by CJ Adler
“I thought we were having a moment,” he defends himself, his brown eyes sparkling in mischief.
“Well, you thought wrong!'' I huff, frustrated, as I correct his stupid assumptions.
“We need a stage name when you go up to fight at MMAs. People need a cool name to cheer you on by. I personally like 'Aggressor', 'Beastly', 'Roar', and 'The Annihilator'.” Max changes the subject as if what just took place never took place.
“You kissed me!” I whine, still not quite over it.
“Yeah, so? Get over it.” He shrugs. “I am.”
***
“Since when did you and Max go public?” Bell asks as I meet up with her after school. “Oh, and thanks for mentioning to your best friend that you have a thing for Max,” she says in sarcasm, annoyed at the lack of information, information that I don't even seem to have.
Since when did I go public with Max? I have no idea.
I raise an eyebrow. “Who told you this? We didn't go public. Plus, I had a thing for him, not have. Had, as in past tense. Where did you get this information from because I swear if Max so much as—”
She shakes her head. “Not Max.” She shows me a picture on her phone, one of Max kissing me.
You've got to be kidding me!
“It's going around like wildfire. The jocks are sending it to everyone,” she informs me, filling me in on the latest news. “Mason said he'd put a stop to it, so don't worry. They always listen to their quarterback, although, I, myself, am curious as to how and why that kiss took place if you're not interested in Max.”
“Because it slipped that I used to like him in kindergarten and suddenly he's kissing me. The jocks captured the picture and sent it all around.” I roll my eyes, knowing that their ringleader is Laiken, at least when Mason's not around. “I hate the football team so much. They'll do anything to climb further up the popularity ladder.”
Bell laughs just as her phone beeps. “Max just changed his status on Facebook to 'in a simply complicated relationship' with Aqueela Lawson. On the MMA official Facebook page, there is a picture of you and Max kissing with a caption underneath saying #Maxeela. People are liking the trend. Your fans increased drastically within the span of a few minutes. I had my doubts, but now I really think that you and Max might actually make the big ones. You two might be rich and successful after all.”
What does she mean 'after all'? I'm offended.
“It's a pity it was all a mistake. When the Maxeela fans hear of this they'll go on a rampage and stop supporting you two,” Bell adds.
I sigh, knowing that what she says is true. I'm about to say something more before Max comes up from behind me and wraps an arm around my waist, surprising me as he leans in and kisses me on my cheek. “Hey, baby.”
I turn around, ready to punch him in the face, but then notice the camera crew of the school following him around. He discreetly motions over to them with his eyes, mouthing to me 'we need this'. They all erupt in awws and begin giving donations toward the MMAs at the sight of us together.
I force a smile as I lean in toward Max. “Hi…” I trail off, thinking of a pet name to call him. I land up stumped and just go with my first thought. “...Maxipad!”
They all laugh, finding “us” adorable.
Max gives me a subtle glare before he pinches me in the side, fooling our audience into thinking it's a loving gesture. The pain from the pinch makes me jump and squirm as he fakes a laugh to cover it up. His grip on me tightens. “Aren't you just too cute today?” he asks in a sickening sweet voice.
“Indeed I am, Maxipad!”
“Baby, you know I hate it when you call me that.” He grins down at me creepily, his eyes unblinking as he conveys the message privately to me: to stop calling him Maxipad in public.
Unfortunately for him, I don't quite receive the message, just as he had not received my message earlier. Maybe this can be fun after all. He stole my second first kiss; it's only fair to milk this a little.
I grin innocently up at Max and bat my eyelashes. “Aww, but you told me you love it when I call you Maxipad, that it makes you feel more feminine. You always say that you wish you had more estrogen because your testosterone comes with a price. For instance, you feel like you can't share your feelings. But now that I call you Maxipad, you feel like you can.”
The guy filming us bursts out into laughter while the girl section of the camera crew coo at us in awe.
Max narrows his eyes at me before bringing me closer, planting a big sloppy kiss on my forehead, just to get even. “I just love you so so much.”
“You tell me that much too often.” I smile up at him, purposely fluttering my lashes, amusing myself in the process. Bells, herself, stifles her laughter and shoves her fist over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing aloud.
“Much much too often,” Max whispers in my ear to convey how angry he is right now.
Join the club, Max Mills!
The bystanders see his whispering as a loving gesture. I fake a laugh as if what he said was funny. I should really stop tormenting him now, but I can't. It's too much fun. I'm too far gone. I'm hooked.
“I think I'm going to be sick,” I hear his irritating voice mutter from beside us. I glance to my left to see Mason watching with a disgusted expression on his face. “So, this—” he gestures between Max and me, “—is really happening?”
“Of course, Maggot,” I lie.
***
I begin my journey home with a carefree smile on my face.
I cross the street only to notice Jay walking across the road. His brown messy hair reminds me of chocolate and his piercing blue eyes remind me of bubblegum, hence his new nickname, “chubblegum”.
What is he up to?
I follow after him silently. I end up following him all the way into a bar where he takes his place as a bartender. I watch from outside the window as four tipsy girls flock around him and flirt with him shamelessly as they order more drinks. However, Jay pays no heed to them as if genuinely not interested.
