Holly and Her Naughty eReader

by Julianne Spencer

  Max and I were partners.

  At that time, Max was a guy I sort of knew but never thought of as a prospect for me. He had spent all of junior year and half of senior year in a relationship with Carrie Romero. He was one tier above me on the social ladder. His bright blue eyes were a frequent topic of conversation among the girls at school and I always thought of him as being out of my league.

  But on the night of our astronomy lab (dare I say it?) the stars were all aligned.

  Groan if you want. I’m a romantic.

  There were four things that were happening that night that made it all work. The first was that we had trouble finding our piece of night sky. The second was that some other groups had chosen to lay down on the grass, setting a precedent that everyone followed by the end of the night. The third was that Mr. Guiliani was letting people leave when they finished their labs, and as the night went on, it grew more quiet and intimate for those of us left behind.

  The fourth was that Max was in no hurry at all to finish.

  He and his dad had been in an argument before Max came to lab, and Max wanted to talk to someone about it. By the time we decided to lay in the grass like everyone else, Max had already blown off the assignment and wanted only to talk.

  So we lay there, side by side, looking up at the stars, talking about life. That alone was enough to make me fall for the guy. But here’s the kicker. When we finally finished the assignment and left, Max walked me to my car and hugged me goodnight. And he said, “Why is this the first time we’ve ever talked?”

  To which I said, “I don’t know,” and I giggled.

  The next day, I called the girls together for a meeting at Taco Bell.

  “I think I like Max Brody,” I announced.

  My friends all knew that this weak, hedged way of expressing my crush really meant I am head over heels in love with Max Brody.

  And I was. Or, I thought I was. You know how it goes when you’re a teenager. One minute Max was that cute guy at school who meant nothing to me. The next, he was my everything. I remember driving myself home from that astronomy lab and being so lost in my excitement about Max that I pulled into the driveway of my house having no idea how I’d gotten there. I had a hard time falling asleep that night, and when I did, I dreamed about him.

  Rhianna, who was a fan of chicken soft tacos, encouraged caution.

  “You’re getting yourself all knotted up over him and graduation is three weeks away,” she said.

  “That’s three weeks she and Max could be together,” said Michelle between sips of her Sprite.

  “Plus the whole summer,” said Yvonne, who was nibbling on cinnamon twists. “For all you know, it might be the most magical summer of your life.”

  “It might be too magical,” said Rhianna. “You worked hard to get into SMU. But then you fall in love and you decide to stay in Albuquerque and you get pregnant and have to drop out of college and the next thing you know you’re a single mom working at Wienerschnitzel to pay the bills.”

  Thinking of that conversation with my girls made me smile. Rhianna hadn’t been serious with all that pessimism, but it turned out to be good advice. She was warning me of the dangers of letting a boy be the focus of my life, which was a mistake I made a few years later when I fell for Derek.

  Max flirted with me off and on for the final three weeks of school. It was maddening. One day he’d find me at my locker, walk me to my car, and hug me goodbye. The next day he’d pass me in the halls and act like he never saw me.

  At Clarissa’s graduation party, Max slow danced with me to Faithfully by Journey. Our dance started in a light, friendly hug. By the end, we had pressed ourselves together in a way that was more than friendly. We danced and danced. Oh my God did we dance. We barely talked. We just stayed together on the dance floor, doing slow songs and fast songs and getting closer and closer to kissing. I was just waiting for Max to ask me to take a walk outside with him. Waiting and waiting and waiting…

  Clarissa was the girl whose parents thought it was best to let the kids drink on graduation night. Perhaps you’ve been through this divide in your own experience. Some parents think it’s sending a bad message to let underage kids drink; other parents think that they’re going to drink anyway, so you might as well have them do it in a controlled environment.

  As such, the rules of Clarissa’s party were that anyone who wasn’t spending the night at the house had to leave by midnight, because at midnight the booze came out and the car keys got taken away. Max’s dad was not at all of the let-them-drink camp, and at midnight, he had to go.

