Since she was still somewhat enraged at Michael for being so aggressively inquisitive yesterday, Maria actually contemplated sitting somewhere other than her usual seat in class the next day. Or maybe just skipping altogether. But with the final exam drawing near, that didn't seem like a good idea. And her feet just automatically took her to her normal seat.
He came in a few minutes after she'd sat down. She saw him coming out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't even look up at him. When he was behind her, he put both his hands over her eyes, covering them, and instead of asking, "Guess who?" he asked, "You still pissed at me?"
"Maybe," she grumbled, although she was a bit less pissed now that she realized he might have been onto something. She wasn't going to give him any information about what Max had said last night, though. He didn't need to know.
He flung his backpack over the seats and onto the floor, and then he flung himself over, flopping down in the chair beside her. "I'm sorry," he apologized.
She shook her head, knowing better than to believe that. "No, you're not."
"I am," he insisted. "I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have said anything."
She rolled her eyes. This sounded . . . rehearsed. She knew Michael well enough to know that he wasn't really sorry for putting her on blast like that. The guy had no filter. Maybe he'd gotten better at keeping himself in check over the years, but there were definitely times when old school Michael came out. And yesterday had been one of those times.
"It's just . . . I care about you, obviously," he went on, not sounding rehearsed anymore. "And I just wanna make sure you're happy."
"I am happy," she told him, shooting him a quick glare. What had she or Max or anyone done to give him the impression that she wasn't? "I know it's hard for you to accept that, because you don't accept Max," she said, "but . . . I can't keep constantly defending him to you. It's exhausting." Max was being so unbelievably accepting about Michael being back in her life, and Michael wasn't reciprocating any of it. It frustrated the hell out of her, because she wanted him to get over his hostility so badly. "If he were to propose to me and I were to say yes . . . then that's my prerogative." It was as simple as that.
"I know," he mumbled. "I just worry about you."
She didn't understand. "Why?" Her life was actually functional now. She was in a stable relationship, she was a college student, and she was raising a healthy, well-adjusted Circle of Friends type son. What was there to worry about?
"I just don't want you to settle," he said quietly. "I feel like you deserve so much . . ."
She tensed when she saw him reaching over to her, like maybe he was about to touch her leg or squeeze her hand or something. She didn't have to tell him not to do that, though, because he withdrew quickly and leaned forward to unzip his backpack instead. "Just forget I ever said anything," he muttered, searching around for something inside. "I'm an idiot."
She breathed a silent sigh of relief, forcing her body to relax again. You're not an idiot, she thought, but even so . . . she would try to forget.
...
Now that football season was over, Max was ready to switch gears. More than ready, actually. Football had never been his sport, and even though he'd enjoyed watching Dylan play, he was way more pumped up for basketball. Hopefully the kid inherited his jump shot.
It didn't look good, though. Max pulled his son outside to the driveway after dinner to show him the basketball hoop he'd assembled for him. It was standard size, not the little kid size, because Max wanted him to be able to practice on the real thing. And he was going to need some practice, because whenever he shot the ball, he did this weird little spread eagle type of jump, and he hadn't made a shot yet.
Around the tenth or so shot, it finally got to the point where it bounced off the rim at least. "Oh, good shot!" Max congratulated him. "That was really close."
Dylan frowned as the ball rolled back to him. "I'm bad," he lamented, struggling just to dribble it.
"You're not bad; you're just learning," Max assured him. "I missed a lot of shots when I was your age." He held out his hands, and Dylan passed him the ball. Then he took a shot and swished it, but Dylan didn't look as impressed or inspired as he'd hoped. "Go ahead, try again," he said, bounce-passing the ball back to his son.
Dylan dribbled it a few times, then took a few seconds to line up his shot. He bent his knees, positioned his arms, and released the ball into the air. It went wide right.
"Yeah, that was alright," Max said, already doing the mental calculations of how long they would need to practice each day for Dylan to make the A team. No way was his son playing on B team. No way. "You excited to play basketball this year?" he asked.
Dylan shrugged. "Not really."
"No?" That was only because it was new. He was overwhelmed right now, but he'd get the hang of it. "I'm gonna be your coach, you know. It'll be fun." He'd been happy to volunteer himself for this job, especially since . . . well, especially since Michael had already gotten his turn.
