Текст книги "Becoming His"
Автор книги: Mariah Dietz
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
The end of summer approaches rapidly. Max and I hold on to the final threads and spend the next week nearly inseparable. We attend a going away party for Jess, who is ecstatic to learn we’re hanging out so much. It goes far better than the other two parties we’d attended together.
“What are you thinking so hard about over there?” I brush my hands together and lift the piece of driftwood I’d carried over and begin tracing lines that barely leave a trace in the dry sand we’re sitting in.
I glance back to Max whose eyes have gone from slightly squinted, his head tilted to the side, to being rounder and brighter.
“Get out of my head Bosse.”
A quiet laugh gets lost in a gust of wind as his attention moves to where Jameson is hauling Kendall into the surf. “I can’t fully read your mind yet.” Max’s eyes return to mine, bright with curiosity. “I’m learning, but you have the upper hand on me with this one. I’m just starting to recognize when you’re being sarcastic.” I’m definitely underplaying this, over the summer I’ve learned a lot about Max, but recently I’ve learned even more as we’ve uncovered facts and tidbits about one another. Some as simple as favorite colors to more complex things, like dreams and aspirations. There’s a certain level of comfort we share now. Quiet pauses don’t seem awkward with the need to force conversation. He doesn’t bat an eye when I wear one of my old camp T-shirts, and he quickly learns that ice cream really does make almost everything better.
“You know me better than most people.” His hands drop to the sand behind him and he moves closer to me, so our thighs brush and then wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward him so my head leans against the front of his chest. “It scares the hell out of me, but I’m starting to like it more than I fear it.”
When Max and Jameson leave for a fishing trip that they’ve had planned, I want to feel excited for them. I know they’ve been looking forward to it, but the selfish part of me wants him to stay.
Thankfully their first day gone is a Sister Sunday and we pile into Mindi’s minivan. I try to listen to the multiple conversations surrounding me, hearing names and giggles floating through the air, but I can’t fight the distraction of Max as I wonder what he’s doing.
“Ace, where are you?” I glance around and notice Jenny and Savannah both stare at me from the bench in front of me.
“On the ocean with Max,” Kendall teases quietly with a grin. “She’s got it bad.”
There’s a chorus of oohs from my sisters that makes my face blush as they assault me with questions and comments, and even a few suggestions about Max’s hotness and the Miller boys in general.
I glance out the window in confusion when the van pulls to a stop. Usually we go to the same Mexican restaurant every Sister Sunday before we head to a movie, or a pedicure, or some other girly activity, but we’re sitting outside of a building covered in spray paint that I honestly can’t recall ever having seen before.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking over to Savannah. She has a coy smile spread across her lips that tells me I don’t want to hear the answer.
I look to each of them, waiting for some sort of explanation, as I follow them up to the building, looking anxious and excited for whatever it is we’re about to do.
I watch as Mindi approaches the storefront. She’s more of a germaphobe than I am, so I’m expecting her to cringe and turn around and yell “joke,” or something that makes more sense than what she does, which is swings the dark-tinted door open and strolls inside, like this is somewhere she goes on a usual basis.
Kendall looks over her shoulder, eyeing me with a grin before following Mindi inside. My eyebrows knit together as my gaze roams around the exterior of the rundown building, searching for a store sign or some sort of clue as to our whereabouts.
“Come on,” Savannah says, gently shoving me in the direction of the door Jenny holds open with a guilty smile.
“Why do you guys all know what’s going on and I don’t?” I ask, walking through the door as I shoot Jenny a scowl. She’s the most likely to fold.
As soon as I cross the threshold, I don’t need a hint or explanation of our current whereabouts. It’s evident by the randomly placed, mismatched pictures in every shape and size that cover the walls. The décor and occupied chair in the corner tell me exactly where we are: a tattoo parlor.
“I’ll watch, but you guys know how I feel,” I say, shaking my head.
“We’re getting it together.” Savannah states.
“We?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “You guys decided for me what I’m going to get tattooed on my body?”
Jenny looks at me shyly, but Kendall grabs my wrist and faces me, her light blue eyes boring into mine. “You need to get over it, because it’s happening. You can choose where if you want.”
“Hey, wow, you weren’t kidding.” I look up to see a skinny man heavily covered in tattoos approaching us. My eyes skitter across his body, taking in the crazy amount of ink he sports and the several piercings that cover his ears, before looking to his face and watching him smile appreciatively at Mindi.
