Lead Me Not (11 page)

Renee stopped walking and turned to me. “We don’t have to talk about Devon. I know you don’t like him. And actually, I understand why. He hasn’t been very nice to you,” she stated, and I couldn’t help the snort that escaped.

“Or you,” I added hesitantly, not sure if I should keep my opinions quiet but finding it hard to stifle how I felt.

Renee thinned her lips, and I waited for the argument. It never came. And I was glad I had voiced how I felt without censoring myself.

“Why don’t we just go get some dinner,” Renee responded shortly, and I knew I had overstepped. It was very clear that she was extending the olive branch only so far, and that I should just take what she was offering and back off.

What was it about an impending train wreck that made it impossible to look away? That’s what Renee’s life looked like—a big messy train ride to doom. But as much as I wanted to jump on the tracks and stop it, I knew my intervention would not be appreciated. Being Renee’s friend of late meant perfecting the art of tongue biting. And I had damn near bitten my tongue in half.

We walked the two blocks to campus in relative silence. It was uncomfortable and forced, and I was wishing I had decided to heat up a pack of ramen noodles instead.

Renee cleared her throat. “So what did you think of Compulsion? Not really your scene, huh?” she asked in an attempt at teasing.

I tried not to jump to the defensive, to stick my tongue out and stamp my foot in a fit of immaturity while shouting,
It is
so
my scene. What do you know about it?

But Renee was right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that a place like Compulsion was typically the last place you’d find straitlaced, in-bed-by-ten-o’clock Aubrey Duncan on a Saturday night.

There was something really annoying about that.

“I was thinking about going back next weekend,” I said belligerently, just to see what Renee would say to
that.

See, I can be as wild and crazy as the next chick.

But it was the truth. I wanted to go back.

I had strangely enjoyed myself. Attempted drugging and possible death by mosh pit aside, it was something I wanted to experience again.

From the look on Renee’s face, I might as well have told her I was planning on shaving my head and starting an all-girl pop group. “You’re going back? Really? Why?” she asked incredulously.

My thoughts drifted to the man in the baseball cap. He had been insistent that I didn’t belong there, that I was the proverbial fish out of water. And now it was obvious that my roommate felt the same way. It made me oppositional and more than a little defiant. Because I was struck by the insane drive to
prove them wrong.

And something else had become clear to me: being at the club, dancing in the constricting darkness, I felt like I was able to be a person that I couldn’t be anywhere else. Someone who was a lot more interesting than watching paint dry. Someone who got a thrill out of more than organizing her sock drawer. An Aubrey who was spontaneous and slightly out of control. An Aubrey who was wild.

That Aubrey was fun.

That Aubrey was
free
.

I gritted my teeth and forced a smile paired with an indifferent
shrug. “Why not?” I asked flippantly.

Renee shook her head and followed me into the commons. We got in line for the salad bar, but I had lost my appetite. “You need to be careful in places like that, Aubrey. Sure, they look fun on the surface, but crazy stuff happens there. It’s not exactly like going to the mall or something,” she responded in that worldly way of hers that never failed to make me feel like an idiot.

I gave her a cheesy grin. “Hey, I remember when the Peach Pit was turned into a nightclub. I’ve seen what happens when those crazy Beverly Hills kids get their drink and drugs on. I’m so prepared.”

Renee laughed.

“Watching
90210
is like a manual for life!” I added. Even though I joked about it, I was slightly annoyed at her insistence that I didn’t know what to expect by going to a club like Compulsion. Where had she gotten the idea that I was some silly little shut-in who would be scared of the big bad world?

I knew Renee was just trying to be a good friend. But I didn’t appreciate anyone, whether it was a mysterious stranger who made my insides flutter or the girl who up until six months ago had been my very best friend, treating me as though I was incapable of making sound and reasonable decisions.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Renee responded dryly. She turned to the salad bar and started dumping lettuce onto her plate. I watched in mock horror at the food she was putting on her tray. I had never understood the concept of eating salad for a meal. It was a starter, not a main course. It just seemed all sorts of wrong, this coming from the girl who consumed coffee and snack cakes like they were major food groups.

