“Still dating the wrong person?” I repeat with a laugh.
“I love you, Ace, but let’s face it, you always date the same type of guys. Guys that you know you don’t have feelings for. They’re not your type. I don’t quite understand why you want that type to be your type … I’m saying type a lot, aren’t I?”
I nod with a smile.
“So why are you holding on to this one?”
“I want to know what type of guy I keep dating that obviously isn’t my type, and what type I’m supposed to be looking for.”
“You date nice guys. Nice guys that just kind of go with the flow, and don’t rock the boat. Attractive, but kind of plain. They don’t question you, or push you, they just let you be.”
“Nice guys that are attractive and easy to get along with. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing. If that was your type.”
“So what is my type?”
“You need someone with passion and fire, someone that’s going to push you and excite you. Maybe someone with tattoos?” She arches an eyebrow, insinuating something we both know I don’t want to hear.
“Oh, come on, I’ve known you since you were five! Maybe he didn’t notice but you were totally checking Max out!”
I let my head fall to the back of the swing and groan. “He’s hot. Obviously. But Max and I are very different. I mean he’s been with a lot of girls, and how many fights has he been in? I don’t think bad boy is my type.”
“Max isn’t a bad boy. He’s made some bad decisions, and he does sometimes use his fists rather than his words—”
“Sometimes?” I cry and we both laugh, knowing that Max has an extensive history of fighting.
“I think you should cross your fingers and try it,” she says, using the words I’d said upon entering the house. “Max is a really nice guy, and I see some similar qualities in you both.”
“Like my tough left jab?”
Jess rolls her eyes at me again, not smiling. “Like your compassion and loyalty and your drive. You’re both very passionate about what’s important to you. And I’ve seen you and your occasional wild side too.” She’s referring to when I’d go to parties and drink too much. I was fine, or so I’d thought, until I ended up having to get my stomach pumped one night.
“Max isn’t even interested in me.”
“Interesting. Shouldn’t the fact that you have a boyfriend be your first objection?” Jess asks with the same knowing look she’s had throughout most of this conversation.
“See, you’re helping me build a defense.” I stand up, ending the conversation.
“Just think about it, before college boy does something crazy like propose.”
I look down at her, alarmed.
“See, there’s your answer,” she says, joining me. “You better keep me apprised.” This time I roll my eyes at her.
I start my car and turn the music up loud—loud enough it makes my ears hurt—as I drive home, trying to shut out any and all of my thoughts.
Cars overflow from our driveway and the Millers, reminding me that it’s a Bunco night. I silently pray they’re over at Sharon’s house as I find a parking spot three houses over.
“I was starting to worry about you. I saw Max get home and was concerned your car stopped again.” My dad’s words greet me as I step out of the car. “I was ready to send out a search party. Your generation’s supposed to be glued to their cell phones. How did you miss the wagon?”
“Sorry. No, I just went to see Jess and we got to talking. I must’ve left it in the car,” I say, trying to force a smile as I spot my phone resting in the middle console cup holder. I sweep in to retrieve it and see that I’ve missed eleven calls.
I hold it up with an apologetic smile. He shakes his head and places a hand on my shoulder, leading me into the house.
I need to get in the pool. I swim nearly every night during the summer. It began as a way of conquering my fear of water when I was ten, but now I just enjoy the peace that comes with it as I focus on my breathing and the way my body moves with little resistance.
“You probably want to skip swimming tonight,” he says, sensing my intentions. “The Bunco crowd is all in the back drinking.” I look at the kitchen, just now noticing the random bags of chips and dips covering nearly every surface.
“Did they have anything good?” I ask.
He grins and follows me to peruse the remaining food.
“Avoid those,” he says, pointing to a tray of brownies. “They’re black bean brownies. Those two should never be paired. I now know this to be a fact.” I watch the slight grimace on his face and laugh, turning back to the food.
“You know, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”
I look up in confusion, not sure what he’s referring to.
“Jenny and Kendall,” he offers. “Your relationship with Eric is your business. If you like him, and he’s treating you well, it’s up to you whether you remain dating. Not your sisters.” His attention is focused on me, his eyes prodding mine.
I nod my head a couple of times, dropping his gaze as I grab a taco chip and dunk it in salsa. My dad and I discuss all sorts of things, but guys aren’t usually on the list.
“Eric’s never been my favorite person, but it’s not because I think he’s a bad guy. I just think you deserve someone that appreciates you. Someone that makes you laugh and feel loved. I don’t really get that impression from him, but it’s your life, and it’s your decision.” The fact my dad is discussing this after my conversation with Jess is not only ironic, but confirms that others are seeing my thoughts waver.
I let out a deep breath and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest.
He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arms around me. “Suivez votre cœur,” he says quietly.
“Wise words.” I turn to see Jenny making her way into the kitchen. “You should always follow your heart.”
“Here’s some more wise words, avoid those,” Dad says as Jenny lifts a brownie to her mouth. She takes a bite, obviously thinking he’s teasing. Her face crumples in disgust as she spits the bite into the sink making us burst into a fit of laughter.
My dad begins humming Let it Be, a traditional ending for anytime he offers advice. I’m not even sure he recognizes that he does it any more.
“I’m going to go take Zeus for a run,” I say with a smile, turning toward the stairs. I quickly change into an old track shirt and shorts and call for Zeus as I jog back down to the front door. I need to feel my muscles expel some of the emotions and thoughts that clog my mind.
We set off at a nice easy pace. The air is still warm, even with the sun having mostly set as we head to the elementary school track that we run on each morning.
I freeze at the sight of Max running shirtless just a few yards in front of us. My mind races, wondering if there’s time to head back. There’s a possibility that if I hadn’t brought Zeus, he wouldn’t realize it’s me; I’m fairly nondescript, but Zeus is a dead giveaway.
Just as I make up my mind to pretend this is just part of my route and turn to go through the neighborhoods, Max looks up, and even from here I can feel his stare. He cuts across the track, heading directly for us. So much for distance.
“Hey, are you okay?” My forehead creases as my eyebrows rise, looking to Max in question. “Your dad came by to see if everything was okay and asked if your car had broken down again. I told him it shouldn’t have.”
“No, I actually went to visit Jess. Time just got away from me. Sorry to get you involved again.” My fingers absently roll the hem of my T-shirt as I look over to see Marshall run by with a wave. He never suspected it was Kendall and me that TP’d his house thankfully.
I nod at him before turning to look down at Zeus as he releases a small whine, his tail thumping on the grass. He won’t leave my side without permission, but generally Zeus doesn’t whine for attention from others. I wonder if it’s possible for him to sense my draw to be near Max.