“Are you even supposed to get a tattoo while you’re pregnant?” I interrupt.
“Savannah and I will get ours once the babies are born,” Mindi explains without looking to me. “Ace, this is Scout. Ironic, I know. Scout this is Ace, Jenny, Savannah, and Kendall.” He nods to each of us with a grin that says he’s happy to see that we’re his next customers.
Scout leads us to a chair and eyes us. “So who’s going first?” he asks, griping the back of the chair.
“I am.” Jenny says, perching on the chair. He grabs some papers and a pattern from the counter beside him, and I realize that they’ve been planning this. They’re serious.
It’s not that I’m opposed to tattoos, in fact when I had turned eighteen, I’d marched into a tattoo parlor with Kendall to get one on the top of my foot. The artist had informed me how our hands and feet shed the most skin cells, and explained it would stretch and quickly fade, requiring constant upkeep and would eventually become much larger than the original tattoo. I didn’t really have a plan in mind to have a tattoo elsewhere, so I left and haven’t had the desire to go back since.
When Scout asks her where she wants to get hers done, Jenny extends her wrist. We all watch as he first scrubs it clean with alcohol and then transfers the design.
I crane my neck around Savannah to see what it is. “Are you kidding me?” I cry, “No way.” I shake my head, turning to leave.
“You said you wanted something symbolic, something that represents meaning,” Mindi objects.
“An infinity heart isn’t meaningful! I’m going to have a matching tattoo with the four of you, as well as four million strangers that couldn’t think of anything more creative themselves.”
Mindi looks sort of pissed. These days it’s tough to know how hard I can push her, but I don’t care, I don’t want this. “It’s so cliché! Come on.” I groan.
Apparently I pushed too hard, because the next thing I know Mindi starts crying. I apologize, feeling guilty, and somewhere in there agree to get this cliché symbol tattooed onto my body. Now I’m lying on my side with my arm stretched out over my head, wearing only my jeans and bra, which isn’t even fastened at the moment, as a needle repeatedly punctures the intensely sensitive skin covering my ribs while my free hand holds my bra cups securely in place.
“Is your name really Scout?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the stinging sensation.
“No. Is your name really Ace?”
I shake my head slightly before he glares at me, reminding me that I’m supposed to be lying perfectly still.
“Is that why she said ironic?” he asks.
“Ironic?”
“Your sister, when she introduced us, she said, ‘ironically this is Scout.’”
“Oh, no. I think it’s because my real name’s Harper.”
“Would it totally freak you out if I told you my name’s Lee?”
“You’re lying,” I deadpan. I watch a smirk spread across his face. I know he’s checked me out a couple of times, but I appreciate that he knows who Harper Lee is and give him a small allowance for it.
“You never know, it might be,” he says, not tearing his eyes from my side as he continues tracing the pattern. “How are you doing? You need a breather?”
This time I refrain from shaking my head as I vocalize a no.
“So this is your first ink?”
I confirm with a quiet yes.
“You chose a hell of a spot for your first tat, nothing like diving in the deep end.”
“It’s not so bad,” I lie, working to distract my mind so I don’t contort my face as he hits a particularly painful spot. Honestly it hurts like hell.
Before leaving, Scout asks that we pose for a picture. I hold my shirt and bra up, revealing my tattoo, beside Kendall, who has her back facing out, revealing the tattoo on the back of her right hip. Jenny has her arm extended, showing the small delicate work on the inside of her wrist. I have to hand it to Scout, for being a cliché symbol that I wasn’t looking forward to, he’s done an amazing job. They look feminine and delicate with skilled outlining and enough shading to make them artistic and beautiful. I still feel like it’s cliché, but I kind of love it.
“See ya, Harper!” Scout calls as we make our way outside.
“Later, Lee,” I say with a grin.
“No way! His name’s Lee?” Mindi cries out in shock. I just grin as I make my way back out to the minivan.
“Do you think I should cut my hair?” Kendall stands in front of the department store mirror folding her hair. She briefly studies herself before finding me looking back at her in the reflection. Max and Jameson are due home either late tonight or tomorrow, they weren’t positive on timing, but we’re both feeling anxious. The last few days have been fun, but the constant thought of Max, and what he was doing, and how things would be when he returned have created a constant distraction.
“I like your hair the way it is, but if you want to cut it I know that will be cute too,” I say with a casual shrug.
