Michael didn't know why he bothered trying to explain how he was feeling about the whole Maria/Tess/impending twenty-first birthday situation to Kyle that afternoon. Kyle had a one track mind, so naturally he was envious of Michael's predicament.
"So do you see what I'm saying?" he said as he paced back and forth across his living room. "Those two girls can't make nice, and since I'm friends with both of 'em, I get put in the middle. I'm sandwiched between Maria and Tess and they're fightin' over me. It's horrible."
"Really?" Kyle managed. "'Cause if you ask me, it sounds awesome."
"No, it's . . . would you focus?"
"I am focused. Go on."
"So I told them to plan the party together, because the sooner they work out whatever the hell their issues are, the sooner I can regain a little of my sanity. And won't that be nice."
"Right, right. But back to Maria and Tess . . ."
"Right. Well, we'll see how it goes. I'm pretty much relying on Tess to keep the party from getting too wild, and I'm pretty much relying on Maria to keep the party from getting too pink." He groaned and raked one hand through his hair. "I didn't even want a birthday party. And it's not even about my birthday, really. They just wanna have a party. Or a competition. This is a game, and they just wanna win. I'm like the prize or something."
"Oh, you ungrateful son of a bitch."
"Do you have any idea what it feels like to just be this piece of meat that two crazy girls are fighting over?"
"I wish I did." Kyle leaned forward and folded his hands. "Michael, you need to take a step back and realize something: the things you just said conjure up about every porn fantasy in the book."
"What book?"
"The-my mental book, okay? Do you know how often I fantasize about being 'sandwiched' between Tess and Maria? Or Tess and Isabel. Or Tess and Liz. Or Tess and Uma Thurman."
"Uma Thurman?"
"Or Tess and some miraculous twin version of Tess. Oh my god."
"Yeah, you like the girl; I get it." Michael sighed and plopped down beside his friend on the couch. "Man, my life used to be simple, you know? Calm. Quiet. And then Maria moved in with me, and she and Tess can't get along anymore, and I'm still tryin' to get over Isabel, but apparently I can't 'cause I can't paint anything decent these days. And my parents barge in long enough to take part in Woodstock 2008. That was actually kinda fun. But if they're not here, then Maria's mom is, and she thinks I'm a sex addict. And then there's Marty, and I swear to God that guy's gonna rape me someday. And you, too."
"You think?"
"Oh, yeah. And I can't even do something so simple as paying attention in art history. You know why? Oh, 'cause I had to decide who would plan my birthday party. You know, all I wanted to do the night of my birthday was curl up on the couch and watch the news. Or something."
"Oh, you'll be doing something," Kyle assured him. "Probably Maria."
"Yeah," he agreed without really realizing what he was agreeing with. "Wait, what did you say?"
Kyle chuckled. "It's only a matter of time, you know. Livin' under the same roof. Kinda . . . some glimpses of nudity here and there, sharing the same bed . . . it's gonna happen. And when it does, you should be thanking your lucky stars, because you don't deserve it."
Michael made a face and spat, "What-what-what're you talking about? What the hell's your problem? Why are you always thinking about sex?"
Kyle shrugged. "What else am I supposed to think about?"
"And me and Maria? Are you-are you high or something?"
"I'm just calling it like I see it."
Michael laughed. Loudly. That was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Right. Let's not forget, this is the girl who makes me want to voluntarily check myself into the insane asylum."
Kyle grinned. "Ah, the best kind."
"I don't exactly see sex in our future."
"A sexless life is no way to live," Kyle told him. "Trust me."
Michael resisted the urge to make jokes at the expense of his friend's virginity. Hell, until Isabel, he'd been in the same v-card boat.
"Can't you just picture it, though?" Kyle had the stupidest grin stretched out on his face. "In a perfect world, or at least my perfect world . . . Max breaks up with Tess. I ease on in for the kill."
"The kill? She's not quail."
"Well, you know what I mean. So one minute she's crying, the next minute she's fallin' in love with me. And sex ensues. Lots of it. And so in the perfect world, Maria and Tess become friends again, you and Maria become more than friends . . ."
"Oh, god."
"Yeah, I can see it now. Some double dates and stuff. Maybe play-dates for the children."
"The children? Oh, no, Maria and I would produce some truly terrifying offspring. I'm sure of it."
Kyle laughed in agreement. "Yeah, spiky-haired and psychotic."
"Yeah." Michael laughed, too. "Well, what about you and Tess? A pervert who likes pink. That'd be your kid."
"Yeah."
They were both still laughing when the door to the apartment flew open and Maria stormed inside.
"Oh, here we go," Michael muttered.
She planted herself in front of him and glared down at him. "Michael," she growled. "I am very mad at you."
"Okay." He didn't care.
"I'm serious. Forcing me to work with Tess . . . you so obviously want us to mend fences or whatever, but it's not gonna happen. I've recently discovered that I'm smart, you know, and I'm smart enough to know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Hey, Maria and Tess can rekindle their friendship, Maria can move back in with her, I can go back to being a big, boring loser in this apartment all by myself, moping over Isabel, painting landscapes . . .'"
"As opposed to cartoon paintings of you."
"Well, it's a start. For your information, buddy, I'm not going anywhere. Tess and I are not gonna go back to being BFFs. Ever. So this little scheme of yours isn't gonna work out."
"Scheme? I never had a scheme. Although it's a pretty good idea."
She grunted. "Whatever. This is just . . . cruel and unusual punishment is what this is."
"And what am I punishing you for?"
"I don't know. Probably something stupid, like the fact that I threw out your favorite pair of jeans."
That caught his attention. "What? My . . . my favorite pair of jeans?"
"Yeah."
"The ones with the white paint stains on 'em?"
"I still say they look like cum-spots."
"Maria!" he yelled. "You threw them out?"
"You didn't know?" It seemed to dawn on her that she had just thrown herself under the bus, because she smiled nervously and began to slink off towards the bedroom. "Never mind."
"Wait, Maria." He sprung up off the couch and hurried after her. "Maria!"
"It's only a matter of time!" Kyle called after him. "Only a matter of time."
"Would you shut up?" Michael whirled around and roared, at his rope's end with the both of them.