  We exchanged phone numbers and hugged goodbye. What a disappointment that was. There were people around watching us, there was a sense of urgency to get the non-drinkers on the road so the fun could start, and Max chickened out. I guess I did too. For years, I lamented that I never took the initiative and kissed him.

  The goodbye was made more awkward by the fact that we had to exchange phone numbers, and in those days, entering someone into the contacts of your cell phone required you to play a sonata on the nine-digit keypad.

  It was so stupid that we weren’t already talking and texting every day by that point, but that’s how it went with us. Those last days of school between my emergency Taco Bell session and Clarissa’s party were downright goofy. Does he like me or not? I don’t know, he didn’t talk to me today! I can’t bear to go talk to him! Maybe I’ll write him a note. No, maybe I’ll just smile at him during lunch. No, that’s too forward. I think I’ll just avoid him and stalk him from behind when he isn’t looking.

  With all my friends watching, Max and I ended Clarissa’s graduation party with a goodbye hug. That was it. A hug. LAME! But cute. Max Brody, who lived on a giant pedestal of beautiful and cool in my world, was scared to make a move. He was just as nervous as I was.

  I went inside. I started drinking with everyone else. We sang along to Bohemian Rhapsody, my phone fell out of my pocket during the headbanging part and I didn’t notice it and spent an hour in a panic that I’d lost my only chance to ever speak to Max again. I found my phone an hour later (actually, Vivian found it for me), I drank some more, and I got a text from Max.

  It was really cool dancing with you tonight, was what the text said.

  It was two in the morning. He was lying in his bed. He couldn’t sleep because he was thinking of me.I know all this because we texted back and forth for twenty minutes. At the end of those twenty minutes, Max wrote:

  You wanna go out tomorrow?

  The rest is history. Holly at the Outpost Ice Skating Rink, by herself, Max never returns her calls or her texts, Holly has a lousy summer and holds a grudge for ten years.

  And to think it started with me calling the girls together for Taco Bell. Driving north on I-25, Max in the driver’s seat, my Kindle somewhere in Durango, I took a bite out of my taco and decided if it started with a taco, it would end with a taco too.

  Sitting there, crunching away in silence, I forgave Max Brody for standing me up all those years ago. I washed down the taco with a big slurp of Diet Coke and moved on with my life.

  Chapter 15

  “Vivian Halloway,” I said. “She reserved a room last night.”

  “No ma’am. I’m sorry. I do see the reservation but it was never fulfilled,” said the boy at the front desk.

  We were at the Durango Lodge, where Vivian’s online credit card statement told us we’d find her. The boy at the front desk looked no older than 18. He spoke to us with only the mildest of interest in what we were asking.

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying. She never arrived?”

  “That’s correct,” said the boy.

  “But she made a reservation.”

  “Perhaps she’ll arrive later today,” the boy said. “Would you like for me to leave a message for her.”

  Simultaneously, Max answered “Yes” and I answered “No.” Max looked at me with a cute smirk on his face.

  “Why don’t we want to leave
her a message?”

  “Because as soon as…”

  I didn’t want to finish that thought with the boy at the front desk listening in.

  “Let’s go outside,” I said to Max, then, turning to the boy, “Thanks for your help.”

  “Anytime,” the boy said.

  Outside, I explained to Max that Vivian was running from us.

  “If she knows we were here, she’ll disappear again,” I said.

  “But why is she running?” said Max.

  Because she has my magic Kindle and it gives her access to dozens of beautiful men who want to make passionate love to her including one man who uses magic to give her earth-shattering, life-changing, mind-blowing orgasms.

  No, coming clean to Max wasn’t an option. If I told him the truth he would take me home and tell me to a call a shrink, and right now I needed him and his access to Vivian’s credit card.