“You’re a lot of help.” She groans, letting out a loud sigh as she releases her hair. “Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”
Once seated and eating pizza, Kendall begins dissecting her relationship with Jameson. They’re still dating, but apparently the term exclusive hasn’t been declared, which makes Kendall uncertain of the validity of their relationship.
“Why don’t you talk to him about it? It’s not as though you’re not able to establish that step.”
“I know, but this is something he’s supposed to do!” Kendall whines.
“Maybe he already thinks you’re exclusive, but doesn’t realize it’s not implied? You guys have been dating practically all summer, and you are sleeping together.”
“That’s making an awfully big assumption.”
“Call him presumptuous, then, but you should still discuss it with him.”
“What about you and Max? What’s the deal there?” Kendall asks, knocking her knee against mine as I take a bite. I chew a little slower than necessary to craft my reply.
“We’re just hanging out right now.”
“You’re the worst liar.”
“What? I’m not lying!”
“You like him! We all know you do. He knows you do. When are you guys going to start enjoying some of the benefits of being an adult and dating?” Thankfully Kendall’s phone starts ringing, and I know by the ringtone that it’s Jameson. It sends my heart racing, knowing they’re home, or at least back on land.
I glance at my phone to check the time and see a message from Max.
Max: Where R U?
Me: You’re alive!!! Where are you?!
Max: @ ur house. Where R U?
Me: Downtown with Kendall listening to her relationship woes ... Can you please be a double agent and mention to J to ask Kendall to date exclusively again? It will save me a lot of time.
Max: U nd 2 lrn 2 abbreviate.
Me: You love it. I like vowels ;)
Max: Whn R U cmng hme?
Me: Soon, why?
Max: I hvnt Cn U N 4 dayz!!!!
Me: You know days and dayz have the same number of characters right?
Max: U luv it
Me: So what you’re saying is you miss me?
Max: I’m saying come home! Now!!!
Max: is that more clear? Easier to understand with vowels?
Me: So bossy! We’ll be home soon ... I’ll text you when we’re close.
“Who are you texting?” Kendall leans in to read my phone, and I turn my eyes to her giddy face as I covertly turn off my screen.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, they’re home, as I’m sure you’re aware.” She grins, nudging me with her elbow. “I can’t wait to be back in school. Sex is not easy these days—”
“Too much sharing. I don’t want to know all the places you guys do it.”
Upon pulling into the driveway my door is opened before Kendall turns off the engine. Normally, this would startle me, but I already know who it is.
“You never texted me,” Max accuses, sticking his head through the open door.
“Hi, Max.” Kendall calls, retracting her keys. “Good to see you too!”
He looks up to her and grins. “Hey, Kendall, Jameson’s waiting for you inside.”
“Are we being used for one of their sexcapades?”
“Indeed. Want to go get ice cream?”
I turn to Kendall who’s checking her reflection in the rearview mirror with the biggest grin I’ve seen on her face since Jameson and Max left. “Have fun!” I sing, climbing out.
Max pulls me into a hug before I can get both of my legs fully out of the car, squeezing me tightly to his chest. “God, it’s good to see you.”
“But you obviously had fun. So much fun we didn’t hear from either of you.” I remind him as he frees me from his vice grip.
Max shakes his head and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. “We lost reception the first day after being out just over two hours.”
“I’m glad. I was worried you guys found like Megalodon or something.”
“The giant extinct shark that hunted blue whales?” he asks me curiously.
“Oh, Ace, you’ve finally found someone that speaks you’re language.” I turn to see Kendall hasn’t left. She laughs at the expression I give her, which from the way I feel likely resembles something along the lines of ‘shut up, Kendall.’
Max and I spend the evening together as he tells me about the trip and the ocean, reminiscing about the swells and the scent, the colors and the differences and similarities between here and Alaska.
I love listening to Max and watching him transition from deep and thoughtful to silly and animated as he recounts their run in with the Mexican border patrol, laughing as he discredits Jameson’s claim of speaking Spanish explaining he only knows produce translations.
We spend the next few days glued to one another, and it feels a lot like right before he left on his trip, except for the fact that there are even more brushes of our arms and hands, more glances and smiles, and although I’m about to go crazy trying to decipher what Max is feeling, I also feel reluctant for anything to change because as lame as it is, I’m willing to accept anything Max is willing to give me, and I don’t want to potentially lose any of it.
