Becoming His (22 page)

“You want to go golfing Thursday? Dad said you were on fire last week!” He sets me down and steals the soccer ball from my hands.

I close my eyes to move my focus and nod. “Sure.”

“I’m glad you’re so excited to hang out with me!”

I laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so excited that I’m overcompensating to keep it all in.”

“That’s better.” I laugh, wrapping my arm around his waist as he wraps one around my shoulders. We walk to the yard, dribbling the soccer ball back and forth.

“How come you never get that excited to see me?” Caulder teases.

“Seriously,” Mindi says with a laugh from her lounge chair. “He doesn’t get that excited to see me.”

“Obviously he gets pretty excited to see you,” Savannah says, lifting an eyebrow as she motions to Mindi’s growing stomach, making us laugh. Kyle and I head to the back corner of the yard as Abby sits down to chat with my two oldest sisters.

“You’re rusty.” Kendall approaches with Jameson and Max flanking her.

“Don’t provoke her. She can still kick my ass,” Kyle says, dribbling the ball on his knees.

“Don’t lie.” I watch as he begins alternating from his feet to his knees with his dribble; Kyle taught me everything I know about soccer.

He grins and catches the ball with his hands and tosses it to me. “I wish I were. I need to go check on Mindi before she really does kick my ass.” He grins.

I watch Kyle make his way over to her chair and dip down as he kisses her sweetly on the cheek. I turn back to Kendall and offer her the ball.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she mutters, eliciting an innocent smile from me. I drop the ball and watch it roll.

“What did you guys do today?” I ask, trying to ease the awkwardness that’s quickly swallowing us.

“I want to see your mad skills,” Jameson says, nodding to the soccer ball that has ironically stopped a few inches short of Kendall. He’s either oblivious to the mood, or trying to distract them as well.

“You’d feel like you lost a piece of your manhood if I showed you,” I tease.

“She is pretty good,” Kendall admits.

“Why don’t you play anymore?” Jameson asks.

“I just was.”

“Like for college.”

I shrug. “We’re pulling your leg, really, I kind of suck.”

“She’s lying.” Kendall’s growing annoyance with me is evident in her tone as she kicks the ball at me in frustration. I laugh, raising my sandal-clad foot to stop it from hitting me in the shins.

“What did you guys do today?” I repeat.

“Mom and I made a bazillion tamales. Since you weren’t here to help it took forever.”

“You should’ve called. Abby and I would’ve come.”

“We did! Guess who answered your phone?”

I look at her confused, trying to recall where my phone is. “Who?”

“Eric! He said you left it there yesterday! I thought you were breaking up with him!” I don’t mention that I’d left it because Eric was acting like a complete idiot and had friends over that made Nate look like a boy scout and didn’t feel safe going back to get it by myself.

“Call Abby next time,” I reply, earning a scowl.

“Want to go do a shot before dinner? It’s a full house tonight.”

Kendall looks at me and slowly gives her head the slightest shake. “You’re such a pain in my ass.”

I grin, knowing that she’s just agreed to drop it at least for the moment. I wrap my arm around her shoulders directing her to the house. After a few steps I look over my shoulder at Jameson and Max. They haven’t moved. “Are you guys coming?”

Jameson grins and immediately falls into step with us, but Max lags behind, staring at me again with the same puzzled expression that he looks at me so often with.

Once inside, Kendall grabs a short stack of shot glasses and heads to the living room where I’m showing the guys their liquor choices.

“We’re having tequila.”

I furrow my eyebrows at Kendall, finding this demand to be ridiculous and bizarre.

“Unless you’d like to continue our conversation, we’re drinking tequila,” Kendall says with a glare.

I grab the bottle of Jose Cuervo and lift it up in response. Kendall sets down the glasses and fills each of them before raising her glass for a toast. We each follow suit, and look at her expectantly.

“You waiting for something?” Jameson asks, cocking an eyebrow at Kendall.

“All of my toasts are filled with bitchy comments.” She makes it a point to look directly at me.

“To Utter. Fucking. Confusion,” Max declares. My eyebrows rise when I turn to see if there’s more. Max looks down at me with hard eyes.

“Cheers to that,” Kendall says, sounding exasperated as she leads us in throwing back our shots.

