14

NOW

Maxie woke to the sound of a piercing screech coming from the kitchen. Van's piercing screech. Startled and disoriented, she stumbled out of bed and reached in her nightstand for the pistol Isaac had given her. She'd become very familiar with the small gun. She'd learned how to hold it without her hands shaking, shoot it without shutting her eyes.

"Isaac!" Van screamed. Her voice was high and terrified. It made Maxie's heart race, her palms sweat. A pit of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. Dread and fear and nausea.

Slowly, she crept out of her bedroom and into the hallway, holding the gun down low. All the lights were off except for the kitchen light, where Van cried out from. Isaac darted out of the bedroom. Holding her weapon tightly, Maxie followed close behind him. They stopped short when they found Van up on the counter, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring wide-eyed at the floor. "What's wrong?" Isaac demanded.

"Be careful!" Van cried. "Don't move."

Panic seized Maxie. What was happening? Was there someone else in the apartment? Could it happen to them again? "Fuck, Van, tell me what's wrong!" Isaac pressed.

"There's a—a rat!" she stammered, and both Maxie and Isaac exchanged bewildered glances. A rat? "It's huge! It ran over my feet! I mean, it literally touched my feet! It went behind the refrigerator, so be careful—" Van's eyes widened when she looked up and saw the gun in Maxie's hands. "Max! What are you doing?"

Any fear Maxie had previously felt evaporated into throbbing anger. "What the fuck are you doing?" she lashed out, jabbing the gun toward her friend. Van gasped, backing against the cabinets behind her. Isaac quickly grabbed the gun from Maxie's hand. "What the hell is wrong with you, Van? I thought someone was out here trying to hurt you! I could've shot you! A rat? A fucking rat?"

"It was really big!"

"Do you realize I was almost raped in this kitchen?" Maxie yelled, taking a step toward her roommate. "Do you realize I watched a man die in this kitchen? And you're screaming like that because of a rat?"

Van shrank guiltily into herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it. I just saw it and screamed."

"You almost gave me a heart attack! Fuck, Van." She turned away, raising her hands to her head. "What the hell time is it, anyway?"

"Almost five," Isaac said.

Maxie sighed.

"Well, I'm not hurt," Van said, slowly climbing down off of the counter. "You both can go back to bed now. Or at least put some clothes on."

Maxie and Isaac exchanged glances. Maxie only wore a tee-shirt that stopped at her belly button and striped panties. Isaac was in boxer briefs. "Here you go," he said, looking away as he handed her back her gun.

"Where did you get that, anyway?" Van asked.

"Pawnshop," Maxie lied, turning to go back in her bedroom. "Do me a favor, Van. Be dying next time you scream like that."

"Got it," Van called, just as Maxie shut her door.

 

THEN

It was nearly one AM when the doorbell rang. Maxie was halfway through with the meal she was preparing for her and Isaac. Another Italian dish, because she knew that was his favorite. After their night of sandwiches, lemonade, and wine, she'd decided to make up for it with something extra special.

"Coming!" she called, rushing to the door and unlocking it. "Dinner's almost ready—" She stopped short when she opened the door and saw it wasn't Isaac standing there, but Alex instead. His eyes were small and glazed, he swayed slowly back and forth, obviously drunk.

"Who the hell are you making dinner for at one in the morning?" he demanded, coming inside.

She opened her mouth to reply, but she was too stunned to speak. "Wh-what are you doing here, Alex?" she finally managed.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I missed you. I wanted to see you."

"You're drunk," she said, turning away from his lips. He reeked of alcohol.

"I'm a little tipsy, don't be dramatic. C'mon, give me a kiss. I missed you."

She tried to move past him, at least to shut the door, but he held her tightly, pushing her back toward the couch. "Alex, cut it out. Let me go."

"It smells good in here. Who are you cooking for, babe? Me?"

"Me."

"You and who else? Are you seeing someone else? Who is he? Is he better than me?"