"I like football," Dylan declared.
Don't take it personally, Max reminded himself. Football was Dylan's first sport, and every little boy loved it at some point. "Well, it's too cold to play football right now," he pointed out. In fact, it was probably too cold for them to be outside shooting hoops, but as long as they had their jackets on, they'd be okay. "It's time to try a new sport."
Dylan made a face of disdain.
"Basketball's really cool," Max insisted. "You'll like it, trust me." Once he knew all the rules of the game and felt more confident about what he was doing, he'd love this sport just as much as the last one. Maybe even more.
Even though Max really wanted his son to practice a few more throws before heading inside, that didn't seem like it would be a possibility when he saw Isabel's car coming down the road, slowing down as she approached their house. He really didn't want Dylan to have to interact with her, and besides, he could tell the kid was wanting to call it a night. So he said, "Hey, why don't you head back inside and get ready for bed. I'll come tuck you in in a minute."
Dylan looked relieved to be able to go back inside, and he scampered across the front yard and in the door.
Max sighed, picking up the basketball, spinning it for a few seconds on his left index finger. He'll get there, he reminded himself. Back when his own father had first encouraged him to pick up a basketball, he'd been reluctant, too.
Isabel got out of the car, wearing what was probably a faux-fur coat over a blue dress that was way too short for her. Or maybe it was supposed to be a shirt. Whatever it was looked inappropriate, and he was glad he'd sent Dylan inside.
"You just don't want me to have anything to do with him, huh?" she remarked as if reading his mind.
"It's not that," he lied to spare her feelings. "It's just his bedtime."
"Whatever." She joined him in the driveway, snatching the basketball away from him. She tried to shoot it, but it dropped well short of the hoop.
"What're you doin' here?" he asked, letting the ball roll into the bushes.
"Just wanted to talk," she replied. "How was your Thanksgiving?"
"It was good."
She nodded, waiting a beat before asking, "Did you go to Mom's?"
Well, there was no point in lying about that, especially since she seemed to already know. "Yeah."
She tried to just act casual, like it didn't bother her that she hadn't been invited, but when she inquired, "Did she ask about me?" her voice shook, and he could tell she was upset.
He tried to remember if he'd overheard his mom say anything, maybe even just something in passing. But Isabel's name hadn't crossed her lips, at least not when he'd been around.
His silence must have said it all, because she started to get a little teary-eyed. "That's like my biggest regret, you know?" she said sadly. "Getting kicked out of Princeton I can handle, but getting kicked out of my own mother's life? That's a hard pill to swallow."
He winced, thinking that maybe hard pill to swallow wasn't the best expression for her to be using, given she'd recently been hospitalized for doing just that.
"Why don't you come over here on Christmas Day?" he suggested hesitantly. He wasn't quite sure what having her around would do to the whole mood of their celebration, but it maybe it would cheer her up. Help her out a little. Something.
"Is Mom gonna be here?" she asked hopefully.
He nodded. "Yeah."
She smiled, excited but clearly trying to contain it. She held so many of her real feelings in nowadays, but being her brother, he knew he sometimes got a glimpse of them.
"Okay," she said. "I'd like that. Thanks, Max."
He nodded nervously, hoping that having her around wouldn't blow up in his face. He wasn't looking to be Isabel's sponsor on the road to recovery, because his own recovery was an ongoing process. But maybe if he just gave her a foothold, somewhere to stand up and get started . . . then maybe she could do it on her own.
...
Watching Leanna pack up her things was hard on Alex, though it wasn't completely unexpected. In some respect, he'd known this day was coming for a long, long time. They'd just been putting off the inevitable.
He'd already filed for divorce and found his lawyer, and since she wasn't contesting it, it seemed that it would be a fairly standard procedure. And it would be quick. A couple months, tops, and then he was a single man again. Not that there would be girls lining up outside his door looking to date him or anything.
Leanna had Sean, though, of that much he was sure. Because Sean was waiting outside in his beat-up pickup truck, ready to help carry and load boxes once she was ready. What they had probably wasn't going to end up being a storybook romance or one of the great love stories of all time, but for now, it was a bona fide relationship.
She didn't say much as she took all her clothes out of the closet, and that was fine with him. What was there to say? It was over. It was just . . . over.