Kyle just pointed a finger at him and cackled.
...
What am I doing here?
Liz asked herself that question over and over again as she stood outside the door to Max's apartment—or rather his penthouse suite in his father's hotel. Whatever. She had no reason to be there. She had seen Max at the tutoring center yesterday, and they had argued. Sort of. And flirted. Sort of. They couldn't do one without doing the other.
What am I doing here?
She knew it was in her best interest to stay away from Max for awhile, at least until he and Tess were kaput. And they would be soon. Once she and Tess began their tutoring and she could start to drop subtle hints about Kyle, about what a great guy he was . . . Tess would stray. Because she didn't love Max. She couldn't. She didn't even know him.
Please tell me I'm not venturing into stalker territory.
Liz hated that Max could do this to her, make her feel so greedy and dark and manipulative all at once. She hated that she wanted him more than anything. She hated that she didn't hate him and that he made her feel alive.
She was just about to turn and walk away, still not sure why her feet had taken her there in the first place, when the door opened and Max grinned at her.
"How'd you know I was out here?" she asked. "God, that's so creepy."
"Security cameras," he explained, pointing to a barely-noticeable camera perched above the door to his suite. "I was hoping you'd come by. And I was hoping you'd wear those jeans." He licked his lips, making no effort to mask his frank sexual intrigue.
"I don't know what I'm doing here," she admitted, suddenly wishing she'd worn something like sweatpants and a t-shirt. But Max would probably find a way to interpret that ensemble as sexy, too.
"Come inside," he invited, opening the door wide, gesturing grandly toward the interior of his accommodations.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," she practically whispered, wishing that her feet would just back up down the hallway. But instead, they inched forward until, suddenly, almost against her will, she found herself inside Max's suite, wishing he was inside of her.
I hate you. I hate you, she thought, hoping that if she told herself that enough, she would start to believe it. I hate you, Max.
I don't hate you.
"So," he said, shutting the door. "What brings you here?"
"I told you, I don't know," she growled. "I was just . . . in the neighborhood." She cringed after the words left her mouth, hating the lame excuse in a way that she could never hate the man in front of her no matter how hard she tried.
"In the neighborhood?" Max chuckled. "Nice."
"Shut up."
"I can't. I like hearing myself talk."
She rolled her eyes. "Max-"
"Liz." He slowly strode towards her, menacingly, almost like a predator, and she felt so hot for him. She wanted to feel this way with someone else. Anyone else. If only she'd felt this way with Kyle . . . he was so sweet and kind, just a genuinely nice guy, and Max wasn't any of those things. Max was . . .
Max.
"I'm gonna start tutoring Tess today," she told him just for the sake of having something to say.
"Fascinating."
"I could break you guys up so easily, you know," she proclaimed, not sure whether that was true or not. "All I'd have to do is tell her how you look at me, talk to me. Some of the things you say . . ."
"Slicken your nether regions?" He grinned. "No, you won't do that. You like this too much."
"Oh, do I?" She tried to hold onto her defiance. It was all she had left.
"Yeah." He stood right in front of her, invading her personal space, and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "It's a fair day outside, don't you think?" he said out of nowhere.
She frowned, confused. "What?"
"Yeah. Don't you think it's a fair day?" He laughed quietly at himself.
She made a face of disgust. "Nice wordplay, Max."
"Thank you."
"I'm not doing this," she said more to herself than to him. "You really think you're that irresistible? God's gift?"
"Well . . . yeah." He chuckled again and moved in even closer to her, slipping his knee in between her legs. "Come on, Liz. Don't be a cock-block."
"I don't want you."
"Keep telling yourself that."
"I don't need you."
"Liar."
"And I definitely don't love you."
He shrugged. "That's fine by me. In fact, that's my preference." He leaned in closer to her, his face nearing hers, his breath even mingling with hers, and she thought she might die and love it. "Liz," he whispered, "all you have to do is . . . let me in." He lifted his knee upward to brush against her core.
"Uh," she choked out, knowing this was wrong. Their proximity, their conversation, their feelings . . . so wrong on so many levels; and therefore, the only thing that felt right to her. But still . . .
"No," she said determinedly, pushing him away from her. "No." She wasn't going to do this. She couldn't. She had to wait until Max and Tess were over. That way she could start something up with Max without damaging her semi-clean, semi-innocent image. She didn't want anyone to know how dark she could be, and if she did this with Max . . .
"I have to get out of here." She pushed past him, still unsure what had possessed her to show up at his place at all. Stupid. It was a stupid thing to do, and she was regretting it. She really was.
She marched toward the door in a fit of fury and tried not to like it when he chased after her.
"Liz-"
"Screw you, Max."
"Liz, wait." He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to him just as she was reaching for the door. He crashed his lips onto hers like a freight train, and she wasn't shocked because she'd known it was coming. It was the whole reason why she'd shown up there in the first place. She kissed him back, determined that her mouth wouldn't lose its feud with his. Her body lost its tenseness, and she melded into him, reveling in the feel of his arms wrapping around her body, pulling her close. So wrong.
His tongue entered her mouth, a beloved intruder, and electric sparks seemed to shoot through her body. She balled his shirt up in her fists, as enraged as she was aroused, and fought to maintain her balance, loving the fact that simply kissing Max could sweep her off her feet.
He tore his mouth away from hers abruptly, leaving her yearning, and pressed his forehead against hers, already panting for air. Her hands, on their own accord, began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it open to reveal his smooth, sculpted chest. He shrugged the shirt onto the floor and worked quickly to return the favor to her. He grabbed onto the bottom of her shirt and tugged it upward, yanking it off almost violently and throwing it down on top of his. She smiled mischievously and reached back to undo her bra herself. She let it fall to the floor and then shook her hair out, feeling free even though she was only half-naked.
He stared at her in utter desire for a moment, then swept her up into his arms, mating his naked chest to hers, and carried her through his living room to his pristine kitchen. She whimpered, not out of pain, but rather suspense. She'd been expecting the bedroom, but this would definitely be amazing in a different way.
He set her down next to the kitchen table and spun her around so that her back was pressing against his chest. He took a minute to ground his erection against her; she could feel it right in the small of her back, hard and wanting, and she wanted it inside where it could do some real good.