When we emerge from the house I notice Paul’s arrived and quickly shuffle myself behind my dad and Caulder, who are talking as my dad grills. Although I’m standing right beside them, their words fail to penetrate me as I watch Abby sit beside Max.

“Why are you avoiding Max?” I give a sideways glance to Caulder and realize he and my dad are both looking at me.

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s going on with you two? It seems like you’re avoiding him.”

“She is,” my mom says, coming up behind me carrying a couple of glasses of slushy red margaritas to my dad and Caulder.

“I am not.” My voice goes higher with each word.

“She’s been busy with getting ready to head back to school.” I look at my dad appreciatively, but catch the look of concern that crosses his face as he covers for me.

“So what do you think? Which Bosse do you think is the hottest?” I turn at the sound of Paul’s voice and watch as he takes a swig of his drink. His inappropriate comment thankfully distracts the prying eyes of Caulder and my mom, who looks at him with disdain, and for the first time that I can recall I feel grateful for Paul and his dickish ways … until I realize he’s posing his question to Max.
Great.

“I think the Bosse women are in a class of their own,” Max responds gracefully, seemingly unfazed by Paul’s question, or the fact that he’s settling in next to him, looking eager to discuss more inappropriate topics.

“You played that card very safely, my friend,” Paul says, grinning and slapping Max on the back.

“So, you’re friends with four and five?” Paul leans in closer to Max with a cocky smirk that has me straining to hear what he’ll say next.

“Four and five?” Max asks, raising his eyebrows.

Paul’s smirk widens to a grin, “Kendall and Ace, four and five,” he explains as though this is the cleverest of ideas. Max gives a single slow nod, and I can tell from just seeing his profile that he thinks Paul’s a complete tool.

“Dinner time!” my mom calls, interrupting the focus that’s quickly moved to Max and Paul.

With my plate piled with tamales, I search for a place to sit. Mindi’s seated at the patio table with Savannah, discussing pregnancy and kids, and I can tell by her tone she’s in need of more of those strawberry marshmallows. I opt to take a seat on one of the patio chairs near the pool. I’m still working to get myself situated when Paul sits beside me, and I instantly regret thinking I was grateful for him being here.

“So are we playing some pool basketball after dinner, Ace?” he asks, knocking his knee against mine.

“I don’t know if the others are, but I’m not.” I have a strict policy about remaining fully covered at all times around Paul. He has a tendency to have wandering eyes and hands that has led to pool basketball being permanently canceled in his presence.

“Come on,” Paul cries, setting a hand on my bare knee. “You never play anymore.”

The chair beside me fills and I glance over to see my dad and feel relief and embarrassment wash through me as he gives me a tight smile. “I actually had to add some extra chemicals into the pool today. The PH balance was off, so it’s closed for a couple of days.”

“We could play volleyball, those still require bikinis,” Paul says with a grin.

“Ace and I have plans. Sorry, no bikinis tonight, Paul.” Max stands in front of me.

I try to disguise my shock as I glance at him, feeling confused and uncertain about whether he’s expressing jealousy or just trying to be a good friend and save me. His attention is on Paul, daring him to object.

“You should probably go sit down next to Jenny. She’s looking for you,” he adds. Paul looks up at Max like he’s trying to size him up and gives a small grin, shaking his head before wandering away.

Max takes his vacant seat, settling in as my dad begins discussing the idea of remaking a new vintage car with him while I move my food from side to side with my fork.

When my dad gets up to go for seconds Max leans towards me. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not really.” I move my attention from my nearly full plate to Max’s eyes. I had been starving, but trying to decipher Max’s intentions filled my stomach with nerves.

“Are you ready to go, then?”

“Where are we going?”

“We need to talk.” Standing up, he takes my plate and stacks it on his, balancing it in one hand and offering me his other. I feel the familiar warmth and pull I’ve been missing as I slip my hand in his, relieved that he seems less upset than when I’d arrived.

“You have to put your Converse on though, or something close-toed.” I eye him curiously but willingly go and trade shoes as instructed.