Still, though . . . even though he knew it was for the best, and even though having this apartment to himself was actually going to be somewhat of a relief, he felt bad for not being able to make it work. Nobody entered into a marriage with the hopes of becoming divorced someday. There was this feeling of failure that accompanied it, and he wasn't used to failing.
"I think that's just about everything," she said, struggling to zip up the first of two gigantic suitcases. "I guess if I forgot anything, I can come back and get it next week."
He nodded wordlessly. For now, she still had her key, so that'd be fine. But once she was completely moved out, then he was taking that back from her.
"Well . . ." She sighed and flapped her arms against her sides helplessly. "I don't know what to say."
Sorry would be a great start, he thought. She hadn't even apologized. She'd cheated on him, had a legitimate affair with another guy, and she didn't even seem sorry.
"I didn't think it was gonna end up like this," she admitted. "We used to be so good together."
He grunted, thinking back on the start of their relationship. Had they ever really been a match? He was starting to wonder if he'd just been deluding himself the entire time. He and Leanna had never had much in common, and their relationship had progressed too fast. And honestly, the main thing that had attracted him to her in the first place was that she had long blonde hair like Isabel.
"This is gonna be okay, though," she insisted. "We're better off. Something just wasn't working."
Well, she was right about that much. These past few months had been awful, and that was probably part of the reason why he wasn't more devastated about all of this.
"And look at it this way . . ." She actually smiled at him, and for a second, it almost seemed like she still cared about him. "Now you're free to be with your dream girl."
He tensed.
Quickly, she added, "Whoever that may be."
Alex stood there like a statue while she propped her suitcase up on its end, pulled out the handle, and rolled it out of the bedroom and into the hall. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he tried not to be affected by what she said. Because if he allowed himself to believe that there really was a girl who was the girl of his dreams, then he was admitting that he had never been fully invested in this marriage to begin with. And he didn't want to have to do that.
...
Tomato paste or tomato sauce, Maria debated as she surveyed the overwhelming display of cans on the shelves in front of her. Good God. Why were there so many damn options to choose from? All she wanted was something to use in a simple chili recipe, and she didn't know what to pick. What was the difference between paste and sauce anyway? Did paste taste . . . pastey?
She felt like such an idiot, so she decided to abandon the stupid chili idea altogether and pushed her cart down the aisle. Straight ahead of her was a section of the grocery store she was much, much more familiar with: frozen dinners.
"Maria?"
She spun her whole cart around, and there was Sarah, pushing a full, heaping cart of her own. No frozen dinners in there, that was for sure.
"Hey," Maria said, quickly reaching for both a can of tomato sauce and paste. She set them down in her cart, then put in a few other random cans, too.
"Cooking for a small army?" Sarah asked as she walked closer.
"Well, just Dylan and Max, but they eat like a small army."
Sarah laughed. "I'll bet."
Even though it was stupid to do so, Maria couldn't help but survey the contents of the other girl's cart. There was a lot of meat, and a lot of pasta, and all sorts of different spices and seasonings. She didn't even have a list in her hand, so that probably meant she could just peruse the aisles and pick out what she wanted on the spot.
"You know what?" Sarah went on—because it wasn't just grocery shopping that was easy and natural for her; it was conversing, too. "I wonder how many times we might've passed by each other in this store or on campus or just anywhere in this town before we knew each other."
"Probably quite a few," Maria said. She just smiled then, because she didn't know what else to say.
"So, got big plans for the weekend?" Sarah asked.
"Um . . . no, not really," Maria replied. "Dylan's spending the night at his friend's house again, so . . ."
"Ooh." Sarah grinned. "You and Max get a night alone then."
"Yeah." There was really no reason to ooh about it, though. The plans they'd made were pretty mundane. "I think we're just gonna relax and watch a movie or something."
"Oh my god!" Sarah exclaimed suddenly. "You guys should totally go out with us tonight."
"Us?" Maria echoed. As in her and Michael? Another double date scenario? Hadn't they done enough of those?
"Michael and I are going out with Tess and Kyle," Sarah elaborated.
Oh, so it was already a double date then. Maria couldn't contain her surprised response to that. "Kyle's going out?" Wasn't he, like, a major homebody nowadays?