  “You’re going to have to trust me, Max. What I saw from her last night…she’s a danger to herself. She’s totally snapped. Maybe she was working too hard. We need to find her. Maybe there’s another clue on her credit card. Can you get in there again?”

  “Yes, of course,” Max said. He walked across the parking lot and pulled Vivian’s laptop from the back seat of the Explorer. We went back into the hotel lobby to use their Wi-Fi. Max brought up Vivian’s credit card account.

  “Looks like there are three new charges since we left,” Max said. He turned the screen towards me.

  “Magpies, Appaloosa, La Plata,” I read aloud. I grabbed the laptop, walked it to the front counter, and set it down in front of the boy. “Do you recognize any of these places?” I said, pointing at the three new charges.

  “Magpies, Appaloosa…yes, these are all shops on the plaza,” he said.

  “The plaza? You mean she’s shopping?”

  “I….don’t know what this is, ma’am,” said the boy.

  “Let’s go to the plaza and have a look,” said Max.

  “Yeah, I guess we should,” I said, shaking my head. It didn’t make any sense that Vivian would stop to go shopping. That was time she could have been in the Kindle.

  Still, we knew she wasn’t at the hotel and it was all we had, so Max and I drove to downtown Durango and started walking the plaza like a couple of tourists. We went to Magpies. We went to Appaloosa. We went to La Plata. We went into candle stores and bookstores and boutiques and coffee shops. We stood in the center and looked for her. We used a picture of her on Max’s phone to ask people if they’d seen her.

  We came up empty, and the laptop told us nothing new. After her unfilled reservation at Durango Lodge and her strange shopping spree at the Plaza, Vivian’s credit card went silent.

  As the sun began to set, we plopped down on a bench in front of a bronze horse sculpture, exhausted from the fruitless search. I was tired and starving and now we had to think about getting back home. As if on cue, my stomach growled and I turned, red-faced, to Max.

  “Uh, sorry, I think I need to eat. It’s been a long day.”

  Max smiled, nodding at a restaurant attached to a hotel behind us. I shrugged and stood up, stretching my arms above my head. My shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of my torso. I caught Max’s eyes darting towards my midriff and then quickly back up to my face. He coughed nervously and started walking to the restaurant.

  An older gentleman in a blue and red bowtie was behind the host-stand at the entrance of the restaurant.

  “Two tonight?” he asked Max.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Ah, wonderful, we have a perfect spot for a young, lovely couple like you. Very romantic.” Before either of us could protest, the host led us to a small table near the back of the restaurant. It was in a little alcove all its own. A candle and a little vase with a rose adorned the cloth-covered table. I started to feel uncomfortable. The vibe was decidedly date-like, and I was not on a date with Max.

  “Sit,” Max commanded as he held out my chair. His bossy tone wasn’t as welcome as it had been earlier in the day, but I did as he instructed.

  We sat for a moment in silence, perusing the menu. Our waitress, a pixie-like young woman with short blond hair and enormous blue eyes hopped to our table. She looked at Max for a beat too long, her eyelashes batting furiously, before addressing us both. “Do you know what you want to eat?” She chewed on the end of her pen as she angled her body towards Max.

  Well alright then. I guess he’ll order first.

  “Yes, she’ll have the filet mignon, medium, and salad. I’ll have the swordfish. And bring a bottle of the Malbec.” He closed his menu with an air of finality and handed it over to the now practically swooning girl. I desperately wanted to chew him out…I mean, ordering for me, really? But my jaw wouldn’t close fast enough and the young waitress scooped up my menu and flitted off before I could say a word.

  “Max? What the hell?”

  “Hmm?” He looked up from the table. He had been staring at my hand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Uh, I would’ve liked to order my own food, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “You looked like you could use a good meal. Do you not eat meat? We can call her back…”

  Ugh. He wasn’t getting it. And to be honest, a steak sounded perfect. I decided to let it go. I tilted my head, looking at Max as he watched my hand, still on the table, with rapt attention.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “Your hand. You have really beautiful hands.” He looked up again, not shy or tentative, but with the same intensity I saw when he brought me a Bloody Mary this morning. He looked like he wanted to say more but our waitress was back with our wine. She poured him a glass and watched intently as he went through all the sniffing and tasting of a proper wine snob.

