“No, I didn’t. You live next door to my mom, who’s best friends with your mom. And you’re smart, and funny, and fun as hell to hang out with. And you’re ridiculously gorgeous. Girls like you go off and date the Mr. Darcy’s of the world,” Max says, referencing Pride and Prejudice, which he’d endured watching with me just a few weeks ago with few complaints.
“I haven’t spoken to her since June, when we broke up.” I feel Max’s eyes on me, willing me to look up at him, but my tears threaten to fall and I really, really don’t want to cry here so I keep my eyes focused on a pile of clothes on the floor.
“I saw her at the party and told her to go outside so I could talk to her because I wanted her to get the fuck away. I didn’t want her causing problems between us.” He takes a step closer to me before he continues. “I told her that I had no interest in her anymore and that I was done.” Max stops and I hear him take a deep breath. “We used to do this thing in high school, that was so fucking stupid …” He pauses once more and without looking at him I know that he’s again running his hands through his short hair. “We used to do this game during the times we were broken up … which was a lot. If one of us wanted to get back together, instead of using our words—because we were shit with words—we’d kiss the other one to prove that we had an attraction. I know it’s fucking stupid, and I should have just walked away, but I wanted to prove to her that she means nothing to me. She kissed me, and I told her what I knew I’d feel before she did. I felt nothing because I love you.”
I don’t know what to think. I want to believe every word he’s telling me and pretend that none of this ever happened, but doubt is an ugly, bitter fog that is sometimes impenetrable. And right now that fog is thick and dense and is breaking my heart. Tears begin cascading down my cheeks before I can stop them in heavy trails. I slide to the floor and clutch a sweatshirt lying beside me to cover my face. Amazingly, I still have tears left to cry, enough that I begin to sob.
I feel Max’s arm wrap around my shoulders. At first I try to move away, but eventually I give up and allow him to hold me.
“Ace, I love you. I’ve never felt the way I feel about you about anyone else,” Max says softly as the tears slowly begin to recede. I sniff and wipe my face with his sweatshirt. My head throbs once again, and my eyes feel like sandpaper. I close them and the image of Lacey kissing Max instantly fills my mind. It’s been burned to the back of my eyelids since Friday.
“I need to find my school bag and purse,” I say in a small voice as I pull the sweatshirt from my face and stand up. As I do, I see the black strap of my purse near the corner of the bed. When I lift the clothes covering my purse, I discover my backpack as well, looking slightly smashed.
“Talk to me, Ace.” Max’s voice is a pleading whisper.
“I need to go, Max.”
“Stay, Ace. Just stay here,” he begs. “I just need you to stay with me. This running freaks me out.”
“Right now I just need to be alone.”
“I don’t want you to leave. I’m terrified that if you do, you’re going to go and think of every single reason you don’t think we’ll work and you’ll focus on those until you convince yourself that we can’t be together.”
I lift up his sweatshirt that I’d cried into and hold it out in front of me. “Consider this your collateral.”
I head to the door. I can’t make any other promises right now.
“Ace …” My name is a nearly plea on his lips.
“I just need some time, Max, and I really need you to respect that.” I turn and walk down the stairs with my bags and his sweatshirt in my arms, my face tight from crying again.
As I get halfway down, I see Jameson and Landon sitting silently in the living room, staring at me with a look of sorrow. I’m not sure if Landon heard everything. I thought he’d left, but regardless, their expressions confirm they heard enough.
None of us say a word.
Getting in my car, I slap on my sunglasses to hide my blotchy, tear-stained face and head back to my apartment.
I go to Kendall’s first. I don’t have any desire to share Lacey and Max’s past with her, but I want her to know that Jameson had no knowledge of the situation. She makes a few attempts to get me to discuss the details of my discussion with Max, but I dismiss them and insist she contact Jameson.
For the rest of the week I intently focus on school and preparing for finals; I don’t go to the track at all, not wanting to risk running into Max. Pink peonies are delivered to the apartment every day, and he calls and texts me nearly hourly. I ignore them all.
Abby’s been staying with Jesse, but she comes home to be with me, and I ignore her so she doesn’t feel obliged to coddle me. The last thing I want to do is make everyone else suffer along with me. She ignores my attempts to shut her out and glues herself to my side, offering entertainment and distractions with getting out of the apartment and staying busy. I turn her down each time, and she rallies against me, putting in movies and lying in my bed with me each night.
Wes tries talking to me in class a few times, but I politely ignore him as well and make excuses for not going running. I don’t want to see him either. As much as I like Wes, I’m not planning on remaining friends with him if things don’t work out with Max and me.
After my last class on Friday I head directly home to my parents. I need to get out of my apartment and away from San Diego. I’m surprised to see my dad’s car already in the driveway as I pull up but feel relieved with the comforting knowledge.
I find him in his shop, peering under the hood of Clementine. He turns around as I enter and gives me a warm smile. “Want to help?”
I don’t respond but climb into the passenger seat of the car and set my bag on the light beige leather seat beside me.
“You’ve been awfully quiet this week,” he says, fidgeting with a wrench.
I close my eyes and silently debate what to share with him. I hear the slide of metal and open my eyes, though I already know what I’ll see. “Penny for your thoughts?” The familiar sentiment that I grew up with brings a small burst of warmth to my chest.
“Sorry, Dad, I’ve just been busy with school,” I lie, reaching up to accept the penny that I fold into my palm. He looks at me for a thoughtful moment, and I can feel him getting ready to peel back my first layer, so I reach into my bag and grab a textbook and some note cards to create more flash cards for Anatomy and hopefully hide some of my emotions.
“Do you remember when you were a sophomore and you had that really big soccer game against Roosevelt, and I promised you that I’d be there, but forgot about it and went to the pre-season Chargers game with Marty?” I nod once, giving him a sideways glance, wondering where he’s going with this. “You didn’t get on the bus with the rest of your team because I was supposed to be there. I missed, what I’ve heard from many, one of your best games and then left you at a school forty-five minutes away.” He puts both of his palms on the driver’s side door and leans forward, looking at me. “What happened?”
I look at him confused, he knows what had happened. “What happened, Ace?”
“Mindi went into labor.”
Dad nods. “You couldn’t get a hold of anyone, and at ten o’clock you started to walk home because you didn’t want to tell anyone I forgot about you. Enter Caulder, stage left,” he jokes. “Thankfully he insisted on driving you home.”
“Dad, where are we going with this trip down memory lane?”
“There are going to be times when the people you love and that love you are going to disappoint you, and it hurts. And sometimes that hurt makes you question the reality of it all. But sometimes you have to listen to your heart and not your head, kiddo. Max made a mistake. He made a big mistake, and he realized it the second he did it. I don’t think he was trying to hurt you, mon amor. I think he thought he was trying to protect you and prove his love for you and just didn’t realize quickly enough that it wasn’t the right way to do it. I understand what he was thinking, though. I know what it feels like to want to prove something to someone that doubts you. I think we can all understand that.” He leans forward on his forearms, his chin angling as his eyes look at me with a softness that makes my chest feel tight.