"Actually, the whole night was his idea," Sarah told her. "He's trying to reconnect with Tess, so he wants to take her out on a date. But he's kinda nervous about it, so that's why Michael and I are going with him. Reinforcements."
"Oh." Maria just nodded, trying to envision how she and Max would fit into that scenario. Was there even such a thing as a triple date? "Well, it sounds like you guys will have a good time then."
"You should come with us," Sarah reiterated. "Honestly, the more the merrier. If it's a group thing, Kyle will feel way more at ease."
Maria sighed reluctantly, trying to come up with a way to decline the offer without sounding bitchy. "I don't know . . ."
"It's not gonna be real wild or anything," Sarah assured her. "Have you ever been to that bar downtown called The Cave?"
"No." She'd driven by it, but that was all.
"Well, they remodeled it this summer and added on this, like, nightclub part to it. They're really trying to appeal to college students. In fact, they're letting students in free tonight. All you have to do is show your student I.D."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah." Sarah smiled. "You really should come. It's gonna be fun. But if you can't, I understand."
"Well, I'll just—I'll have to ask Max what he feels like doing," Maria stammered unsurely. Truth be told, a night out did sound more exciting than a night in. She and Max were both still young. Why should they be cooped up all night? Maybe they needed to be more lively, like Michael and Sarah were. And maybe if Michael saw them out together, enjoying the night and having a good time, he'd start to see that they actually were a good couple who had a future together.
"We're gonna get there around 8:00-ish," Sarah told her, "so maybe I'll see you there?"
"Maybe." As weird as it would be to be out with her ex and his girlfriend yet again, at this point, she was kind of getting used to it.
"If not, enjoy the rest of your weekend, alright?"
"Thanks." Maria gave Sarah a small wave goodbye as she pushed her cart on past. When Sarah rounded the turn into the next aisle, Maria reached into her own cart, took out the tomato paste and sauce, and put them back on the shelf. She then took out her phone and dialed Max's number.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Hey," she said, smiling when she heard Dylan's jovial laugh in the background. "Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Sure," he said. "Dylan's just watching TV. I can talk."
"Okay," she said, moving her cart back and forth a bit. She wasn't sure how she was going to even suggest this to Max. He wasn't the type of guy who went out to bars or clubs anymore. In fact, he tended to keep his distance. "So I was thinking," she said as casually as she could, "maybe we should go out tonight."
"Out?" he echoed. "Like to eat?"
"More like . . . just to have fun." She cringed, regretting the way that had come out. It wasn't that staying home and watching a movie with him wasn't fun. That was super chill and relaxing, and sometimes it was exactly what she needed. But it was nice to switch things up once in a while, too.
"Where do you wanna go?" he asked.
"Well, I ran into Sarah just a minute ago, and she was telling me about this bar downtown called The Cave."
"The Cave?" he echoed.
"Yeah, imagine that, right?" Freakin' Carlsbad. Everything came down to its caverns, just like everything in Roswell had to be tied back to aliens.
"You wanna go to a bar?" he asked skeptically.
"Well, it's not just a bar. It's like a nightclub now, too, apparently. She said a whole bunch of people are going. Like Tess and Kyle and . . ." She trailed off.
"Michael?" he filled in.
"Yeah, probably," she said flippantly. "Anyway, I don't know, I was just thinking that maybe it could be fun."
He was silent for a few seconds, and all she could hear was the sound of the TV in the background. But when he did speak, he actually agreed to it. "Okay."
"Yeah?" That was easier than she'd thought it would be.
"Yeah, we'll go," he said. "See you when you get home."
"Okay, see you." She ended the call and dropped her phone back into her purse, feeling the slightest bit excited about tonight now. It wasn't very often that she actually got to go out and act her age.
...
While Alex was engaged in a particularly rousing game of peek-a-boo with Scarlet on the floor, there was a knock at the door. Liz got up off the couch and went to answer it, hoping it wasn't Sean or Leanna or anyone else she might feel compelled to chew out. Luckily, it was just Maria. "Hey," she said, happy to see her friend there.
"Hey," Maria returned, stepping inside. She looked at Alex and Scarlet and quietly remarked, "How cozy."
"Oh, stop," Liz said. It was all so platonic on so many levels.
"Hey, Maria," Alex greeted.
"Hey, Alex."
"How you been?"