Max loosely wraps an arm around my shoulders, making me forget why I’m diligently working to avoid him as we travel across to his driveway. “Alright, so I swore to your parents that you’d wear this, and that you wouldn’t get hurt. So don’t get mad that we’re not going far.” Max says, lifting a black helmet and offering it to me. I look at him for a moment and then to his motorcycle, my eyes rounding with excitement.

“We’re going for a ride on your motorcycle?” The words come out sounding far too similar to a squeal, but I can’t help it. He gifts me with his full Max-smile that always makes my lungs feel like they can’t get quite enough air.

“We are.” Grabbing the helmet from my hands, he gently slides it over my hair and works to fasten it below my chin before he reaches for his own helmet and clips it into place. With one graceful move, he swings a leg over the bike and then offers me his hand. I follow suit, feeling nervous as I climb on, and straddle the seat which has a slight incline, which forces me to automatically slide a bit closer to Max.

“Alright, Ace, hold on tight. If you need anything, touch my thigh. That will tell me I need to stop. I won’t be able to hear you very well, so just remember, if you need me to stop at all touch my thigh,” he repeats. I nod before realizing he can’t tell and pipe out an excited understanding.

Max grabs both of my arms and gently pulls me forward so my chest presses flat against his back. He then crosses my arms over his torso and softly rubs the back of my hands with his rough thumbs before gripping the handle bars and revving the engine to life.

Adrenaline courses through me. I’m not certain if it’s due to the fact that I’m this close to Max, or because I’m on a motorcycle for the first time in my life.

We don’t travel far before Max pulls over to a park that I’m familiar with. It’s the same park I’d met Kyle in all those years ago. I untangle my hands from around his midsection and brace myself with his shoulders as I dismount. Max pulls off his helmet and runs a hand over his short hair, grinning at me. I’m pretty sure I have a matching expression as the muscles in my cheeks begin to slightly ache from smiling.

“How was your first ride?” His eyes shine as he looks to me for a response and I feel like the last couple of weeks of awkwardness between us never occurred. It’s just back to us hanging out once again with easy familiarity.

“That was kind of intense!” I admit, “It’s an adrenaline rush!”

Max smiles at me, looking proud. “I wanted to make sure you had a little dose of crazy.” He slides the helmet from my hands and places them both in a compartment on the bike as I go back to the conversation we’d had over ice cream at Maggie Lou’s.

He unties a black string holding a rolled up blanket on the back of the bike and nods his head forward. “They’re playing
Pretty in Pink
. A little birdie told me you’re quite the Molly Ringwald fan.” I look at him in surprise and manage a nod. It comes out much more like a head jerk, but he, smiles, offering his arm to me.

“What little birdie do you keep talking to?” I ask curiously.

Max gives me another giant grin as we set out across the large grass field dusted with couples. My eyes travel across them; some are having picnics, others are shamelessly making out, and a few younger couples look nervous as their eyes search for clues as to what they should be doing. My heart goes out to them, knowing exactly how they feel.

Max stakes claim to a stretch of grass that’s off to the side where we’re fairly secluded by spreading the blanket with a single snap of his wrists. The movie is just beginning and I’m relieved, feeing more and more nervous at the prospect of talking things over with him. I kick off my shoes and take a seat beside him, leaving a large enough gap between us so I won’t accidentally brush him with my arm.

I stare at the screen for a while, working to avoid the pull of Max’s gaze on me. Eventually, I give in and turn my head slightly to look over at him.

His eyes are bright, and his smile playful, as he gently shoves me with his forearm, causing my body to sway. “Afraid I’ll bite?”

“Amongst other things,” I reply before I can stop the slight innuendo from escaping. Max’s smile spreads a bit further, and he reaches over to gently tickle my side. I swat his hand away with a quiet laugh, but he’s relentless, somehow seeming to find the location of my most ticklish spots. The more I ignore him, the more he tickles. Finally, I grip his fingers in mine and bring them to the blanket between us. I feel his fingers move ever so slightly, gently wrapping around mine, so we’re not exactly holding hands but our fingers are loosely tangled.

I don’t dare look at our hands or over to Max. Instead I focus on the large screen in front of us. I want to laugh at myself; here I am being more skittish about holding a boy’s hand than I was when I was twelve … and I’m not even holding his hand!