If this was how Renee was eating, it was no wonder she was skin and bones. I had a sneaking suspicion that her newfound minimal eating habits had to do with a particular douchy boy
friend and his insistence that she stay skinny. Devon really needed a one-on-one with a baseball bat.

I reached past her and grabbed a slice of chocolate cake and put it on her tray. “Do yourself a favor and ingest some calories,” I said before she could argue. I grabbed myself a bottle of water and waited for Renee to swipe her student ID card to pay for her meal.

While I stood there, my eyes drifted around the commons. It was pretty crowded, and there weren’t many seats left. If we were stuck sitting with frat guys again, I was going to walk home. A girl could listen to their engrossing discussions about boobs and beer only so many times.

And then I saw him. Standing by the back wall, just to the side of the fire exit, was Maxx Demelo. I hadn’t seen him after our run-in on campus. He had missed the last support group meeting but had called Kristie to say he had come down with the flu. His absence in the group had been noticeable, and not just by me. It was like he had left a vacuum in his place. It was hard to believe that one person could influence the entire vibe of a group like that.

Meet Maxx Demelo, future cult leader extraordinaire.

After we had dismissed group for the evening ten minutes early due to zero participation, Kristie had mentioned that members were allowed to miss only a certain number of sessions. I hadn’t realized that they were held accountable for their attendance to such a degree.

Having already missed one meeting, Maxx would be able to miss only one more before Kristie would have to report his attendance record to his probation officer. That would come with some hefty consequences, given that his jail time was suspended contingent on his group and counseling participation.

“Are you coming?” Renee asked, nudging my arm with her tray. Startled, I took my eyes from Maxx to follow my roommate to a newly empty table. Thank god, no smelly frat guys.

I sipped on my water while Renee started eating her salad. I watched her as she cut up the lettuce into tiny pieces before putting them in her mouth.

“Does that make it taste any better?” I asked, eyeing her food skeptically. Renee gave me a look that said
Shut up and let me eat.

In the lull of silence that followed, my eyes flitted across the room again. Maxx continued to stand beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He was leaning against the wall and looking relaxed. But even from here I could see the fine tension in his neck and shoulders. His jaw was rigid, and his eyes darted around the room, always moving, always looking.

His blond curls stuck out on top of his head as though he had been running his fingers through his hair. He wore a tattered and worn pair of jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. Without trying, he was still the best-looking person in the room. I hated how some individuals were born with the innate gift of looking awesome without putting forth any effort. It wasn’t fair for the rest of us average-looking folks.

He surreptitiously checked the time on his watch and then went back to leaning, ever so casually, against the wall. He kept his head down, purposefully not making eye contact, and it was for that reason alone that I knew he was up to something.

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat? You know you’ll be hungry as soon as we get back to the apartment,” Renee said, interrupting my stalkerish staring.

“I’ll be fine,” I responded dismissively. Renee’s lips pinched together.

I gave her a smile, albeit a forced one. “If I get hungry I’ll just raid your stash,” I joked, hoping tonight had allowed me to resume my attempts at teasing her.

Renee’s lips relaxed, and she smiled back. “I may have gotten
you some of those buttered crackers you like. You know, just so you stop eating mine,” she added, and I tried not to look shocked. But damn, I hadn’t been expecting that.

They may seem like just crackers to you, but for Renee, that was a huge step. And it showed me, more than anything else, that she was trying to repair our broken friendship.

Who knew crackers could fill me with the warm fuzzies?

“Thanks,” I told her honestly, and this time my smile was easy and natural and bordering on ecstatic. I didn’t quite know what to do with all these olive branches she was tossing my way.

“I’m gonna go grab an apple,” she announced, getting to her feet. I leaned back in my chair and chugged the rest of my water. My eyes wandered back over to Maxx, and this time he was standing in front of the exit. He looked around and then quickly opened the door.

What the heck was he up to?