What kind of guy passes up an opportunity like that?
I'm about to walk away before spotted, but it's too late. Jay just so happens to glance up, almost as if sensing that he's being watched. It's then that he catches me red-handed like a deer caught in headlights.
Uh-oh! Abort mission!
He shakes his head before telling some other guy to take his place at the bar. He makes his way outside, toward me. “I told you to stop following me around!” He snaps , his usual bright and vibrant blue eyes turning to a cool shade of gray-blue.
He should know by now that I don't take to commands very well.
“We're not friends,” he reminds me.
Is it just me or is that line is getting a little cliché?
“But why not?” I jut out my bottom lip, wanting answers for his blatant rejection.
“Because I said so,” he answers in a tone that suggests I shouldn't argue. Although, me being me, I argue anyway, not taking the hint.
“You're so bossy,” I point out the facts. “Just because I said so,” I mimic him, pulling a face. “You know what, Jay? I don't really care if you want to be friends or not. I'm telling you that I'm your friend, whether you like it or not. I'm not going anywhere,” I say just as adamantly, daring him to cross me.
I tried staying out of his way, but I can't help myself when it comes to him. When he's not around, I somewhat miss him.
He folds his arms over his lean chest, leaning against the wall of the bar. He, clearly aggravated, glances up at the sky, murmuring something to himself as if he cannot withstand my presence for much longer. In fact, it's almost as if he forgets my presence altogether, until, that is, I cough loudly on purpose.
His gaze snaps back to me, his eyes filled with irritation. “I give. What will it take for you to leave me the hell alone? I don't want you around me. I don't need a friend. They are over—”
“Overrated.” I roll my eyes. “Blah blah blah. Heard it all before, JT.” I
smirk, finishing his sentence.
He scoffs and averts his eyes, annoyed.
“Let's make a deal. I leave you alone on your terms if you agree to be my friend for a month. You hate me, which I guarantee you won't, then I'll agree to leave you alone forever,” I say with a straight face, completely lying. I'll never give up on him, no matter what. He has some serious potential in the friendship category.
He arches an eyebrow. “A month?” he pauses as if contemplating it before shrugging, “I think I can survive that.”
No, buddy…no, you can't. You have to be mentally, physically and emotionally prepared for an entire month filled with Aqueela Lawson.
He holds out his hand, agreeing to my terms. “Deal?”
I spit on my hand and then hold it up to him. “Deal,” I confirm just as he drops his hand, a repulsed glint in his eyes.
“Use your other hand because I'm not touching spit infested hands. No deal if spit is involved in sealing the deal,” he protests, flinching back in disgust.
Note to self: JT is a germaphobe.
I grin and hold out my other hand in compliance. “You're right. Spit can't seal the deal. I'll get a pocket knife and we can seal it with blood.”
His laidback expression changes to a mortified one. “No deal.”
I laugh at his reaction as I grab hold of his hand with my clean one. “We have ourselves a deal. I promise you won't get sick of me.” However, you might want to murder me.
A lopsided smile slowly forms on his lips, almost as if he's amused yet trying to hide it.
“Oh, and you have to put up with Bells and Max too because they're a package deal,” I say as I waltz quickly away, not wanting to hear his refusal. I glance back over my shoulder to see his slight smile completely dropping and twisting into a morbid frown.
“That was not part of the deal!” he yells after me.
I wink at him playfully as I keep on walking, too busy glancing back at him to notice the light pole in front of me.
Clang!
A sound of metal and my vibrating head is a clear indication as to what just happened. I might have hit that pole...with my buzzing forehead...and it might just hurt...like a lot. I have never felt more like a bobblehead until now.
I begin to grow dizzy, slowly losing balance. Still, I sneak a glance at Jay, hoping that he didn't just witness that incredibly awesome, unplanned stunt. I manage to see through my blurry vision the humongous grin painted on his face. He definitely saw Aqueela go bang.
Speaking of which, I'm not feeling too well.
Everything turns black as I lose my footing, growing wobbly on my legs. I can feel myself stagger back before I begin to fall to the concrete. Fortunately, Jay has fast reflexes. His arms materialize around me, out of nowhere, preventing me from hitting the ground.
So much for using my head.
The pain leaves my forehead and subsides when I find myself looking up into his striking blue eyes. A subtle feeling of peace eases into my bones at hearing his words. “At least we don't have to worry about brain damage.”
“That's sweet,” I whisper, out of it.
“You're an idiot.”
With that, I smile and close my eyes in content. “Thank you.”
Chapter 13
Level the Playing Field
“So, how did you two end up together?” the head of our school's Journal and Media Department asks, the interview that Max scheduled now taking place.
I tap my chin in mock thought and then glance at Max with an apprehensive grin. “Uhm, I think Maxipad tells it best.”
Max turns to me with wide eyes. He doesn't like being put on the spot unless he's prepared for it. He's a bad liar. He squeezes my hand tightly to signify his anger. I smile sweetly at him and motion for him to come up with a story and fast.
