by F N Manning
His leg returned. Oh. A game. I grinned wolfishly at him. He just smiled calmly as his shoe nudged against mine. “Well, have you read any good books lately?”
I sputtered around my milkshake. “Seriously, that’s what you’re going with?”
“It’s not like you have a stock portfolio to discuss,” he quipped. “And as we’re doing,” his shoe drew away for a second and then a sock clad foot caressed my calf, “whatever we’re doing, I figured it best not to discuss family at the moment.” Foreplay wasn’t really something I engaged in often. I was a teen who hooked up with guys at parties, which meant groping in dark, secluded places; there was no time to draw things out. Cal’s foot was oddly hypnotic and exciting. I wanted to purr like a cat.
“You figured it best? You’re such—“ his leg started to draw away. “A dazzling conversationalist.”
“Thank you! I can’t return the compliment, I’m afraid,” he informed me seriously while his eyes sparkled with mirth, “I don’t think we’ve had a conversation without you being verbally abusive at one point or another.” His foot pressed firmly into my ankle.
“I’m not sure it’s possible,” I argued, biting my lip so I didn’t sigh as Cal’s foot stroked my leg.
“You’re up to the challenge.” His foot idly inched higher.
“I’m not sure about that.” But I could challenge him in a different way. I took another drink of my milkshake, making a throaty noise of appreciation at the taste. I reached towards his hand resting on the table and trailed my chilled fingers from the cool glass over the back of his hand.
“Well, uh,” he stuttered, eyes widening, “conversation is overrated.”
I grinned. Had I cracked him? It didn’t feel like a victory. Well, it felt great. His foot rested on the meat of my thigh while his flushed face eyed me hungrily, but this was just a stupid game. It was clear Cal wanted me, but if I pushed with this stuff, maybe he’d change his mind or decide this wasn’t worth the effort. Or maybe I’d spook him and we’d just go back to the start where I’d have to wear him down again after he had time to strengthen his resolve without me around. I don’t know, would it really kill me to make nice with him for one evening? Maybe. I wouldn’t know if I never tried. I sighed and drew my hand away. We called a truce but hadn’t really managed to get along yet as people without antagonizing or flirting.
“Okay, so not to be a jerk, but I really have no idea what you and I could talk about,” I admitted.
He blinked at me in surprise before visibly composing himself. The little frown on his face only stayed there a moment before he looked a bit pleased. He cleared his throat. “Well, we’re both seniors. What classes—"
“Nope, not school. Only one of us is still a nerd,” I interrupted. He blinked at me again and I worried the peace between us was over. Then he smiled, soft and small. It wasn’t cute. It didn’t make my heart skip a beat. No way. Cal wasn’t playing footsie with me under the table anymore but his legs rested easily near mine instead.
“We probably have different definitions of that word. You still read for fun though, right?”
I almost denied it, opened my mouth to say something cutting and sharp, but he kept looking at me with that tiny, warm smile. I closed my mouth without speaking and nodded instead. His eyes lit up. “That will give us plenty to talk about then,” he said decisively. “I’d be surprised if we even have enough time to finish a decent discussion tonight.” God, he was cute when he got going, eyes sparkling, ready to talk about books until he ran out of breath. “I’m making my way through The Cossacks and I’m thinking about reading Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov next.”
“Oh god, Russian authors, really?” I teased.
“It’s kind of a hobby.” He looked down, “But if you have different tastes…”
“Have you read any David Ives?” I asked.
“You mean Variations on the Death of Trotsky? My school put on a student production featuring that play last year.”
I nodded. “The seniors this year are doing Words, Words, Words and Mere Mortals.” I was glad he didn’t ask me how I knew that. I definitely wasn’t a drama club kinda guy, but I had hooked up with the guy who played Captain von Trapp in a school play last year. He was a friendly guy, so we talked occasionally. “I guess all high school drama departments like comedies that require minimal set design.”