"Max . . ."
He brought his hand around to press his right index finger against her lips to silence her. She opened her mouth wider to take his finger inside, massage it with her tongue, and bite it savagely.
"Uh . . ." In one swift motion, he had reached in front of her to undo her jeans and push them down her hips. The cool air that greeted her backside was soon replaced by his big, warm hands. She moaned as he kneaded her flesh beneath his fingertips, and she stumbled out of the jeans, now pooled at her feet.
So wrong.
"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hotly in her ear.
"Uh, yes," she managed, too turned on to say anything more.
"Say it." He began urging her miniscule thong downward in the same direction her jeans had gone.
"I want you to fuck me."
"I can't hear you."
"Fuck me." She was growing impatient.
He sort of half-laughed, half-growled. "Alright." He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her forward so that she was bent over, pressed against the table. She gasped at the contrast of the cold metal on her flushed skin and listened to the sound of Max's zipper sliding down. He pushed his jeans and boxers down to about knee-level, then grasped his length in his hands and rubbed it up and down along her folds.
"Leg up," he instructed.
She lifted one leg to rest on the table, spreading herself more for him, giving him greater access. "Oh god," she moaned when she felt the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. "Max, please."
Instead of doing what she wanted, he ran his free hand up along her back to tangle in her hair, massaging her scalp seductively.
Dammit, she thought. He was going to torture her if he kept this up. She tried to push her hips backward to envelope more of his manhood, but it was no use. He was the one who had the control here. He always did. "Max . . ."
He bent over her to press a surprisingly tender kiss to her left shoulder blade. It felt incredible in its own right, but she needed more. Her libido was absolutely screaming and aching for him. "Max . . ."
Without warning, he plunged inside of her, changing the very reality in which she lived to the reality in which the only things that existed were herself, her man, and the sex they were having.
He didn't even give her a moment to re-adjust to the feel of him, his size. He started moving right away, rapidly, expertly. His thrusts hit her like grenades of pleasure, one right after another, and she was begging for more.
"Oh!" She cried out as he slid in and out of her. At one point, he was so far in that she could have sworn he was becoming her. Her body broke out in a sheen of sweat and her breathing came in ragged pants when he pulled on her hair, urging her to lift her torso up and really let him ride her. She felt like an animal. Hell, she was an animal. And this, this thing that they were doing . . . it had little to do with making love and everything to do with fucking every inch of sanity away.
She came before he did, screaming his name and collapsing on top of the table. He gave a few final thrusts into her and came shortly after, spending himself inside of her. He fell on top of her, equally as sweaty and disgusting and exhausted, and still sheathed within her. "Huh," he said, laughing lightly. "That was wrong."
That was one way to describe it. She smiled.
...
"I think sex is an amazing thing," Marty blurted suddenly that night. He had invited himself over to hang out with Maria and, to some extent, Michael. Mostly, he probably just wanted to salivate over Michael's good looks.
"Well, that was random," Maria remarked as she flipped channels on the TV. Where was Family Guy? She couldn't go a night without crude humor cartoons.
"I'm serious."
"No, I agree with you. It just came out of nowhere; that's all."
"Well." Marty leaned forward, blushing. "Actually, I was thinking about Paul, the guy I went out with last night. I'm a little bit nervous about him because he's not full-on gay. He's just bisexual."
"But he's into you, right?"
"Oh, I'd say so. We went back to my place last night, and . . ." He trailed off.
"Oh, he was on mountain time?" Maria filled in.
"Brokeback Mountain time." Marty grinned. "I think I really like him. I might even settle down with this one for awhile."
"Well, good for you." As far as Maria was concerned, settling down was a waste of time, but she knew that Marty really wanted a steady boyfriend. "So what'd you say his name was? Paul?"
"Yeah, I think you know him, actually."
"Like, how much do I know him?"
Marty laughed. "Pretty well. Remember that bonfire this summer?"
"Oh my god, the bonfire. And Paul . . . the Paul I hooked up with at the bonfire. Oh my god, the one I just saw in Michael's art history class yesterday? He's gay?"
"I told you, he's bisexual. It's a completely different orientation."
"Oh my god, small world, Marty. I can see why you like him, though. He was really good. But now I'm all traumatized. What if I no longer attract straight men?"
"Well, let's find out. Michael!" Marty called into the kitchen. Michael was sitting at the counter with his face buried in a book for one of his classes. "Big Boy!"
Michael groaned and looked up from his reading. "What?"
"Are you attracted to my little sister?"
Michael made a face. "What?"
"No, he's Michael. He doesn't count," Maria said.
"Wait, why don't I count?"
"Because, you're . . ." She thought about it and decided he might as well answer the question now. Michael didn't exactly have the best taste in women, as was evidenced by Isabel "the bitch" Evans, but at least he had an eye for physical attractiveness. "Well, fine, if you wanna answer, go ahead. Are you attracted to me? You should be."
"No comment."
She grunted in disbelief. "No comment? That is just . . . unacceptable is what that is."
"Oh, don't mind her, Big Guy," Marty said, rising to his feet. He made his way over to Michael and sat down beside him. "She knows she's hot."
Maria smiled. "Hmm, I do know."
"Doesn't it freak you two out knowing you've boned the same guy?" Michael asked them. "Don't answer that."
"Doesn't it freak you out that you're almost an old man, old man?" Maria teased, turning off the TV.
"You're older than I am."
"Yes, but I have a lot to look forward to."
"And I don't?"
She shrugged and stood up. "Not really. I mean, the prime years of your sex drive are, like, right now. Mine will hit in my thirties."
"Oh, she's right," Marty said. "Men arrive at their sexual peak sooner than women. It's hardly fair. I can already feel my sex drive starting to taper off. Just a little bit, of course."
"How old are you?" Michael asked him.
"I don't like to talk about it," Marty whispered in a rush.
"Twenty-seven?" Michael guessed.
Maria winced.
"Twenty-five!" Marty cried. "Do I look twenty-seven? Maria!"
"You look twenty-five," she assured him. "Or maybe even twenty-four. You're extremely well-maintained."
"Thank you."
