by Peter Styles
My head snapped up. I could feel my eyes get big. “Um. What?”
“I asked when do I get to meet him?” Her eyes widened. “Is it Nick?”
“What!?” My heart was slamming against my chest. “Of course it’s not Nick!”
“Well, how am I supposed to know?” Grandma huffed. She grabbed a breadstick from the table and took a bite.
“I—you want to meet him?”
Grandma looked at me, tilting her head. She frowned. “Of course.”
My breath caught in my throat. I could feel my eyes start to water. “Um.”
Grandpa cleared his throat. I turned to him, feeling my heart frantically pounding. I could barely believe what was happening, could barely think or feel anything besides panic.
“Who is it?” Grandpa asked.
I felt about an inch tall. I wondered if a just joking! would work here.
“His name is Max.” My voice came out in a trembling whisper.
Grandpa nodded, his eyes narrowed. He set his fork down. Grandma watched him with a raised eyebrow.
“You know,” he said slowly. “There’s a new Italian place downtown.”
I frowned. “Okay?”
“Let’s go next week,” he said meaningfully. Grandma was smiling.
I choked back a confused gasp. “What?”
“Don’t make me spell it out, boy,” Grandpa said, sighing.
I nodded quickly. “You—want to meet him?”
Grandpa’s demeanor shifted, and he smiled kindly. “I’m an old man, Luke, but I ain’t dead. If you want me to meet someone, I would really like to be able to.”
My eyes burned, and my chest ached with a powerful, strong pulse that I could barely think past. “Okay,” I mumbled. “I’ll—make reservations. Next Friday?”
“Thursday,” Grandma said thoughtfully. She picked her fork back up. “I don’t like the crowds.”
Carefully, I picked up my own fork. I nodded. “Thursday,” I said to myself.
My whole body was shaking, but for the first time in a long time, it was with something besides anger or sadness. I was just—happy. Excited.
“Thanks,” I said suddenly.
Grandma’s face softened. Grandpa looked away. “This is good lasagna.”
I laughed a little, smiling down at my plate. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It really is.”
— — — —
The tie I was wearing itched.
Grandma kept telling me that ties couldn’t itch, that the shirt protected my skin, and therefore any itching was just me losing my goddamn mind—although she worded it a lot more nicely.
But my tie was itching. It was also ugly.
I should have gotten a haircut.
“He’ll be here,” Grandma assured me, reaching over and putting her hand over mine. She squeezed and smiled.
I wasn’t so sure. I knew that Max wouldn’t come if I invited him myself. It took nearly all week, but by Wednesday, I had finally worked up the urge to ask him. And then I’d chickened out, and begged Harris to find an excuse to get Max to the restaurant for me.
Surprisingly, my boss seemed unsurprised that I knew about his relationship with Max, and that I was asking him for, honestly, such an inappropriate favor. But Harris had just laughed and agreed, promising me he’d be there at seven on the dot.
It was six fifty-three. I was going to have an aneurysm.
At least then Max would definitely get the promotion. Because I would be dead. From nerves, about going on a date with a guy who did not know it was a date and my grandparents.
Maybe it would be a stroke instead.
“Tell me about him,” Grandma said, cutting off my panic-induced funeral planning.
I mentally tabbed the argument I was building on a pine casket over a cherry one and sighed. Grandma propped her head in her hand. Grandpa was halfway through the basket of breadsticks.
“He’s—smart.” I struggled to find the words to describe him. “Also very annoying, but like, in a good way. He’s obnoxious, but in a way that you know he’s just trying to be fun, and in a way that really is just trying to get you comfortable.”
“Seems nice,” Grandpa said around a mouthful of bread. I wrinkled my nose at him. He scoffed and took another bite.
“Is he handsome?” Grandma asked, tapping at my hand.
I rolled my eyes, feeling my face burn. “Well, yes.”
“I knew it,” she grinned.
“He treat you good?” Grandpa asked.
My blush grew warmer. “Grandpa.”
“It’s a fair question!”
“It is,” Grandma agreed, nodding. “It is fair.”
“Are you being safe?”
I choked. “Grandpa!”
“It’s fair!”
“I’m ignoring you both.” I turned away and scanned the restaurant.
My heart stopped. Max stood in front of the hostess, looking around with a frown on his face.
I jumped up. Max’s head turned to me, and when our eyes locked, he froze.
“I—” I swallowed hard. My mouth was so dry, and my palms were so sweaty, and this was such, such a bad idea.
“Is that him? Bill! Bill, look.”
“Good God, woman, I am looking.”
“He is handsome.”
“Not as handsome as our Luke.”
“Well, no, but—”
I let their voices fade into the background as I walked toward Max. My heart hurt, and my lungs weren’t getting enough air, and I felt more like I was floating than walking.
I felt better than I had in days.
“Hi.”
“You tricked me.”
Max didn’t look as mad about it as the words suggested. I clung to that hopefully.
“I need to say something to you,” I said, feeling my hands tremble as hard as my voice was shaking. “Can we—please, Max?”
Max bit his bottom lip, hard, the teeth almost breaking skin as he looked around. His eyebrows were drawn. His hair had grown out a little.