I forgot about that guy as Cal smiled. “I guess so.” His eyes lit up. “So, speaking of Trotsky.” He launched into a story and I was content to listen. Especially as he kept smiling at me.
***
Cal
I’d been disappointed when the evening with Max came to an end. Not due to the attention of someone so attractive focused on me the entire night. Well, not just because of that. We’d had an enjoyable conversation too. I almost wanted to kiss him goodnight but I’d made clear it wasn’t a date. Why had I done that? It seemed like a good idea at the time.
I liked being wanted and it’s not like he couldn’t tell I wanted him right back. I made that painfully obvious by how I had trouble looking away from him. However, nerves consumed me. He dropped April off at the next bee club meeting and didn’t seem to pay me any attention, walking past me without a glance and standing at the back of the room. Did I blow my chance? Was this him playing hard to get? Either way I wanted to talk to him. Plus, what he said made a certain amount of sense. We could give into the desire between us and have some fun.
I never got to have fun. Maybe I could have this for myself. It wouldn’t get out as he’d be as horrified as me. Not because I’m a guy but because I’m me. A stupid rich kid. Besides, maybe it’s not as good as it was in my alcohol fueled mind. Or that one time when he tricked me.
Hell, I don’t care.
I’m going to give in. It’s just a matter of when.
Should I be coy longer, really make him work for it? Tempting… but the most satisfaction for both of us would be had by giving in. It was logical. Now seems like as good a time as any to try. Brendan came home and changed and I took him back for the club. The kids clustered together at tables while the parents chatted or left to do other things. I walked over to Max.
“Do you think our siblings like each other? Like like.” At least I started a dialogue between us, but I probably deserved the withering stare he sent me.
“Are we the 12-year-olds or them?”
“Oh, you know what I mean, and it’s not gossip, it will affect us.”
He shrugged. “They’re just friends.”
“I don’t know. We all got milkshakes together.” Shit, was that me admitting it was a date? He didn’t call me on it, just rolled his eyes.
“Just because they’re a boy and girl doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.”
“I guess,” I admitted.
Max smiled. “April wants to be a lesbian when she grows up anyway.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, she’s going to decide that?’
“If anyone could, it’s her.”
“Why’s she off men?” I had a feeling I knew the answer.
He rolled his eyes but said it good-naturedly enough, “If all guys are as clueless as her dumb big brother, she says she’s better off without them.”
I laughed. The moment felt not hostile, so I tried to work up my nerve. I wanted to break the ice, bring up his earlier offer. I’d freaking rehearsed this in my head, what was I going to say?
Max picked up the conversation as he watched April working with some of the other students. “I keep reminding her not to get consumed by all this.”
It was so easy do. To study a few more words, convinced that you can really win it, if you just practiced for a few more minutes, study harder than the others. I remember shrugging off gentle reminders from teachers that only one kid could win. I was determined that kid would be me. “Yeah, Brendan didn’t appreciate that talk either.”
“Was all this worth it for you?” He gestured and I guessed he meant the bee in general. He so
unded curious. We never had a civil conversation about the bee before. Were we about to manage it?
I shrugged but thought about it. “It was a lot of work.” Obviously. Ugh, I tried again. “There were other things I liked,” I said slowly, thinking of a younger me’s hobbies pre-bee: geology, dinosaurs, anything related to science. After my first bee my interests narrowed to spelling, spelling, and more spelling. Then I was done at 14 and adrift. Sure, competitive spellers liked to present the image that we were well rounded, but my passion had become the words.
“Plus, all my friends were bee friends,” I continued. “Only I didn’t live close to most of them. Except, well, you.” I trailed off then quietly added, “It didn’t feel like I had much after the bee. I thought our friendship would last longer.”
Max scowled.
“I’m not trying to guilt you,” I started. It was just the truth.
“No, you’re being a jackass.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes while I tried to be patient with him. I had actually been aiming for civil conversation.
