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“What do you mean you can’t play pool tonight? We always play pool on Friday nights! It’s tradition!” Max tilted his head to the side and looked at me for answers, answers I wasn’t about to give him.
“I can’t, okay? Something’s come up, that’s all.” I took a sip of my lemonade and averted my eyes.
“Something more important than a traditional game of pool with your best bud? Now that I find hard to believe.” He gulped down the rest of his lemonade and plunked the glass down on the breakfast island counter. “What could it be? Hmm.”
“I’m not telling.” I gave him my best “Don’t ask any more questions” glare, but it had never worked before, and I doubted it would start to now.
“It wouldn’t be a hot date would it?” Max wiggled his eyebrows and leered at me. At the mention of the word “date,” I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “Hey June, you’re starting to look a little flushed there. Wait, don’t tell me you do have a hot date!”
“So what if I do?” I mumbled, staring into my glass.
“Way to go!” He punched me lightly on the shoulder. “And to think you weren’t even going to tell me! It’s not nice to keep secrets from your best friend, you know,” he said, shaking his index finger at me.
“That’s because I knew you were going to make a big deal out of it.” I pushed his finger away.
“Would I do that?” Max batted his eyelashes and gave me his most charming smile. I could almost see a halo hovering over his dark brown hair.
“When don’t you?” I muttered. I grabbed our glasses and took them to the sink, partly to get away from him. It didn’t work; he just followed me.
As I rinsed our glasses, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and smiled that cocky grin of his. “So, does hot date have a hot sister or anything? I haven’t had a date for as long as you have, thus Friday night pool, remember? Help a guy out, babe. I know, we could double date!”
Sighing, I turned to him and flicked him with the dishtowel. “I told you to stop calling me babe! Anyway, I understand your situation, Max.” I really did, too. The whole reason we had started Friday night pool was so we wouldn’t be alone while everyone else was out on a date. What had started as a one-time thing had gone on for six months, but now here was my chance to end my dry spell! “I would try to help set something up, but I don’t think I could trust you to be on good behavior.” I smiled as he looked up at the ceiling with his “Who, me?” expression. “I don’t even know much about the guy besides the fact that his name is Paul. He’s another lawyer where Donna works, and she set us up.”
“Ah, a blind date. Risky business. You could wind up with a total loser. Pool would be so much more fun.” Max winked and pushed himself away from the counter.
“Hey, a date’s a date! Besides, Donna says he meets my requirements for men.”
“Oh, you mean that boring, conservative type you seem to go out with all the time?” Max rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I worry about your taste, dear,” he said over his shoulder as he went to the door.
“You just wish you had a date too!” I said, and threw my dishtowel at his retreating back.
“Maybe,” he said, and waved as he disappeared around the corner. “I’m going home. Have fun!”
The date had started off nicely enough. I opened the door to see him holding a bouquet of roses. It had been so long since anyone had given me flowers that I nearly melted into a puddle at his feet. He had our date all planned out, and he took us to this fabulous restaurant I had always wanted to go to but was too expensive for my budget. I felt like an absolute princess. Then, it happened. Paul started to get on my nerves. After we got our menus, he took mine away and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll order for us.” The nerve of the man! He ordered in French, probably to show off his language skills, and ended up getting us veal, which I hate. Then he started wondering why I was just picking at my food. Before I could answer, he launched into a monologue about himself that had lasted roughly forty-five minutes so far. I glanced at my watch out of the corner of my eye. Forty-six minutes now.
“So that’s how I got myself made partner.” Paul took a sip of his wine. At last, silence! “So, what do you do for a living? Donna didn’t tell me.”
Wow, he actually asked a question about me! I tried not to fall out of my chair from the shock. “Well, I work for an advertising agency. I basically. . .”
“Oh, an advertising agency. I just did a case involving one. You’ll love this story.” He cut me off! I stared at Paul, amazed by how effortlessly he could turn the conversation back to himself. He paused and looked at me. I smiled and nodded, which seemed to appease him, and he continued with his boring tale.
After what felt like hours, Paul was finally ready to leave. I grabbed my purse and speed-walked to his car. He trotted along beside me, trying to keep up. “Wow, you can really move in those heels.”
I looked at him and kept on walking. “It’s a talent.” Kind of like his talent for making conversations center on him, but I gritted my teeth and refrained from saying so.
When we got back to my apartment, Paul walked me to the door. “Feel like doing this again sometime?” God, no! “I had a good time.”