He looked—tired. My fingers itched with the urge to touch him.
“Okay,” Max said. He nodded toward a little bench by the window that was otherwise empty.
I follow him to it. Grandma’s head popped up as she scanned the room, looking for us.
I ignored them. “I asked Harris to get you here,” I explained.
Max nodded. He wasn’t looking at me, but he was sitting near me, our knees touching, and my skin burned through my pants from the contact. “I figured. Why?”
“I—” I took a deep breath.
There was still time to run.
There was time for me to just apologize, say that I wanted us to be friends, that I would work on being a good friend to him. There was still time for me not to lay myself out there, completely bare and vulnerable to his anger.
He had been so angry. At work, in the supply closet—he’d been so mad. I was so afraid of him releasing that anger on me now, tonight.
“I told you that I didn’t want to talk,” Max said slowly.
I hung my head. “Yeah, I know.”
“But—I’m glad that you did this,” he admitted.
My head snapped up. “Really?”
Max shrugged. He scratched at a spot behind his ear. “I’m really sorry, Luke.”
“What? No, I’m sorry.”
“I—pushed you. I’m like that. I push, and I do things, and I try so hard to not take things seriously that sometimes I take them way too seriously, or way too nothing, and I don’t want to be like that to you. I never—I know i’m a dick sometimes, but I always thought it was like fun, frenemies dicking around, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
I swallowed hard. “I know that.”
His head snapped up. “You do?”
“I do.” I nodded. “I take things too personally. I know that. And you make things so personal for me.”
He considered that, chewing on his bottom lip. “Maybe we both overreacted a little?”
“I—don’t—I just—” I had never seen Max truly struggle to voice his thoughts before. It made me reach out. My hand fell to the space between us when I realized I had no right.
“I missed you.”
Max’s shoulders fell, his body relaxing. He looked up at me. “I missed you, too.”
We were quiet for a minute. It was the most peace I had had since the road trip. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I knew that with Max, there were no pretenses. Even the parts of each other we didn’t know yet were right there, just beneath the surface. I wondered if the years of rivalry had primed us to fall faster once we finally did.
Max looked away. His jaw ticked and his hands folded on his lap, the knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding onto himself.
I blinked rapidly and tried to come up with the right words. I didn’t even know if there were any right words. What if he hated me? What if he couldn’t forgive me?
I felt sick again.
Max looked up, and I lost my breath when our eyes caught. Fuck it, I thought. Just try.
I exhaled deeply. “I’m really sorry, Max.”
He sighed. “I know, Luke, it’s—”
“Wait.” My hand shot out without my permission and curled around one of his. Max’s eyes fell to it. “Please, I—I’m not good with words, but just give me a second. Please.”
Max pursed his lips. Then he nodded. He didn’t remove his hand, and the kernel of hope from earlier grew a little bigger.
“I’m really sorry. Not just about—being angry. Or thinking you were trying to sabotage me, or any of the stuff that happened between us. I’m sorry that I—wasn’t willing to risk anything for you.”
Max’s eyes shot to mine. His mouth fell open in surprise.
Encouraged, I bolstered forward. “I know that’s the real thing, right? I wasn’t willing to be true to myself, and that sucked, but I also—you came to the hospital, and I walked right past you, and that hurt, it hurt me, but god, that must have hurt you, too.”
He nodded. I watched him swallow hard.
“You—I wasn’t willing to risk anything for you.” I took a deep breath and then looked him square in the eye, my jaw twitching. My other hand curled around his until I was holding both his hands in mine.
“I’m done with that. I—know that I could get hurt. Here. Or later. By you. But—I miss you. You’re worth—you’re worth so much, and—”
Max softly exhaled my name.
“I want to make this work. Max, I love you.”
There was a beat, where Max’s eyes were so wide and blue that I thought maybe the whole world had frozen, and I was actually drowning in his eyes. But then he surged forward, hands flying to my neck to tug me closer to him. I fell, body smashing against his, trapping him against the wall. His lips were hard against mine, desperate and sure, and I was lost.
I kissed him back just as passionately. He smelled like cinnamon and coffee and I couldn’t get close enough.
I yanked away with a start, remembering we were in a restaurant.
Max let out a low whine and tugged me back. “We’re in public,” I whispered.
“The police response time can’t be shorter than five minutes,” he argued.
I laughed. “Max.”
He kissed my neck. The hostess looked up at the ceiling, as if God was punishing her by sending us.
I untangled myself from Max’s body. “I—my grandparents are here.”
“Oh, shit!” Max jumped away from me, looking around. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry! Oh, shit, did I just out you?”
I shook my head quickly, reaching out for his hand. The tingling in my hand stopped as soon as we were touching. “Actually, I told them.”
Max’s eyes impossibly widened. His jaw fell. I grinned. “Flies will fall in,” I warned him, tapping at the bottom of his chin.
His mouth snapped closed. “You told them, told them?”
“Yes.” For the first time, a thrill of pride went up my spine.
“Why?” he blurted out. Max winced a little and shook his head. “Sorry, that was rude.”