I’d like to think my breakup with Eric inspired Jenny, because the following week she announces that she’s leaving Paul and asks my parents if she and Lilly can move back home, which my parents are beyond ecstatic about. Caulder, Kyle, and my dad plan a moving day, and arrange for boxes and hauling, and somewhere in the midst of their planning Jameson, Max, and Landon all get involved as well. A small piece of my heart will forever be with each of them, as it feels like they’re a part of our family now.
We’ve experienced uncharacteristically large amounts of rain this summer, something we Southern Californians don’t handle particularly well. I’m sure people around the country would laugh if they knew how excess rain literally immobilizes our city. Thus when Sunday arrives and the clouds and weather forecast promise rain, it isn’t even falling before half the family has called to cancel. Once the storm warnings start running over the TV and our phones, the rest of the family cancels as well.
“I sure hope the boys are bringin’ their appetites tonight,” Mom says, returning to the den where Kendall, Dad, and I are watching a movie. “Jenny just called, she said she and Lilly are going to stay another night and will drive back in the morning.”
I glance at Kendall. This means it will just be our parents, Jameson, Max, and Susan for dinner. She looks over at me and smiles reassuringly. Things have been going well between her and Jameson, and I figure if she can be at ease with this situation, then I should be as well.
Shortly after the movie Kendall and I make our way into the kitchen where I’m tasked with chopping vegetables for the salad. Kendall’s assigned with setting the table. Claps of thunder echo outside and the rain graces us with its anticipated appearance.
As I finish dicing a tomato, the doorbell chimes charging me with a nervous energy that has me spending far too much time trying to decide if I should go and answer the door. Mom looks at me from where she hovers by the stove checking on her lasagna with an expectant look that quickly morphs into confusion. I dismiss it and the doorbell, focusing on chopping a cucumber instead.
My dad clears his throat and makes his way to the foyer. I have no idea why I feel so nervous tonight. I know I’m being ridiculous and making this into a much bigger deal than it really is. I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.
Distracted by my little mental freak out, I completely miss what the three have said as my dad’s laughter alerts me that they’re in the kitchen.
“I hope y’all are hungry since your poor mom was called in. That means it’s just the six of us tonight,” my mom says, catching me up to speed. I notice her take a couple of steps, stopping beside me.
“It smells amazing in here,” Jameson says, taking a deep breath through his nose as I pile the cucumber into the salad bowl and reach for an orange bell pepper.
“It does,” I hear Max agree. “These are for you, Muriel, for having us over for dinner again.” The urge to look at him gets stronger, knowing he’s mere feet from me as I focus on gutting the pepper.
Mom jabs me with her elbow, and I glance over to see her eyes focused on the bar with a wide smile spread across her perfectly made-up face. I glance over to see what has made her so elated and my gaze immediately gravitates to Max. Our eyes lock for a quiet second before I look to my dad and then to Jameson standing beside him. Then my stare falls to the large bouquet of light pink flowers setting on the counter in front of Max. I look back to Max. He’s still looking at me.
“You got pink peonies?” Kendall gasps, descending the stairs. “How did you know?” When did you leave?
“They’re for Mom,” I instantly reply.
“It surprises me too.” Mom practically swoons as she scoops up the chunks of pepper that I chopped and drops them into the salad bowl.
“I understand the words you guys are saying, but they’re not making any sense, it’s like code,” Jameson says, looking around to each of us.
“Oh, it’s just ironic,” Mom answers, moving to place a tray of bread in the oven, “David has been gettin’ me flowers every Friday since we began dating, and when the girls were little they used to go with him to pick ‘em out. I always knew which girl accompanied him based on the flowers I received, each one had their favorite. However, when Ace went, I never got the same ones.”
“Until she saw those,” my dad interjects, pointing a finger to the vase of peonies. I stare down at the carrots that I just finished chopping, feeling slightly mortified by this story.
“These are your favorite?” Max asks.
I glance up, noting everyone’s attention is trained on me, and stop when my eyes meet Max’s. I nod.
Thankfully the timer for the bread goes off, breaking the moment. As my mom goes to retrieve the bread, my dad starts talking about an issue he’s run into with Clementine and signals for the guys to follow him to the den.
“Was that incredibly awkward for everyone, or just me?” I whisper to Kendall as inconspicuously as possible as she comes around the island to stand by me while I drop the remaining vegetables into the salad bowl.
“Just you,” she whispers. “Pink peonies!” She quietly squeals, gripping my arm as she does a small bounce on the balls of her feet. I brush her away and instantly hiss at her to be quiet.