"I was just wonderin'," Michael said, tapping his pencil rhythmically on the open pages of his book. "That kinda sucks if it's true about the sex drive, though."
"It is," Maria assured him. "I learned it in psychology."
He gave her a look. "You mean you paid attention in a class?"
"Only to the sex stuff." She smiled.
He laughed a little. "Figures."
"It really sucks for you, though," she said. "I mean, these are literally the days of your life, and you're not getting any." She shrugged. "You might have to resort to . . . you know, something like a stripper or something."
"Maria, if that's some subtle hint that you're hiring a stripper for my birthday party . . ."
"I never said that!"
"You didn't have to."
"Whoa," Marty cut in out of nowhere. "You're not getting any, Biggie? None at all? You mean your sexy-exy Isabella left you and you haven't rebounded?"
"He's like a virgin again," Maria proclaimed.
"Okay, first of all, her name's Isabel, not Isabella. Second of all, I'm not a virgin."
"It's like you're a born-again virgin, only you didn't wanna be born-again; you just were," she elaborated.
"Gee, Maria, you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself."
"So I'm told. But rest assured, you'll feel better when you're birthday rolls around. It's gonna be full of beer and debauchery. It doesn't get much better than that."
"Oh, really? 'Cause it sounds like more of a party for you."
"Hey, give this girl some credit," Marty jumped in. "She knows how to plan a fiesta. I taught her well."
"It might not be my best party ever," she warned. "Someone forced me to collaborate with she who shall remain nameless."
"Ah, the Tess-mess," Marty registered.
"I said she shall remain nameless."
"And I came up with a cute little rhyme." Marty clapped his hands excitedly. "Anyhoo, how's that going, throwing this thing with her? Are you two clawing each other's eyes out, yanking out chunks of hair?"
"Not yet," Maria said. "Actually she didn't drive me crazy the other day, which is miraculous. We actually came up with some good ideas."
"Can't wait," Michael muttered, still sounding less than enthused. "So where are we having this party, anyway? Not here."
"No, not here. And not at Tess's place, either. Too pink. You'll just have to wait and see."
"Wait and see?" he echoed. "Maria, I don't like the sound of this."
"Relax," she said. His escalating blood-pressure was practically visible. "Trust me, Tess has got this one covered." She couldn't fathom a scenario in which Tess couldn't convince Kyle to transform his apartment into a party pad.
...
Tess knocked on the door to apartment 522 at the Fairview complex and waited for Kyle to answer. She tugged down on her pink, lacy shirt to reveal a little more cleavage. A little boobage was always convincing.
When Kyle opened the door, he was showing off some skin, too. He was wearing only sweatpants, and his chest had some paint on it. "Whoa. Tess," he said.
"Whoa. Kyle," she mimicked.
"Sorry, I meant to say hey. It just came out as . . . whoa, Tess."
"Gotcha." She glanced into his apartment to make sure he was alone and asked, "Can I come in?"
"In? Sure, yeah, you can . . ." He opened his door wider, and she stepped inside.
She surveyed his apartment. It was a lot like Michael's, same general set-up, furniture in about the same places. It wasn't as neat and clean as Michael's, though, although now that Maria was living with Michael, cleanliness probably wasn't an option.
"Perfect," she said, smiling a little. This was the perfect place for Michael's birthday party.
"How are you?" Kyle asked, shutting the door. Before she could answer, he asked another question. "What're you doin' here?"
"Which question do you want me to answer first?"
He laughed a little.
"I'm fine," she told him. "And I just thought I'd stop by. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She gestured to the paint smears on his naked chest.
"Oh, no, I was just painting." For a minute, a look of alarm crashed across Kyle's features. He ran over to what appeared to be his painting station over in the corner of the living room and threw a sheet over his canvas. Tess caught a glimpse of what he was painting, a pretty girl who looked a lot like Christina Aguilera during her "Genie in a Bottle" phase. Hmm.
"I should probably put a shirt on," Kyle mumbled to himself.
"Don't worry, you're fine," she told him. In fact, Kyle looked surprisingly good sans shirt. He was a nerdy guy, but he didn't have the stereotypical nerd body. "Look, Kyle, I just wanted to thank you again for giving me a ride home the other day. You know, during the rainstorm."
"Oh, yeah, it was no problem," he assured her, an excited look on his face. "You know, if you ever need me to give you a ride . . . a ride home, a ride to your house—to your apartment—I can . . . I can do that. I'm a very, very good driver."
"Mmm-hmm." She smiled and nodded, amused by his nervous rambling. "So . . . I have a confession to make. I kind of have an ulterior motive for being here."
"You do?"
"Yeah. I'm guessing you know that Michael's birthday's coming up."
"Oh, yeah, tomorrow. Big twenty-one. I heard you and Maria are planning his party."
"Yeah. Well, I mean, we're trying, anyway. We actually decided on a lot of things the other day, but one of the things we were talking about is where we're actually gonna have the party. You know, we can't have it at Michael's place, because that won't make him too happy."
"That's for sure," Kyle agreed.
She kept on with her subtle asking approach. "And we would have it at my place, but . . . well, you saw it. It's not exactly masculine, and Michael's a guy, so . . . I don't know, Maria mentioned you, and I know you're a really nice guy; so I was wondering if maybe you might be willing to . . ."
"Yes."
She made a face. "I didn't even ask the question."
"You wanna have Michael's birthday party here at my place," he filled in. "Yeah, of course. That's fine."
"Really?" She smiled. This had been easier than she'd imagined. "Well, that's great. Thank you, Kyle."
"Hey, it's nothing. Michael's my friend, and I'd love to be able to help you out. You and Maria."
"Well, we appreciate it," she assured him. "Now, it might get a little wild—you know how Maria is. But I'll do my best to make sure it stays under control."
"Hey, I'll let you guys have free reign, you know," Kyle said. "You do whatever you want."
"Even if what we want includes a live band?" She winced as she asked it, because she was afraid that would be too much for Kyle.
"That's awesome. Can you two plan my birthday?"
She laughed. "Well, when is it?"
"Ah, not for awhile."
"Well, you remind me, and I will," she promised. "Kyle Valenti birthday bash, on the to-do list."
"Oh, no, you don't really have to."