“I had to,” I admitted. I bit my bottom lip and then let it go with a pop. “I needed them to meet you.”
Max let out a fast burst of breath. “What?”
His voice sounded small. I kissed him once more, gently. “I wanted them to meet you. They’re—ready. If you are.”
Max’s eyes flickered between mine and the seating area where my grandparents were. He swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“About you?” I smiled. “Yes.”
Max broke out into a grin. “Stella’s going to be pissed she didn’t meet you first.”
“Stella? From college?” I frowned, trying to place the girl I used to know.
Max shook his head. “There is still so much for you to learn about me.”
I grinned and leaned in to place my forehand against his. “I’m ready for it.”
“Me, too.” Max stood up and offered me his hand. “Let’s go impress the grand-folks.”
I laughed. “My grandma is going to ask you inappropriate questions.”
Max considered that, and then nodded. “I’m ready.”
Holding Max’s hand, feeling his presence at my side, I thought that I finally was, too.
19
Max
I was going to sue the alarm clock company. I was late again. It wasn’t really the alarm clock’s fault, but I hated it, and it was inanimate, easier to destroy than my job, and therefore going to suffer all my sleepy rage.
My Americano was spilling down my arm as I raced into the lobby at work.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—” I slammed into a wall.
Hands wrapped around my elbows and helped steady me. I blinked.
Luke sighed heavily and straightened me out. He took my coffee out of my hands and took a chug. “Payment,” he said, lifting the cup.
I raised my eyebrows. “So I physically smash into you once. Big deal.”
He laughed and handed the coffee back. I smashed the elevator button.
“I already clicked that.”
“And now we’ve clicked it twice.”
He rolled his eyes. The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
“How did you sleep?” I asked.
Luke slid his cell in his pocket. He leaned against one side of the elevator. “Not as good.”
“I am the best bed companion.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
He scoffed. “You trap the heat. That’s all.”
“Sure, sure.” I closed the space between us.
Luke grinned.
A lot had changed in the last few weeks.
Two months ago, being stuck in an elevator with Luke Wilson was borderline torture. I would try to chat with him and, best-case scenario, be thoroughly amused by his complete discomfort.
But now?
Now, getting stuck in the elevator with Luke wasn’t just acceptable, but preferred. Making out in an elevator with my boyfriend before work started? That almost made getting out of bed worth it.
Luke slipped his tongue between my lips, and I clarified: it definitely made it worth it.
The elevator dinged as we arrived on our floor, and we jumped apart.
Luke’s eyes were wide and his lips were just a little swollen. I sighed happily at the sight. “I’m really glad you were late, too.”
Luke furrowed his brows. “What?”
“Well, I was late, and you were here at the same time as me,” I shrugged.
Luke’s expression smoothed out, and he grinned. “Oh. No, I just changed all your clocks to be fifteen minutes faster. You’re welcome.”
The elevator doors parted, and he strode out.
I chased after him. “What!?”
— — — —
Today was entirely illustrating the concept of déjà vu.
I made my way up to Harris’s office, and fought off co
mparing this day with the day I’d had a few weeks ago. I wondered if Luke had reported me for being late again. The elevator dinged, and I walked through the hallway, rapping on the door twice before letting myself in.
Harris raised his eyebrows as I slumped into the chair. I grinned. “Hi, Uncle Harris.” I lifted my ankles to his desk, crossing them.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I love my sister. I love my sister.”
“You love me, too.” I grinned and pulled my feet down, sitting more appropriately. “Did Wilson report me again?”
Harris’s lips twitched. “No, actually. You’re here for non-Luke related issues.”
I whistled between my teeth. “Shocking.”
“To you and me both,” Harris said wryly. He shuffled papers on his desk and pulled one out, setting it on top. I forced myself to not look over.
“So, Max, you’ve done good work for this company. Spectrum appreciates your work here.”
I interrupted. “Am I getting canned?”
Harris laughed. “No. Opposite, actually.”
My heart stopped. “I got the promotion?”
“Can you please let me talk?” I obediently shut my mouth. “I assume you’ve heard that we’re opening a new branch in Boston. The company is doing much better, in no small thanks to work like yours, and we’re looking to send over some seasoned veterans to train the new guys.”
“Temporary?” I questioned.
“Permanent.” Harris waited a second before asking, “Would you consider taking on a management role in the new branch?”
I considered it. I smiled. “I kind of think that Luke would be more qualified, actually.”
Harris raised his eyebrows. “And why is that?”
I shrugged. “He’s got, I don’t know. That leadership quality.”
Harris smiled. “Luke was my first choice, actually. Unfortunately, he declined the offer.”
I stopped short. “Wait, what? No. Luke would never turn down a management offer.”
“That’s what I thought,” Harris admitted. “I guess something here is more important than work.”
I scoffed. “To Luke? Our Luke Wilson?”
Harris leaned back in his chair. He was fighting a grin. “One and the same.”
I let out a surprised breath of air. Why would Luke do that? He’d been vying for a higher position for years. He lived and breathed work. He would do great at a management position—he would be the world’s dorkiest boss, but he would love every second of it.