“So, Max, how are you liking Glen Vale?” Dad asks. “Is it a big change from your last band?”
“Not really. We were really serious at Oak Grove and it’s pretty similar here too. Though we didn’t have fun breaks during band camp there.”
“No water balloons?” I ask.
His eyes cut from me to both of our moms, like he’s waiting to be chewed out about dousing me in vinegar. I thought about telling my parents when I got home that day, but instead I threw my clothes in the washer and left it at that. It wasn’t worth the hassle. That would only lead to my mom calling Melanie, then more drama and more fighting.
“I’m so glad you’re both in band together,” Melanie says and turns to me. “Do you also play D&D like your parents?”
“Uh—”
“Actually, Hazel and her friend have been talking about starting a campaign for forever now,” Mom jumps in. “I keep pushing her to, but so far no luck.”
“I’ve been busy. And I can’t run a game with just me and Nova.”
“You’re looking for members?” Melanie asks eagerly and takes Max by the arm. “Max would love to join. He’s been looking for a group.”
He cringes. “I’m not looking. It’s fine, Mom.” He wiggles away from her.
There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence and then Dad slaps both his thighs. “Welp, it’s about time for us to get our game started. I’m sure Dale and Connie are already getting restless down there, and Glenn should be here soon. You two will be okay?” Dad looks between me and Max. His expression is unsure, and I’m tempted to cling to him like a toddler and refuse to be left behind.
“Why don’t you show Max around?” Mom suggests. “It’s been so long.”
I swallow hard. “Okay. Sounds good.”
The adults shuffle off downstairs and I’m left standing in a tight hallway with a guy who clearly wants to be anywhere but here.
“Couldn’t talk her out of it, huh?” I ask.
A shadow of a smile lightens his expression for a brief second. “She was insistent.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re welcome to watch TV in the living room. I’ll be in my room.” I turn back to the stairs.
“Who’s that on your shirt?”
I pause and look down. Today I’m wearing myBoys for Peleshirt from one of my favorite albums.
I glance back at him. “It’s Tori Amos.”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes. “Only one of the best female singer-songwriters to come out of the nineties. She writes brilliant haunting songs and never gets the credit she deserves.”
“I didn’t know you were into nineties music.”
“And I didn’t know you were an entitled jerk, but people change. A lot, in some cases.”
I make it one step before his hand is on my elbow. It’s only a whisper of a touch, but it’s enough to send a wave of electricity down my arm. A years-long crush is harder to shake than I imagined.
“Do you always have to make things so hard?”
His voice is low and edged with annoyance, but there’s a familiarity to it that brings old memories flooding back. How many times had he stood at the foot of these stairs, waiting impatiently for me to come down so we could play board games or watch movies together? How often had he growled under his breath when I beat him at a game or pointed out a rule he’d forgotten? It’s so surreal to be standing here with him now, hating him, after all our history.
I take a deep breath and twist to face him fully. “Do you always have to make things so irritating?”
We glare at each other. It’s a battle of wills and I won’t be the one to blink or back down. Except we’re standing much too close for this. It’s hard to keep my hatred at the forefront of my mind when I’m reminded of how beautiful his eyes are. Finally, he drops his gaze to the floor and takes a step back.
“Just…show me around, okay? I don’t want to disappoint Mom.”
