Chapter 42 | Zoey

Chapter 42

Zoey

“ H ey.” Max sits down next to me in the end zone. He moves closer until we’re touching and wraps my hand in his. “You want to talk about it?”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “Not really.”

It’s only been a week since the kiss that rocked my world, but so much changed over the weekend. Walking onto the track this morning, I felt like a different person from the one who asked Max to kiss her. The flop my stomach does upon seeing him is no different, nor is my desire to plant a kiss on him at all hours of the day. But I can’t do that at work. Dating’s not forbidden—with a staff of mostly teens, that’s impossible—but the Ardena Heat gossip mill is the same one that swirls around the high school. The last thing I need is people giving their opinion on a relationship that has barely started.

This moment is the closest we’ve been all day despite spending hours standing side by side. And it feels good in a way that I haven’t felt in a long while. Being able to go from coworkers to friends to this over the course of the summer, being able to put my head on his shoulder and know it means nothing and everything, it all feels right. Andrew and I were never friends. We went from classmates to true loves in the length of a yard line. But Max and I are friends and now more.

He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arm around me, taking on some of the weight. “Anything I can do?”

“This,” I say, closing my eyes. My stomach grumbles loud enough for us both to hear. “And maybe some french fries.”

“That, I can do.”

A while later, I stare up at the sign above the restaurant door—Mack’s. It’s a bar and grill on the outskirts of town. It’s popular, but not overly so and not on a Monday night. Younger teachers from Ardena are known to frequent it for happy hour, and the big Thanksgiving Eve gathering of Ardena alum is always unofficially here. It’s the go-to spot for wings at two in the morning. And when it comes to Mack’s, you always want wings at two in the morning.

The last time I was here was with Andrew for that Thanksgiving Eve party. We didn’t stay long, but he was adamant we make an appearance. Things like that matter to Andrew. Once they mattered to me too.

“Mack’s?” I ask incredulously.

“What?” Max grins and pulls open the door. “They have the best fries in three towns.”

Untrue. But we can debate the qualities of the perfect french fry another time. Right now, I want to sit on the same side of the booth, hold hands, and steal imperfect fries off his plate with no commentary from anyone else.

“Can we have a booth?” I ask the hostess before she can lead us to a table.

She nods and changes course. Mack’s is small. There’s the bar room and then one dining room with about ten tables in the middle while booths line the walls. It’s always a notch above dark inside, and you can’t visit without hearing Bon Jovi or the Boss at least once.

I slide in next to Max once the waitress is gone. If he’s surprised by my closeness, he doesn’t let on, only stretches his arm out behind me. I lean into him and soak in this moment, glad to have someone to share it with.

“Do you want anything besides fries?” he asks, holding up the menu.

“Wings, obviously.” I feel him smile and chuckle. “Boneless, please. And an iced—”

“Tea, unsweetened, no lemon,” he finishes. “I know.”

Of course he knows. I sneak a glance at him while he peruses the menu. My body hums whenever he’s near. It’s unexpected. But he’s undeniable. Honest. Real. He isn’t playing a game.

I kiss him, quick and soft. My lips tingle, and even my toes feel the impact of that smallest of kisses. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For knowing my drink order.”

It’s the smallest of things. But he remembered it, and that means something. Andrew still doesn’t know how I take my coffee, and my dad is hopeless when it comes to these things.

The waitress comes to take our order, and once she’s dropped off our drinks, Max shifts to face me. “When are you meeting your dad’s girlfriend?”

I explained the whole ordeal that is my family, starting with pregnant Liz and ending with tears and pastries, over the course of our day. Yesterday, I hosted a group chat with Becca and Haley, unwilling to have to share the story more than once, but other than that, I haven’t worked through it. My dad made sure I was okay, but it’s not the type of thing we talk about. In the retelling today, though, I discovered bright spots. Liz is having a baby. My dad is in love. I don’t have to lie about my relationship with Anna any longer. Liz picked me.

“Next week. I’m spending this whole week at Liz’s, if I can. Then I’ll be home for dinner with Dad’s girlfriend and getting repacked, hanging out with Becca, saying goodbye... and then once this second session is over, I’ll hit the road.”

“What about me?” he asks, nudging me playfully.

I glance up at him innocently. “What about you?”

“Will we be hanging out before you go back to PA?” he asks, his fingers running circles on my shoulder.

“No.” I laugh as his eyebrows rise in mock offense. “We’ll be making out.”

He shifts next to me, his offense shifting into intrigue. “That sounds—”

“Illegal?”

I know who it is the second his voice sounds in the small space. My body goes frigid, and next to me Max is tense.

“Singer,” Max says sharply.

“Well, at least highly frowned upon,” Andrew continues, his eyes searing holes into me.

I don’t flinch or move from my position under Max’s arm or look away. Andrew doesn’t get to rattle me ever again. “Do you want something?”

“Just saying hi.” He motions to someone we can’t see, and a moment later Claire appears at his side. Her expression is one of confusion, but it quickly turns stony and even a little snide when she spots me. But I know that face. It’s the one she puts on when she’s trying to intimidate someone, when she’s pretending to be a badass.

Andrew slides an arm around her waist. “We were catching a bite before we head down to the beach house for the week.”

“Just the two of us,” Claire adds, as if that isn’t obvious.

I swallow a retort about Claire loving leftovers. It’s not worth it. Honestly, I don’t even understand why Claire is trying so hard. In her telling of the story, she won. Andrew realized he wanted her and not me. Losing our friendship paid off. She isn’t the villain of her own story. But Claire can’t seem to grasp that.

