“Yeah,” I say, hoping he’ll offer more, giving me a better picture of what exactly happened toward the end of the evening, when my disc got erased.
“I hope we didn’t do anything stupid,” I say, fishing for information.
“Yeah, pretty sure we did.” Max laughs softly and his eyes close again.
That’s all I get?
Max takes my hand in his, which is when I see them—two identical gold bands. One on his hand. One on mine.
The rings catch the sun; light shoots off the gold and bounces around the room.
What exactly happened last night? I am ablaze with an unsettling mix of passion and panic. I’m sweating now, which can’t possibly be appealing. What have I done? I’ve got high school graduation, a summer internship at the San Diego Arts Council, New York University in the fall, and parents who are going to freak. I’ve been MIA for the past twenty-four hours. I’m in Mexico with Max. And we’re wearing rings that look suspiciously like wedding bands. This is bad. Very, very bad.
I’ve never even been on a date.
Or had sex.
Or have I?
I sit up, intent on hatching a plan, and that’s when I see Lily Wentworth standing in the doorway, staring at me.
I hear her before I see her: the unmistakably piercing sound of Lily.
I am going to kill Charlie. What part of “come alone” wasn’t clear?
It’s a rude awakening to what is bound to become a bear of a day.
I lift my head to see Lily standing in the doorway. If this were a cartoon, smoke would be rising from her head. Her body would be engulfed in flames.
I am in some serious shit.
I look over at Kylie looking at Lily, and sure enough, she is flipping out. Her eyes are as big as saucers. If she were a cartoon, her eyeballs would be popping out of her head and rolling onto the floor. Unfortunately, none of us are cartoons. This is not a comic book. It’s real life. And what was once a romance is now a horror show.
I have no idea what to do. I am not the guy who smoothes out these kinds of situations. I’m not a peacekeeper, like Charlie. I’m the guy who looks for the exit at times like this.
I can see Charlie standing awkwardly next to Lily.
“Dude?” I say to him.
“Sorry, man.”
Damn. I am so pissed at Charlie.
Maybe there’s some kind of logical explanation for why they’re in bed together, other than the fact that they’ve just had sex. Yeah, as if.
This is where Max has been on the last day of school? While I’ve been living in my own private hell, suffering my dad’s indignities all alone, he’s been hanging out in Ensenada? Screwing Kylie Flores, of all people?
I am so livid I can’t think straight. I want to pull my hair out. I want to pull Max’s hair out.
I mean, seriously. What. The. Fuck?
Max is such an asshole.
“Let’s give him a minute,” Charlie says. I forgot he was even here.
“Let’s not!” I insist. I mean, Max has had twenty-four freaking hours. What does he need with another minute?
Lily’s skinny arms are folded across her chest in a power pose, outside an open bedroom. I have to assume Kylie and Max are in there, post-whatever.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
There will be blood.
Instinctively, I know I must get to Kylie, to help, protect, and serve. An invisible tether pulls me toward her. I rush past Juan, completely forgetting our discussion. Clearly, he has not. He grabs my hand to stop me. Juan has been gearing up for his big moment with Manuel for the past hour. He wants to proclaim his homosexuality, and he’s asked me to stand by his side for moral support, which I promised to do; but now my allegiance has shifted. Potential boyfriend or not, I have to get to my girl.
“I thought you were going to help me tell Manuel,” Juan says.
“Tell Manuel what?” Manuel asks, sidling up next to us.
“Juan is gay,” I blurt out. I feel bad letting the cat out of the bag like that, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion this will not come as a surprise.
“Oh, I knew that,” Manuel says. “I think everyone knows. I’m glad you’re finally ready to tell us.”
“You don’t have a problem with it?” Juan asks, shocked.
“Of course not,” Manuel says.
“Problem solved,” I say, extricating myself from Juan’s grasp and hurrying down the hall, Manuel and Juan on my heels.
“What’s she doing here?” I hear Kylie say. I can’t see her, but I can feel her. And she’s mad as hell.
“The girl says she’s here to pick up Max. I didn’t know what to do. She insisted on coming in,” Manuel says.
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” I say, pretty sure that won’t be the case.
If only I’d gotten here a half hour earlier, when Manuel first called, I could have put Max and Kylie on a bus, and we would have avoided this little reunion. But Juan wanted to rehearse his whole coming-out speech. A lot of good that did us.
“What’s going on?” Juan asks.
“Sadly, I think this is going to mean a little change of plans, darling,” I tell him. “I’m going to have to drive Kylie back to La Jolla.”
My holiday in Ensenada has come to an abrupt end. I won’t be dropping Kylie and Max at the bus station and kicking back in Mexico for an extended vacation. I’ll be escorting Kylie to graduation because, first off, she’s going to need her best friend by her side, and second, there ain’t no way I’ll let her travel back with Lily and Max. There’s either going to be a homicide or a suicide in that car, and I don’t want Kylie involved.
“No problem,” says my perfect man. “I can come with. I love a good graduation.”
Did I actually get this lucky, or is Juan a serial killer?
“What am I doing here?” Lily barks at me. “What are you doing here?”
Max jumps out of bed so fast, he blurs by me. He’s at Lily’s side, trying to calm her down. Old habits die hard, I guess.
“Oh. My. God. Can you please put on some pants? It’s only making it worse,” Lily insists.
As Max throws on his jeans, he turns to Lily, all apologetic, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’s just left me in bed.
“I’m really sorry, Lil. It’s kind of a long, crazy story. I can tell you all about it on the way back.” Max speaks softly, calmly. Like he cares. Like last night, with me, was just a bunch of bullshit.