“Come on, ya’ll, no more sports talk right now. We’re eatin’ dinner!” my mom calls, taking her seat at the far end of the table, across from dad’s seat.
“Ace, you fish?” Max asks, holding a picture of a seven-year-old me holding a halibut with my dad’s assistance since it was nearly as big as me and weighed more.
“You’re showing them pictures?” I groan, knowing full well there are at least a dozen pictures that could easily be classified as mortifying.
“Just that one. We were talking about fishing,” Dad answers as he takes his seat beside me with a grin. “Tell them about your fishing skills, Ace.”
I roll my eyes and laugh at the amused smirk on my dad’s face before I turn to Max and shake my head. “No, I don’t fish.” I reach for the picture frame Max still holds and set it on the table beside me, face down. “There’s a follow up picture to this one somewhere, as I bawled my eyes out, realizing the fish was going to die, and it was my fault.”
“But you eat meat?” Jameson asks.
“I know, it’s hypocritical. I just don’t deal very well with death. Later you can sit with Mom, and she’ll happily psychoanalyze the situation with you.”
“Why wait?” Kendall teases. I grab a chunk of carrot from the salad bowl and throw it at her, hitting her squarely in the chest.
“Kendall, no!” My Mom shouts quickly as Kendall reaches for a roll with every intention of retaliation. “There will be absolutely no food fights tonight!”
Kendall slowly lowers the roll to her plate. I know she hasn’t conceded—Kendall doesn’t know how to concede—so my attention continuously flickers to her as I listen to my dad.
“So, Jameson, did you grow up in Alaska?” I turn to watch Jameson’s reply, feeling slightly anxious about the subject of Washington coming up after the whole wedding incident. Before he replies, an olive plops into my lap and I turn my attention to Kendall and glare in warning. She instantly shakes her head, her eyes feigning innocence. She gestures to mom, who’s staring at Jameson waiting with rapt interest for his response. Her lips twitch as she fights a smile, and I narrow my eyes at her, waiting for her to turn and acknowledge me. It only takes her a moment before she does, and she widens her eyes in response, holding out her palms in innocence.
“Actually, I’m from Yakima, Washington. My parents own a fruit farm up there. I went up to Alaska to try something new.”
“I’ve never made it that far east. I’ve only ever been to Seattle. Is it pretty wet there?” Dad asks as mom begins plating pieces of lasagna, and I pass the salad bowl to Kendall. I quickly scrutinize her face looking for any trace of her being uncomfortable so I can change the subject, but neither she nor Jameson seem to flinch at the subject being posed.
“No, we’re on the other side of the mountains. Our summers are fairly similar to here, hot and dry. But it can get pretty cold during the winter.”
“Are you a skier?” Mom asks curiously.
“I grew up skiing with my parents, but then I started snowboarding when I was like twelve, and pretty much stick to that now. Do you guys ski?”
“No,” Dad says with a quick laugh as he shakes his head. “I can’t talk them into playing tennis. You really think I’m going to get them to go skiing?”
“I’d be up for hanging out in the lodges and drinking some buttered rum. Some of the snow clothes are pretty cute. Get some big scarves and boot socks.” Kendall looks over to Mom with a growing excitement.
“I’d be in there with you. I have no intention of strappin’ my feet to a board and sailin’ down any mountain to my death any time soon.”
“Oh, ma moitié, you’d start on a bunny hill, small falls.” My mom raises her eyebrows to him as if questioning his sanity, making Dad quickly change subjects.
“So, Max, have you decided which field of medicine you’re going to focus on?”
“I’m not positive. Right now it looks like either spinal or neurological.”
“We need new dinner guests, ones that make us look better,” Kendall teases.
I chance a glance at Max to see him still involved in conversation with my dad. I know Max is intending to apply for medical school this year. We’ve discussed this a few different times over the summer after he told me a story about fishing in Alaska and a really close call that his boat had encountered where he thought they were going to lose a crew member, and how that inspired him to help people the way his mom has. However, sitting here, hearing it again, it still catches me a bit off guard to take it all in.
“Ace has considered medicine,” Mom chirps, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “She’s had some really excitin’ offers, but she needs to focus and make some decisions this year.”
I look up and try to give her a promising smile that seems to effectively placate her before turning my attention back to my lasagna. I slowly move a few bites around my plate, feeling a sense of unease at the mention of my impending decision. Discussing the future has a tendency to overwhelm me, and thinking of declaring a major this year makes me feel nearly nauseous. I’m only nineteen and obviously haven’t been exposed to all fields. How do I know what I’ll want to do in twenty years?