"Good. You?"
Alex smiled tightly and said, "I've been better," then refocused his attention on Scarlet as she tried to grab at his nose.
Maria cringed, whispering, "Oops."
"It's fine," Liz assured her. "What's up?"
"Nothing much." Maria just stood there for a few seconds, and Liz kept expecting her to say something. Clearly there had to be some reason for dropping by. Finally, she spilled. "Okay, I was kinda hoping I could get you to come out with me tonight."
"Like a girl's night?" Liz asked hopefully.
"Not really. Max and I are gonna go out and meet up with . . . you know, everyone."
"Everyone," Liz echoed. "As in . . ."
"Sarah and Michael and Tess and Kyle."
"Huh." They were really starting to become a group, weren't they? She was aware that she was very much on the fringe of it, but she and Sarah got along great, and she liked the thought of being able to be there for Max just in case . . . just in case. But it was still a little too short notice. "I don't think I can," she said. "I mean, who would I find to watch Scarlet?"
"Me," Alex piped up quickly. "I am her godfather, after all."
"Yeah, but you're . . ." She trailed off, not wanting to sound mean. Alex was going through something, though, something major. He probably needed a night off of everything to just think.
"I'm happy to watch her," he insisted. "Seriously. Go. We'll be fine."
Well . . . she thought, her resistance crumbling. She liked being able to go out on weekends and have a good time. Besides, there was always the potential of meeting someone. "Okay," she said to Maria. "Looks like I'll have to find something to wear."
...
The line to get into The Cave was long that night, longer than Maria had anticipated it would be. And by the time she and Max finally got to the front of it, she couldn't find her student I.D., so everyone behind them started to get annoyed and impatient with her, and eventually she just gave up trying to find it and paid to get inside instead.
They entered on the nightclub side, and it definitely looked busy, but at least people weren't crammed in their like sardines. The other half was more of a bar and restaurant, and there were plenty of people mingling in there. There was a bar in this half, too, though, which was great, because Maria definitely felt like she was going to need a drink. Waiting in that line had aggravated the hell out of her.
"You guys made it!" Like a little Labrador retriever puppy, Sarah bounded off the dance floor towards them, pulling Michael behind her. "Hey!" she exclaimed, giving Maria a hug.
"Hey," Maria said. She searched around frantically for Liz. Where was she? Just like Sarah and Michael were Kyle's reinforcements, Liz was hers.
"Did you have to wait a long time?" Sarah asked.
"Forever," Maria emphasized. "Did you?"
"No. The bouncer has a crush on Michael, so we got in quick."
Maria cast a curious glance at Michael, and he just shrugged.
"You guys look . . . you look great," Maria told them, and she meant it. Sarah had on this beautiful beige sweater dress, long-sleeved, cinched around her waist with a gold belt. Even though she was short, it was high-cut enough to make her legs look long, but not so high-cut that it looked vulgar. And Michael . . . well, he was just wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, but it was a tighter t-shirt than he normally wore, so it looked . . . really good.
"Thanks," Sarah said. "I love your outfit, too."
"Oh, thanks." She was suddenly feeling very self-conscious about it. She'd worn dark blue jeans—the only pair of jeans she had that didn't look like they'd come from a thrift store—and a loose-fitting black tunic top that had the word Love scrawled across it in metallic gold lettering. It had seemed cute enough in the mirror, but being here now and comparing it to Sarah's, she just felt like she looked like a high school girl. Sarah actually looked like a grown woman.
Why am I always comparing myself to her? she wondered, highly doubting that Sarah did the same thing.
An awkward silence descended upon the four of them until the song changed and Sarah said, "Well, I think we're gonna go dance some more. But that's our table over there where Tess and Kyle are sitting, so feel free to join."
"Okay."
Sarah grabbed Michael's hand again, and he pretended to be all reluctant and groaned as she pulled him back out onto the dance floor, but it was obvious he didn't really need to be persuaded.
"I think I'm gonna get something to drink," Max announced.
"Really?" A trace of alarm shot through her, and she wasn't sure why. Max had never had an alcohol problem, but he'd made it a point to stay away from anything and everything that had addictive properties.
"Just club soda," he said. "You want anything?"
"Oh . . . I could probably use a beer."
"Alright, I'll go get you one." He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then slipped off into the crowd.
