His eyes return to mine, and his mouth relaxes. “Amy Hall doesn’t know anything about me or who I am. Some days I wonder if anyone does other than you.” His mouth closes and I see the strain in his jaw as it constricts as tight as my heart.
His window slides down and we move to the window to place our order.
“Life is short, live it. Love is rare, grab it. Anger is bad, dump it. Fear is awful, face it. Memories are sweet, cherish it.”
–Unknown
We're filled with greasy fast food and covered with streaks of pink paint, as we stand back and admire our work.
“Can we take the tape off yet?” Abby yells from down the hall.
“No,” Jameson calls back. He uses the back of a Philips head screwdriver to pound the lid back on the paint can.
“What should we do tonight?” Kendall asks, setting her brush down, and inspecting her black nails that are now covered in pink.
She looks up when no one responds. I shrug when her eyes meet mine, and move to roll up the paper towels that fell from the ladder.
French fries ricochet off my shoulder and fall to the ground, leaving a sprinkling of salt on my skin. My head snaps to Kendall as she pulls a few more fries from the bag and chucks them at me. “Bullseye!” she yells with victory as they hit the yellow shoe on my chest. I know she’s out of fries and because of this, I laugh.
“Unlike you two, we have to be up early tomorrow.” My attention shifts back to Jameson as he inspects a corner. “Why don’t we just hang at the house? It’s already after five.”
“Old man,” Kendall taunts.
The four of us sit together at the kitchen table for several hours playing card games, something we haven’t done since Max and I first started dating. The time goes by easy and is filled with laughter and jokes that are both new and old. Landon gets home late and joins us for a short while, sharing brief details of his day. Before he goes to bed, his hand rests on my shoulder and then contracts. It’s little moments like this that make me miss California so much.
Shortly after he retreats to his room, Kendall and Jameson follow suit. I expect Max to do the same, but he follows me to the couch and flips on the TV. A nervous energy runs between us for at least thirty minutes before we’re able to relax and laugh at the show.
When the next episode ends, Max reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. He turns to me and rubs a hand through his hair. “What happened that night? At that party with Nathan Hudson.”
My heart beats painfully in my chest. “I don’t really know. I was telling you the truth when I said I drank way too much and couldn’t remember many details.” I twist the tassels on the throw blanket around my fingers. “Jessica found me in a bathroom with four guys. I guess they were undressing me.” I pause, hearing Max’s breath catch in his throat. “Nothing happened.” I shake my head but can’t look at him. “Doctors confirmed nothing happened. I mean … you know, well … you, yeah … I was still…”
“Just because someone stopped them, that doesn’t make their intentions nothing.” Max’s words aren’t angry or harsh like I expect them to be with his rigid posture and fisted hands.
“I know.”
“That’s why you stopped drinking.”
I nod slowly, and then glance up at him. “I know it wasn’t my fault, but at the same time, I can’t get past the fact that I didn’t even know what was happening to me. That I couldn’t have even made an attempt to stop it.” My tongue sweeps across my dry lips. “I always thought Nate was one of them because Jess saw him in there before she found Pedro, but he wasn’t. He helped Pedro stop them.”
“Pedro didn’t seem to think he was on that side of the line.”
“That’s who told you?”
Max’s lips purse. His eyes are trained on something across the room as he nods. “Hudson and Pedro were in a fight over something, and I was holding Rodriguez back.” He glances over at me, feeling my puzzled stare and swallows. His jaw flexes again and his eyes revert back across the room. “He thought I knew. He thought I was protecting Nathan because I was mad at you for leaving.”
I wish I knew what exactly Pedro told him but I don’t dare ask. I can see the pain and discomfort Max is experiencing from telling me this much. My hand settles on the same point of his wrist I had stared at today in the truck. The contact makes his eyes return to me. “Nate’s been a jerk to a lot of friends. He lost my respect after dumping Kendall the night after they slept together, but, I believe him. Girls threw themselves at Nate, and I know that doesn’t make a person innocent, but,” his muscles flex under my hand, “he broke one of the guys’ arm.”
“You aren’t going to tell me who, are you?”
My head shakes and my grip tightens. “Jess was only positive of Nate, and Pedro only remembers one other, he was drunk too. We all were. I don’t want you to feel like you need to fix this. I didn’t tell anyone because I was ashamed. Now, I’ve called and spoken with a lawyer. I know that with the circumstances and outcome, there isn’t a lot that can happen.” I shrug. “I hate the idea that me staying quiet may have led one or more of them to thinking that what they did was okay. That they could do that, or worse to someone else. But, there’s nothing documented from the hospital, there was no sex crime, there is no evidence, just several-year-old eye witness accounts from drunk kids.”
Max releases a deep breath and his legs extend, crossing at the ankle. His entire body is tense. “Did I make you feel ashamed to tell me?”
My fingers slide down to his hand and my fingers wrap around his palm. The movement is so fast and natural I don’t have time to consider it. “No,” I assure him, shaking my head again. “Not at all.” My eyes fall to my lap. “I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was embarrassed and just wanted to pretend it never happened.” My eyes travel back to his. “I never told anyone until recently when Kendall called about it.”
Max’s eyes narrow slightly with confusion. “She said you didn’t tell her.” His hand becomes slack in mine and I tighten my grip further.
“I didn’t. I told a friend. She’s been … helping me.”
“You should never have felt embarrassed. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel comfortable enough.”
“It had nothing to do with you.” My eyes feel the familiar itch from tears. “You know more about me than anyone. More than I know about myself. It was never that I was uncomfortable with you, I was uncomfortable with me.”
Max’s eyes hold mine and I see the disbelief rise and fall as I try to encourage him with only my stare. His breaths become more labored, his chest rising and falling more noticeably. I think I’m leaning forward, or maybe I have been all along. His lips part slightly and his eyes dance over my face, much faster this time. I recognize this look. I know what his heavy breaths mean and why his hand is clutching mine even tighter.
It fills me with assurance and comfort. It terrifies me because I want it so badly. It rattles me because I know I should stop. I should push these thoughts away and avoid Max because this is all going to make returning home that much harder, that much more painful.
“Ace…” My name is a whisper on his lips.
My heart thrums as I lean a little closer.
A loud knock on the front door stops us both. We remain seated, still facing each other too closely. We’re both reluctant to have this moment end though I think we’re both surprised we’ve arrived here.