“Oh Cindy, you’re going to be super-licious in that dress,” Jacky said.
“Yeah, I know. Let me grab my makeup and stilettos so we can go somewhere less crowded,” Cindy said glaring at me.
Whatever. First off, what the hell is super-licious? And secondly, I am totally done trying to make up with her. She needed to compromise and bend a little. Instead, she focused her energy into being as mean to me as she possibly could. And hanging out with Jacky—well, that was just weird.
Cindy came out of her closet with the highest, spikiest, blackest stilettos I’d ever seen. Hooker shoes, that’s what they are. And her dress—oh…my…God—the skimpiest, thinnest fabric; it looks like a nightgown. It was a dark, blood-red, halter-top type thingy. It looked like it wasn’t long enough to cover her “secret place,” not that it was very secret. I tell you, if I was in an ornery mood, I would have said something. But it was best to let that boat set sail. Trust me on that one.
She slammed the door behind her. Both Joanie and I took a huge sigh of relief. The energy in the room immediately returned back to normal.
“God, why can’t she just accept my apology and move on already?” I plopped down on my bed; my dress pulled and cut tight across my stomach. Great, not only is Max not going to be there, now I am going to be uncomfortable on top of it. I guess I’ll be standing all night.
“Come on, Wilson, do you really think it’s about the F-bomb? Really? She won’t move on because finally someone called her out on her shit and you didn’t bend to her manipulating crap. Everyone knows she’s a bitch; she’s always been out for herself and she will never change. You put Cindy exactly where she belonged and she didn’t like it. That’s just her, so let it go. Besides, we only have six more months with the vengeful bitch, and then we are free of her F-ing shit—forever.” Joanie kicked the pile of Cindy’s dresses back into the closet and shut the door.
“Wow, J. That is so not like you. After nine years you’re starting to sound like me. What happened to the perpetual optimist?” I teased.
“She’s tired of kissing ass.” Joanie grabbed her dress off her bed. “Perpetual optimist—that’s the best you could come up with?” She gave me a smirk.
“We’d better finish getting ready, it’s already five-thirty and the guys are going to be here at six.”
A loud knuckle rapping in a quick tempo echoed through our dorm room. Six o’clock, right on the dot. As I yanked the door open I caught my breath; I didn’t expect Brandon to look so good. He wore tailored black slacks and a honey mustard-colored, snug fitting button-down shirt. He held out a clear plastic box with a beautiful white rose resting on a bed of dainty green fronds. The faint aroma of his cologne wafted across with the breeze, causing me to tingle and think of Max.
“This is for you, Wilson; my sister said I had to bring you a boutonniere. I hope you like white roses.”
“Thanks, Brandon, it’s a beautiful corsage.” He released the lid and I pulled it out of the box. It didn’t have any elastic for my wrist, so it was obviously going to have to be pinned on my dress. I glanced at Brandon, holding the flower delicately in my hands. We both looked confused as to what we were supposed to do with it.
“Hi, Brandon. Wilson, let me help you.” Joanie grabbed the corsage, held it up to my chest, pulled the pins out, and poked them into my dress. He’d made the perfect choice going with white flowers and it gave Joanie a good excuse to keep busy until her date showed up.
“Oh, that is so beautiful. You look stunning,” Joanie said as she hugged me.
“Thanks, J. And thank you, Brandon. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a boutonniere.” I ran my hands up and down the sides of my hips. To be honest, I didn’t think it was that type of dance; fancy and all like that.
“Please don’t worry about it, Wilson. Thanks for coming to the dance with me.” He bent down and pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back; he didn’t let go.
“Well, it’s about time to head over to the dance,” Joanie reminded us. She pulled me away from Brandon and toward the bathroom. “Excuse us, we’ll be right back. We need to freshen up before we go.”
“Take your time, ladies,” Brandon mumbled.
Joanie pushed me into the bathroom.
“Did you text your picture to Max?” she asked.
“No, not yet,” I said.