"I will," she promised again. "You're so nice to me, Kyle."
"Nicer than Max?"
She frowned, unsure whether or not she'd heard him correctly. "Excuse me?"
"Nothin'," he said quickly.
"Okay." That was weird, she thought. But then again, Kyle was a weird kid, or at least he seemed that way. "Alright, well, do you have your phone? I can give you my number and we can be in touch before tomorrow."
"In touch?" He laughed a little. "Yeah . . . phone. Um . . . it's around here somewhere. Uh . . ." He shoved a stack of books and papers off his coffee table, searching for it. When he didn't find it there, he went over to his couch and started taking out the cushions to look underneath.
"Here, how about I just write it down for you," she suggested, taking a pen out of her back pocket.
"Right. Paper . . ." He tossed the couch cushions aside and bent down to rifle through the books and papers he had tossed on the floor. He ended up tearing a page out a textbook for her to jot down her number on. "There you go."
She smiled, finding it refreshing to be around a guy who wasn't so sure of himself. Kyle was an absolute spaz, but that worked for him. She jotted down her cell phone number and gave the paper back to him. "Call me tomorrow afternoon. Maria and I should be ready to come by and start setting up then."
"Sounds great."
"Okay. Thanks again, Kyle. This is really great of you."
He smiled. "Oh . . ."
"I'd better go," she said, starting for the door.
"You can stay, if you want. There's a Tom Hanks movie marathon on tonight. Forrest Gump; it's a classic."
"I've got tutoring today," she informed him. "Your ex-honey, actually, is gonna help me pass biology."
"Oh. Liz?"
"Yeah. And she strikes me as the punctual type, so I don't wanna be late."
"Oh, I see."
"But I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"
"Alright. See ya."
"Bye." She smiled at him and slipped out of the apartment. Once she shut the door, she pulled her shirt back up again. Kyle was so eager to help her out that cleavage hadn't even been a necessary. For some reason, he was just so easy to persuade.
...
Liz's eyes flickered open, and the first thing she saw in front of her was Max's bare chest. She jolted awake, propping herself up on her elbow, and surveyed the beautiful naked body next to her. Max was resting on his side, still asleep. She hadn't anticipated any of this happening. Secretly, she had hoped for it, yearned for it. And feared it. She had never done something like this before. She had been with her fair share of guys over the past year, ever since Max had first taken away her virginity, but never had she slept with someone who was seeing someone else. She had sunk to a new low, and she couldn't say she was proud of herself.
Oh my god, what time is it? she thought, suddenly remembering that she had plans for the day. She twisted around to look at the clock on the bedside table, and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she saw what time it was. "Oh, shit," she swore, jumping out of the bed. She rushed out into the living room to retrieve her clothes. They were littered on the floor with Max's. God, she thought as she dressed, if Tess had shown up, she wouldn't have even had to see me and Max together to know what was going on. Those discarded clothes were evidence enough. They had been really stupid. Really stupid and outrageously passionate.
"Where you goin', baby?"
She had just finished fastening her jeans when she heard Max's voice. She turned around and saw him standing in the doorway to the bedroom, completely naked. "I'm supposed to be tutoring Tess right now."
He laughed a little. "Ironic."
She bent down to pick up her shirt, making an annoyed face. "Don't start with me, Max."
"Oh, I already started with you," he reminded her. "In fact, I finished. Three times."
She yanked her shirt on and focused on finding her shoes. Where had they gone? Why did sex between her and Max always result in tornado-like destruction?
"You fuck like no other, Liz," he said, slowly pumping his length in his own hand. "You can almost keep up with me."
Tears stung her eyes, and she wasn't sure why. "Almost," she choked out. It was true. No matter how hard she tried, Max always had the control, the upper hand. He could always get her to give in to his desires, because they were her desires, too, and he was just so smooth.
"You're such a bad girl now," he remarked.
She always had been. Now she was just pushing the boundaries. "Drop dead, Max," she bit out, finally finding her shoes.
"What, are you into necrophilia?" He grinned.
She made a face of disgust, slipped her feet into her sandals, and stormed towards the door.
"Hey!" he called after her. "Don't tell Tess I was inside you!"
She left his suite, knowing she wouldn't. She didn't want to be the otherwise nice girl who got caught being a bitch. She wanted to be the girl who got away with it.
...
Tess could tell Liz was frazzled from the moment she showed up at the tutoring center. She came stumbling through the door, looking only halfway put-together, sounding out of breath. "Hey," she said as she sat down next to Tess. "Hey, sorry, I'm late."
Tess glanced at the time on her cell phone and remarked, "You're twenty minutes late." She was a little angry about that. Punctuality wasn't exactly her strong point, either, but she had managed to show up on time. This was Liz's job. She was getting paid for doing this. And wasn't she supposed to be smart and responsible?
Liz cringed. "I know. I know. I . . . got lost on the way here."
Tess made a face, utterly confused by that claim. "You work here."
Liz froze for a moment, her mouth halfway open. "Right," she finally said. "Um . . . I meant to say that I . . . got stuck in traffic. Yeah, just lots of . . . cars all around. And some motorcycles. It was very . . . congested. Must've been game-day traffic or something."
Tess shook her head. "I don't think there's a game today."
"Tess." Liz sounded serious when she said her name, but she smiled pleasantly and apologized once more. "I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again. I promise, okay? I promise this will never happen again."
Well, Tess thought, she sure sounds determined to keep that promise. "Okay." She laughed a little, not sure what was up with her tutor. The girl had some definite quirks. "Your shirt's on inside out," she remarked, just now noticing that the letters on Liz's tight-fitted tee were backwards.
"Oh, I dressed in the dark."
Tess frowned. Why would anyone do that?
"We should get started," Liz suggested quickly. "It looks like you've already done that."
"Oh, no, I just opened the book and took all my notes out," Tess said, gesturing towards the heaping pile of biology crap in front of her.
"Well, that's a start," Liz said, leaning over to peer down at the materials. "You wanna explain to me what you've been studying?"
"Um, I would, except I can't," Tess told her. "I have all these notes, but I can't make sense of them, and I have this handy-dandy textbook, but I can't understand a word of it."
"Why not?"