"Alex, you're drunk," she repeated.

He sighed, dropped his head on her shoulder and buried his face in her neck. "I know. I know. I'm sorry, babe. I'm so sorry. Hold me for a while, will you? Until I sober up. I need you to hold me—God, you smell so good. I want you, Maxie. I want you so bad. How long are you going to make me wait, huh? How much longer?"

"Alex, please—" Her eyes widened as Isaac appeared in the doorway. His eyes went to Alex, then to her, and his nostrils flared. No, no. Don't say a word. Don't come in here. Just leave, she silently begged.

"Let's go in your room," Alex slurred against her neck. "Please? Can we just go in your room..?"

Isaac's eyebrows furrowed. He took a step back, looked away, shook his head. He looked hurt. Hurt. And what could Maxie do? Nothing. Turning her head away from Alex, she shut her eyes tightly. When she opened them again, Isaac was gone.

Maxie was growing restless. Even more restless than Van, only silently so. It'd been two weeks since either of them had seen or heard from Isaac. Two tormented weeks of nothing. And while Van constantly wondered aloud what kept him away, Maxie secretly wondered what she could have done to change things. "Do you remember senior year, when I started dating Chase Harrison?" Van asked one night, over dinner.

"Yeah," Maxie replied, only half listening. Her brain was too absorbed with thoughts of Isaac. Where was he? What was he doing? What was he thinking? "What about him?"

"Do you remember how into him I was? How, for like, three weeks straight all I wanted to do was be with him and talk about him and think about him?"

"Mm hmm." Was he that upset with her? Was he trying to send a message?

"And then, after the three weeks, he just started getting annoying, so I didn't want to talk to him anymore, but I felt bad about dumping him? You know how I gradually stopped calling him, stopped taking his calls, stopped eating lunch with him and meeting him after school and stuff? I sort of just...phased him out?"

"Yep, I remember." She hadn't meant for Alex to be there. And it wasn't like Isaac didn't know she had a boyfriend. Could he really be that upset with her?

"Do you think Isaac's doing that to me?"

At the mention of Isaac's name, Maxie looked up at Van. Or maybe she'd been looking at her the whole time. In any case, Van suddenly had her full attention. "What?"

"Do you think Isaac's phasing me out? Maybe he's tired of me, and feels bad about just dropping me, so he's trying to let me down gradually."

Maxie stared at her friend, with both pity and amusement. "No, I don't think he's phasing you out, Van. And I don't think he's tired of you." In fact, Maxie knew that what he was doing had very little to do with Van at all. "Maybe he's just busy," she suggested.

She shrugged. "I'm busy. But I still make time to call him and see how his day is going."

"Men are different."

With a sigh, she said, "I just don't get it. Everything was going so well. Maybe...maybe you can call him?"

Maxie frowned. "Me?"

"You guys are friends, right? He always speaks so highly of you. Maybe you can just talk to him. You know, friend to friend."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?" she demanded, almost indignantly.

"Because, that's weird! Me just calling him out of the blue! What is he going to think?"

"What difference does it make what he thinks of you, Maxie? This is just one favor. Can't you put yourself out there for me once? I mean after everything, it's the least you can do—"

Maxie recoiled. "Wait, stop. What are you talking about? What is everything?"

Rolling her eyes, Van stood hotly. "Forget it. We'll both just be miserable, Max. Happy? Everyone can just be as lonely and as miserable as you are!"

"What is your problem?" Maxie cried incredulously as Van stormed out of the room. But suddenly, she turned back.

"As a matter of fact, I'm not lonely! I have a great job, lots of friends, and a family who loves me! Unlike you, whose only companionship is me and Bea, the stripper-turned-tattooist! Your own father doesn't want you! Your own mother didn't care enough about you to not kill herself! You're lonely, okay? You're familyless, and jobless, and moneyless, and if it weren't for me, you'd probably be homeless and friendless and lifeless, too! And all I ask is for one favor!"