Maria sighed, standing by herself now. She checked her phone to see if Liz had called or texted, but nope, nothing. Maybe she wasn't coming tonight after all. Maybe Scarlet had gotten sick or something, or maybe Alex's plan to babysit had fallen through. Maria wasn't sure where her friend was, but she was absolutely positive she'd feel more at ease with her there.
Since she didn't really know anyone else, she had no choice but to go to the table where Tess and Kyle were sitting. Right as she was approaching, though, Tess saw her, rolled her eyes, and got up and walked away.
Maria stopped in her tracks. What the hell am I doing here?
Kyle looked over his shoulder at her, got up, and said, "Hey, Maria." But that was all he said before he slowly hobbled after Tess. No cane or crutches or anything tonight, though. He was making progress.
This was a mistake, Maria thought, feeling very out of place as she took a seat in the booth Kyle and Tess had just abandoned. What on earth had ever made her think that coming here was a good idea, that the night would be anything more than awkward? There was a reason she spent so many weekends at home: It was just easier.
She looked down at her outfit again, pissed at herself for not at least wearing a cute dress. So what if it was practically winter? Tess was defying the weather. She had on this wispy pink and white floral print gown that was longer than the back than it was in the front. She looked like a model in a magazine, and of course wasn't even showing yet, not in the slightest.
Looking out onto the dance floor, she couldn't see much of Michael, except for his spiky hair as his head bobbed slightly out of time with the music. But she saw Sarah's hair and arms flying all about him. Every once in a while she'd come close enough to the edge of the floor, and Maria could see her better. She looked so comfortable with her body, and so at ease out there, like she wasn't worried about anything in the world. And Maria felt envious, because she couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt that way.
"I'm here, I'm here."
Breathing a sigh of relief when Liz came to the table and sat down, Maria tore her eyes away from the dance floor. "Thank God," she said dramatically.
"Wow, this place looks different," Liz said, looking around.
"You've been here?"
"Yeah, back when I was dating Sean." She made a face.
"It has been a while then."
"Yep." She reached into her purse, took out a tube of lipstick, and reapplied a little to her lips. "How do I look?" she asked.
"Great," Maria told her. "See, you were smart. You wore a dress."
"Actually, it's a skirt," Liz said.
"Well, whatever it is, it's cute." It was a pink floral pattern like Tess's dress was, but the background was black, and she'd paired it with a long-sleeved black top that, upon closer inspection, actually showed a little bit of her upper midriff.
"You look cute, too," Liz complimented.
Maria shook her head. "I don't think so." She didn't look bad. But Sarah looked better.
"Oh, no," Liz said. "Are you down in the dumps? I hate when you get like this."
"I can't help it. I'm having prom flashbacks here."
"Prom?" Liz echoed.
"Yeah. I thought that was gonna be a great night, too, but it turned out to be horrible." Fucking Ryan What's-His-Name had been such an ass to her that night, and she'd ended up going home and puking her guts out and panicking that she might be pregnant.
"Tonight is not gonna be horrible," Liz said, maintaining a positive outlook. "Hey, at least you're here with your boyfriend. I'm totally third-wheeling it." She looked around and asked, "Where is Max anyway?"
Maria motioned behind herself to the bar. "Tess and Kyle are around here somewhere, too."
"No Isabel, right?"
"God, I hope not."
Liz laughed. "Are Michael and Sarah here?"
"Yep." She cast a sideways glance out at the dance floor again, getting a better view of them now. Michael wasn't doing much more than just standing there, but Sarah was like the star attraction out there. A lot of people were watching her, but she was only watching him.
"God," Maria groaned. "Of course she's an amazing dancer, too."
Liz gave her a serious look. "Are you jealous?" she asked.
"No."
Liz narrowed her eyes skeptically.
"No," Maria insisted, "it's just that . . . she's so good at everything." Her grades, her cooking, her dancing . . . she was a jack of all trades, this girl. "I mean, I've seriously never met anyone who's literally good at every single thing she does. Until Sarah."
"So you're jealous," Liz confirmed.
"No, I just . . ." She trailed off, regretting how horrendously jealous she sounded. "I used to think Isabel—like pre-pornography Isabel—was the smartest, prettiest girl out there, but apparently not." She was astounded that Michael kept getting girls like this. Clearly he was a great-looking guy himself and smarter than anyone had ever given him credit for, but . . . holy shit, his girlfriend was, like, perfect.