I tried to think of a way to extricate myself from this mess. “Paul, I like you a lot, but. . .” I thought quickly. “My boyfriend of four years just broke up with me, and tonight I realized that I’m not quite ready to reenter the dating scene yet. Sorry.”
“Oh. Well, good night then.”
“Good night.”
After an awkward moment, Paul gave me a strained smile and left. I fumbled with my keys, then let myself into my apartment. Shutting the door, I leaned against it, rubbed my temples, and wallowed in my guilt for lying to the poor guy. What I said had to have been better than flat out telling him I thought he was incredibly boring and would rather eat nails than go out with him again, right? Yeah. I pushed myself away from the door and headed to my bedroom. Kicking off my heels, I collapsed on the bed, still in my evening dress, and promptly fell asleep.
“I think loser’s too harsh of a word to pin on the guy.” I held up one photo and scrutinized it. “Think this one’ll look good in the living room?”
“Nah. I don’t even see why you want to put up all of these photos. Have you even thought about how much it’ll cost to buy frames to hang all of these pictures? Mega bucks!”
“I want to spruce up the place a little. Make it homier. Is that so bad? Trust me, it’ll look great afterwards. I think the cost of a few frames is negligible compared to the value of having an inviting home.”
“Whatever. Back to what we were talking about. The guy was a total bore. Bore equals loser. Hence he was a loser.” Max grinned at me.
“Hey, he brought me flowers. That’s not entirely loserish.” I stuck out my tongue at him. Childish, I know, but I couldn’t help it. Max always did have a tendency to do that to me. Looking down, I saw the sweetest picture. It had been taken when we were in grade school. We were dressed like stars for some play about the solar system. Our faces peeked out through a hole in the center, and our arms were stuck straight out as the arms of the star. I couldn’t believe how young we looked. I pulled the photo out of its sleeve and held it up. “Max, look at this photo! Remember this?”
“What?” Max scooted closer to me and leaned over my shoulder. He put his hand over mine and brought the photo up to face level. I was suddenly acutely aware of how close he was to me, from the warmth of his hand over mine to the heat emanating from his shoulder behind me. His breath tickled my ear, moving a few strands of my hair and sending a slight tingle down my spine. I turned to him and saw him smile at the photo. “Hey, this is from first grade isn’t it? That dumb play Mrs. Haversham had us perform. God, that was almost twenty years ago. I suddenly feel old,” he said, laughing. “I think you should definitely put this one up.” Max turned to me until our noses were mere inches away from each other. “You were a cutie even back then,” he said, winking.
“Sure.” I turned away and looked back at the photo. Hmm, there was something about it. . . I leaned forward and looked at it more intently. “Hey, are you tripping that poor boy?!”
“What?” Max asked. I pointed at the incriminating evidence near the edge of the photo. Max’s leg was extended slightly to the side, and a boy was beginning to fall over it. “Why, I guess I am.”
“You were a troublemaker even back then,” I said, smiling, and lightly shoved him away. He scooted back to where he had been working earlier. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed, but I didn’t really want to delve into that matter.
“You know you like it. Don’t women love bad boys? Want to change us and stuff,” he said with a smirk.
“Maybe other women. I like the conservative nice guys, remember?” I tossed one of my pillows at him.
“Ah, yes, I forgot.” He looked down and started going through the album again. I decided to do the same, but first I made sure to put the photo off to the side so I wouldn’t forget about it.
“June?”
I lifted my head and saw a tall, lanky teenager. “Um, yes?”
“It’s me, Danny!” He smiled and nearly blinded me with his braces. Oh, God. Jailbait. I looked around frantically. I could picture the manager racing to the phone and calling the police to have them arrest me for being with a minor. Take deep breaths. I’m sure I couldn’t be arrested just for having lunch with a minor. At least I hoped not. “Wow, you look even prettier than I imagined!”
“Um, thank you, Danny. I thought you said you were twenty-five.” I tried my best to smile, but I could feel it turning into a grimace.
“Oh, you figured out I was a little younger than that, huh?” Who wouldn’t?! And what did he mean by “a little”? More like a lot! I bet he couldn’t even grow a beard if he wanted to. I tried to stop myself from banging my head against the table. “Yeah, I exaggerated a bit when mentioning my age. I wanted to go out with someone older, though. The girls my age are just too immature.” He flashed his braces again, and I kept myself from groaning at the sight.
“Danny, just how old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
I could almost feel the handcuffs locking around my wrists. “Sixteen. So you’re a junior now?”
“Yeah. But like I said, I’m mature for my age.” He looked at me with his big blue eyes brimming with unspoken hope. “And everything else I said in the ad was true. I’ve got a 4.0 and I have a steady job and stuff.”