With that, she pivoted and stomped out of the kitchen to her bedroom, slamming her door violently behind her.

 

Maxie woke early the next morning and left the apartment. She spent her morning in class, and then showered and spent the rest of her afternoon walking about the city. By the evening, she was tired and hungry, but she didn't want to go home to face Van, who was probably still upset. Maxie was just as upset, anyway, yet not surprised. It was just like Van to flip out that way, aim below the belt, cut deep, leave a scar. She took no prisoners. It was just like her.

So Maxie roamed. She ate fast food. She stopped in a bookstore to sit down for a while and rest. And then she ventured out to roam some more. She meant for it to be purposeless, aimless roaming, yet somehow she ended up in front of Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym. Isaac's boxing gym.

For a while, she simply stood outside, staring at it. Could she just walk in there? What if he wasn't there? What if he was? What would she say to him? Questions swirled around in her mind with no answers, yet she found herself walking toward the door anyway, opening it up, stepping inside.

Inside, she froze. Dozens of sweaty men occupied what seemed like such a small space. The majority of them were tall and broad, or lean and heavily muscled, or like Isaac, a perfect combination of both. They punched large bags, lifted weights, sparred in the boxing ring, or grappled on the large, vast mat in the back of the room.

That was where she spotted Isaac. He wore nothing but blue shorts, MMA training gloves, and a coat of shiny sweat. His fists were tight and raised, blocking his face from his opponent, a significantly larger man, but Isaac was calm. Completely at ease. Maxie watched in awe as the taller man swung first. Isaac swiftly moved out of the way of the first blow, ducked another, and propelled forward, charging the guy. If Maxie would have blinked, she would have missed it. Isaac scooped the man's legs up from under him, and they both went crashing down to the mat.

"Hey!" someone called, stealing her attention. She turned to another man walking toward her. He wasn't sweating, he barely looked like he'd been working out at all. "You looking for someone?" he asked.

"Huh?" Maxie's eyes darted back to the mat. Isaac was no longer on top of the man, but behind him. When did that happen? Maxie turned back to the man before her. "Oh, no. I mean, yeah, but I found him."

She motioned toward Isaac, whose arms were securely around the man's neck. After a little bit of struggle, the man finally tapped out. Isaac let go and fell back on the mat, smiling. His laughter carried across the gym. "Isaac?" the man asked, following Maxie's gaze.

"Uh-huh," she replied. She turned back to him. His coconut brown eyes showed a hint of disappointment.

"Well, c'mon, then. He's right over here."

The man led her to Isaac. She could feel the increase of attention on her as she crossed the gym. She felt as if she were wearing nothing, instead of her jeans, a pea coat, and rain boots. It seemed as if Isaac was the only one who didn't notice. "That was good," he was saying to his defeated opponent. "You've gotten a lot better since this time last year. You'll be ready to compete in no time—"

"Isaac," the man escorting Maxie called. Isaac looked up, met the man's eyes, and then noticed Maxie standing beside him, slightly behind him. His smile faded. "You have a visitor," he said, stepping aside.

Isaac examined her: yellow boots up to her knees, her perfect legs in her skin-tight jeans. Her hair was down and splayed over her shoulders, her lips were full and moist, as if she'd been wearing lip gloss that faded, and her eyes were big as she looked at him.

His own eyes absorbed her, devoured her. And she just stood there, breathing heavily under his scrutiny, so unaware of herself he wanted to shake her. Did she even notice every man in the room gawking at her? Undressing her with their imaginations?

Isaac got to his feet and went to her. As he got closer, she gasped. It was his eye, he knew. Swollen from a training session that went bad just two days before. That's all he'd been doing since he last saw her. Training. Getting out his aggression. And yet, he remained dauntingly distracted by her. Hence, the eye. He wanted to tell her, you should see the other guy.

"What happened to you?" she asked, raising her hand to his face. Her small, soft fingers were cool against his hot skin.