"Because it's like a foreign language." How anyone could understand science-speak was over her design-oriented head.
"You just have to break it down and try to understand a few concepts at a time," Liz told her. "Here, let's go through your notes and figure out what you've got written down . . ." She picked up one sheet of notebook paper and trailed off as she read over it. "What's this?" she asked, pointing towards something Tess had scribbled at the top of the page.
Tess squinted her eyes and tried to read her own handwriting. It said Kyle. "Oh, yeah, I had to go talk to Kyle today. That was my little self-reminder. Do you like how I doodled a little smiley face in the circle part of the E?"
Liz laughed a little. "Kyle Valenti?"
"Yeah."
"Why'd you go to see him?"
"Well, it's kind of a long story. Actually, it's not, really. Maria and I are throwing Michael a twenty-first birthday party. You know Michael, right? Michael Guerin."
"Um, barely."
"Well, we're throwing him this party, and we thought Kyle's apartment would be the perfect place to have it."
"And how's Kyle feel about that?"
"He's all for it."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Tess couldn't help but notice that Liz seemed surprised. "Is that unusual?"
"Well, Kyle's not exactly Mr. Fiesta," Liz said. "But then again, he is a really, really, really great guy, so it's not unlike him to lend a helping hand. You know, to lend a helping hand to somebody he cares about."
"Well, I barely know Kyle," Tess said, "but he was really easy to convince."
"Yeah. He's a sweet guy."
"Yeah," Tess agreed. "You know, come to think of it, you should come to the party. It's tomorrow night. It's gonna be really fun."
"Oh, I don't know," Liz said. "I don't know Michael all that well."
"Nobody does. He's not exactly a social butterfly. Maria's inviting, like, everyone she's ever met, so most of the people there aren't gonna know Michael. But you know me and you know Kyle. You should come."
"Um . . ." Liz bit her lower lip, still seemingly hesitant. "Maybe. We'll see. Do you-do you know who else is gonna be there?"
"Who else?" Tess frowned. What did she mean by that?
"Never mind," Liz said. "You know, we should probably get back to studying."
"Right," Tess agreed, "but think about the party."
"Okay," Liz said. "But for now, let's think about fungi."
"Ooh, fun." Tess peered down at her notes about fungi for the first time since . . . well, ever. But suddenly her phone shrieked out Britney Spears's "Womanizer" from inside her purse. "Sorry," she said, reaching inside to take it out. The caller ID showed it was Maria who was calling. "Just a minute." At this rate, she and Liz were never going to get their tutoring started.
...
Liz sat back and listened as Tess answered her phone.
"What? I'm in the middle of tutoring."
Or the beginning of tutoring, Liz thought. She would have been there on time had she not stopped at Max's place . . .
"No, Maria, seriously, let me take care of the cake."
Liz could faintly hear the vibration of her own cell phone in her purse. She reached down to open it while Tess kept yammering.
"Because I know you. You'll get a chocolate cake and forget all about the vanilla." A slight pause and then . . . "Because you're evil, that's why!"
Liz flipped open her cell phone and was greeted with a new text message from none other than her source of sexual pleasure.
I can't believe you came while I was up your ass, it read. Max clearly wasn't romanticizing what they had done together. When she and Max were together, it had little to do with romance and everything to do with completely losing control. She was both disgusted and enthralled by the wrongness of it all. There was just something so combustible between the two of them, something that people wouldn't expect them to be able to create. Because, after all, as far as anyone was concerned, she was a nice girl. A little promiscuous sometimes, but still good and respectable at the end of the day.
Idiots.
"Ugh!" Tess groaned, throwing her phone back down into her purse. "She's so exasperating!"
Liz just kept staring down at the text message. She had slept with someone else's boyfriend . . . and that someone was sitting a mere foot away from her.
"You alright?" Tess asked.
"Yeah," Liz lied, plastering a semi-smile on her face as she deleted the text message and subtly dropped her phone back into her purse. "I'm fine."
...
Maria, Kyle, and Marty were already busy setting up Kyle's apartment for the night's big birthday bash when Tess arrived with the cake. She set it down on the kitchen counter and opened the box to reveal . . . exactly what Maria had expected to see. "It's not very chocolate-y," she remarked, crossing her arms over her chest angrily.
"Yeah, I don't know why that is," Tess said. "I told them half chocolate, half vanilla." She sighed and shrugged. "Blame the cake-maker."
"Oh, blame the cake-maker," Maria mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "I'll blame you. Vanilla freak."
Tess gasped and closed the box again. "Chocoholic!"
Before their elementary-ish argument could progress, they were interrupted by a loud, breathless sound: all the air coming out of Kyle's lungs. He sat in the living room surrounded by latex balloons, panting for air.
"Aw, wheezy Kyle," Maria said. "How you doin'?"
"Oh, I don't know how much more of this I can take," he replied in a single rush of breath.
"You're doing great," Tess encouraged him as she squeezed the cake into the refrigerator. "How many do you have done?"
Kyle took a look at all the balloons around him and shrugged. "Twenty-five, give or take."
"Oh." Maria nodded. "Almost halfway there."
"Almost?"
She smiled.
"Oh," he groaned dramatically. "I can't . . . no, no, I just—I'm outta air. I can't blow anymore."
At the very moment he said that, Marty sauntered out into the living room with green party streamers in his hands. "Care to test that theory?" he said, grinning.
Kyle didn't seem to get it. "What?"
Maria laughed. "He's talking about giving head. He's such a perv."
Marty just smiled and shrugged unabashedly.
"Oh, god," Kyle wailed. "No, I meant . . . balloons. I can't blow balloons anymore."
Marty kept grinning. "Works for me."
"Oh, would you stop?"
Marty chuckled. "You know what homophobia really says about you."
Maria glimpsed the look of anger in Kyle's eyes, and she knew it had to do with Tess being there to overhear the whole conversation. The last thing he could afford was to have her questioning his sexuality. "Marty, you're pushing him too far," she warned.
"My bad," Marty chirped, setting the streamers down on the coffee table. "We should play some Celine Dion."
"No!" Tess shrieked.
"We should . . . give Kyle more balloons to blow up," Maria said, smiling as she dropped another small sack of green balloons down on Kyle's lap.
