“Yeah,” I say with a nod, as I balance on one foot, and pull my knee into my chest. “You're in my math class, right?”
“Yup, that's me, two seats to your left. I'm Amy.” She gives me a smile, and lets her eyes drift off around us. “Where you from?”
“Maryland, but we moved here over the summer. My dad decided it was time for a change.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I give her a halfhearted answer, my gaze roaming back to watch Max on the court.
I can’t take my eyes off him. Watching him is addictive. My eyes are drinking him in. His body looks hard, with muscles bulging beneath his clothes all over, rippling in ways no boy at my old school ever did.
Max Ramon is a man among boys, pure and simple.
A couple more guys join him on the court, and it looks like they're starting a game. Amy notices me watching him, so she stops stretching, and rests her hands on her hips.
“That's Max Ramon,” she says, her eyes following mine. Pursing her lips, she steps to my side. “But everyone just calls him Ramon.”
“Yeah, I know who he is. We met briefly over the summer.”
“Oh yeah? And how'd that go?” She's smirking. Amy already knows the answer before I even say it.
Shrugging a shoulder, I crinkle my brows. “Not well.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs out loud. “Yeah, I figured as much. He's kind of the bad boy around here. Max isn't the type of guy you want to bring home to daddy, I can tell you that much.”
“What do you mean? Why not?” I ask.
You know why! Don't be naive!
“You really need me to spell it out?” I don't answer, blankly staring at her. “He's a dick, that's what I mean. And he's always been a dick. He sat behind me in Spanish freshman year, and put gum in my hair. . .” Pausing, she adds, “Twice. In first grade he stole my juice box just to jump on it and make it explode. He beat up some kid last year because he bumped into him in the hall. Oh, and another time—”
“Okay, I get it.” Cringing, I look over at her, then back at Max. “He could have a sweet side, couldn't he? I mean no one is bad all the time.”
Tilting her head, she arches a brow. “You can cover a jalapeño in sugar, but that don't make it sweet.”
“He helped me this morning. That's got to say something.” There's confidence in my tone, like I know a secret that she doesn't.
“Max Ramon helped you this morning?” Giggling, her eyes grow wider. “Yeah, I don't believe it. The only thing he'll help anyone with is getting a fake I.D for the right price. His prices aren't cheap either. It took me all summer last year to make enough to get one from him, and it doesn't even look like me.”
“I'm serious, he really did help me. Some asshole named James—”
Shaking her head yes, she says, “Galligan. I'm not surprised. Those two hate each other, they have since fifth grade. Max helped you because it gave him a chance to hurt James. Don't take his kindness as anything other than selfishness.” Ticking her head toward the track, she asks, “You want to run a lap or two?”
“Sure.”
We both start jogging around the track, but I'm still watching Max. There's something about him that's taking hold of me. I'm not sure what it is, I don't know why I'm so infatuated by him, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the way it feels.
I like the tingles running up and down my body. I like the twists in my stomach, and the way my hair prickles when I think of how his hands felt as the caught me.
Strong.
Secure.
Protective.
I can hear Amy talking. She's pointing out people around the field, giving me a little snippet of who they are, and who I can trust and not trust. I'm half listening, nodding at the right times, and pretending like I'm tucking away all this information.
Except, I'm really not. I'm watching Max as he plays basketball, my stare frozen on his every move. He's captivating, even if he is dark and dangerous. I'm intrigued by this boy with jet black hair, and a chiseled jaw. With his stone cut muscles and thick cut thighs, he is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.
“I know what you're thinking,” she says, her breathing slightly labored as we run. “You think he's one of those misunderstood guys, the ones who need to be fixed, right?”
Shaking my head no, I look into her eyes. “I hardly know him.”
“Take my advice then, and just stay away from Max Ramon. If you don't listen to anything else I've said, just listen to that.”
“It's just that I didn't really get the chance to thank him for this morning, and I feel like I should.”
I lie. I can't admit to this girl I just met the true level of excitement I feel looking at him, and how my body ignited when he touched me this morning. I can't tell her how I actually met him, or that all I can think about is kissing his lips and feeling his muscles.
The thoughts are so new, they're so foreign and displaced, I'm not sure how to fit them together. Because they shouldn't be there.
He hates me because of that night. And I should hate Max for the way he and his brother made me feel. They ruined my summer. They destroyed my mind.
But I don't. I hate what happened, but I don't hate him.
“No, you shouldn't,” Amy says, her words come out hard on forced breaths. Reaching up, she grabs my shoulder and slows us to a stop. “You should just leave it alone. He did you a favor, just take it and move on.” She looks over at me, tipping her head into her shoulder. “Don't go out of your way for him.”
“No offense, but I think I can decide that for myself.” Grimacing, my eyes thin and my brows arch high. Crinkling my nose, I purse my lips. She can see it in my face, she isn't winning this argument.
“Screw it, what do I know.” Throwing her hands up in defeat, she flips a finger in his direction. “I've just lived here my whole life, known Max since grade school, and know what he's like. He isn't going to give a shit about your thank you. But, go ahead, go thank one jerk for saving you from another.”
“You're probably right, maybe he is just some jerk. But, I still want him to know I'm grateful for what he did. He didn't have to help me. He could have just turned and walked the other way, but he didn't. I'm going to thank him for me, it doesn't have to be for him.”
Kicking out her leg, she nudges me with her head. “Good luck, but don't say I didn't warn you. Not many people in this school will tell you how it is, but I will.” Amy nods her head toward the basketball court. “Go for it.”
Stepping off the track, I walk through the grass and head for the court. Max is playing a game with five other boys, split into two teams of three. Each boy is grunting and barking at their teammate as the ball's tossed from one person to the next like a live grenade.
Sneakers squeak in high pitched chirps as they move in sharp turns from one end of the court to the other. Stopping on the sideline, I rest my hands behind my back, and rock on my heels, waiting for him to notice me standing there.
Calm down, slow breaths. No need to be nervous.