"I'm fine," he said, taking her by the wrist and lowering her hand. As nice as it felt to have her touching him, her hand was blocking his view of her face, and he needed that more.

"Does it hurt?"

Many things on his body hurt, his eye wasn't one of them. "No." He tilted his head, raised his fingers to one of her curls. "Your hair," he said. "It's down."

"I washed it," she replied, a bit impatiently. "Isaac, tell me what happened to you. Did you get this here?"

"Yes," he said. His fingers went from her hair to her cheek. She reddened under his touch. She finally stopped trying to touch his eye and dropped her arms to her sides. Isaac had to bite down on his bottom lip.

"Isaac," she said.

"You look very pretty today, Maxie," he said. She flushed impossibly red and dropped her eyes. He grinned. "What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"I came to see you," she said. "And to apologize."

Suddenly, he was very aware of the company they were in. He looked at his friend, who still stood beside her, also towering over her. With their heights and their builds, they could have been brothers. "Maxie," Isaac said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is Daniel Gnar. Gnar, this Maxie."

Gnar took her hand. "It's a pleasure, Maxie."

She nodded. "Thanks for helping me."

"No problem." His eyes lingered on her face for a moment or so before he turned back to Isaac. "So I guess you're heading out?"

Isaac glanced at Maxie, who looked away. "Yeah," he said, admiring the top of her head. Even that was desirable. "Max, I just need to grab my stuff. You mind waiting for me outside?"

She nodded and headed to the door. He didn't move from his spot until she was gone. He knew it was cold out, but he'd rather her be chilly outside than in the oven-like heat of his gym, surrounded by men—hot and hungry and horny and looking at her.

 

He met her outside just a few minutes later. "So," he said, going to her. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"I'm sorry to have just popped up."

"Unexpected, but welcomed," he amended.

She smiled. "Well," she said, "I haven't seen you since..." She fidgeted with her bracelet, avoided eye contact. "I didn't know Alex was coming that night. I'm sorry, I was going to call you, but then you showed up and—"

"It's fine, Maxie. I'm not upset."

"Were you upset?"

With a tight grin, he looked away from her. "A little," he said, gently prodding her to walk. "But not with you. Just with... the situation."

Right. The situation. The culprit. She nodded, completely understanding. "Van thinks you're tired of her. She thinks you're phasing her out."

He raised an eyebrow. "Phasing her out?"

"You know. Letting her down easily. Gradually cutting her off."

Isaac laughed. It was a good laugh that erupted from deep in his chest and made him close his eyes and throw his head back. Maxie could feel her lower lip slowly drop as she watched him in awe. How could one man be so perfect? Physically perfect? His eyes, his nose, the full lips, his sun-kissed skin. All of it, together on his face so beautifully. Maxie knew that she was pretty, but Isaac. He was just Godly. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her, she blushed and looked down at her feet. "I'm not phasing her out," he assured her. "Because phasing her out would mean phasing you out, and I'm certainly not tired of you, Maximilienne."

She felt the familiar kick of guilt in her gut. She cursed herself. Cursed herself for coming to see him. What had she been thinking? She didn't need to encourage him any further. Him or herself. She was only making the situation worse. Yet she couldn't bring herself to walk away from him. She couldn't bring herself to tell him not to come eat her dinner anymore. Instead, she rationalized.

We're just friends.

He's just eating.

I'm here for Van. To find out why he stopped calling.

I met him first, anyway...

"Isaac," she said, looking up at him. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened to your eye?"

He grinned. "I have to take a shower. Come back to my apartment with me?"

She frowned. "I don't think so..."

"C'mon. I won't be long. I'll take you home right after. And I'll tell you about my eye on the way."

She did want to know about his eye. "Alright," she conceded. "I'll go with you."

 

"So," Isaac said as they made their way to his apartment. "What did you tell Van when she told you she thought I was phasing her out?"

"I told her you're probably just busy."