He sighed again, looking defeated. "How did I get this job anyway?"
"You volunteered for it," Maria reminded him.
"Yeah," Tess agreed. "We said, 'Who's gonna blow up the balloons?' and you were like, 'Me, me, me! I wanna do the balloons!'"
"You got all excited," Marty added. "Cute little innocent look on your face. Balloons!"
"Balloons," Maria echoed, placing a one between Kyle's tired lips. "Blow," she instructed.
Reluctantly, he puffed air into the balloon and began working again.
"Good boy," she said. "Alright, the rest of us should probably start moving furniture. I guess the band's gonna set up by the window?"
"Sounds good to me," Marty said. "This is gonna be a great workout. Paul will be so pleased with my abs once I have some."
Maria laughed, and when she noticed that Tess wasn't laughing but rather looking down at her cell phone, she couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong?" She was just curious.
"Uh, Max just texted me. He got held up with his dad. He's not gonna be able to come help us set up."
"Oh, what a loss," Maria grunted. "Color me devastated. I'm sure he would've been a great supervisor, sitting back on his ugly ass barking orders at the rest of us like a slave-driver."
"He's not that bad," Tess insisted.
"Is that how you describe your boyfriend of two years? Not that bad?"
Before Tess could reply, the door to the apartment flew open and Michael burst inside, rattling off about something education-related.
"Kyle, did you have your art history notes from-"
"Oh, get out of here!" Maria yelled, charging at him.
"What-what's goin' on here?"
"Michael, leave!" She placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back towards the door.
"Is this my party? Kyle, are you in on this?"
Kyle's balloon slipped out of his mouth when he tried to answer and flew around the room, deflating.
"Get out of here!" Maria pounded her tiny fists against his chest, finally managing to get him to step out into the hallway. "Get out!"
"Hey, stop it," he said, grabbing her hands.
She shut the door, upset by his discovery. "Michael! You ruined it!"
"Ruined it? Ruined what?"
"The surprise party."
"I already knew it was happening," he reminded her.
"But you didn't know it was happening at Kyle's," she explained.
"Probably could've figured it out."
"No, you wouldn't have. We were being very sneaky," she assured him. "God, we were gonna blindfold you, and spin you around a lot, and then you were gonna walk in here, and everyone was gonna yell surprise when we took the blindfold off; and you were gonna be such a happy birthday boy." She frowned, upset that that whole idea was shot to hell now, all because of stupid art history notes Kyle probably didn't even have. Or if he did have them, they probably weren't legible because of all the inevitable 'I love Tess' doodles scrawled on top.
"I'll be a happy birthday boy," he told her.
"No, you won't. You're never happy."
"I can fake it. I can act like I'm surprised."
Her face lit up with excitement. "Oh, that's a good idea! I still get to spin you around, though."
"If you want to."
"I do. Here, let's practice." She walked behind him and reached up to place her hands over his eyes, a makeshift blindfold. "Okay, say we already spun," she said. "Now pretend I open the door, take off the blindfold . . ." She removed her hands, and he just stood there.
"What?" he asked.
"You're supposed to be practicing," she reminded him.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"I don't know. Just be like, 'ahhhh,' you know. Not like, ahhhh, I'm scared. Just like, ahhhh, I'm surprised," she explained. "Let's try again." She raised her hands to cover his eyes again. "Bend down a little. You're so tall."
He bent his knees, making it easier on her. "Better?"
"Yeah. Okay, so, surprise scene, take two. Spin around, open the door, off goes the blindfold . . ." She took her hands away again, and this time he played a long.
"Ahhhh . . . I'm so surprised."
...
"Surprise!"
Michael plastered a goofy grin on his face when Maria removed the blindfold and everyone jumped up in front of him. "Ahhhh, I'm so surprised," he recited, actually truly surprised that Kyle's apartment was so packed. Probably just a lot of people who wanted to party, not necessarily celebrate his birthday.
"That acting's not gonna win any Academy Awards," he heard Marty mumbled to Tess.
"Mmm-hmm," she agreed, nodding her head.
He gave them an exasperated look. He didn't even want this party in the first place. He was acting as much as he could.
"Happy birthday, Michael," Maria said, standing up on her tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks." He smiled a little and decided to try to enjoy it. He might as well. His friends had gone through all that work to plan and decorate it for him.
"Happy birthday, Michael," Marty mimicked, coming forward with his lips puckered.
Michael pushed him aside.
"You like it?" Tess asked, giving him a quick hug.
"Yeah, thank you."
She smiled giddily. Kyle came up to him next and gave him a sort of manly hug. "Happy birthday, old geezer," he joked.
"Hey . . ." He wasn't that old. And Kyle was only one year behind him.
"Alright, hit it, boys!" Maria called out to . . . the band? Michael had to do a double-take. There was a band set up in Kyle's apartment? For his birthday party? Upon Maria's command, they began to play an alternative rock beat.
Everyone scattered to either dance, get drunk, get sexual, or all of the above. Michael stood back, happy to not partake in any of the inevitable bad behavior.
"Do you really like it?" Tess asked again. "I bought the cake."
"I bought the balloons," Maria piped up.
"I blew up the balloons," Kyle mumbled.
"I hung up the streamers," Marty put in.
"I got the band," Maria proclaimed.
"I got you a gift." Tess smirked.
"I supplied the apartment," Kyle reminded them.
"I supplied the life of the party," Maria said, smiling proudly.
"What, the stripper?" Kyle asked.
She reached over and whacked him in the stomach, sending him a warning glare. But it was too late. Michael had heard everything.
"The stripper?" he shrieked. "You hired a stripper?"
"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't," she answered ambiguously. "But I was talking about me. I'm the life of the party."
"I told her not to get a stripper. I knew you wouldn't like it," Tess said.
"Tess! Shut up!"
Marty cleared his throat, leaning forward to inquire, "Is it a male stripper, or-"
"No, honey."
"Didn't think so."
"Maria." Michael grabbed his roommate's arm and pulled her away from the others. If there really was going to be a stripper at his birthday party, then he was holding her responsible. "What were you thinking? You know I'm not into that kind of thing."
