The One That I Want(39)
Author: Jennifer Echols

I sat up straighter on his lap, one hand centered on his bare chest, and looked him in the eye. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, you grew a goatee because you thought I might like it? That was before you went out with Addison.”

He blinked. “I’ve wanted you all along, not her. But could we make out some more before we have that conversation? You’re going to be kind of mad.” He closed his eyes and kissed my lips again.

I scooted off his lap. “Max. If you liked me this whole time, why’d you go out with Addison?” I meant to keep my voice even, but the end of my question came out as a whine, filled with all the frustration I’d felt during the last three weeks.

He crossed his muscular arm and his casted arm over his lean chest. “If you bought your Studio 54 shirt because you knew I would like it, why did you go out with Carter?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I had plenty to say, but I was too outraged to say it. Finally I managed, “I was with Carter because you asked Addison out!”

“I did not!” he exclaimed.

“Addison told me you did.”

“No! You must have misunderstood her. No.”

I had not misunderstood Addison. I knew this in my heart.

But Max went on earnestly, “I saw you from across the football field at camp. I thought you noticed me, too. When camp was over, I asked Carter to wait with me so I could try to talk to you on your way out.”

“And Addison talked to you instead,” I griped.

“Well, you got hit in the nose,” he said, gently touching where Addison had clobbered me. “I thought that quieted you down. I was going to try to talk to you at the Varsity, but you got sullen, remember? And then, when you left the table to text your mom, I suggested to Addison that the four of us could go out together. I was afraid if I asked you out by yourself, you’d say no, because we’d just met and you’d mentioned serial killers. I figured if we went out as a group first, I might grow on you, and then I could make my move on you.”

“That’s not what Addison told me,” I said, so frustrated now that I could have cried. “She specifically told me that you had asked her out, and that I had to go out with Carter so her mother would let her out of the house.”

Max shook his head. “I have no idea where she got that.”

I knew where she had gotten it. Addison had seen something she’d wanted, and she’d lied to get it.

Max pointed at me. “But then she came back to the table and said that you thought Carter was fine!”

I stared at Max for a few moments with my mouth open, not quite believing what I was hearing. “I said Carter was fine?”

“That’s what Addison said.” Max glared at me accusingly.

“I did not say that,” I insisted. “When she told me you’d asked her out, she said she wanted me to go out with Carter. She asked me if I liked him. I may have said that I liked him fine.”

He sighed suddenly like he’d been holding his breath. “So she just misheard you. She wasn’t lying.”

“She was totally lying, trust me.”

His brows went down like he disapproved of my comment.

I was so angry that I hardly noticed, and I definitely didn’t care. “How could you believe I said Carter was fine?” I protested. “That doesn’t sound like anything I’d say about anybody. That is a strange expression Addison would use.”

“I didn’t know that. I’d just met you.”

“But Max! Why would you still want to go out with me if you believed I said it?”

“I had my misgivings. But you were too perfect, and I couldn’t let you go just because you thought you liked Carter. I knew he wasn’t into you. He knew I was. And I could tell he had a thing for Addison but didn’t want to admit it. He was too wrapped up in moping about his ex-girlfriend. So I kicked him under the table a few times to make him go along with the plan.”

Max reached out to finger the embroidered GLADYS on my shirt pocket. “Then, in the MARTA station, you said the tile art of the countryside was ironic, and I was hooked again. I had to have you. When we got home, I called Carter and convinced him that if we all went out together, we could switch it up and make it right.”

I took in Max’s handsome, shadowed face, the gold pendant on a red cord around his neck, the chiseled muscles of his arms and chest. After all the weeks I’d pined for him, this revelation was too good to be true, and I did not quite believe it. “You never liked Addison?” I repeated.

“No.”

I thought back to our first date, meeting her and Carter in the shopping center parking lot. “You were staring at her cle**age, Max.”

“How could I help it? Everybody was staring at her cle**age. You were staring at her cle**age.”

I laughed bitterly at that, because it was true. “And this is why you kept throwing darts at me, like at Little Five Points when you made fun of the way I dress. You were mad at me for liking Carter.”

He opened his hands. “Because why would you like Carter instead of me? You were supposed to be with me!”

I felt ill. “This is what you and Carter have been arguing about.”

“Like we didn’t have enough already,” Max grumbled. “Yes. He was supposed to go out with you, if that’s what you wanted, but not to stick his tongue down your throat. He’s been doing that because he knew it infuriated me and I couldn’t do anything.” Max’s eyes blazed fire.

“Why did Carter go out with me tonight, then, when you couldn’t?”

“I told him he had to. It was your birthday. I didn’t want you to get stood up.”

“Thanks, Max,” I said sarcastically, thinking of the heartfelt gift of the slasher film. “Was that ‘I love you’ bear your idea?”

“I told him to give you something for your birthday. His ex-girlfriend gave that back to him, I think.”

Max still sat in front of me, but all I could see was Addison, lips pursed and fists balled in excitement as she told me her great news in the Varsity, every bit of which was a lie to steal my guy.

“I hate Addison,” I said. “I hate her with every fiber of my being. I have never hated anyone like I hate that girl, not even my dad’s girlfriend. I would seriously like to put hair remover in her shampoo.”

I took a long, ragged breath. The anger relented a little. Max stared at me with his nostrils flared like I was some distasteful lower species—the way the cool, popular kids used to look at me when I was younger and I passed by their table in the lunchroom.