“Do it now. He needs to see how good you look!” She pulled lipstick from her purse and started to apply a deep, purplish red. I watched her paint her lips, smacking them together to even the tone before she mouthed to me to send the picture.
“Fine.” I grabbed my phone. My hands were sweaty and my heart pounded feverishly.
A PIC JUST 4U--WISH U WERE HERE! XOXO. My fingers typed as fast as they could. I took a deep breath, hit SEND, and then slid my phone back in my purse. I couldn’t wait for him to text me back, even though I was on my way to the dance with Brandon. I checked my teeth in the mirror, blended my eye shadow with the tips of my fingers, and even ran my hands through my hair. This was about as good as Brandon was gonna get.
“Did you send it?” Joanie asked under her breath as we came out of the bathroom. The minty mouthwash she’d swished lingered between us. I pushed my hand to my mouth and checked my breath; not minty fresh, but not bad either.
“Yeah, now we just have to wait and see,” I said to her, my hand still holding the space in front of my mouth. Joanie squealed and jumped up and down.
“You guys okay?” Brandon asked. His eyes alternated between Joanie and me before he pointed to Joanie’s date that finally showed up.
“Pah, yeah. Joanie tends to do that every once in a while.” I walked over to Brandon. “You ready to go?” I asked him.
“Yep.” He held out his arm, I weaved mine through, and we walked out the door.
Right on the threshold, I felt my phone vibrate relentlessly against my hip; excitement simmered in my gut. It had to be Max responding to my text.
I felt it vibrate again and heard Max’s voice calling my name. I felt warmth radiate down my arm and snatch my hand.
“Wilson, sweetheart; we’re about to land.”
My eyes sprung open; gasping for air, I came to and realized I wasn’t at school standing around at the dance but in a 747 heading to Aspen with the guy I had fallen in love with.
Chapter Three
The plane bounced and banged, tousling its tires with the runway that welcomed us to Denver, Colorado. Max grabbed my hand. My heart pounded high in my throat, and for a moment, I forgot about the four hour drive ahead of us to Aspen. Not that I minded; any time alone with Max was fine with me. I was more than excited to get to his cabin. I couldn’t wait to start our week-long vacation together. I know I should have believed our vacation started the moment we’d gotten in the car to drive to the airport, but I couldn’t rationalize the feelings that swelled in my heart and tricked my mind into thinking it wasn’t official until we were comfy and safe in his family’s cabin.
Max leaned into me, nudging his nose against my temple; his breath tickled against my hair. “Wilson, I got you something else for your birthday. I hope you like it.” His hand, resting on my thigh, slid inward as his pinky pressed against me. A deep throbbing rushed between my legs.
I exhaled slowly, our eyes met, and I had to ask, “Really? Are you going to tell me what it is before we get off the plane?”
“Nope, you have to wait. But trust me, you’ll love it,” he answered with a grin on his face before he pressed his lips against mine for a quick kiss.
He was so good looking; sometimes I wondered what he saw in me. I often watched people look at us, and I wanted to know what they thought about him—being with me. Not that I was fugly or anything, it was just that he was so strikingly handsome. He had the most gorgeous, warm complexion and shiny jet-black hair, which more times than not, reached toward his unimaginably earthy green eyes. When Max looked at me, he had a way of making me feel like I could crawl into his soul and get lost in his expression—fore
ver.
With a winding hiss, the plane taxied to the gate and jerked to a stop. The hum of the engines dimmed, and automatically people began to stand and jockey for positions. The voice of the pilot came over the speakers, welcoming us to Denver and telling us that the weather outside was a frosty 32 degrees, chilly enough to have a white Christmas. Suddenly it hit me again: today is Christmas. I was so absorbed by my birthday and being with Max, it didn’t cross my mind that, for the first time in my life, I wasn’t going to celebrate Christmas.