"I was just thinking that you must be incredibly sexually frustrated," she explained. "And that's why strippers exist, you know?"
"No, Maria, that's why prostitutes exist."
"Well, I can get you one of those if you-"
"No, Maria." He bit his bottom lip to keep from swearing. "I don't want a stripper."
"She's not a stripper. She's just a-a dancer who likes to take her clothes off." She groaned, desperate for him to give in. "Come on, Michael. Live a little. Watching a stripper doesn't make you a scoundrel. It makes you normal. And it's not like you have to fall in love with her or even have sex with her. Just enjoy yourself. Is that so hard?"
It was. For him, it was. Especially since Isabel had left. He hadn't enjoyed himself for a long time, and to be honest, he still didn't see himself enjoying the stripper. But she was being adamant about it, and she always got her way.
"I thought you said you were the life of the party," he reminded her, resigning himself to the fact that he'd have a half-naked girl dancing all over him by the end of the night.
"I am," she insisted.
"Then why are you still standing here?"
She smiled. "I just had to get your mind into the gutter first."
...
Liz stood near the keg, sipping the remainder of her beer out of her red plastic cup and wishing that the guy talking to her would just shut up and go away. His physical appearance alone should have been a warning sign. Short, skinny, and fidgety. Not at all attractive. She wasn't surprised when he revealed his job to her: professional gamer.
"You see, that's what people don't understand is the time. You know, the time it takes to really work your way through the game. And I don't cheat, either, so if I'm playing something with levels and I get sent back to the start . . . well, then I'm back at the start. That's just the way it goes. So then it takes more time—oh, and precision. And coordination. Every gamer needs to have coordination."
He's like a little fly that won't go away, she thought, swirling her beer around in the bottom of the cup. It didn't even taste good anymore.
"It's a sport, really," the guy went on. "And I'm an athlete."
"Mmm-hmm," she said, nodding slowly, forcing herself not to laugh out loud at that ridiculous claim.
"Yeah," he said as if to convince himself. He finally quieted down for a moment or two, looked her right in the eye, and seemed to realize that his flirtation tactics were all wrong. "You're not into me, are you?"
She scratched the back of her neck, feeling unable to lie. "No."
"Right." The guy looked embarrassed, but also used to it. "I'm just gonna . . . go over here," he said, smiling as he slinked away from her. Thank God, she thought. There was only so much gamer talk she could take before she felt like killing herself.
She turned around towards the keg and refilled her cup with beer. Once the foam settled down, she took another sip, sort of despising the taste, despising the fact that the liquid wasn't making her feel any better. She stood back, drinking and observing all the wild and crazy people dancing in front of her, and out of the corner of her eye, she spied Max leaning back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, just standing back and overseeing the party rather than actually taking part in it. Kind of like her.
She refused to look at him too long.
"Hey, Liz."
She jumped and spilled some of her beer on her new satin shoes when Tess appeared out of nowhere beside her. "Oh, Tess," she said. "Hi."
"I'm glad you decided to come," Tess said. "Are you having fun?"
Now that she was facing Tess, she couldn't help but look at Max over her shoulder. Dammit. He was grinning at her. "I probably will be," she said.
"That's good." Tess filled up a glass of beer for herself and kept on chatting. "So, you see any guys you like?"
And of course she would have to ask that question, Liz thought bitterly. "Um . . . not really," she lied. Although maybe it wasn't a lie. Actually, it was quite possibly true. She didn't like Max. She hated him. Couldn't get enough of him, but hated him. Sort of.
"What about Kyle?" Tess said. "He's looking pretty cute tonight."
Liz perked up when Tess said that. "You think so?" That was good. If Tess was noticing Kyle . . . that was good.
"Yeah." Tess smiled. "Do you think so?"
Liz's sighed, quickly realizing that she had been too eager to believe the best. "No—I mean, yes, but . . . Kyle and I aren't getting back together."
"Why not? I bet you two were a great couple back in . . . did you date in high school?"
"Yeah, and then we came to college and I . . ." She sneaked a glance at Max. ". . . met someone else. But the point is, we're two very different people, and even though he's a great friend, he'll never be anything more than a great friend. To me, at least. We just don't mesh well together, in the romantic sense. Besides, Kyle likes blondes." It didn't hurt to throw in that juicy tidbit.
"Hmm." Tess shrugged, not seeming to get the hint. She took a sip of her drink and said, "So all these y-chromosomes in the room, and you're not attracted to a single one of them?"
"Well . . ." Liz looked up at glance again, and for the first time that night, she returned his mischievous grin with a slight grin of her own. Tess remained completely oblivious. "Maybe one."
"There you go," Tess said. "You might wanna make a move on him by the end of the night." She smiled encouragingly and slipped back into the crowd of people, mingling, dancing a little.
Liz fake-smiled at her and kept her teeth clenched, thinking about all the moves she was going to make. "Oh, I will."
...
She wants me to fuck her. Max broke eye-contact with Liz, giving himself a mental pat on the back for his silent seduction. There was no way that girl could resist him. She craved him just as much as he craved her. It was the only reason why she had showed up at the dumb party. She didn't care about Michael's birthday (nor did he). It was all about the sex they would have.
A long train of drunk, dancing people sashayed by him, and Maria was part of that train. The guy behind her had already taken his shirt off and was grinding his erection into her backside. "Tequila!" he kept shouting. Maria didn't seem to mind.
"Slut," he remarked loud enough for Maria to hear.
She froze, stopping the entire train, and turned to face him. When the people behind her started to whine, she took herself out of the dancing train so they could continue on and came to stand in front of him, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Max," she said, leaning in surprisingly close to him. "There are a lot of people who can call me that."
Suddenly, he felt cold beer splash all over his face. She must have reached behind him and picked up his glass off the counter. That bitch.
"You're not one of them." She dropped his empty glass next to his feet and whirled around to storm away. He stood there, slightly embarrassed to be covered in alcohol, and then he remembered Liz, remembered that his whole goal for the night had been to lose his clothes anyway. Well, then, he thought, this just works out perfectly.
He locked eyes with his mistress and slowly sneaked down the hallway, watching her watch him as he slipped into Kyle's bedroom, waiting for her to follow him.
It would be their little secret.