you been doing since I last saw you?”
“Bee’s about to start, mom,” Max said before I could speak.
“Well, we’ll catch up later.” She smiled at me and went to take a seat. I watched her go with a smile, wondering if we would sit with her. My mom loved me but was from an old money family who believed expressing strong emotions was distasteful, so she was always so collected and measured.
Max’s mom was different. She wore emotions openly and didn’t act like it was distasteful to express love or disgust or anything else about her children in public. She said ‘call me Theresa’ whenever anyone tried to refer to her as Mrs. Keller. I missed her.
“Forgot you two knew each other,” Max said quietly.
This bee was bigger than the stuffy, formal one that took place for Brendan’s grade bee as there were more sixth grade classes at April’s public school. Teachers broke up the loudest kids but a lot didn’t pay attention. Max and I didn’t sit but instead leaned against the back wall in the cafeteria. The only people really paying attention were the handful of parents who could make it. Some of them were recording.
Max was in a long sleeved blue shirt. He still had a ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe but this was a softer thug. He felt my eyes. “Like what you see?” he asked mildly, without looking at me.
“It’s just weird. You don’t look like a James Dean wannabee for once.” Whenever he wore colors, blue seemed to be a favorite. Was that personal preference or was it also practical because of the blue band around his wrist? I wasn’t sure I could picture Max purposefully accessorizing and trying to match as that would be the gayest thing about him if it were the case. Well, in addition to his interest in other guys obviously.
“You like it,” he retorted.
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Are you gonna take me for a spin on your bike?”
“You can hop on—“ he started, turning his face toward me and waggling an eyebrow in what should have been a silly move but was instead sexy as he lowered his voice. No, we were already speaking in hushed whispers, but his tone became huskier, more appealing.
“Okay, sorry I said anything.” I cut him off, knowing where this was going. I’d wanted to flirt with him only a moment ago but now that we were whispering and separated from the crowd I didn’t know if I could handle it. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as April stepped up to the lone microphone.
Her word was ‘quiche.’ Technically, that seemed harder than other words given like ‘lawyer’ and ‘wrinkle,’ but Max didn’t look outraged, so maybe they just wanted to give her a bit of a challenge. Theresa shouted encouragements from her place in the audience.
“Quiche,” she repeated dutifully, then looked to the side. “If I could have quiet from the audience please.” Theresa waved her hand dismissively at the admonishment but grinned while the parents laughed and the kids in the front row took notice of something they deemed interesting finally happening. April nailed the word and even took a bow after. She had pizazz.
Max and I watched the bee for a few moments. He moved closer to me without warning and spoke right into my ear. “Want to go somewhere more private?”
“What?” My head whipped towards him and he backed up so we wouldn’t collide. I looked around frantically but no one paid us any attention. That certainly seemed to be where this thing between us was heading, but to make that offer at a children’s freaking spelling bee? Max would give me a heart attack.
“You heard me,” he said, staring into my eyes and not letting me look away.
“Now? April’s competing.”
He waved a hand. “She’s got this in the bag.”
“Didn’t you make this offer once before?”
That worked as he grimaced slightly. “There’s no trick this time.” He grinned. “Besides, if there’s any lingering frustrations, it will be more fun to get them out this way.”
I didn’t let the blush on my cheeks stop my objections. “I told you—”
“You’re straight, it was a mistake, blah, blah,” he parroted. I nodded. He licked his lips while I watched the motion. “This isn’t spelling, it’s chemistry. We have it. Why fight it?”
“That’s so cheesy.” It was but I didn’t care. It was true. We stared at each other and just when I thought I was going to drown in the sexual tension or he was going to kiss me right here in public in a middle school cafeteria, he broke away. Good, I still wasn’t anymore decided on the subject. I protested because it felt like I needed to, because I worried it couldn’t be as easy as he made it sound. But what if it could be?
I wasn’t considering his offer. I just. I wasn’t not considering it. Shit.
“You can tell yourself whatever you want,” he said lowly, “but this tension, this energy between us, it isn’t all one sided.”
It was hard to deny that when just his deep voice close to my ear sent shivers up my spine. So instead of pretending there was nothing between us, I just said, “It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? You’re hot, I’m hot,” he grabbed my hand and put it on his hip over the edge of his jeans and under his shirt so I could feel the heat of his body. My eyes stared blankly at the stage while my heart beat wildly. Nobody paid us any attention. They were watching preteens spell, unaware a better show was behind them.
“It’s too complicated,” I tried.
He dropped my hand but traced it with his fingertips, ghosts of touch, as if daring me to grab his hand and stop his trailing fingers. “We’ll have fun, my sister will win, we’ll go our separate ways,” he said simply.
I huffed a laugh at his version of how things would go but didn’t pick a fight. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I was too tempted by his offer. “You really think it could be that easy?” I asked.