I guess I didn’t have time to react to the realization that Christmas was a holiday for people who worshipped Jesus. And for Max’s family, being Jewish meant no wreath on the door, no Christmas lights outlining their roof, no Christmas tree flickering in the huge picturesque living room window, and no cookies for Santa Claus or carrots for his reindeer. And most of all no Jingle Bells or other Christmas music.
Max popped up and pulled open the overhead compartment; lowering our bags onto his seat, he maneuvered my backpack onto his shoulders and re-adjusted the grip on his duffle bag before shuffling back to create a small gap I could squeeze into.
“Wilson, sneak in front of me. We have to hurry to the baggage claim.” He hooked his finger through the belt loop of my jeans and pulled me into the aisle.
“Why?” I teased.
He took a breath before pressing his chest against my back and whispered, “Nice try. You’ll see.”
Damn, he’s as tight-lipped as a preacher’s wife. What does Max have up his sleeve? As he pushed against me, I pressed back against him. It was the perfect way to arouse the waiting butterflies in my gut. This was such a natural habit for us, sneaking our touches; it was almost subconscious.
Eventually, the scrunched line of people trying to collect their crap and get off the plane began to move. Our spooning touch broke to an uninvited space between us. My baby steps eventually evolved to half steps, and once we were out of the plane, they became full length strides up into the airport. Max snatched my hand and my strides became hurried gallops as he pulled me along.
“What’s the rush?” I teased, yanking him back. “Aren’t we on vacation now?”
Max stumbled. Glancing back he winked, dropped his duffle bag, and grabbed my other hand.
“Of course we are on vacation. And the best part of it is, I get to spoil you on your birthday. So, if you don’t mind, can you pick up the pace? We really don’t wanna miss our ride.” He kissed my nose, scooped up the handles of the duffle bag, and sped us toward the baggage claim. Yeah, well even picking up my pace, he is still dragging me through the airport. What could he possibly have waiting for me at baggage claim?
“Oh, good, here we go,” Max said as he spotted the electronic numbers of our flight blinking on the screen above the gigantic baggage claim belt. I swear, it looked like a ride from Disneyland. He dropped our bags and planted himself right at the mouth of the machine.
“Do you know which way it’s going to roll?” I said, giving him a slightly smart-ass grin.
“Of course, they only go one way; to my right.” He pointed before smiling back.
“Are you certain?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“So if you know, for certain, that the belt is going to go to the right, then I should know, for certain, how we are getting to the cabin. It’s only fair.”
“No it isn’t, one has nothing to do with the other,” he laughed and grabbed my hand. “Besides, don’t you want to be surprised on your birthday?” he asked as he lowered his head and gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.
“I guess.” He had me. Damn I can never win when he does those sultry, don’t-disappoint-me eyes.
My heart stumbled when the loud and obnoxious buzzer interrupted my thoughts. The spinning light above flashed a haunting, yellow glow across the waiting passengers’ faces. Suddenly, the snake-like belt began to move and the mouth of the beast began to vomit groups of suitcases. People crowded around Max, reaching in front of him across his primo space, and before long, he was fishing and catching other people’s luggage. When I finally spotted my suitcase, it was in a group with misfit and tattered ones. Max, worn out from collecting everyone else’s bags, had to dig and struggle to catch my suitcase and pull it to safety. Thank God he was so strong; besides the fact that he let out a deep heavy grunt, I knew I had overpacked.
I flashed him a thank you for taking care of me look. Breathing heavily, he forced a smile back at me. I snatched up my backpack, flung it over one shoulder, and pulled the handle of my suitcase. I wasn’t going to torture him anymore with my tanker, I was just glad it had wheels. He grabbed his duffle bag, checked his watch, and held out his hand.
“We’ve gotta go. Here, give me your suitcase, I’ll pull it,” he said.
“You don’t have to. I can pull—”
“Let me have it, we can’t be late for our ride,” he insisted as he snatched the suitcase from my hand.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t that strong, but I wasn’t going to let him pull my suitcase across the airport. I am independent and I can handle it myself. I snatched it back and started walking faster toward the front exit.
“Wilson, wait. You can’t do that.”