“You do? And just where do you work?”
“Um, at McDonald’s,” he mumbled. He turned a deep pink, making his freckles stand out.
“That’s pretty impressive, keeping a 4.0 GPA while working,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah?” He smiled back at me, relief evident on his face. “I do weight lifting too, like I said. Although it isn’t helping much as you can see,” he said, blushing again until even the tips of his ears were pink. I looked at his scrawny arms and decided not to comment. The boy was embarrassed enough as it was.
“Danny, you look like a very nice young man, “ I began.
“I sense a but coming.”
“I think I’m a little too old for you. I am twenty-five.”
“But that’s what I want! Nine years isn’t too wide a gap! My parents are twelve years apart, and they have a fantastic marriage!”
I gulped as I saw his earnest impression, but I forced myself to continue. “I think you would be better off dating someone your own age. Nine years isn’t too big of a gap when you’re older, but at our ages, it is a lot. I’ve been through a lot more than you have in those nine years. I don’t doubt that you’re more mature than a lot of the other people your age, but you still have high school and college to get through, and that’s all behind me already. I think you’d have a lot more fun with someone your age who could experience all of that with you.”
“I guess,” Danny mumbled, looking down at the table.
“Danny.” He kept looking down. “Danny, look at me.” He finally raised his head. I leaned over the table and put my hand over his. “Danny, you are a wonderful person. I know I’ve only just met you, but I can tell. You are going to make some girl very happy. If I were younger, well. . .” I smiled at him and squeezed his hand.
Slowly, he smiled back. “I better not keep you here. I’m sorry I wasn’t quite what you expected.” He stood up and turned to leave, but then he turned back towards me. “June, I just wanted to say thank you. Thanks for not laughing at me or anything. I really appreciate it. And I’m sure you’re going to make someone else very happy too.” He extended his hand, and I shook it.
I watched him walk down the sidewalk, and before he crossed the street, he turned and waved. I raised my cup in salutation, then stood up to pay the bill.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I said, looking up from the cutting board where I was chopping a tomato.
“Maybe. You could do a dating diary like that woman in that Cosmo mag you always read. I can see it now: ‘June’s Hilarious Dating Adventures.’”
“Sure, laugh it up. Let me just remind you, I have a knife and I’ll use it.” I lifted the knife and did my best to look threatening. Apparently it didn’t work because he just started laughing. “Shouldn’t you be helping me? After all, you’re the one who invited me over here for dinner. Why am I doing all of the cooking?”
“You’re so good at it,” he replied. Reaching over, he grabbed a few of the vegetables. “Watch this.” He started juggling the carrot, onion, and one of the potatoes in the air, first clockwise then counterclockwise. “Now behind my back!” I put down my knife and waited for one of the vegetables to fall, but amazingly enough, none did. “Under one leg!” He ended with a flourish, catching the carrot and onion and in one hand and the potato in the other. “Thank you ladies and gentlemen! Or lady, actually,” he said, looking up at me from his bow.
“Very impressive, Max.”
“Well, they don’t call me Magic Max for nothing,” he said, grinning as he set the vegetables back down on the counter.
“And who calls you that?”
He scratched his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I guess it’s just me,” he said with a shrug. “But now you know, so you can call me that too.”
“Uh-huh. Why don’t you do something really magical and help me chop these veggies?”
“Aw, come on, June. I’ll help you in a bit.” He grabbed me and twirled me around.
“Max! What are you doing?”
“Having fun. I know it’s a novel experience for you, but you might enjoy it,” he said, giving me another one of his exasperating grins. He then proceeded to lead me around the kitchen in some weird dance he made up.
“Max, has anyone ever told you you’re truly insufferable?” I said, laughing as he twirled me again.
“Why, you have June. Many times in fact.” He dipped me until my hair swept the floor.
“Well, I’m telling you again.”
“You know you like it.” He finally stopped us, and I tried to catch my breath. He looked down at my apron and then back at me with a sparkle in his eye. “Kiss the cook, eh?”
My breath caught in my throat. I had that same feeling I had last weekend when we were going through the photo albums. I suddenly became aware of his hands still resting on my waist and my own hands on his shoulders. “Hey, it’s your apron, not mine.” I giggled to try to ease the tension, but it didn’t help.
“True.” He stood there, and merely stared at me. I looked into his brown eyes, and I felt like I could stare into them forever. His thumbs brushed against my sides, and I almost stopped breathing. All I could think of was the tingling sensation his thumbs were giving me. The sound of the phone ringing broke the spell, and we jumped apart.