“We’re so different now, and with our history, it doesn’t have to be serious.” His voice was still rich and warm even though the words left me feeling a bit cold. Except no, that was what I should want, nothing serious between us. That was practical and I was the practical one, not him.
I shook my head but turned my hand so that our fingers danced against each other. We almost held hands but it was more like a sexual thumb wrestle, an antagonistic version of a sweet gesture. Stupidly, just our fingers warring with each other sent a tingle through me where our skin touched. Just this much was heady.
“You know you want to,” he teased gently, his hip knocking into mine.
“You may be right,” I told him softly. Our hands stopped dancing and rested near each other. Admitting it didn’t cost me anything. Max didn’t yell “aha!” and lord it over me. No shocked parents looked back our way. We just leaned against the wall, bodies connected along one side. “That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”
I expected Max to scoff, leave my side, or maybe get pissed off. He only squeezed my hand softly, eyes fixed on the stage. A small smile quirked his lips up. I got the feeling he didn’t mind that I hadn’t given in. Why didn’t he care?
Max had a thrill-seeking, daredevil streak in him that made flying down the road on a tiny piece of met
al exciting when there were bigger, stronger pieces of machinery out there that could flatten him in an instant. He probably cranked the throttle and went fast, over the speed limit definitely, and pushed his bike to the limit. That all meant he’d like the chase. Shit. I couldn’t say yes yet, but I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to say no. It seemed like he was up for the challenge of wearing down what little resistance I had. I’d never been pursued before. Shit, maybe I was a bit of thrill seeker too. I’d been too busy burying myself in books to realize it, but here I was, on the verge of something with him and so eager for it even if I couldn’t quite give in. Yet.
I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I was becoming certain I wanted whatever it was.
dā-ˈtänt, noun
Relaxation of tensions
Max’s and Cal’s relationship experiences a dā-ˈtänt.
Chapter 7
D-E-T-E-N-T-E
Max
April won the bee. I should be helping her prepare for the next match or maybe even brushing up on more difficult words for Regionals. We shouldn’t get too cocky even if she knows words that make her teachers blink and pause. I should make a list of words to go over with her. Find something useful to do. I should not go into my room and try on clothes like a 14-year-old girl about to go on her first date.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Spelling was the farthest thing from my mind.
There was no pretending I didn’t want Cal. More specifically, his body. On my body. I don’t have a big plan. I wanted to create one but didn’t get much farther than tight, semi-sheer clothing before I imagined our bodies tangled together. Him biting his lip at the sight of me, rushing over and crashing into me no matter where we are—
It’s distracting.
Maybe I could take him for a ride on my bike. That always worked. No time for that now. April came into the living room with her shoes in hand. April and Brendan were going to ‘hang out.’ Not for bee purposes, for friend purposes. She sat on the living room floor, putting her shoes on, staring up at me dubiously at me when I agreed to take her to meet him. “That’s it, you’re just going to do it?”
“I’m a good big brother, aren’t I?” Answering a question with a question, that was a tell. Thank god she’d been too busy lately to watch procedural cop shows and soak them up like a sponge. I always told her not to watch Criminal Minds, but behavioral analysis was one career idea she had, that’s what she said. I thought she just liked finding ways to annoy me by watching programs she was too young for and by picking up behavioral cues she could use to analyze me.
“I thought Cal was back to being a pain in your gluteus maximus?” Studying for spelling bees gave her creative ways to swear.
“Oh April,” Mom shouted from the other room, “Just say ass.”
April grinned. “Pain in the ass.”
“Great parenting, Mom,” I shouted at her.
“Thanks honey!” she responded sincerely.
I rolled my eyes. To April, I said, “No, we can hang out. We’ll get along.” Well, I wouldn’t be outright mean. I definitely intended to drive him crazy but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be accommodating as soon as he gave in.
She peered at me skeptically until mom called out again, “He probably just has a crush, April.”
“Really not helping!” I shouted back.
April’s eyes became huge. “No, no way! Do you like Brendan’s brother?”
“Shouldn’t we be going?” I tried.
“You answered my question with a question.” She pointed a finger at me. “Oh my god, you like him!” She stared at me like she didn’t know who I was. “He wears polo shirts!”
“He makes them look good,” I defended.
“Oh my god,” she huffed.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“Don’t even try that.” She considered me. “Just don’t make this weird. I want to be friends with Brendan.” Ah, 11-year-olds. Everything was the end of the world but the drama didn’t last long.
“Deal.” I scooped her up in my arms and squeezed her until she laughed and tried to escape.
When it was time to go, she vetoed my first outfit choice because she said we were going to eat, not to a back alley. Where did she get that from?