He nodded. "And what did she say about that?" She sighed, remembering where the conversation led. Catching the drop in her mood, Isaac frowned. "What?"

"It somehow turned into an argument."

"And what happened?" Taking a deep breath, Maxie told Isaac all about the argument that had taken place the night before. When she was finished, his eyes were dark and his jaw was set. "She said that to you?" he said, his voice low and fierce.

Maxie forced a smile "She's just upset. Taking it out on me."

"She crossed the line."

"She didn't mean it."

Annoyed, he sat back. "Maxie, if I ever hear her say anything like that to you—"

"You won't," Maxie said, quickly. At least, she hoped he wouldn't.

 

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said, leading Maxie into his apartment. He dropped his gym bag at the door, kicked off his shoes. Maxie took hers off, too. His white carpet was spotless. The whole place was spotless.

"You live here?" she asked, peering around. It was as clean and as plain as a hotel room. "I could have guessed you were a neat freak."

He scoffed. "You wouldn't be saying that if you saw the kitchen. It's an absolute wreck."

"No pictures?"

"I'm not one for decorating."

"I see."

"Have a seat. I'm just going to hop in the shower." He yawned as he made his way to his bedroom. "Watch some TV. I'll just be a few minutes."

She took a seat and turned on the television. She only got through half of a sitcom before he emerged again, looking rejuvenated and smelling fresh. He only wore a tank top and sweatpants, beads of water still decorated his muscular arms and shoulders.

"Are you ready for me to take you home?" he asked, but she couldn't reply right away. Not while her eyes played on his perfect, bare arms. "Maxie?"

"Huh? Oh, no, actually. I mean, I'll go, if you have something to do. But I'm not going home yet."

"I have nothing to do," he said, setting down beside her with a grin. "I'm glad you came to see me today."

"Me, too."

"I've missed you," he said.

She blinked, and then barely audibly replied, "Me, too."

He smiled, placed his arm on the back of the couch, behind her head. "How's Alex? Did you two have a good night?"

"Ha-ha," she said, rolling her eyes. He laughed. She was glad he could laugh about it. "He ended up just passing out in my bed. I slept on the couch."

He leaned forward a bit, looked her in the eye. "You could have slept here."

She inhaled sharply. Breathe. Don't forget to breathe. She lost all sense when he looked at her like that. Exhaling, she turned away from his gaze. "It doesn't look like you have many guests."

"Nope," he admitted. "None."

"Ever?"

"Ever. I think you're maybe the fifth person that's sat on this couch since I got it last year."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm just wary about bringing people into my personal space."

She chuckled. "But Isaac, there's nothing personal about this space."

He smiled. "Are you hungry? Can I make you something?"

"You mean another peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"They're my specialty."

"Sure, I'll take one."

He went to the kitchen and came back just a few minutes later.

"Dinner is served," he said, bringing her the sandwich. She smiled as she took it, and he held onto the plate for a moment longer than he needed to, just to look at her. "Movie?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, biting into the sandwich. "Mm, this may be your best one yet."

"Funny or scary?"

"Scary, of course."

He put on a movie, turned out the lights, and sat beside her again. Even closer than last time. Her body tensed at the proximity of his. She looked straight ahead at the television, ate her sandwich, said nothing, barely moved. How long did she manage not to look at him? How long was she able to sit there without touching him, despite his large body and long limbs outstretched? She wasn't sure exactly how much time passed, but by the time she finally dared steal a glance in his direction, he was asleep.

 

When Isaac woke, Maxie was still next to him, still curled up in the corner, asleep, with one of her legs draped over his lap. He blinked, still a bit disoriented from sleep. What time was it? How long had he been out? He looked at her again and sighed, annoyed with himself. How the hell did he fall asleep? Finally, time alone with her again, and he fell asleep.

The movie was still playing. It was just a few minutes in. Maybe twenty. Just twenty minutes, that wasn't so bad. He carefully moved her legs and stood up. He glanced at the time on the cable box and gasped. Had he thought only twenty minutes had passed? It'd been two hours. He had fallen asleep for two hours.

