“There’s nothing wrong with a sexual relationship as long as both parties know that going in. Otherwise someone ends up heartbroken. That’s kind of what I did to Amy, actually.”
“You won’t get me to agree that anything you did could be worth how she went after you. That shit was downright sociopathic.”
“Your loyalty is awesome,” I said, smiling. “So who do you have in mind for me?”
He tipped his head back against the couch, thoughtful. “It might be easier for me to set you up with guys. Any way you clock it, I’d be awkward as fuck trying to find out if a girl’s bi, and I’m not trolling the lesbian activist group, even for you.”
I laughed outright, the first true humor I’d felt regarding this train wreck. “That’s fine. I told you before, I can find my own dates. But if you think you know somebody who’d be a good fit, I’m willing to meet him. Or her. Though from what you just said, that’s unlikely.”
“I’ll get back to you. There are a couple of guys I have class with—”
“Surprise me.”
“Do you want me to take a ninja pic before I talk to them about you?”
“No need, unless you plan to let them screen me the same way?”
“Fuck, no.”
I could imagine the way this conversation would play out. Are you interested in meeting my roommate?
Why, is she hot?
She’s got an incredible personality, she’s so cool and funny—
No thanks, bro.
But that would probably be the least painful outcome. Better for Max to figure out what a bad idea this was on his own, then I wouldn’t have to tell him how much it bothered me. A smidgen of it stemmed from the possibility that he felt sorry for me, but the vast majority came from wounded pride. I’d thought there were...mutual sparks, and that we’d chosen not to act on them. But only I was struck by lightning while Max remained completely grounded.
Depressing.
“Let me know how it goes,” I said, hopping up.
“You’re going to bed already?”
“It’s past eleven. That’s not early. Something wrong? Is your family okay? Have you talked to them since we got back?”
“Not really, and yeah. I call Michael a couple of times a week. He’s training for some kind of marathon.”
I grinned. “I hate to break it to you, but he got my email at the park. I’ve heard from him, like, six times.”
“What the hell, seriously?” It was impossible to tell if he was truly agitated.
“Yep. He texts me, too.” This was way more fun than talking about a potential blind date.
“Kaufman.”
“What?”
“Don’t string him along. He’s just a kid.”
I gaped at Max. “You honestly think I’m hitting on your brother? Give me some credit for not being gross and inappropriate.”
“I just... It’s weird, that’s all.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. “For him to be friends with me? You are.”
“Yeah, but...”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“I’m definitely going to my room, where I’ll probably text Michael until I fall asleep. Don’t interrupt.” I stomped down the hall and shut the door behind me.
Angrily I changed into pajamas. What the hell is wrong with him? Half of the notes and messages his brother sent were about Max. I didn’t break his confidence, though, or repeat anything about how bad it was the first year after he’d left home. Once Michael had figured out I wouldn’t be spilling top secret info, he’d started asking about college, the kind of questions a homeschooled kid would have. To me, it seemed normal, nothing strange or shady.
I hated fighting with Max, though. With tension between us, I couldn’t focus.
Maybe he felt the same way because he ignored my demand to be left alone, tapping on the door shortly after midnight. “You asleep?”
I sighed and got up, opening the door with an impatience that was mostly feigned. “What is it, Max?”
Even when he stepped on my feelings, it was hard to stay mad. He dug his toes into the carpet, leaning on the door frame. “I just want to say I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Immature, sure, but I wondered if he even knew what bothered me about that whole Michael exchange.
“What happened before. The truth is, I was just... God, this is stupid.”
“Huh?” Already losing interest, I stepped back, ready to shut the door on any more of this crap tonight, but he grabbed my arm.
“Kia will probably be home soon, and she’ll kick me out before we’re done talking.”
Sighing, I followed him down the hall. His bedroom was smaller, barely room for a full bed and chest of drawers. He’d mounted his TV on the wall and put the game console on top of the chest. In terms of decor, there was nothing, no pictures on the walls and very few books. On second inspection, his space seemed sparse and nomadic, as if he could pack his shit and be gone in a couple of hours. The idea tightened my throat.
He clicked a music player into the dock, starting a song I didn’t recognize. The hook caught me right away. “Who’s this?”
“Electric President. If you like this, you’d probably enjoy Radical Face, too.”
This was a lot mellower than I associated with Max, but it was gorgeous, more suited to quiet conversation anyway. I curled up at the foot of his bed, wishing I could lie down and bury my face in his pillow. Though I probably shouldn’t admit it, I missed the smell of him on the sheets as well as his warmth at my back. He was probably glad things were back to normal.
Are you sure? Eli asked.
I ignored him. This wasn’t the time.
“So what did you want to say?” I prompted.
Max sat down, close enough that I could touch him if I shifted. “I hate admitting this, damn. But I was being childish. It hit me, like, No way, you can’t be friends with Michael because what the fuck, I found you first.”
He was right; that was stupid, juvenile and really flipping cute. But at least he had the courage to admit it. “So I have to choose a Cooper, is that what you’re saying?”
“Don’t,” he mumbled. “Right now you’d probably pick him...because he’s not here annoying you and refusing to let you sleep.”
That look, damn.
Leaning over, I ruffled his hair. “False. I’ll always pick you, no matter how much you piss me off.”