“She still has plenty of time.” I glance over at my dad giving me a reassuring smile as he reaches for his glass of wine.
I’m praying Kendall will change the subject. Usually she never goes this long without talking. But she’s staring intently at her salad, likely distracted with thinking of retaliation.
“So, Ace, where did this nickname come from? I hear we’re playing cards, and I need to know if there’s something I should be aware of,” Jameson asks.
“That’s a good question, I’ve never heard this. You’ve just always been Ace,” Max adds, tilting his head slightly as he looks at me with genuine interest.
“Oh that’s her daddy’s fault. He used to say everything was ace. It was his way of saying good. The girls all caught on, and when Harper was a baby she was always just the happiest little thing. She hardly ever fussed, and her daddy began calling her Ace, and it stuck,” Mom explains.
I look at my dad and smile as a cucumber sails down the front of my shirt. Turning to confront both my mom and Kendall, I see that they’re both working to suppress giggles.
“Seriously?” I eye my mom. She’s having a difficult time breathing. I shake my head and move the salad bowl away from their reach.
“What game are you guys going to play?” Dad asks, a small smile playing on his lips with amusement.
“I don’t know. They can choose,” I reply, looking at Max and then to Jameson. I catch sight of something flying through the air and am just able to lean back in time to see a chunk of tomato land squarely in the center of my dad’s chest, causing a smile to erupt on my face.
“Muriel!” He growls with a wicked smile. He tears off a chunk of bread from his roll and hurls it at her. Mom bursts into a fit of giggles and begins flinging the salad on her plate as fast as she can grab it. Saying my mother has bad aim is a gross understatement. Vegetables are flying, hitting everyone at the table. Many miss altogether and land on the floor.
Food fights are a fairly common occurrence in our house, but based on the expressions from both Max and Jameson, they’re not accustomed to spending meals hurtling their vegetables across the table.
My mom pauses, making my dad stop, and then she lunges forward, grabbing the salad bowl. She then turns her aim to Kendall and me.
“Mom, you always regret this!” I warn between giggles as I raise my hands to deflect the barrage of vegetables. Kendall and my dad are already throwing things back at her, while Jameson and Max are frozen, staring at us.
I pick up a small handful of vegetables from the table and throw them directly at Max’s chest. His jaw drops, making me laugh harder. I quickly scrimmage up another handful and chuck it at Jameson, turning before I can see his reaction as my mom begins throwing entire rolls in my direction. Bread and vegetables are flying as Jameson and Max join in.
Kendall and I definitely have the disadvantage. The boys aren’t about to throw things at our parents, and our parents are more than happy to team up. Mom retreats to the kitchen, returning with the economy sized bag of rolls. The four of them anxiously grab for the fresh ammo and sling them at us. I stand from my chair, turning my back to them, and hear Kendall push her chair back as well. The food suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, and I hesitantly turn to glance over my shoulder to see Max and Jameson stand from the table, looking devious as all hell.
Kendall screams as they begin stalking toward us and I follow her as we begin backing up, trying to gauge their intentions.
“I’d run if I were you two,” Mom teases.
I glance to Kendall and then take off. I hear her clamor up the stairs, shrieking, as I tear around a couple of corners and dash downstairs with Max uncomfortably close behind me. Once I reach the basement, I turn to face him with the pool table between us. Even with my pulse racing and my breath coming in quick spurts, a giant smile is painted across my face.
“Truce!” I laugh, holding out my hands in surrender. “I waive the white flag.”
Max shakes his head and the mischievous grin on his face confirms this is far from over. I slowly edge myself to one side of the table, and Max shadows my every move, crouched like a cougar as his eyes remain fixed on me. We do this dance for a couple minutes before he makes a sudden lunge across the table, catching me completely off guard. He’s nearly able to get my arm as it takes me a second too long to react. I fall to the ground and crawl under the table and then sprint down the dark hallway, ducking into Jenny’s old bedroom. I stoop beside her old armoire and pull my knees to my chest as I try to control my breathing. My heart beats so fast and loud I can hear it in my ears making me nearly miss the quiet padding of Max’s feet. I watch through the tiniest crack between the armoire and the wall as he creeps into the room. I stop breathing in fear that he’ll hear me and watch him stand in the doorway for a long moment before retreating just as quietly.