“You’re mad you didn’t get to spend enough time reading comics with friends and playing video games?” Max’s asked.
Which part of that was more ridiculous? “You honestly think I played video games?”
“You got money.”
Finalists did receive scholarship money but, “It was only two thousand—” I stopped when I saw the look on his face.
“Of course, that little amount wasn’t even worth your time, huh?”
“That’s not what I meant. Max—”
“No, just stop talking.”
“Okay.” This was probably the exact wrong time to do this, but I seized the opportunity anyway, afraid I’d lose my nerve. This moment couldn’t get worse but maybe it could get better. I raised an eyebrow; he wasn’t the only one who could make an innuendo. If I wasn’t talking, just what could we do instead?
“Don’t do that either,” he ordered.
“Oh.” I frowned. “I thought—” I’m so stupid. The minefield of Max’s relationship with me was difficult to navigate any time. Why had I decided now would be a good time to proposition him?
“No,” he added. “Just don’t make that face.”
Rude. Maybe I couldn’t do smoldering and sexy as well as him but there was obviously something about my appearance he appreciated. I shoved him and stalked out the door, not looking behind me but smiling when I heard his footsteps following. We weren’t doing anything inside the building. Just because I was dumb enough to try this again didn’t mean I was that stupid. I dragged him to my car instead of staying in the building.
The well-groomed campus was dotted with trees and orange autumn leaves fell onto my car. The trees were still full enough to provide cover and no parents were outside near us. I didn’t let myself worry when Max pressed me up against my car as we traded kisses. The other times weren’t flukes; it was still just as good as I remembered, maybe better.
He was a little tense after our conversation turned serious. I blamed it all on him but set about relaxing him anyway. One hand went to his neck and played with the hair near the base of his skull, gently tugging the locks and massaging the skin there while my other hand moved up and down one arm, stroking his strong biceps languidly. I licked around his lips and he sighed and relaxed into it eventually.
Max grinned into my mouth.
“What?” I asked. I wasn’t wearing a tie he could use against me. Was he about to whip out handcuffs? Huh, not an entirely unappealing thought. Though considering our history, I’d have to be the one tying him up. Oh. Definitely not unappealing.
There was no trick. Well, not a cruel one. He just shook his head. “I didn’t know if that would work.” He gestured behind us to the school. What? Oh, breezing past me and acting like I didn’t exist.
“You- you were playing hard to get!”
He didn’t look apologetic. “It’s effective when you do it.”
It wasn’t entirely guile on my part, more nerves and second-guessing, but still, I couldn’t fault him for taking a page out of my playbook. I looked him in the eye. “I’m not doing that anymore.”
He nodded. Fuck, just staring into his eyes with his body pressed near mine made my pulse pound faster. I could feel the air around us become charged. “Good. Guess we’re finally on the same page,” he said lowly in that deep voice I wanted to bathe in. God, he sounded good like that.
I turned around to open the door while his body pressed against me from behind. A thrill passed over me as I pushed back into the contact. He kissed and sucked at my neck, which made opening the door a challenge when I was distracted by his mouth.
I thought he’d make some smart comment about my car even though he’d seen it before. He wasn’t one to miss the opportunity to insult me but maybe this was more important. I opened the door and turned my head to meet his lips in a desperate, messy kiss. When we parted for air, all he said was, “Really wasn’t what I thought you’d drive.”
Our lips lingered close to each other. “You’ve met my dad, remember?” Oh, what a mood killer. I winced and rested my forehead on his.
Max nodded like that made sense. “Guess he’s not a sports car guy.”
“But let’s not talk about him right now,” I urged.
“Good idea.” We stared at each other dumbly, then started laughing.
Before the moment could turn awkward again, I acted. I managed to switch our positions and I pushed Max into the front seat. With vague memories of a sore back from being crushed on the palettes at the warehouse, I crawled in on top of him. There wasn’t much space like this, but I pushed the seat back and lowered it with the push of a button before shutting the door. Much better. My neurotic nature suited sneaking around. I didn’t get completely distracted by the heat of Max’s body; I had enough self-preservation skills to lower the seat as we didn’t need to give parents a show.