The place was just a regular burger joint, on the retro side with bright fluorescent lights and red vinyl booths, but Cal and I both stood out. Him because he looked immaculate. Me because I took care to look smoldering and sexy. I wore tight black jeans with a deep red shirt and a leather jacket on top. Not the one I wore for safety on the road, the one my mom called the “bad boy” leather jacket.
“We really don’t need two chaperones,” April said when we got there.
“Bye Cal,” Brendan was quick to say.
Technically, this wasn’t a date. Especially not for Brendan and April, who were in regular clothes, just two friends. Cal hadn’t agreed to anything with me but maybe it was a secret date that his conscious mind just didn’t know about because he looked nice, stood up straight, and his eyes roamed down my body like they couldn’t help it. He actually smiled at me a little and looked over my body again, that time like he just wanted to. Then he caught himself, coughed, and looked away. Oh yeah, I could work with this.
“As much fun as this will be for whichever one of us has to stay with you pipsqueaks,” I started, and April elbowed me. Okay, maybe I pitched my voice a few octaves deeper, one of my classic moves. I finished in a normal tone, “I think we could use the company.”
“Except you hate each other,” Brendan pointed out.
“We resolved our differences,” Cal said primly.
“I bet,” April muttered. I elbowed her this time.
“Well, we don’t have to sit with each other, right?” Brendan asked hopefully.
“Of course not,” I said while Cal said, “We should.” Did he wear a deep blue shirt because I wore the color a lot or just because it complemented his light blue orbs? Either way, I approved.
“We don’t need a chaperone,” Brendan sighed, looking at his brother like he was the worst.
“You guys do,” April told me and Cal, “but that’s not our job.”
Brendan looked confused while I fought a smile.
“April, we explained we can get along,” Cal rushed to say. He looked at me and I did smile then while he watched me wearily.
“I don’t think they believe us.” I put my arm around Cal’s shoulder and led him away. “Let’s prove it.”
“Are you sure?” he turned his head back to ask the kids.
“Yes,” they both said at the same time. We went to a booth in the back and were as secluded as we could be in a public place.
Cal and I slid into the booth on opposite sides and regarded each other silently for a moment.
“This isn’t a date,” he told me from across the table.
“Never said it was,” I responded promptly, grabbing a menu and acting like I wasn’t paying him any attention. It was a lie. We had room in the red vinyl booth but I could feel his legs under the table, the presence of them close to mine but not touching.
I felt his stare while I pondered whether I could get away with ordering a milkshake with two straws. “You’re certainly dressed for it,” he accused.
“These are just my regular clothes,” I lied. I looked up at him while batting my eyelashes. “Do you think I look nice?”
Cal coughed and started examining his own menu. “No need to go to any trouble just to take your sister to dinner,” he grumbled.
“Says the guy wearing a different aftershave,” I responded in a low, amused voice. Cal blushed at that but didn’t deny it. He normally smelled clean, just solidly clean, without anything else to his scent. Now, there was that sharp, hint of a musky scent from the first night we met again. I liked the bit of something more masculine much more than his fresh laundry scent, yet both were appealing in different ways.
We spoke of safer topics for a few mi
nutes until we ordered. Cal’s eyes bugged out when I ordered a hotdog, which I did just to screw with him. I smirked and changed my order. I did get a milkshake though.
“Couldn’t we just try to get along?” he asked. “No insults, no pushing buttons, no… flirting.”
Flirting was the whole point of tonight! I pushed down a crabby retort about him being a wet blanket. “That doesn’t sound like much fun,” I offered lightly.
The milkshake I ordered came with one straw and I pushed it closer to myself on the table while sipping from it. I sucked on the straw as lewdly as possible, making exaggerated hums of appreciation before removing my lips with an audible pop.
He didn’t comment on it. “I didn’t peg you for a strawberry milkshake kinda guy.”
I’m a big fan of fruit? No, too corny. I shrugged. Who didn’t like strawberry? “Anyone who says strawberry isn’t the best milkshake flavor is wrong or lying,” I responded neutrally but ran my hand up and down the long glass, fingers skating over the cool surface.
Cal looked away for a second, letting out a frustrated huff. I grinned but was surprised when he met my eyes a second later. “You know, two could play at this game.”
Cal flirting with a dirtbag like me in a public place? No way. “Wouldn’t that be uncouth?” I asked neutrally.
“There is no couth around you.”
I grinned. “That sounds like a compliment.”
Cal shook his head, not saying anything, and I nearly jumped when his leg knocked into mine under the table. Hell yes. Did he think he was showing me? This was exactly what I wanted. Except when I opened my mouth to respond, his leg drew away. “I’m sure that whatever you’re about to say is not proper dinner conversation.”
I sent him a puzzled look. “Oh? What is ‘proper conversation?’”