"I like Sarah," Liz declared. "But there's no way I'm gonna compare myself to her, 'cause I know I'd come up short."
"No, you've got a lot going for you, Liz," Maria assured her.
"Everything except the one thing that matters." Liz's eyes glazed over for a moment, and she sounded sad when she murmured, "Love."
"Hmm, I wouldn't be too sure about that."
Liz furrowed her brow curiously. "What do you mean?"
Maria shrugged exaggeratedly. "I don't know. It just seems like now that Leanna's out of the picture . . ."
"Oh god, no," Liz cut her off quickly. "No, Maria, that's not happening."
"Why not?" It seemed so obvious. She knew Liz was tired of playing the dating scene and really wanted to settle down, and who better to settle down with than her daughter's godfather?
"Alex is my best friend," Liz said. "No offense."
"None taken. I just always assumed that if the opportunity ever presented itself and you were single and he was single at the same time . . ."
Liz shook her head adamantly. "No."
"But you guys dated before."
"And broke up before. Our chemistry is so much better as friends."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Maria sighed, figuring she'd have to work a little harder to steer her friend in that direction. She'd save it for another night. Maybe once Alex and Leanna actually got divorced, Liz would open up her eyes to the possibility. So what if they were just friends right now? So what if they'd already tried a relationship and broken up? That didn't necessarily mean it was the end for them. Maybe it was just the beginning.
...
Kyle stood outside the women's restroom, waiting impatiently. Tess had been in there for about ten minutes now, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe she didn't feel well. Or maybe she was just pissed. She'd been in a bad mood the entire night so far.
He knocked on the door and called her name. "Tess?"
He heard the sink run for a few seconds, and then she came out, sliding past him. "Sorry," she muttered.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm just . . . hormonal right now, and it doesn't take much to set me off," she growled. "And when I saw that Maria was here . . . well, that didn't particularly thrill me. And then I thought, 'Hey, I'll just go get something to drink.' Except I can't drink, because I'm pregnant. I'm at a nightclub, and I'm pregnant. Great idea, Kyle."
He took her snippiness in stride and didn't bother pointing out that she wouldn't be able to drink even if she wasn't pregnant, because she was only twenty years old.
"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I don't mean to be a bitch. I know you wanted to have fun tonight."
"So let's dance," he suggested. Michael and Sarah were all over that dance floor. Why couldn't he and Tess join them?
"I don't know," she mumbled.
"Oh, come on, you love to dance," he reminded her. God, he used to love watching her perform in her little cheerleading uniform, from and center of the formation, big smile on her face.
"But you can't dance," she protested.
"I got some rhythm," he insisted. "I can hold my own."
"No, I mean . . ." She looked down at his legs and repeated, "You can't dance."
That . . . was like a punch to the gut. But hell, he was here and he was walking around, wasn't he? It was a start. "I can try," he said.
She blinked back tears and shook her head. "I think I just wanna go home," she said.
"Tess . . ." No. He was really trying.
She wouldn't listen to him, though. Wiping away tears as they fell, she turned and walked away from him, headed back to their table, and from there, probably straight to the exit.
Damn, he thought, exhaling heavily, feeling defeated. So much for reconnecting.
...
Michael was starting to sweat. All this dancing, as fun as it was, was exhausting. And he wasn't even doing a whole lot. There was no stopping his girlfriend, though. It was like every inch of her body just resonated with the beat and moved in time with it.
"This is so fun!" she exclaimed as the song changed. "We should come here more often."
"Yeah," he agreed. Hell, he had no problem with that idea. The more often he was able to watch his girl dance, the better.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," she said, standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Keep dancing."
"Oh, I will," he said, halfheartedly swaying from side to side as she slinked off the floor. But once she was gone, he stopped, because it wasn't much fun without her. He caught sight of Kyle slinking towards the exit and figured that wasn't a good sign. Maybe he and Sarah were the only ones having fun tonight.
He scanned the club for Maria then, but he saw Max first. Max . . . and Liz. Sitting in a booth together, talking. He said something that made her laugh, which Michael personally didn't understand, because the bastard wasn't even funny.