"Fuck," he groaned. He wanted to wake her, but he was afraid to. How upset would she be? How annoyed? He contemplated just letting her sleep. After all, she'd let him sleep. For two hours, at that. Sighing again, he picked up her empty plate and went to the kitchen. Turning the corner, he nearly dropped it.

The kitchen. It was spotless.

Shining spotless. Eat straight off the counters spotless. There wasn't a dish, not a crumb, not a single piece of trash to be found anywhere. No wonder she was asleep. It must have taken her the entire two hours to get the job done. He took a step inside. It even smelled clean. The dishes were stacked neatly in the cabinet. The garbage was tied up under the sink. The countertops glistened. Even the refrigerator was wiped clean.

He let out a disbelieving chuckle and went back to the living room. He sat down beside her, and she stirred and opened her eyes. "You're up," she said, smiling.

"And you're crazy."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Huh?"

"You cleaned my kitchen," he said, barely able to get the words out. His heart was so full for her, so full he could barely stand it. "You crazy girl."

"Oh, yeah," she said, as nonchalantly as ever. "It was a mess."

"I know that," he said. "It was a fucking train wreck."

She smiled. "You were so tired. And your eye." She reached up and touched it. It took all the strength he had not to turn to her open palm and kiss it. "How does it feel?"

"It feels fine, Maxie."

"You were only working out so hard because of me," she said.

"Stop blaming yourself for everything," he said, taking her hand. "I can't believe you cleaned that fucking kitchen."

"Well, I felt so energized after that sandwich."

He laughed. She simply lay there, smiling, gazing up at him. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked. Then he stopped laughing, dropped his eyes, squeezed her hands. "What am I going to do with you, Maximilienne?"

Pulling her hand away, she sat up. "I should probably go."

 

Isaac drove Maxie home. "Van's going to be so happy to see you," she said.

"She's home, huh?"

"She should be."

He didn't reply. The rest of their walk to the apartment was silent. When they reached the door, Isaac stopped.

"Maxie," he said.

She turned to find him standing close to her, her breast nearly brushing against his chest.

"Wear your hair down from now on."

"Oh," she said, dropping her eyes. She touched her head. "You know I just wear it the way Alex likes—"

"Well, from now on," he said, taking her hand, "wear it the way I like."

She said nothing. She didn't even move. Not even as he took another step toward her. Not even as he leaned down, closer and closer to her face. She knew what was coming. She knew what he was about to do, and she didn't try to stop it. She just stood there, waiting for it, anticipating it. His lips against hers. The taste of his mouth, the scent of him on her.

And then the knob clicked and the door opened, and Maxie lowered her face and Isaac stepped back. Van appeared, her eyes wide when she saw Isaac.

"Look who I found," Maxie said, nodding toward him.

The corners of Van's lips turned up into a wide smile, and she threw herself into Isaac's arms. "Where have you been?" she demanded, raising her lips to him.

Stealing one last glance at him, Maxie said, "He isn't phasing you out. Excuse me." Making her way around them, she went into the apartment and closed herself in her room for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Van slid into bed beside Maxie and embraced her. "I'm so sorry," she moaned into Maxie's hair. She held her tightly, so tightly Maxie couldn't even return the hug. "You know that, right? You know I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that, Max. You're never alone. I'm your family, your sister."

"It's okay," she assured, patting her friend's back.

"You know how I get when I'm mad. I say things that I don't mean. You know that I don't mean any of them, though."

"I know," Maxie replied, but deep in her heart of hearts, Maxie knew that Van had meant all of them.

"And thank you, Maxie. I don't know what you said to him, but he's back!" she squealed in a hushed whisper. "He apologized for staying away so long, and he promised it wouldn't happen again."

Shutting her eyes tightly, Maxie replied, "Great, Van. I'm happy for you."