“Um, I better go get that,” Max said, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah. I’ll just keep cutting the vegetables,” I said, waving my hand in their direction.
“Okay,” he said and raced for the phone.
The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, and we got back into our usual banter. He didn’t bring up what had happened in the kitchen, and I decided not to either. I wasn’t even sure exactly how I felt yet, especially since Max wasn’t the type of guy I usually went for.
When I was back at home, though, and got ready to sleep, all I could think of were Max’s eyes and the feel of his hands.
“Hey baby, what’s your name?” A guy said, giving me a gap-toothed grin.
“June.” I looked around for Donna, ready to rip her throat out.
“June. That’s funny! Your name’s a month! Is your last name like Seventeenth or something?”
“No.” I gave him a dirty look. It didn’t seem to faze him though.
“My name’s Bob. Want to go to my place?”
“Definitely not.” God, the stench of his alcohol-laced breath was starting to get to my head. “I’ve got to go.”
“Hey, don’t leave baby. We’re just starting to have some fun, getting to know each other.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him.
“Get off me!” I tried to shove him away. Before I knew it, he had grabbed my butt. “Okay, enough is enough. Get your fucking hands off me before I break them,” I said in a low voice, the one I use to threaten people and show I mean business.
“Gimme a kiss, doll.” He tried to pull me even closer to him.
I had already been in a pissed off mood, but now I was ready to kill someone. Remembering the self-defense moves Max had taught me, I drove my high heel into his foot and ground it. That made him loosen his grip on me, and I took the opportunity to drive my fist into his nose.
“Ow! What’d you do that for, bitch?” Bob said, grabbing at his nose..
“What do you think?”
Now, if Bob had left it at that, everything would have been fine, but no, he had to get in the last word. “Well, I didn’t know you were such a prude. No wonder you don’t have anyone with you. Who would want an ice queen like you?”
I stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders. He tried to get away, but I had a death grip on them. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re alone,” I said, and kneed him in the groin.
I turned around and left, leaving Bob, his groans of pain, Donna, and the club behind.
“You don’t think I went overboard when I kneed him do you?” I said, propping my feet up on the coffee table.
“Nah. I think he deserved it. But could you please stop mentioning it so much? It gives me the shivers.” Max shuddered.
I scooted over a little and leaned my head against his shoulder. He rested his head on top of mine, and we sat like that for a while as I tried to muster up the courage to ask him what I had been thinking about all day. “Max?”
“Hmm?” He murmured.
I pondered saying something else, but plunged ahead. “Do you think friends would make good couples or should they just stay friends? Hypothetically speaking.”
There was a little pause. “I think friends can make the best couples because they already know each other so well. They know the other person’s faults and still love them anyway. They’re already comfortable with each other. There’s none of that needing to pretend to be someone you’re not. Hypothetically, that is.” There was another pause. “What do you think?”
“I agree with you completely,” I said, smiling up at him.
Max put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to his side until we fit together like jigsaw pieces. “So, any particular reason you were asking that?” He looked down at me with one of the most serious expressions I had ever seen him have for years.
“Maybe,” I said, touching his nose lightly with my fingertip. That made him smile.
“Maybe, eh?” He grasped my hand and held it to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat quickening beneath my palm. He ran his hand through my hair.
“Maybe,” I said again, drawing little circles on his chest.
“Are you teasing me?” Max asked, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear and smiled at me.
“Probably,” I retorted. I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his. It felt like a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders, and all that existed were his lips beneath mine, soft, warm, and inviting. He shifted a little, and nibbled on my lower lip. When we pulled apart, I opened my eyes to see Max gazing at me, his eyes scanning my face as if he were trying to memorize the way I looked. “Does that answer your question?” I asked.
“I think it’ll do, but maybe you could repeat your answer in case I missed something,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Afterwards, we rewound the tape and started to watch the movie again. “Hey June, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t come up with Friday night pool just because I couldn’t get a date and didn’t want to be alone,” he said, pulling me into his lap.
“Oh really? Hey Max, I’ll let you in on a little revelation I had.”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think those boring, stuffy, conservative types are really my type at all.”
“I could have told you that a long time ago,” he said, and tapped me on the nose.
“You should have told me,” I murmured, rubbing his nose with mine.
“I thought I did,” he said. “You weren’t listening then.”
“Well, I’ve learned the error of my ways.” I kissed his earlobe.
“You know, at this rate, we’re going to have to rewind the movie again.”
“Oh well.”