If they were there . . . then where was Maria?
His eyes swung towards the bar, and there she was, sitting on a stool by herself, her back towards him. He watched her bring a small shot glass of something up to her mouth, and he couldn't resist going over to talk to her.
He got the bartender's attention right away and requested, "Beer," as he leaned against the counter. He glanced down at Maria, but she seemed determined not to look up at him. She sort of had that same expression on her face that Kyle had been showcasing all night: the disappointed kind.
"You look nice," he told her as the bartender handed him his bottle. He was digging the tight jeans on her.
It took her a minute, but finally, she cast a quick sideways glance at him and said, "Thanks."
He took a drink and peered through the darkened room to locate Liz and Max again. Neither one of them seemed to notice that he was talking to Maria, so he continued. "What're you drinkin'?"
"Nothing," she replied flippantly, yelping, "Hey!" when he reached over and grabbed the glass from her.
He took a sip, recognizing the taste immediately. "Vodka?" he said, thoroughly impressed. "Wow, check you out. Knockin' 'em back."
"This is my first one," she said.
"Hey, I don't blame you. If I was here with Max, I'd dive into the hard liquor, too."
She shot him an irritated look and rolled her eyes. "You're so annoying."
He smirked and debated whether or not to back off or just rub a little salt in the wound. Honestly, even though he didn't want to piss her off, any chance to make Max look bad in her eyes was a chance he had to take. "So are you okay with that?" he asked, motioning towards Max and Liz. "Sharing your boyfriend with another girl?"
She looked to her right, watched them for a few seconds, then snapped her head back towards him and snarled, "I don't share him."
"Looks like you do." He shrugged and took another drink.
"Liz is my best friend," she said. "And she and Max are friends, too."
"Yeah, I see that."
"They'll always have a connection."
"Yeah, named Scarlet."
"I'm fine with them being close," she said, knowing that neither one of them would ever do anything to hurt her. "In fact, I'm glad they are. Scarlet deserves to have both her parents in her life. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"You might just wanna monitor how close they are," he suggested. Hell, he didn't know if there was anything going on there or not. All he knew was that Liz used to smile like that when he was flirting with her, way back in the day.
"Would you stop?" she snapped. "Stop trying to instigate trouble. It's not gonna work."
"Whatever," he mumbled. "Well, if you don't wanna get drunk, you should get somethin' to eat. Or go dance or something."
She shook her head. "Max doesn't know how to dance."
Big fucking surprise. "Neither do I," he pointed out. "That's why I just do pimp style."
"Pimp style?" she echoed skeptically.
"Yeah. I just stand there and look cool, and Sarah dances all around me. It's genius."
"Well, Sarah's a good dancer," she said, "which I pretty much figured she would be."
He narrowed his eyes, wanting to ask her what she meant by that, but then he saw Sarah emerge from the bathroom and look out onto the dance floor, trying to find him. He downed half of what was left of his beer, setting the bottle down in front of her so she could finish it off if she wanted to. "Eat something," he advised. Whatever she was pissed about, he really didn't want to see her get drunk over it.
"Michael," she said as he started to walk away.
He stopped and turned back to her.
"Do you really think I look nice?" she asked quietly. She seemed hesitant to pose the question but almost desperate to hear his answer to it.
Instinctively, his eyes roamed up and down her, appreciating every inch. Nice didn't even really cover it. He'd always think she was beautiful. "I really do," he replied, grinning at her before slipping away to go dance with Sarah again.
...
Don't be an idiot, Maria told herself. God. She didn't want to react to that, but against her wishes, her heartbeat literally . . . sped up.
She watched Sarah throw herself into Michael's arms out on the dance floor. They kissed exaggeratedly for a second, and then Sarah's hips were moving from side to side again, and Michael's hands were on them, his head bent towards her, eyes focused on her face and nowhere else. When she turned around, he wrapped his arms around her midsection and pulled her in close, his hips pressing against her, but not in a vulgar, grinding sort of way. She tossed her head back against his shoulder, a blissful smile on her face.
Maria spun back around on her stool, trying to focus on the drinks in front of her. But it was almost impossible now.
He thought she looked nice. Max had told her that exact same thing before they'd left the house, and she hadn't believed him. But when Michael said it . . . she believed every word.