A young boy, probably no more than fifteen, slipped into the commons. Maxx put his hand on his shoulder and leaned down to speak to him. Maxx glanced around the room again before quickly depositing the boy at a table near the back, hidden in a dark corner.

I watched Maxx as he hurried to the dinner line and grabbed two trays, loading them up with food. Not knowing what possessed me, I got to my feet and followed him. I slipped into the line behind him, grabbing a tray, though not putting anything on it.

I really was taking this stalker thing to an extreme this evening.

When Maxx reached the front of the line, he scanned his card. Then he scanned it again. I watched as his mouth formed a thin line and his face flushed red as he swiped his ID card over and over again.

I peeked over his shoulder and read the machine.
Insufficient
funds.
Maxx looked back toward the corner table, where he had left the boy. He picked up the trays and started to walk away with them.

The woman working behind the cash register called after him. “You can’t take that! You haven’t paid for it!” she yelled. Maxx stopped and looked around, realizing he suddenly had the attention of most of the people in the commons.

The smirking look of confidence that he typically wore was replaced by embarrassment and something that looked a lot like panic.

Before the woman could approach him, I stepped in front of her and held out my student ID card. “I’ll pay for it,” I said shortly, giving her my version of the stink eye. Hey, I could pull off intimidating when I wanted to.

Maxx, realizing I was there and had come to his rescue, looked ready to argue. I shot him a warning look and turned back to the lady, who had a nasty case of psoriasis and was obviously looking to wield what little bit of authority she had in her sorry life.

“You should just go ahead and swipe this. The line is getting pretty huge,” I commented dryly, daring her to argue with me.

Bitchy cafeteria lady grabbed my card with an indignant huff and quickly swiped it, practically shoving it back into my hand. “Thank you,” I called out sweetly, depositing my still-empty tray back on the stack.

Maxx hadn’t waited for me; he was already across the room. It’s not like I expected a thank-you or anything, but an acknowledgment of some type would have been nice. Clearly manners were a foreign concept to him.

I followed Maxx back to his table. He couldn’t get rid of me that easily. I was more than a little interested in the boy he had snuck into the commons, why he had loaded up the trays with enough food to feed an army, and why he couldn’t even look me
in the eye after I had stepped in to help him.

I approached the table and could hear the young boy talking to Maxx in an excited voice. “Thanks, man. I’m starving!” he said sincerely. Looking at the frail boy with hollow cheeks and tired eyes, I knew that he meant it. He looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while.

It was clear that he and Maxx were related in some way. They both had been graced with a head full of thick blond waves and the same blue bedroom eyes. But where Maxx was tall and broad, the younger boy was thin and slight, though it was hard to tell if that had more to do with diet and lifestyle than with genetics.

From the protective way Maxx interacted with him, as well as the clear family resemblance, I figured they were siblings. As I watched them, I recognized that almost-tender nurturing all too well. And I felt a moment of connection with Maxx that made my chest ache from missing my sister.

Maxx slid one full tray to the boy, who attacked the food as though he would never eat again. He smiled down at the younger boy in a way that made him even more attractive, something I hadn’t thought possible.

I hung back, blatantly eavesdropping.

“Why aren’t you eating at school?” Maxx asked.

The younger boy looked up with those blue eyes that were so much like Maxx’s and shook his head. “Uncle David hasn’t paid my overdue lunch charges in two months. Sometimes Cory will give me part of his lunch, but I feel, like . . . pathetic asking,” the boy said, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“What about food at the house? Can’t you make yourself a packed lunch?” Maxx asked, becoming more agitated.

The boy wouldn’t look at Maxx; he was too focused on filling his mouth with as much food as possible. “Yeah, if I want to bring
cat food and beer for lunch,” he replied, drinking some of his soda.

Maxx’s brow furrowed, and I could tell he was angry. “I gave that asshole enough money to cover whatever you need for months. You’re telling me there’s no fucking food in the house? And you don’t have money to cover lunch at school? Where the fuck did it all go?” Maxx snarled, and the boy shrugged.