He fell back with wide eyes before smirking. “You move fast, Winthrop.”
I returned his smirk and followed him down. He took off his leather jacket outside and it sat on the hood of my car. Okay, my sneaking skills weren’t perfect, but I couldn’t care about that when met with the tight black shirt he probably wore to drive me crazy. It worked. I ran my hands over the muscles in his arms, squeezing and feeling them flex as his hands moved to my hips.
Max’s hands went to my backside and squeezed and I put my hands on his chest to steady myself. Then I had to roam my hands all over that and feel the firm, warm body beneath me. His hands moved to work themselves under my shirt, moving up and down my stomach, trying to bring the material a little higher each time. I stopped his hands with my own.
“I’m not taking off any more this time,” I said between biting kisses.
He pouted below me. “What a pity.”
He might be able to talk me into it, so I kissed him to shut him up, shivering in pleasure when I had to take a moment to breath and I inhaled his scent. I probably smelled like old books and recycled, indoor air, but his aroma was manly and intoxicating. There was a hint of leather and motor oil and something that was just him. I pulled back and put my hands on his chest to keep his mouth from following me. “We probably shouldn’t get too carried away.” The club meeting wouldn’t last forever.
“Probably,” he agreed. His dark eyes and well-kissed lips called to me. It was intense even without the alcohol. I wanted him just as badly, maybe more.
I rested my head near his. “We probably should have made a plan before we mauled each other.” I wanted to keep going but aside from practicality and timing, I wasn’t that kind of boy. Until Max, I’d been wined and dined. Well, no wine, I was underage. And I did the not-wining and dining. He inspired recklessness.
He didn’t try to push for more now though. “Probably,” he said again.
With him being so agreeable, I had to speak. “But if we wanted to do this occasionally,” I started casually, though he probably felt the tension in my bod
y, “would you be okay with that?”
“Pro—"
“Oh my god,” I interrupted. “You know other words.”
I felt his lips smile more than I saw it. “Affirmative,” he said instead.
Probably. Affirmative. To my ears, it sounded like one thing: yes, yes, yes.
ˈchäch-kə or ˈchäch-kē, noun
Trinket or knickknack
A question about Max’s ˈchäch-kə leads to a revelation.
Chapter 8
T-C-H-O-T-C-H-K-E
Max
Cal looked preppy and chipper in the afternoon light. He’d look like a perfectly modern yuppie tool if he had a sweater tied around his neck to complete the picture. Maybe he left it in the car so I wouldn’t make fun of him. “Are there any dietary restrictions I need to know? Rules to abide by?” he asked me.
We stood outside the auto shop. I’d invited him by this time. Well, he agreed to meet us here so he could pick up April before they headed to the museum. The best part of field trips was missing regular school but these kids were taking this trip on a Saturday. They were going to look at a bunch of scientific spellings technically, but I think it was mostly for fun.
I blinked at Cal’s question. “Uh, return her alive?” It was only for an afternoon and April was better behaved than me. Did he really expect special instructions?
Cal got out his phone. “Behold the novel Eric Wu’s mom wrote.” He showed me, scrolling through several text messages.
I laughed. “Man, I’m so glad I have an actual job and get to miss this field trip.”
His glum expression nearly made me laugh. “That’s not even the longest instruction manual I received.”
I knocked my side into his. “My mom’s working tonight, if you wanna stop by.” He’d never been over before but it wouldn’t be a big deal. April and Brendan could keep each other busy.
Cal was a delight to be around now that we made out sometimes.
“I can’t tonight.” I accepted that in stride and maybe with a little disappointment, but hey, it happened. And we weren’t serious. Just fun. And it was fun, so I wasn’t about to ruin it by being needy or something. He sounded regretful at least.