“Well, have fun,” Max says as the waitress steps around them to deliver our food.

Max keeps a casual expression the whole time, but as soon as the waitress turns away, his face darkens. I follow his gaze to the front of the restaurant, where Joe and two other teachers from the high school are chatting with the hostess.

Andrew, as observant as ever, smirks at the change in his former coach’s expression and glances behind him. “Uh-oh. I wonder what they’ll have to say, Coach Evans. ”

Claire looks from me to the teachers and back again. She brings her arm up and links it through Andrew’s. “Come on, babe. If we don’t leave now, we’ll get stuck in rush hour traffic.”

Did Claire give us an out? Or does she hate that Andrew still cares enough to screw with me? Both?

Andrew kisses her temple. My stomach flips. How many times had he done that to me? It’s his go-to sign of affection. One that I loved because of its simplicity. And he’s doing it to Claire.

“You’re right, love.” He raps his knuckles on the table. “Good luck, you two.”

Max turns to me once they’re gone, his expression unreadable. “You okay, Zee?”

“Yeah.” And I think it’s true. I tuck my hair back behind my ears. “I’m fine. I mean, they’re ridiculous, but it’s fine. Let them fuck until the cows come home.”

“You’re upset if you’re talking in bad clichés.”

He shouldn’t know that about me yet, but he does. “I’m...” My voice cracks. Fuck Andrew Singer.

“What is it?”

“I was going to say I’m surprised.” I pick up a fry and point it at him. “But I’m not, which is worse somehow, you know?”

“Hey, guys,” Joe says. We can’t catch a break today. I inch away from Max and give my boyfriend’s best friend a wan smile—at least I think Max is my boyfriend. Joe’s expression at least is pleasant, nothing like the evil eye I got at the party.

“Hey, man,” Max says, taking his hand across the table. “You guys strategizing for orientation?”

“You know it.” Joe fixes me with a smile. “Nice to see you again, Zoey.”

“You, too, Joe,” I say, his first name still awkward from my mouth.

Behind him, the two other teachers, who I now recognize, are getting settled. Max and Joe talk, but I’m focused on the teachers. They are dating. No, wait, engaged. It was a rumor my senior year, but no one ever confirmed it. But it’s clear now. They both look up then. Ms. James smiles and waves. Mr. Matthews, who was my class advisor for two years, eyes me and Max. It’s clear he’s noting that we’re sitting on the same side of the table and eating off the same plate, but he only nods a greeting before turning his attention to his menu. Maybe Max and I won’t be an issue. Liz doesn’t care. Neither do Haley or Becca. And Max wouldn’t risk his job to make out with me. That would be silly. With his looks, he can have whomever he wants.

“Well, enjoy your dinner,” Joe says before heading back to his table.

Max pulls me close again. “Where’d you go?”

“Oh, it’s... Joe didn’t seem very happy to see me at the party. Particularly when he found me in your bedroom. And the other teachers...”

“Ah.” Max links our fingers. “Well, first, there’s no rule that says I can’t date you as you are a graduate for more than a year and were never under my purview. I checked. Twice. We’re not doing anything wrong—legally, morally, or otherwise. I’m only five years older than you, Zee. If you shift our meeting a few years, no one would bat an eye.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Second, Joe’s reaction the other night had nothing to do with you and everything to do with my ex-girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?”

“Joe’s boyfriend is Tess’s best friend.”

I didn’t know Max’s ex’s name before this moment, and now it’s forever seared into my memory.

“But she dumped you.”

To his credit, he doesn’t react to my crass comment. “Yes, but then she tried to take it back, and I turned her down.”

“Because of... me?” It feels indulgent asking such a question, but it would certainly explain Joe’s reaction. While it couldn’t have been fun to run into a former student at a party, it also didn’t warrant the chastisement I felt that night, especially since he knows Max and I work together.

“Because she and I don’t make sense anymore. Because her deciding to move a thousand miles away when she knew I couldn’t go with her was uncool. And yes”—he leans close enough that his breath stirs my hair, and I ache to kiss him—“because of you.”

Wow. Way to lay it out there. My cheeks heat up as does the rest of my body. I want to look away, but no matter where my gaze goes, it lands back on Max—his hand in mine, his arm around my shoulder, his lips close to mine.

I take a sip of my iced tea. It does nothing to curb the fire working its way through me. I wish we ordered in. I wish we were sitting on Max’s couch, hidden from the public eye. All I want is to climb onto his lap and kiss him for days. There’s no Andrew or Claire or Cecilia. No nosy coworkers or end-of-summer deadlines. On that couch, in that moment, we can be Max and Zee.

“Where’s your head?” Max asks after I’ve guzzled half my drink.

The Zoey I’ve always been would’ve shrugged and moved on. But with Max I get to be Zee, and maybe, for Zee, the rules are different. Zee asks to be kissed. Maybe I can ask for this too.

“Back at your apartment,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Oh?” His eyes widen, and I watch as he works through my statement. “And what are we doing?”

“Making out on the couch.”

His eyes darken, excitement and something like nerves playing across his features. It’s cute, really. For some reason my candidness has thrown him off. Is it a good thing or a bad thing that suggesting a make-out session sends him into a tizzy?

He waves down the waitress when she’s done dropping drinks off at Joe’s table. “Can we get this to go, actually? And the check, please?”