He starts hesitantly, “Well, it all began a few months ago when I was rock climbing. Aqueels started talking me up like the flirt she is...” He trails off when I give him a subtle glare. He feigns laughter as if reminiscing. “I remember that she couldn't keep her eyes off my biceps, kept telling me that my calves were more intricately carved than the Egyptian pyramids and—”
“Oh, Max.” I swat him hard on his upper arm, cutting him off, refusing to go down like this. I don't want this false information revealed to most of the student body.
“Oh, Aqueela,” he retorts back with a grin, aware that I'm about to kill him.
“Anyway, that story is really boring!” I practically shout in order to stop him from talking and hopefully change the subject. “How about we talk about something other than Max's intricately structured Egyptian calves?” I suggest, giving him a death stare in the process.
The reporter shrugs and continues on with the interview. “Well, the Maxeela fans want to know what you two have installed for the MMAs. That seems to be a hot topic right now.”
I open my mouth to answer, but of course, as soon as Max hears the acronym MMA, his attention perks up. He leans in forward and begins to blabber on about all his plans that seem so far-fetched.
I can't believe it's only been a week since Max and I have been fake dating. To say that it's been torture is an understatement. He's a pest.
On the brighter side of things, I have successfully got Jay to acknowledge me every now and then. We're well on our way to being best friends. I have also managed to avoid Mason, which, sadly, means avoiding Bells too.
“What's your take on this, Aqueela?” the reporter asks. When I don't answer, she repeats herself. “Aqueela?”
Max clicks his fingers in front of my face to get me back into the conversation. “Aqueela? Babe? Pay attention!”
I tune back into the boring conversation. “Sorry, what? I was distracted by Max's hand on my leg,” I lie, tormenting him further. “He can be such a flirt sometimes.”
Max folds his arms over his chest, a frown etched onto his face, his anger clear as day.
“I'm sorry, you're going to have to repeat the question, what was it?” I ask her.
The reporter, taken aback, blinks a few times at the revelation I just announced. She repeats her question, still stunned by what I had just said. “Is Max a respectful gentleman?”
Oops! This one is on me.
“Well, I think I just gave you the answer to that,” I mumble, the reporter nodding slowly. She's still astonished, judging by the blank expression on her face. She writes all that I've said down, the cameras still filming.
I think I just ruined Max's rep.
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I think I have everything I need. As promised, your interview will feature in the school's newspaper,” she says and stands up as she gestures to her camera crew to stop filming.
I watch as they walk out the room, leaving me alone with a murderous Max. The door shuts closed after them. I take a peek up at Max to find him already looking down at me with a glint of death in his eyes.
He doesn't move as if waiting for me to take the initiative to make the first move. I pause for a second and then take the gap when I see it. As quick as lightning, I bolt for the door to escape his evil clutches. However, he yanks me back faster than you can yell 'help'. I slam into his chest just as my hand falls from the door handle.
“Not so fast,” he whispers, his voice threatening.
I close my eyes and turn around to face the broody, sulky monster. “Now, Max, I know that you're a tad bit mad but—”
“When she releases that film, the entire school will see me as a pervert!” he yells, my ears ringing, as he shakes me back and forth by my shoulders as if I'm his personal rag doll.
I muster up a sheepish grin. “At least, you have a clique to fall under now: the pervs of high school.” I take a bow. “You're welcome.”
“Not funny,” he grumbles and finally releases his hold on me. “I can't wait 'til we break-up. You're exhausting.”
“I knew you weren't man enough to handle me,” I tease, but Max doesn't crack a smile.
“Aque
ela Lawson, I hate you,” he grumbles under his breath as he runs a frustrated hand through his brown hair.
I take the opportunity to make my escape. However, the door is now open and Jay Taylor, of all people, is leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smirk in place. He's been eavesdropping the entire time.
Jay glances over my shoulder to Max with a grin, agreeing with his earlier statement. “Join the club, my man.”
He's here to level the playing field.
I pull a face at Jay and shove him out of the doorway so that I can get out before Max truly does kill me. I have no doubt that Jay will help him commit the crime.
I'm quick to slip down the hallways of our school and blend in with the other students. However, I hear footsteps following after me. Thinking it to be Max and his sworn vengeance, I spin around with raised fists to see that it is in actual fact just JT.
I let out a sigh of relief and drop my weapons of steel. The irony: just a few weeks ago I was the one stalking him. The roles have been reversed.
Jay matches my steps as he casually strolls on beside me.
“So, friend…” I trail off, breaking the deafening silence as I try to engage in 'small talk' with him.
He hates me using the word 'friend' in public...and privately. Okay, so in general, he hates me using the term. He prefers to think of our newfound friendship
as a “deal” we've made and nothing else, hence why I use the term “friend” all the time.
“What brings you here? Usually, it's me who has to follow you around nonstop just to get you to even look my way,” I say as I walk up to my locker and begin unlocking it.
I notice Jay look away as if to allow me my privacy. I'm pretty sure he'd be able to guess 1234 in any case. I'd change my combination if I was able to remember a new one. Been there, done that…couldn't get into my locker for a month. Good times!
“Just wanted to know how the head is,” he answers me with a teasing yet attractive grin, watching me carefully as he casually leans against the locker beside mine.