“He looks good this year, unlike these other boys we go to school with.”
“Even if he looks good, he's still an asshole.”
“An asshole who can get us booze. That doesn't sound so bad, does it?”
My jaw clenches at the same time my cheeks heat red. Jealousy twists in my gut like a jagged knife. Anger floats through my muscles at Nina and at myself. This isn't my jealousy to own. Max isn't mine. He has no loyalty to me at all. Yes, we slept together, but that doesn't mean we're an item.
Was that a one night stand?
He's single, just like you're single.
Sex means nothing.
Yet, I can't stop this sharp blade as it cuts through my stomach, making me feel sick. I don't want her to ask him to prom, I don't want to think of him with some other girl. I only want to think of him with me.
My brain fires off with all the things I want to say to her.
Stay away!
He's mine!
Back off!
But I keep my words to myself. They're irrational, they're not warranted. The girl has no idea I even feel this way, how dare I leap to this level of crazy.
“Prairie, yoo-hoo, you with me?” Amy asks, leaning in front of my face, and waving her hand to grab my attention.
“What?”
“Have I been talking to myself this whole time?”
“I'm sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”
Facing forward, we walk through the doors into the school. “I was asking if you wanted to go prom dress shopping this weekend?”
Sucking in a gulp of air, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don't know. Maybe? I'm not even sure I'm going. I don't even have a date yet.”
“Yes you do, you just have to ask him.” Amy winks. “You know who I'm talking about, I know you do.”
“Yeah, right, like he'll ever agree to that. There's no way.”
“You won't know unless you try.”
Maybe she's right. Maybe I should ask him myself. Max hasn't said anything to me about going, which isn't really surprise. The prom seems like something he'll avoid at all costs.
Track was my last class of the day, so I shower and change, gathering my stuff to bring home. I haven't seen Max today, he wasn't at school, but I know he's got community service today.
Throwing my stuff onto the passenger seat, I make a stop to get gas, then head to the beach. Parking the car, I trudge through the sand in my sneakers, making a mental note to keep a pair of sandals in my car from now on.
Officer Rogers, the same officer from last time, is leaning against the lifeguard bench. He gives me a look as I toss him a pack of cashews.
“I was never here,” I say with a smile.
He nods and laughs. “I don't accept bribes, probably should have told you that before you gave me these, because I ain't giving them back.”
“Consider them a thank you then for not telling my uncle.”
He gives me a smile, opening the bag and looking down the other end of the beach. I stop, squinting my eyes, and scanning the beach until I find Max near the long formation of rocks extending into the ocean.
Digging my heels into the sand, he sees me coming and stops what he's doing. Standing still, he leans on the edge of his trash poker, watching me walk down to him. He smiles lightly, causing that signature flutter in my belly.
It happens every single time he smiles. The warmth, the tingles, the knots like corded rope. He does things to me with that smile I never knew were possible.
“Hi,” I say with a little wave of my hand.
“Now this is a much better sight. I definitely prefer watching you walk down to me over G.I. Joe. He flops in all the wrong places.”
Giggling, I tip my head. “Thank you for not comparing me to him, I'm glad we flop differently.” Throwing him a bottle of water, he catches it easily.
Holding it up like he's giving a toast, he opens it and takes a huge sip. “You're starting to spoil me.”
“No,” I say, tossing a small pack of cashews at him, and setting my hands on my hips. “Now, I'm spoiling you.”
Max chuckles, leaning over to secure the bottle of water in the sand. Peeling the package open, he takes a handful and pops them in his mouth. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to me.
“No, I'm good.”
“Your loss.” Tipping his head back, he finishes the bag and stuffs into his pouch. “You look nice today.”
“Thanks.” Batting my lashes, my cheeks blush. The heat spreads down my face, reaching my neck, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. “Got any gloves, I'll give you a hand.”
Max pulls a pair out of his pocket and throws them to me. He starts stabbing garbage again, piercing the trash between the different layers of rocks.
“You weren't in school today.”
“Yeah, I wasn't feeling well.” He doesn't look at me as he says it, keeping his head down instead.
I watch him as I pick garbage out from between the rocks. He's sweating, it's dripping down his temples, glistening like small diamonds on his skin. His muscles are highlighted, the lines and curves roughly defined like raw marble.
He's not perfect. He's not smooth. He's made mistakes, we all have. The difference between him and me, well that's easy. He lets his mistakes define him. He uses the expectations dropped on him by everyone else to guide him. He's like an unpolished stone pulled from the earth. Rough and hard on the outside, ugly and dirty.
They want to see the bully, he gives them a bully. They want to see a jerk, he gives them a jerk. He's the mess they just can't sympathize with or understand.
Except no one can see what I do. They can't see the beauty under his harsh shell.
But I can.
“So, I saw a flier for prom today—Starry Night. Does that mean it's going to reflect the Van Gogh painting?” Pulling a plastic bag from the sea grass, I crumble it in my palm.
I'm not sure how to ask him exactly. Do I come right out and say it? Do I poke the bear a little, and see what he does?
“Who's Van Gogh?” he asks, looking over at me. I open my mouth to answer him, but he cuts me off. “I'm kidding, I know who he is. He's a painter, the one who cut his ear off, right?” I nod. “People think I'm stupid, they see me as some muscle headed asshole. What they don't realize is that I'm not as dumb as I look.”
“Stop, I know you're not dumb.”
Veering his stare, he glares at me with a flat expression. “But you think I look dumb?”
“What?” I blurt loudly, waving a hand back and forth. “No, no, that's not what I mean. I just meant—”
“I know, I'm fucking with you.” He smirks, coming to my side and taking a seat on one of the rocks. “You know what I have been thinking about though?”
“What?” I ask.
Flashing me a big smile, he leans into me. “The way you felt wrapped around me over the weekend.”
My heart pitter patters in my chest, and I hold my breath. I'm tongue tied, unable to formulate any words.
“Did I just embarrass you?” Max chuckles as he lays his trash poker down and braids his fingers together. He looks up at the officer quickly, making sure he isn't watching us. “It was really fucking hot. I'm not lying.”