  How strange it was to see Max Brody, the quiet kid from high school, having turned into this man. Totally different than what I expected. I mean…from what Vivian told me, this was a guy who had just gone through a brutal divorce that had left him penniless.

  And then I wondered who would be paying for dinner. I had entered expecting us to split it, but now Max was ordering for me and sniffing at a glass of expensive wine and generally acting like a guy on a date.

  Or maybe like a guy who stood up a girl on a date ten years before, and was hoping for a chance to make it up to her.

  The waitress filled Max’s glass first before begrudgingly turning to me and splashing a bit my way. Rude.

  I guess Max has a new fan, I thought, not surprised. He was looking particularly yummy on this night, with his five o’clock shadow and tightly fitting shirt that showed off his surprisingly sinewy arms and chest and…

  Hang on there, Holly. You are NOT on a date with Max Brody.

  Max swirled his wine around before taking a big gulp. I realized that I finished my glass in record time. When did that happen? Max refilled both our glasses, then lifted his stem for a toast.

  “To road trips, charming dining companions, and looking out for our friends,” he said with a wink before tilting his glass to mine.

  “Yes, to our friends,” I said before clinking my glass with his. What was going on here?

  Our food arrived and my steak was perfect. I didn’t mention that to Max. Our conversation was light and limited, as we both practically inhaled our meals. Somehow, the wine bottle emptied out before I was done and, judging by the lightness in my head, I figured I had something to do with it. The waitress came with dessert. I said no. Max said yes…to glasses of brandy…for both of us.

  I have to admit, it was a lot of fun to drink a syrupy sweet wine with Max after dinner. Whatever this was, it was nice.

  Old feelings from ten years past were gushing forth with the last sip of brandy. A clueless 18-year-old crushing on Max Brody.

  I practically raced out of the restaurant as Max settled the bill that he quite forcefully insisted on paying.

  Whatever, I thought. He ordered. He can pick up the check.

  I’m not on a da
te with Max. Right?

  I was leaning against the metal railing outside a used bookstore across the way when he emerged from the restaurant. His stride was confident, cocky even, he looked taller somehow. In that moment, Max looked even hotter than my hottest high school daydreams about him, and I swore never to drink in his presence again. I was this close to putting a poster of him up on my wall. He could go right between Lebron and Kobe.

  “Hey, you okay? You look a little worried.”

  Huh. So he noticed that.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Probably had too much wine. Thanks for dinner, Max, it was really good.”

  I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. Act normal.

  “Listen, it’s really late. I’m exhausted, and I know you must be too. Let’s just stay here tonight, okay? I checked with the host at the restaurant and he said the hotel should have space. “

  I paused for a moment, thinking over his idea. We’d been drinking. Albuquerque was hours away. I needed a bath and bed.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right. Let’s just stay here tonight. I’ll try calling Viv again in the morning.”

  As I turned to the hotel, my toe caught a crack in the sidewalk. The wine wasn’t helping matters with my already iffy coordination and I began a belly flop to the concrete when Max grabbed me by the waist. He arms were tight around me as he brought me back to my feet, as if I weighed nothing at all.

  “Oh my God,” I said. “I nearly…”

  “You’re fine,” Max said.

  “Yes, I am. Thanks.”

  I felt so embarrassed. And so incredibly turned on.

  His hands were still on me, big and warm and holding me tight. He hung on longer than necessary. I looked up and found his face just a few inches from my own. I think I stopped breathing.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just supremely clumsy. And maybe a little drunk,” I confessed, wishing he would take his hands off me so I could think straight and wishing he would never, ever take his hands off me. Who needs to think anyway?

  “Let’s go get a room.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, rooms.”