“Oh really? Watch me,” I teased back.
“No, really—you can’t.” He sped to catch up.
“I can’t, huh?” I started jogging.
“No, I mean you can, but you won’t want to,” he projected. My suitcase trailing behind me created the perfect obstacle.
“Really, why?” I stopped. Max, however, didn’t and his foot caught the edge of my suitcase. He stumbled; his arms went flailing through the air before he was able to catch his stride. My heart sunk. I went rigid and couldn’t breathe.
He dropped his duffle bag and stood silent for a moment. After he caught his breath, he spoke slowly and deliberately. I felt like such an idiot.
“Sweetheart, we aren’t leaving the airport that way.” He reached out to me and I rolled my suitcase over to him. “We have to go toward the first terminal to catch our ride.”
I nodded and then watched him scoop up the strap of his duffle bag, pull on the handle of my suitcase, and hold out his free hand. When I didn’t arrive fast enough, he looked back at me with glowering eyes. I hurried to clutch his hand, he gave me his heart-melting smile, and I kissed him on the cheek.
“Sorry I made you trip,” I whispered.
“Yeah, well, if it wasn’t your birthday and I wasn’t so madly in love with you—” his voice trailed off as he squeezed my hand.
Wait! What did he just say? Oh my God, he just said it. Hold it together, Wilson; hold it frickin’ together. Breathe, breathe, slowly breathe. He loves me!
The bubble that stuck in my windpipe tickled and struggled to break the energy that spastically fought to hold it back. I wanted to blurt out how much I loved him too. I pressed my head against his bicep and twisted my arm around his. He loved me; nothing else mattered—until I heard her voice.
“Excuse meeee. I’ve been waiting here for over ten minutes and not one of you people has done anything to help me. You have the worst customer service ever. I can’t believe you are still in business. If my father ran his business this way, we would be destitute,” Cindy barked at two girls—one behind the cash register and the other standing next to a rack loaded with brochures. She had them both in tears within seconds. Nobody deserved to be attacked by Cindy, but there was a snowball’s chance in hell that I was going to be the one to break it up. Not with Max on my arm. I could feel the pit of my stomach churn and the muscles across my shoulders twist up my neck. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to see us together.
“Wilson, that sounds like—”
“Cindy,” I answered as I hid behind him. “We’ve gotta get out of here. If she sees us together, we’re so screwed. She thinks I am staying with Joanie for winter break.”
Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t completely sure she hadn’t seen the text message
s from Max on my phone when I accidentally left it on my bed several weeks ago. I was keeping an eye on her Twitter and Facebook accounts, watching for the bomb she’d been waiting to drop. Amazingly enough, she hadn’t un-friended me yet; but there were some questionable posts about “friends” who have taken advantage of her generosity.
Just as I ducked behind a column, I heard Cindy blurt out.
“Oh, Mr.—Max, what a small world we live in. Did you travel solo?”
“Hello, Cindy. Ahh, yeah, I came out alone this trip. Yep, just me,” Max stumbled over his words.
Cindy was a viper; she could look at any situation and tell you how it was going to turn out. If Max didn’t play it off well, she was going to see right through him.
“Well, had I known you were traveling alone, I would have booked my flight with yours. We could have been travel buddies. That is unless your girlfriend would mind,” she fished for an answer.
“Oh, well, I don’t think…well maybe she’d…” he fumbled for words.
Come on, Max. Pull it together; tell her you have to go. Get rid of her.
“Well, Cindy, I think she might have a problem with me talking to such a pretty girl.” He smiled and she giggled her annoying laugh before she batted her eyelashes.
“Oh, Max, now be careful what you say, I’m still your student you know; but only for six more months. Where is this elusive girlfriend of yours, anyway?” She grabbed his arm and winked.
My face burned hot, my ears were on fire; my heart pounded rapidly in my chest. How dare she flirt with him!
“I’d better get going. Happy Holidays, Cindy.” Max turned to leave.
Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last Page 3