“Oh, like what you’re doing?” she says testily. “Unless you’re looking for legal advice, you really need to get out of here. I’m busy and not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood for…pasta?” I ask, holding up the fragrant takeout bag for her to see. The scent of basil and garlic fill the small room, and I can see her resolve waver.
“What did you get?” she asks suspiciously.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got fettuccine alfredo, pesto tortellini, garlic bread, ravioli… But if you don’t have time, I guess I’ll just go…” I tease and pretend to leave.
“I guess if I eat now, I’ll be able to stay later and get some more work done,” she says thoughtfully.
“Great,” I say cheerfully, sitting down next to her on the floor and removing containers from the bag. I watch her delicate hands as she efficiently organizes the papers into neat stacks and puts them aside to make room for the food.
I watch as she takes a bite of garlic bread. She closes her eyes and groans with pleasure, and a little butter dribbles down her chin. I want to lick it off.
Now that she’s got her mouth full and I have her attention, I finally say what I came to say.
“Look,” I begin. “I’m really, really sorry for the way I’ve handled things. Not just recently, but in the past too. I realize that I wasn’t…as nice to you as I should have been.”
“You were a dick,” Madison says bluntly through a mouthful of bread.
“I know,” I say, ashamed. “But I have to tell you something.”
Madison looks at me expectantly, those gorgeous green eyes on mine, still chewing. I take a deep breath.
“The reason I’ve always ignored or avoided you before is I’ve had a crush on you forever.” There, I said it. It’s out there and I can’t take it back. It’s scary but also a relief to finally say it.
I watch her face carefully for her reaction. Her mouth drops and I get an eyeful of half-masticated garlic bread.
“You…what?” she says, looking completely confused.
“Well, I guess not forever,” I say quickly. “I mean, not when you were like a little kid or anything. But after I went away to college and came back one summer…you grew up. And suddenly you weren’t a little kid, or even just Clara’s friend.”
“What was I, then?” Madison asks, arching an eyebrow and opening a container of pasta.
“Hot,” I say teasingly, and she smacks my arm playfully. “No, really. You turned into this really cute girl that I had known for years, and if things had been different, I totally would’ve asked you out then. Actually,” I say thoughtfully, “it’s probably best that I didn’t because I was kind of a jerk to girls back then.”
“Back then?” Madison repeats skeptically. “Wait, what do you mean, if things had been different? What things?”
“Well, for starters, obviously you were Clara’s best friend.”
“That hasn’t changed,” says Madison quickly, giving me a pointed look.
“And,” I continue, ignoring her, “more importantly, our age difference was a much bigger deal then.”
“Four years isn’t that big of a difference,” Madison retorts. “And it’s not like our age difference has changed either.”
“Yeah, but think about it. When you were sixteen—which was around when I really, you know, started maybe thinking of you that way—I was twenty. I was in college, you were in high school. It would have been weird, not to mention illegal!”
“That’s a fair point,” Madison concedes. “Still doesn’t explain why you were a dick, though.”
She’s really not making this easy.
“Because,” I explain, “I wanted you, even then. But I knew it would be wrong, so I guess it was my way of pushing you away. To protect both of us.”
“Protect me? Sometimes you were downright cruel!” she says, looking hurt. I think back to that day when I saw her running through the sprinkler in her pink swimsuit, remembering what I said to her. She’s not wrong.
“I know, and I’m really, truly sorry,” I say sincerely. “I was younger then too. An idiot. I didn’t know how to act around you. I still don’t,” I admit. “But that’s only because…” I push my food aside and lean in toward Madison. She has a bit of sauce on her cheek, and I gently wipe it away and say, “Because I’ve always had feelings for you.”
“You really hurt me, you know,” she says quietly. “But I appreciate you telling me that, I really do. I forgive you, but it doesn’t change anything. I have to stay focused,” she gestures to the papers all around her. She stands up and brushes the crumbs off her pants. “I had feelings for you too, Maddox. I get why it couldn’t work between us, and it still can’t. Thanks for dinner, but you really have to leave.”
“Are you still mad at me?” I ask, standing alongside her.
“No,” she says. “But the most I can offer you, or anyone, is friendship. And I don’t even really have much time for that either.”
“I understand,” I say solemnly, and I do.
But I’m not going to give up just yet. “I’ll just have to get more creative,” I grin. “You won’t be able to resist me forever.”
Madison rolls her eyes. “We’ll see about that. So, friends?” she asks, reaching out her hand for a handshake.
I shake her hand and smile mischievously. “For now,” I agree.
She finally smiles back. “Now, get out of here. I have work to do.”
“Okay, but don’t stay too late! Remember about the lock,” I remind her.
“See you later, Maddox,” she says, turning back to her work.
And she will. Sooner than later, in fact.
11
Madison
The morning after Maddox barged into the pro bono office, I get a text from Clara while I’m in class. My phone is on silent, but it’s on my desk so I see the screen light up with the message:
* * *
hey maddox asked me 4 ur number, something about a legal question, i hope that’s ok
* * *
Then, before I’ve had a second to process the first message, my phone lights up again with another. This one is from a number I don’t recognize.
* * *
Hey Madison, it’s Maddox. I got your number from Clara. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything weird. Axel, Declan, and I need legal advice on a business matter. Think you could help us out?
* * *
I stare at my phone suspiciously. I’m intrigued, but I’m not sure I trust Maddox’s motives.
I don’t dare text back during class, in case my professor catches me on my phone. So, the rest of the period I sit at my desk, anxiously crossing and uncrossing my legs, thinking about how I should respond. The phone stares at me menacingly, like a ticking time bomb.
Finally, the bell rings. I snatch up my phone and tap out: