Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long everyone. I am planning to make
serious head-way on this during my holiday though, so expect more soon.
In the meantime, merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
[b]Part 6[/b]
[b]~Liz~[/b]
So, when I'm proven wrong, I'm [I]really[/I] proven wrong. If I presently wasn't in such a state of sheer and absolute panic, I think I'd work up the energy to be mad at Max about the fact that he has so completely debunked my theory that everything, and everyone, to do with Roswell is boring.
Now, I have to admit, I understand that my need to completely escape from Roswell is a little irrational. I am a smart girl. I know it is kind of stupid, and not a little immature. However, before, I think it was at least a little bit understandable. I mean, it's a small town in the desert. Everyone comments when you wear a new jacket. Life in my hometown is boring. Predictable. Sure it has the whole Crash of '47 angle, which makes it a little unique, but once you've lived there, you pretty much know that the Crash is a stupid tourist cash cow. Because, hey! Aliens don't exist.
Except they [I]do[/I] exist. In fact, I sat beside an alien during science class throughout high school. Who knew? Even I can't begin to try and pass this information off as boring. It is, in fact, that supreme opposite of boring. It is absurd, weird, even - dare I say it? - fascinating.
Ironically, it isn't even the "aliens really exist" part of the equation that I am presently finding most disconcerting and revelatory. Because, in the end, as I told Max not an hour ago when I left him standing on that street corner near Central Park, he's still [I]Max[/I] to me. I haven't suddenly started to think that he's the first in a wave of killers from another planet sent to conquer the Earth.
Nope. He hasn't been sent to conquer the Earth. He's been sent to conquer [I]me.[/I] And, the weirdest part of all, is that, I think I've always known it.
Until an hour ago, when he healed me, and I saw inside him - until every single thing about him was laid out bare in front of me - I could pretend that he hadn't followed me to New York. I could believe him, because he told me so, and why shouldn't I? I could convince myself that I didn't know him well enough to see through him.
Until an hour ago, I could try and fix him up with someone else, because I was still living in a world where I was cheerfully blind to what my heart has known for years.
Until an hour ago, I could pretend that Max Evans was Roswell, and since I didn't want Roswell, I didn't want him.
Funny how everything changes in the space of an hour, when you are forced to confront not only your own mortality, but the other half of your soul as well.
In spite of the fact that I have taken a slight detour in my academic career, I have always been a scientist at heart. I believe in cold, hard facts. I am not a romantic, nor am I someone who believes that there is only one person who will truly complete another in this world. At least, until an hour ago, I was pretty sure I didn't believe it.
So, then, how the heck am I supposed to explain Max? Because I think that I am beginning to realize that he was my main reason for running away from Roswell in the first place. Not because I was scared of him, or because I wanted nothing to do with him, but because I knew, somewhere deep inside, that some day he was going to mean everything to me, and it would change my entire life.
Because, what happened tonight has forced me to confront an indisputable truth. Max is not just an alien. He's [I]my[/I] alien. And I am nowhere near ready for everything that means. I wasn't as a little girl, way back in third grade, when our eyes first met across a playground and, so, I turned away from him. I wasn't in freshman year when Kyle Valenti first asked me out, and I hesitated for a split second, because Max happened to be walking down the school corridor at just that moment. But I said yes, because I just knew somehow that it wasn't yet time for us (even though I didn't consciously know.Is any of this making sense?) I am almost positive that I wasn't ready six months ago when Max approached me under that tree after graduation.
And, yet, I wrote what I wrote in his yearbook, and he came here, and now it is an hour after I've been shot, and it is an hour since I found out that he is in love with me, always has been, and it has dawned on me that I think I am in love with him too.
I'm not ready. I have been confronted with the truth of my feelings and I am not ready for what it means. I'm not ready to have to worry about someone else before myself. I'm not ready to have to make decisions with two people in mind. I'm not ready for the reality that every little thing I do might affect someone else.
But, the thing is, what I saw when I connected with Max has told me that it doesn't matter if I'm ready or not. He's already in love with me and everything I do, say, think, feel, affects him already.
Why, oh why did I have to get shot? Why did this have to happen? Why do I have to face this already? Why couldn't we just continue to build our friendship and then, one day, I could have had my eyes opened naturally to the fact that this is the person I'm supposed to be with?
Why do I have to know that I am already messing things up by even being in my room, hanging sideways, face down on my bed, thinking these things?
I know Max is out there somewhere, most likely freaking out. I think he believed me when I said that the alien thing didn't matter. I mean, of course it [I]matters[/I], but it wasn't what I really needed to think about. No, what is really paralyzing me with fear is the fact that we have somehow ended up in a situation where I have to acknowledge how he feels about me before I am ready.
So, I'm sure that at this point I'm coming across as fairly selfish, self- absorbed, and not a little strange. I recognize that finding out that someone loves you isn't a bad thing. Coming to the realization that you just might love him back is, in fact, a [I]great[/I] thing. But what am I supposed to do about the reality that I just know that this is the wrong time? That things weren't supposed to happen this way? That as much as I'm not ready to be with Max, I also know that he's not ready to be with me, in spite of what I now know he thinks?
Now everything is screwed up and there is no way to go back to what we had an hour ago. We can no longer just be friends. And it doesn't matter one little bit that I'm not ready for anything else - that someday I will be, but now I'm not, and I'm going to hurt him because of it. In fact, I'm hurting him already because I won't talk to him about what I'm feeling, when I know without question that he wants to.
Which is only confirmed two seconds later when someone knocks firmly on my dorm-room door.
I sit up quickly, catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the closet door, and sigh. I look absolutely frantic. My hair is practically standing on end, and my eyes are wide and a little unfocused. I can feel my heart pounding, because I am absolutely sure that it is Max, and I am just not ready to face him again. My present state of being is not going to reassure him that I have not totally flipped out on him. Not that he should be reassured. I think I'm about to lose my mind. I don't know what to say to him. I do not know how to deal with this situation.
Why am I not ready? Why am I so convinced that he isn't either, when the connection I made with him earlier seemed to tell me that he was? What is [I]wrong[/I] with me?
"Liz, I know you're in there."
My heart stops entirely. This is even worse than I imagined. It's not Max at all. It is, in fact, Isabel, and she does not sound happy.
Isabel. I never even considered Isabel. If Max is an alien, then maybe Isabel is too. They were found together after all, wandering in the desert, and were then adopted by the Evans. It is one of Roswell's most famous stories.
While I know that Max is not an evil alien, sent to conquer the Earth, if I am right, and Isabel is one of his kind, I am not sure that I can say the same about her. She conquered high school quite nicely after all. And by saying "quite nicely," I'm not being literal. There was nothing nice about it.
I have never been on Isabel's bad side, as far as I know, but I've seen what happens to people who are. I am not, in any way, looking forward to this. But, I also know that I have to deal with her, even if it is ineptly. There is no question in my mind that Max has told Isabel what happened. That gun-shot started a sequence of events that I now see cannot be altered. I may feel like this is all wrong, that it is not time for any of this, but it doesn't change the fact that it's happening.
I sigh, climb to my feet, and, moments later, open the door.
Isabel is abruptly peering in at me, her expression pained. She takes in my disheveled state and seems even more upset. She doesn't appear angry though, which is a good sign. "Can I come in?" She glances behind her, to where a couple is randomly making out against a wall across the hall, obviously refugees from the party downstairs, as the girl has a plastic beer cup hanging from her hand.
The party. Was it only a few hours ago that I even cared about such things? I wonder briefly if Sean's girlfriend, Hannah, ever showed up. I wonder even more briefly why I ever even cared.
"Sure," I say to Max's sister. I step aside and she enters quickly. I shut the door behind her. She turns around and stares at me and there is a long moment when I realize we are each waiting for the other to speak first. Apparently she isn't here to kill me with her alien death ray eyes - if she is, in fact, an alien as well.
I finally give in and say something, because there is something I want to know. "Is Max okay?"
Isabel relaxes visibly. This is a revelation to me. I realize abruptly that she was nervous. She is [I]scared[/I] of me. Isabel Evans. Afraid. Of me. Because I know Max's secret. If she only knew how little I care, and, also, how little chance there is that I would ever betray it.
But, how can she know? I only realized it myself just over an hour ago.
"He's okay," Isabel replies quickly. "He's worried about you."
"I'm fine," I assure her. "Is that the only reason you're here?" I know, of course, that it isn't.
But Isabel is not yet ready to move on. "Liz, you were shot. Are you sure you're all right?"
The gun-shot. Right. I guess I should be a little more concerned about that. But, for some reason, I'm not. I barely remember it. I can't even really recall if it hurt. It happened, but everything that came after is a giant blur, until the moment that Max's thoughts entered my memory, and my heart was forced to acknowledge what it has secretly known all along.
"I'm fine," I reply firmly.
"Can I look?" Isabel asks, sounding a little tentative.
I stare at her. "At what?"
"At your stomach," Max's sister replies, raising her chin, and trying to act like this is a normal thing to ask. "Just to make sure."
"Isabel, I swear I'm fine."
"Please, Liz."
I sigh, but comply, lifting my sweater so that she can see my smooth stomach. I blink when she gasps, then lower my head to see what's upset her.
There is a silver hand-print glowing on my abdomen. The first thought that crosses my mind is, [I]Well, that's interesting. That wasn't there ten minutes ago.[/I]
My second thought is a lot less calm. Because, it is in that instant that it suddenly sinks in. I was shot.
[I]Oh my God! I was shot![/I]
I feel my knees weaken, and I sink to the floor, my heart in the my throat, my palms suddenly sweaty.
"I was shot," I say. I can hear my voice as though from a great distance and it sounds extraordinarily normal.
Isabel, however, doesn't seem to think so, because she drops to the floor beside me and places her hands on my shoulders. "Liz, it's all right. You're all right."
I meet her eyes, force myself to take deep breaths. I have never before hyperventilated, but I think I was on the verge there for a minute. "I [I]am[/I] all right," I finally manage to say. "But, oh my God. Isabel!"
"I know," she says quietly. Our eyes meet and I can tell that she is searching my face for something. It makes me curious, but also a little afraid, like I am taking a test for which I am fully unprepared.
She doesn't say anything for a long time, but she finally pulls back and climbs to her feet, reaching down to help me to mine. We then both collapse on the bed.
"Isabel, how did you know to look at my stomach?" I ask after another long moment of silence.
"I just wanted to see if there was any evidence," she says.
"Evidence of what?" I am getting confused now. While I can still feel that Isabel is not here to threaten me, she is certainly not making me comfortable right now.
"If there was no evidence that Max healed you, I was going to make you think it was all a dream," Isabel replies matter-of-factly, as though this is somehow a normal thing to say.
"What?"
"He's never left a mark before," Isabel shrugs. "But he's also never healed anything so big. I had a feeling that it might have been different this time. I was hoping." She trails off, sounding disappointed.
"I didn't mean about the mark," I tell her. "I mean about the "making me think it was a dream" part."
"Oh," Isabel says. "I can do that. Go into people's dreams. I can fiddle with your mind enough to make you think it didn't really happen."
I feel the instant urge to get away from this girl. She still doesn't sound threatening, but the casual way she reveals the fact that she must be an alien too freaks me out a little bit. I stand up, move across the room. I pretend that I'm just going to the sink to get a drink of water, but I feel Isabel's eyes following me, know that she's not fooled.
"Liz, we need to talk about this."
I turn around, face her. "Isabel, I won't tell anyone. I swear."
"That's what Max said," Isabel replies. She pauses, then continues, "Liz, I don't want to beat around the bush here. It's obviously too late for that."
"Fine," I reply. "I want to be straight with you, too."
"You must know how my brother feels about you," Isabel says, so bluntly, it makes me blink. I didn't expect her to be quite so candid. "In fact, I know you do. He told me as much."
"I know." My voice is barely above a whisper. I'm not sure what she wants me to say, or what any of this has to do with the fact that Max and Isabel are aliens, my knowledge of which seems to be Isabel's greatest concern - understandably.
I examine Isabel's eyes uncertainly, trying to gauge exactly what she is thinking. She meets my gaze steadily, again as though she is trying to see right into my head. Based on what she just revealed she can do, I'm now not entirely sure that she's not doing exactly that. "Are you reading my mind?" I demand, before thinking.
"We can't read minds," Isabel tells me, sounding unconcerned. "It would be helpful," she adds, smiling slightly. I blink when I realize that she's trying to cut the tension by making a little joke. "Listen, Liz. I'm not trying to upset you or anything. I understand you've been through a lot. But I need to know.What exactly are you planning to do about Max?"
"Why?" I ask, really unclear as to why she needs to know this.
"If Max thinks you're trustworthy, I have to believe him," Isabel says.
I feel my heart warming at the thought of Max being so absolutely certain about me. He is right. There is no way I will ever betray him. He saved my life after all, plus he's [I]Max.[/I] I know he is the farthest thing for dangerous there is. I will never be scared of him.
"It's too late to take it back now, although I was ready to kill him when he first told me what happened," Isabel continues. "But, the point is, he connected with you. I didn't. I have to take his word for it. So, I'm willing to trust you with our secret."
The way she finishes, I can tell that there is a very big "but" attached to what she has just said. I wait, not saying anything.
"I want you to tell you two things, Liz. One, Max's heart is a very fragile thing, and I will not allow him to be hurt. So, if you don't feel the same way about him, then you're going to tell him right away, and then you're going to stay away from him, so that he can get over it."
Well, it's ultimatum time apparently. Which is so [I]not[/I] helpful, being as I think I know how I feel, but I don't really have any idea what I want to do about it. If I don't do something about it now, though, I have the feeling that Isabel is going to make sure that I never get within two feet of her brother again.
So much for just staying friends.
But I'm really not that scared of Isabel. I appreciate that she's just watching out for Max. But, in the end, whatever happens between us is up to Max and me. I'm not going to let Isabel interfere and I have a feeling that Max won't allow it either.
"And, two?" I say, not acknowledging her threat at all.
Isabel seems mildly impressed by this, but doesn't comment. Instead, she surprises me by saying, "I want to tell Alex myself."
I stare at her. "You're going to tell him?"
"I don't think I have much choice," Isabel sighs. "He's going to want to know why Max was so upset, and he's nothing if not persistent." She pauses, then adds almost shyly, "Plus, I think I want him to know."
"So, Max [I]is[/I] upset, huh?" This is not news. I knew he was. I mean, I saw his face when I left him standing on that street corner. It's really amazing to me that six months ago, I could barely read him, even after four years of sitting beside him in lab. But, now, after the connection, I feel like he has practically become an open book. Even during the short time we talked in the park, I could see the difference.
"Of course," Isabel snaps, sounding annoyed now. "You ran out on him, Liz. He revealed his two deepest, darkest secrets to you in one fell swoop, and you took off."
"I." I swallow around the lump in my throat. I didn't mean to hurt him by doing that. I really didn't. But I needed space to try and figure out what all of this means. Which, of course, I haven't done. "Do you think I should go see him?"
"Do you want to?" Isabel demands.
"Yes," I say, surprising myself at how certain I sound. I realize that I feel that same certainty too though. I do want to see Max. Maybe I know now that I need to talk to him to figure out exactly what I'm going to do. "Where is he?"
"He's with Alex. They're at the party." It seems that my surprise at this announcement has appeared on my face, because Isabel continues, "We have to be completely normal, Liz. Going to a party is normal."
"Okay," I say. I stand up, head over to my dresser, and pick up a hairbrush. "Just give me a second. I don't want to look as freaked out as I feel. Because that wouldn't be [I]normal.[/I]" I don't mean to sound sarcastic when I say this last bit, but I know I do. I flinch slightly, when I meet Isabel's eyes in the mirror.
"Don't you think 'normal' is boring?" Isabel asks quietly. "Isn't that what all this," she waves her hand in the air - for some reason I understand she means New York when she does this - "is about?"
"That's true," I acknowledge. I run the brush through my hair, wonder if I can confide in Max's sister. After all, she's loyal to him first. She's already given me an ultimatum about hurting him. If I admit my whacko feelings, she may just kill me. I mean she's already admitted she can get into my dreams somehow. Isn't it true that if you die in your dreams you die in real life? Somehow I know she [I]could[/I] do it. And, yet, I'm not scared of her. The entire student body of West Roswell High would be amazed to hear it, but I am not afraid of Isabel Evans.
I decide that if I'm not scared, it should be safe to at least tell her a little bit of what I feel. Because it doesn't all have to do with Max, after all. "I guess.I guess I never realized that normal was safe. I've always been safe. Even this," I wave my hand in the air, in an imitation of Isabel's recent gesture, "isn't dangerous, you know. I knew my parents would freak, but I also knew that they'd support me in the end. It wasn't that big a rebellion, after all." I feel my face warming up with embarrassment. "It all just seems kind of juvenile, now that I know what you and Max have been dealing with for years."
"I would give anything to be normal," Isabel whispers. "For what you did to be the strangest thing about me."
I turn and nod, because it was exactly what I had felt from Max in the connection. "I know." And I understand that what Isabel is really saying is that she would do anything to feel safe. She would do anything to be able to feel as secure as I have over the past eighteen years. I have been so safe that I could do things like completely change my college plans at the last minute. I could do it and know that, in the end, if I changed my mind back, it would be all right. I could do all of this, and feel like I was daring, but know, deep down, that what I was doing was really just "normal" for someone my age.
Isabel has never had that luxury. And neither has Max. Which only makes what he did for me that much more extraordinary. I cannot screw this up. I [I]will[/I] not screw this up. Because, if I do, I will not get another chance. Somehow I know this, and it doesn't matter if I'm not ready for it. It is here, and I have to leave normal behind once and for all, and I have to go for it. Because, if I don't, I am going to regret it for the rest of my life.
***
The party is being held in the big common room on the second floor. I begin to feel the pounding rhythm of the music while Isabel and I are still in the elevator.
We haven't really said anything to each other since we left my room, but it isn't an uncomfortable silence. For some reason, I really think she trusts me, and it's not just because of what Max saw in the connection we made (which is beginning to make me wonder a bit actually. He told me earlier that he didn't see anything, which, it is now clear, was a total lie). I think, actually, based on what she has said, that it is because I'm friends with Alex. She clearly trusts Alex - which just shows her good judgment - and if he trusts me, I think it's good enough for her. Not only that, but Max and I have now given her the opening she has been waiting for - the excuse to tell Alex the truth.
I wonder briefly how long Isabel has been lonely. Because, when she revealed that tiny little piece of herself to me upstairs - when she admitted that she just wanted to be normal - it was clear that it was the first time she had ever told anyone that. It is slightly strange to think that someone like Isabel Evans, who has always been the most popular person I know, can feel alone. I guess it's why she really isn't that mad at Max, for what happened, after all. I think she's been waiting a long time to be able to open up to someone. And, for reasons clear only to herself, she has chosen Alex. I wonder how long she has been interested in him. We've only been here just over a month. It seems kind of sudden, even though I know that she couldn't pick a better person to trust. It makes me wonder if she has quietly harbored feelings for my best friend for a long time. It is odd to think about all these secret crushes possibly having existed over the years. And it has taken getting us out of Roswell to make us do anything about it.
I've always considered Roswellians to be the epitome of boring and normal. I am being proven wrong constantly today. Because, it is becoming ever more clear, that we are so [I]not[/I] normal. In fact, we are all very weird indeed. And I'm not just talking about the fact that some of us are aliens.
Isabel and I are now standing in the doorway to the common room. The air is thick with haze from the DJ's smoke machine. I'm impressed. The R.A.s have obviously gone all out. The crowd is huge and the dance floor is packed. Everyone is clearly having a great time.
I scan the crowd, looking for Max and Alex. Unfortunately, in spite of their height, or maybe because of my lack of the same, I can't see them anywhere. I look at Isabel, who is taller, and should be able to see across the masses, but she seems as perplexed as I do. She looks down at me, mouths, "I'll go that way." I nod, and start threading my way through the crowd in the opposite direction.
You know what the problem is with dorm parties? Everyone you know from your dorm happens to be at them. Including your ex-boyfriends.okay, well he wasn't really my boyfriend, but he was close enough. Because, who should I happen to run into first? The last person I want to see, of course.
Yes, it's Sean, and, even more annoyingly, as I look to both sides of him, he seems to be alone. Isn't he supposed to have a girlfriend here or something? Because, if she was here, I would have an excuse to ignore him, as I've been doing for the last week.
But, no, he's by himself, nursing a drink, and, even though I try to duck out of sight behind a really tall guy, he sees me and starts to head in my direction.
"Hey," he says, when he reaches me. He sounds downtrodden (in spite of the fact that he has to yell to be heard over the music). "Where've you been all week?"
"Oh, busy," I say non-committally. I am still pretty much ignoring him, searching the crowd for Max, which I am aware is the height of rudeness, but I am sure that you can understand that I don't particularly care at the moment. "I've got to go, Sean. See you around."
I start to walk away, but he grabs me by the elbow. "Liz, what's wrong with you?" Sean demands, as I shake him off.
"What do you mean what's wrong with me?" I snap. And, since I can tell he really has no idea - is he dense? - I tell him. "Where's Hannah?"
He blinks. "Hannah?" He looks around. "Oh, she's here somewhere." Good Lord! He actually admits it! With no shame at all.
"Shouldn't you be with her?" I demand, wondering if he is truly as clueless as he appears to be.
"No," he shrugs. "We agreed we'd meet up after." He pauses, then leans his head close to my ear. "She really wants to meet you."
I pull away. "Excuse me?" I am flabbergasted. Are they both insane?
It is then that a dawning look of comprehension begins to cross Sean's face. "Wait a minute! You don't think that there's anything going on between me and Hannah?"
I stare at him for a long moment, then say, "I don't really care, Sean. It's not like we were exclusive or anything."
"Liz, I want us to be," Sean says, actually sounding a little pleading. He, in fact, sounds so unlike himself, it makes me suspicious.
"Since when?" I realize abruptly that he isn't even looking at me anymore. He's staring over my head, quite clearly at someone else. I assume it's Hannah, and since I can't help my own curiosity, I turn and follow his gaze. Much to my amazement he's not looking at a stranger at all. He is, oddly, staring at Max.
Max! My heart leaps with anticipation. Rudely, I leave Sean standing there without another word, because I am not going to lose Max in this crowd. He isn't standing in one place, but seems to be walking towards the exit. If I don't hurry, he's going to be gone, although I'm sure I'll be able to find him in his room, so it's not that big a deal. But, for some reason, I feel like it is. I feel like, if he leaves the party, I will lose my only chance to make things right between us - whatever that entails.
Fortunately, my luck changes at that moment, because I see Isabel stop him. She is gesturing with her hands and glancing down. I stop for a moment, wondering what she is suddenly so annoyed about, because I can tell she is. I watch, frowning slightly, as Max shakes his head. For a moment I think he is disagreeing with his sister about something, but the movement isn't quite like that. Strangely, he actually looks like he is trying to wake himself up.
I have started to push my way through the crowd again, and I am very close to the Evans siblings now, but I still can't hear a word they're saying. Isabel is talking in a very animated fashion, although, oddly, she doesn't seem to be speaking to Max anymore. Or, if she is, he is ignoring her completely. Max is now glancing around the room, and I know that he is looking for me - that it is only a matter of time until his gaze settles on me - but it still makes my entire body heat up. My heart starts to pound extraordinarily fast and the entire room seems to be almost [I]pulsing, [/I]when I feel his eyes come to rest upon me. I know it's weird, but that's what it feels like.
Well, this is it. I still have absolutely no idea what I'm going to say to him. It was so easy to talk to him earlier, before it happened. Actually, it was still pretty easy to talk to him right [I]after[/I] it happened, but, now, in spite of the fact that I have actually seen inside him, he is more mysterious now than he ever was before. He is now different in my eyes.
Or maybe he's not different at all. Maybe it's me that's changed. My eyes have been opened.
As Max starts to make his way toward me, through the crowd, I realize that he and Isabel were not alone over there. Because Tess is abruptly revealed when Max moves. She is watching him come towards me, a slightly glum expression on her pretty face. I wonder if that's why Isabel was so upset - that Max was apparently about to leave the party with Tess. It amazes me that I had totally forgotten about Tess, when, not two hours ago, I had barely spoken two words to Max since September that had not somehow included her. I feel a rush of relief that he has ignored me completely about her over the past month. Because, whoa, would [I]that[/I] have been a mistake.
I mean, it wouldn't have been fair to Tess, would it? Not when he is looking at [I]me[/I] like he is at the moment, in a way that makes me want to melt into a puddle right here on the dance floor. How could I have ever believed him when he said that he didn't come here because of me? And how lucky am I that he did?
After what feels like forever, (you know I've never been one of those people who understood the weird way people move in slow motion on TV when something momentous is happening, but I'm telling you, I understand it now. Because, I swear, for a moment it feels like Max is [I]never[/I] going to be close enough to talk to) he is finally standing in front of me.
I search my mind for something brilliant and meaningful to say. I come up with nothing, so I settle for, "Hi."
"Hi," Max says back. You know, I have to wonder how I ever thought this guy was shy. He doesn't seem at [I]all[/I] shy at the moment. In fact, he is obviously just a really good actor. Because he has to have been hiding the way he is looking at me. I mean, there is no way I would not have noticed. "I'm glad you came," he continues. He is practically yelling into my ear, over the pounding music, and the screaming crowd, but, for some reason, it feels like we are totally alone. His breath on my neck sends a shiver down my spine.
Okay, did I ever say I wasn't ready for this? I was clearly whacko at the time.
"Max." I begin. Begin being the operative word, because what exactly am I going to say? Take me, I'm yours, seems a bit extreme, even in the present circumstances. Besides, I don't want to scare him off.
"Don't say anything," he tells me firmly. "I know you need time. I don't want you to say anything. I just want to be glad that you're here."
I meet his eyes. "I don't think I'm going to say anything you're not going to want to hear," I reply.
He smiles slightly. "I'm glad. But, Liz, it can wait. For the moment, there's only one thing I want."
"What?" I ask, a little uncertain. I am beginning to feel relieved that he isn't expecting me to bare my entire soul to him right at this instant. I wonder what exactly it was that he saw inside me when we connected earlier, because he seems to understand exactly what I am feeling.
"I want to dance with you," he replies simply. It is only then that I become aware that the pounding bass has settled into a slow song. I don't recognize it, but I know that I will be downloading it on my computer later tonight. I never want to forget exactly how I feel at this moment.
"Okay," is all I say in return.
So, we do. And, as his arms come around me, and I lay my head on his chest, breathing his closeness in, in that moment, I feel completely safe and [I]happy[/I]. And, somehow, I know that he feels exactly the same way.
Talking is over-rated anyhow.
Because, this boy saved my life two hours ago, and he loves me, I think I may love him, and, for now, it is all that matters. To both of us.
In the meantime, merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
[b]Part 6[/b]
[b]~Liz~[/b]
So, when I'm proven wrong, I'm [I]really[/I] proven wrong. If I presently wasn't in such a state of sheer and absolute panic, I think I'd work up the energy to be mad at Max about the fact that he has so completely debunked my theory that everything, and everyone, to do with Roswell is boring.
Now, I have to admit, I understand that my need to completely escape from Roswell is a little irrational. I am a smart girl. I know it is kind of stupid, and not a little immature. However, before, I think it was at least a little bit understandable. I mean, it's a small town in the desert. Everyone comments when you wear a new jacket. Life in my hometown is boring. Predictable. Sure it has the whole Crash of '47 angle, which makes it a little unique, but once you've lived there, you pretty much know that the Crash is a stupid tourist cash cow. Because, hey! Aliens don't exist.
Except they [I]do[/I] exist. In fact, I sat beside an alien during science class throughout high school. Who knew? Even I can't begin to try and pass this information off as boring. It is, in fact, that supreme opposite of boring. It is absurd, weird, even - dare I say it? - fascinating.
Ironically, it isn't even the "aliens really exist" part of the equation that I am presently finding most disconcerting and revelatory. Because, in the end, as I told Max not an hour ago when I left him standing on that street corner near Central Park, he's still [I]Max[/I] to me. I haven't suddenly started to think that he's the first in a wave of killers from another planet sent to conquer the Earth.
Nope. He hasn't been sent to conquer the Earth. He's been sent to conquer [I]me.[/I] And, the weirdest part of all, is that, I think I've always known it.
Until an hour ago, when he healed me, and I saw inside him - until every single thing about him was laid out bare in front of me - I could pretend that he hadn't followed me to New York. I could believe him, because he told me so, and why shouldn't I? I could convince myself that I didn't know him well enough to see through him.
Until an hour ago, I could try and fix him up with someone else, because I was still living in a world where I was cheerfully blind to what my heart has known for years.
Until an hour ago, I could pretend that Max Evans was Roswell, and since I didn't want Roswell, I didn't want him.
Funny how everything changes in the space of an hour, when you are forced to confront not only your own mortality, but the other half of your soul as well.
In spite of the fact that I have taken a slight detour in my academic career, I have always been a scientist at heart. I believe in cold, hard facts. I am not a romantic, nor am I someone who believes that there is only one person who will truly complete another in this world. At least, until an hour ago, I was pretty sure I didn't believe it.
So, then, how the heck am I supposed to explain Max? Because I think that I am beginning to realize that he was my main reason for running away from Roswell in the first place. Not because I was scared of him, or because I wanted nothing to do with him, but because I knew, somewhere deep inside, that some day he was going to mean everything to me, and it would change my entire life.
Because, what happened tonight has forced me to confront an indisputable truth. Max is not just an alien. He's [I]my[/I] alien. And I am nowhere near ready for everything that means. I wasn't as a little girl, way back in third grade, when our eyes first met across a playground and, so, I turned away from him. I wasn't in freshman year when Kyle Valenti first asked me out, and I hesitated for a split second, because Max happened to be walking down the school corridor at just that moment. But I said yes, because I just knew somehow that it wasn't yet time for us (even though I didn't consciously know.Is any of this making sense?) I am almost positive that I wasn't ready six months ago when Max approached me under that tree after graduation.
And, yet, I wrote what I wrote in his yearbook, and he came here, and now it is an hour after I've been shot, and it is an hour since I found out that he is in love with me, always has been, and it has dawned on me that I think I am in love with him too.
I'm not ready. I have been confronted with the truth of my feelings and I am not ready for what it means. I'm not ready to have to worry about someone else before myself. I'm not ready to have to make decisions with two people in mind. I'm not ready for the reality that every little thing I do might affect someone else.
But, the thing is, what I saw when I connected with Max has told me that it doesn't matter if I'm ready or not. He's already in love with me and everything I do, say, think, feel, affects him already.
Why, oh why did I have to get shot? Why did this have to happen? Why do I have to face this already? Why couldn't we just continue to build our friendship and then, one day, I could have had my eyes opened naturally to the fact that this is the person I'm supposed to be with?
Why do I have to know that I am already messing things up by even being in my room, hanging sideways, face down on my bed, thinking these things?
I know Max is out there somewhere, most likely freaking out. I think he believed me when I said that the alien thing didn't matter. I mean, of course it [I]matters[/I], but it wasn't what I really needed to think about. No, what is really paralyzing me with fear is the fact that we have somehow ended up in a situation where I have to acknowledge how he feels about me before I am ready.
So, I'm sure that at this point I'm coming across as fairly selfish, self- absorbed, and not a little strange. I recognize that finding out that someone loves you isn't a bad thing. Coming to the realization that you just might love him back is, in fact, a [I]great[/I] thing. But what am I supposed to do about the reality that I just know that this is the wrong time? That things weren't supposed to happen this way? That as much as I'm not ready to be with Max, I also know that he's not ready to be with me, in spite of what I now know he thinks?
Now everything is screwed up and there is no way to go back to what we had an hour ago. We can no longer just be friends. And it doesn't matter one little bit that I'm not ready for anything else - that someday I will be, but now I'm not, and I'm going to hurt him because of it. In fact, I'm hurting him already because I won't talk to him about what I'm feeling, when I know without question that he wants to.
Which is only confirmed two seconds later when someone knocks firmly on my dorm-room door.
I sit up quickly, catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the closet door, and sigh. I look absolutely frantic. My hair is practically standing on end, and my eyes are wide and a little unfocused. I can feel my heart pounding, because I am absolutely sure that it is Max, and I am just not ready to face him again. My present state of being is not going to reassure him that I have not totally flipped out on him. Not that he should be reassured. I think I'm about to lose my mind. I don't know what to say to him. I do not know how to deal with this situation.
Why am I not ready? Why am I so convinced that he isn't either, when the connection I made with him earlier seemed to tell me that he was? What is [I]wrong[/I] with me?
"Liz, I know you're in there."
My heart stops entirely. This is even worse than I imagined. It's not Max at all. It is, in fact, Isabel, and she does not sound happy.
Isabel. I never even considered Isabel. If Max is an alien, then maybe Isabel is too. They were found together after all, wandering in the desert, and were then adopted by the Evans. It is one of Roswell's most famous stories.
While I know that Max is not an evil alien, sent to conquer the Earth, if I am right, and Isabel is one of his kind, I am not sure that I can say the same about her. She conquered high school quite nicely after all. And by saying "quite nicely," I'm not being literal. There was nothing nice about it.
I have never been on Isabel's bad side, as far as I know, but I've seen what happens to people who are. I am not, in any way, looking forward to this. But, I also know that I have to deal with her, even if it is ineptly. There is no question in my mind that Max has told Isabel what happened. That gun-shot started a sequence of events that I now see cannot be altered. I may feel like this is all wrong, that it is not time for any of this, but it doesn't change the fact that it's happening.
I sigh, climb to my feet, and, moments later, open the door.
Isabel is abruptly peering in at me, her expression pained. She takes in my disheveled state and seems even more upset. She doesn't appear angry though, which is a good sign. "Can I come in?" She glances behind her, to where a couple is randomly making out against a wall across the hall, obviously refugees from the party downstairs, as the girl has a plastic beer cup hanging from her hand.
The party. Was it only a few hours ago that I even cared about such things? I wonder briefly if Sean's girlfriend, Hannah, ever showed up. I wonder even more briefly why I ever even cared.
"Sure," I say to Max's sister. I step aside and she enters quickly. I shut the door behind her. She turns around and stares at me and there is a long moment when I realize we are each waiting for the other to speak first. Apparently she isn't here to kill me with her alien death ray eyes - if she is, in fact, an alien as well.
I finally give in and say something, because there is something I want to know. "Is Max okay?"
Isabel relaxes visibly. This is a revelation to me. I realize abruptly that she was nervous. She is [I]scared[/I] of me. Isabel Evans. Afraid. Of me. Because I know Max's secret. If she only knew how little I care, and, also, how little chance there is that I would ever betray it.
But, how can she know? I only realized it myself just over an hour ago.
"He's okay," Isabel replies quickly. "He's worried about you."
"I'm fine," I assure her. "Is that the only reason you're here?" I know, of course, that it isn't.
But Isabel is not yet ready to move on. "Liz, you were shot. Are you sure you're all right?"
The gun-shot. Right. I guess I should be a little more concerned about that. But, for some reason, I'm not. I barely remember it. I can't even really recall if it hurt. It happened, but everything that came after is a giant blur, until the moment that Max's thoughts entered my memory, and my heart was forced to acknowledge what it has secretly known all along.
"I'm fine," I reply firmly.
"Can I look?" Isabel asks, sounding a little tentative.
I stare at her. "At what?"
"At your stomach," Max's sister replies, raising her chin, and trying to act like this is a normal thing to ask. "Just to make sure."
"Isabel, I swear I'm fine."
"Please, Liz."
I sigh, but comply, lifting my sweater so that she can see my smooth stomach. I blink when she gasps, then lower my head to see what's upset her.
There is a silver hand-print glowing on my abdomen. The first thought that crosses my mind is, [I]Well, that's interesting. That wasn't there ten minutes ago.[/I]
My second thought is a lot less calm. Because, it is in that instant that it suddenly sinks in. I was shot.
[I]Oh my God! I was shot![/I]
I feel my knees weaken, and I sink to the floor, my heart in the my throat, my palms suddenly sweaty.
"I was shot," I say. I can hear my voice as though from a great distance and it sounds extraordinarily normal.
Isabel, however, doesn't seem to think so, because she drops to the floor beside me and places her hands on my shoulders. "Liz, it's all right. You're all right."
I meet her eyes, force myself to take deep breaths. I have never before hyperventilated, but I think I was on the verge there for a minute. "I [I]am[/I] all right," I finally manage to say. "But, oh my God. Isabel!"
"I know," she says quietly. Our eyes meet and I can tell that she is searching my face for something. It makes me curious, but also a little afraid, like I am taking a test for which I am fully unprepared.
She doesn't say anything for a long time, but she finally pulls back and climbs to her feet, reaching down to help me to mine. We then both collapse on the bed.
"Isabel, how did you know to look at my stomach?" I ask after another long moment of silence.
"I just wanted to see if there was any evidence," she says.
"Evidence of what?" I am getting confused now. While I can still feel that Isabel is not here to threaten me, she is certainly not making me comfortable right now.
"If there was no evidence that Max healed you, I was going to make you think it was all a dream," Isabel replies matter-of-factly, as though this is somehow a normal thing to say.
"What?"
"He's never left a mark before," Isabel shrugs. "But he's also never healed anything so big. I had a feeling that it might have been different this time. I was hoping." She trails off, sounding disappointed.
"I didn't mean about the mark," I tell her. "I mean about the "making me think it was a dream" part."
"Oh," Isabel says. "I can do that. Go into people's dreams. I can fiddle with your mind enough to make you think it didn't really happen."
I feel the instant urge to get away from this girl. She still doesn't sound threatening, but the casual way she reveals the fact that she must be an alien too freaks me out a little bit. I stand up, move across the room. I pretend that I'm just going to the sink to get a drink of water, but I feel Isabel's eyes following me, know that she's not fooled.
"Liz, we need to talk about this."
I turn around, face her. "Isabel, I won't tell anyone. I swear."
"That's what Max said," Isabel replies. She pauses, then continues, "Liz, I don't want to beat around the bush here. It's obviously too late for that."
"Fine," I reply. "I want to be straight with you, too."
"You must know how my brother feels about you," Isabel says, so bluntly, it makes me blink. I didn't expect her to be quite so candid. "In fact, I know you do. He told me as much."
"I know." My voice is barely above a whisper. I'm not sure what she wants me to say, or what any of this has to do with the fact that Max and Isabel are aliens, my knowledge of which seems to be Isabel's greatest concern - understandably.
I examine Isabel's eyes uncertainly, trying to gauge exactly what she is thinking. She meets my gaze steadily, again as though she is trying to see right into my head. Based on what she just revealed she can do, I'm now not entirely sure that she's not doing exactly that. "Are you reading my mind?" I demand, before thinking.
"We can't read minds," Isabel tells me, sounding unconcerned. "It would be helpful," she adds, smiling slightly. I blink when I realize that she's trying to cut the tension by making a little joke. "Listen, Liz. I'm not trying to upset you or anything. I understand you've been through a lot. But I need to know.What exactly are you planning to do about Max?"
"Why?" I ask, really unclear as to why she needs to know this.
"If Max thinks you're trustworthy, I have to believe him," Isabel says.
I feel my heart warming at the thought of Max being so absolutely certain about me. He is right. There is no way I will ever betray him. He saved my life after all, plus he's [I]Max.[/I] I know he is the farthest thing for dangerous there is. I will never be scared of him.
"It's too late to take it back now, although I was ready to kill him when he first told me what happened," Isabel continues. "But, the point is, he connected with you. I didn't. I have to take his word for it. So, I'm willing to trust you with our secret."
The way she finishes, I can tell that there is a very big "but" attached to what she has just said. I wait, not saying anything.
"I want you to tell you two things, Liz. One, Max's heart is a very fragile thing, and I will not allow him to be hurt. So, if you don't feel the same way about him, then you're going to tell him right away, and then you're going to stay away from him, so that he can get over it."
Well, it's ultimatum time apparently. Which is so [I]not[/I] helpful, being as I think I know how I feel, but I don't really have any idea what I want to do about it. If I don't do something about it now, though, I have the feeling that Isabel is going to make sure that I never get within two feet of her brother again.
So much for just staying friends.
But I'm really not that scared of Isabel. I appreciate that she's just watching out for Max. But, in the end, whatever happens between us is up to Max and me. I'm not going to let Isabel interfere and I have a feeling that Max won't allow it either.
"And, two?" I say, not acknowledging her threat at all.
Isabel seems mildly impressed by this, but doesn't comment. Instead, she surprises me by saying, "I want to tell Alex myself."
I stare at her. "You're going to tell him?"
"I don't think I have much choice," Isabel sighs. "He's going to want to know why Max was so upset, and he's nothing if not persistent." She pauses, then adds almost shyly, "Plus, I think I want him to know."
"So, Max [I]is[/I] upset, huh?" This is not news. I knew he was. I mean, I saw his face when I left him standing on that street corner. It's really amazing to me that six months ago, I could barely read him, even after four years of sitting beside him in lab. But, now, after the connection, I feel like he has practically become an open book. Even during the short time we talked in the park, I could see the difference.
"Of course," Isabel snaps, sounding annoyed now. "You ran out on him, Liz. He revealed his two deepest, darkest secrets to you in one fell swoop, and you took off."
"I." I swallow around the lump in my throat. I didn't mean to hurt him by doing that. I really didn't. But I needed space to try and figure out what all of this means. Which, of course, I haven't done. "Do you think I should go see him?"
"Do you want to?" Isabel demands.
"Yes," I say, surprising myself at how certain I sound. I realize that I feel that same certainty too though. I do want to see Max. Maybe I know now that I need to talk to him to figure out exactly what I'm going to do. "Where is he?"
"He's with Alex. They're at the party." It seems that my surprise at this announcement has appeared on my face, because Isabel continues, "We have to be completely normal, Liz. Going to a party is normal."
"Okay," I say. I stand up, head over to my dresser, and pick up a hairbrush. "Just give me a second. I don't want to look as freaked out as I feel. Because that wouldn't be [I]normal.[/I]" I don't mean to sound sarcastic when I say this last bit, but I know I do. I flinch slightly, when I meet Isabel's eyes in the mirror.
"Don't you think 'normal' is boring?" Isabel asks quietly. "Isn't that what all this," she waves her hand in the air - for some reason I understand she means New York when she does this - "is about?"
"That's true," I acknowledge. I run the brush through my hair, wonder if I can confide in Max's sister. After all, she's loyal to him first. She's already given me an ultimatum about hurting him. If I admit my whacko feelings, she may just kill me. I mean she's already admitted she can get into my dreams somehow. Isn't it true that if you die in your dreams you die in real life? Somehow I know she [I]could[/I] do it. And, yet, I'm not scared of her. The entire student body of West Roswell High would be amazed to hear it, but I am not afraid of Isabel Evans.
I decide that if I'm not scared, it should be safe to at least tell her a little bit of what I feel. Because it doesn't all have to do with Max, after all. "I guess.I guess I never realized that normal was safe. I've always been safe. Even this," I wave my hand in the air, in an imitation of Isabel's recent gesture, "isn't dangerous, you know. I knew my parents would freak, but I also knew that they'd support me in the end. It wasn't that big a rebellion, after all." I feel my face warming up with embarrassment. "It all just seems kind of juvenile, now that I know what you and Max have been dealing with for years."
"I would give anything to be normal," Isabel whispers. "For what you did to be the strangest thing about me."
I turn and nod, because it was exactly what I had felt from Max in the connection. "I know." And I understand that what Isabel is really saying is that she would do anything to feel safe. She would do anything to be able to feel as secure as I have over the past eighteen years. I have been so safe that I could do things like completely change my college plans at the last minute. I could do it and know that, in the end, if I changed my mind back, it would be all right. I could do all of this, and feel like I was daring, but know, deep down, that what I was doing was really just "normal" for someone my age.
Isabel has never had that luxury. And neither has Max. Which only makes what he did for me that much more extraordinary. I cannot screw this up. I [I]will[/I] not screw this up. Because, if I do, I will not get another chance. Somehow I know this, and it doesn't matter if I'm not ready for it. It is here, and I have to leave normal behind once and for all, and I have to go for it. Because, if I don't, I am going to regret it for the rest of my life.
***
The party is being held in the big common room on the second floor. I begin to feel the pounding rhythm of the music while Isabel and I are still in the elevator.
We haven't really said anything to each other since we left my room, but it isn't an uncomfortable silence. For some reason, I really think she trusts me, and it's not just because of what Max saw in the connection we made (which is beginning to make me wonder a bit actually. He told me earlier that he didn't see anything, which, it is now clear, was a total lie). I think, actually, based on what she has said, that it is because I'm friends with Alex. She clearly trusts Alex - which just shows her good judgment - and if he trusts me, I think it's good enough for her. Not only that, but Max and I have now given her the opening she has been waiting for - the excuse to tell Alex the truth.
I wonder briefly how long Isabel has been lonely. Because, when she revealed that tiny little piece of herself to me upstairs - when she admitted that she just wanted to be normal - it was clear that it was the first time she had ever told anyone that. It is slightly strange to think that someone like Isabel Evans, who has always been the most popular person I know, can feel alone. I guess it's why she really isn't that mad at Max, for what happened, after all. I think she's been waiting a long time to be able to open up to someone. And, for reasons clear only to herself, she has chosen Alex. I wonder how long she has been interested in him. We've only been here just over a month. It seems kind of sudden, even though I know that she couldn't pick a better person to trust. It makes me wonder if she has quietly harbored feelings for my best friend for a long time. It is odd to think about all these secret crushes possibly having existed over the years. And it has taken getting us out of Roswell to make us do anything about it.
I've always considered Roswellians to be the epitome of boring and normal. I am being proven wrong constantly today. Because, it is becoming ever more clear, that we are so [I]not[/I] normal. In fact, we are all very weird indeed. And I'm not just talking about the fact that some of us are aliens.
Isabel and I are now standing in the doorway to the common room. The air is thick with haze from the DJ's smoke machine. I'm impressed. The R.A.s have obviously gone all out. The crowd is huge and the dance floor is packed. Everyone is clearly having a great time.
I scan the crowd, looking for Max and Alex. Unfortunately, in spite of their height, or maybe because of my lack of the same, I can't see them anywhere. I look at Isabel, who is taller, and should be able to see across the masses, but she seems as perplexed as I do. She looks down at me, mouths, "I'll go that way." I nod, and start threading my way through the crowd in the opposite direction.
You know what the problem is with dorm parties? Everyone you know from your dorm happens to be at them. Including your ex-boyfriends.okay, well he wasn't really my boyfriend, but he was close enough. Because, who should I happen to run into first? The last person I want to see, of course.
Yes, it's Sean, and, even more annoyingly, as I look to both sides of him, he seems to be alone. Isn't he supposed to have a girlfriend here or something? Because, if she was here, I would have an excuse to ignore him, as I've been doing for the last week.
But, no, he's by himself, nursing a drink, and, even though I try to duck out of sight behind a really tall guy, he sees me and starts to head in my direction.
"Hey," he says, when he reaches me. He sounds downtrodden (in spite of the fact that he has to yell to be heard over the music). "Where've you been all week?"
"Oh, busy," I say non-committally. I am still pretty much ignoring him, searching the crowd for Max, which I am aware is the height of rudeness, but I am sure that you can understand that I don't particularly care at the moment. "I've got to go, Sean. See you around."
I start to walk away, but he grabs me by the elbow. "Liz, what's wrong with you?" Sean demands, as I shake him off.
"What do you mean what's wrong with me?" I snap. And, since I can tell he really has no idea - is he dense? - I tell him. "Where's Hannah?"
He blinks. "Hannah?" He looks around. "Oh, she's here somewhere." Good Lord! He actually admits it! With no shame at all.
"Shouldn't you be with her?" I demand, wondering if he is truly as clueless as he appears to be.
"No," he shrugs. "We agreed we'd meet up after." He pauses, then leans his head close to my ear. "She really wants to meet you."
I pull away. "Excuse me?" I am flabbergasted. Are they both insane?
It is then that a dawning look of comprehension begins to cross Sean's face. "Wait a minute! You don't think that there's anything going on between me and Hannah?"
I stare at him for a long moment, then say, "I don't really care, Sean. It's not like we were exclusive or anything."
"Liz, I want us to be," Sean says, actually sounding a little pleading. He, in fact, sounds so unlike himself, it makes me suspicious.
"Since when?" I realize abruptly that he isn't even looking at me anymore. He's staring over my head, quite clearly at someone else. I assume it's Hannah, and since I can't help my own curiosity, I turn and follow his gaze. Much to my amazement he's not looking at a stranger at all. He is, oddly, staring at Max.
Max! My heart leaps with anticipation. Rudely, I leave Sean standing there without another word, because I am not going to lose Max in this crowd. He isn't standing in one place, but seems to be walking towards the exit. If I don't hurry, he's going to be gone, although I'm sure I'll be able to find him in his room, so it's not that big a deal. But, for some reason, I feel like it is. I feel like, if he leaves the party, I will lose my only chance to make things right between us - whatever that entails.
Fortunately, my luck changes at that moment, because I see Isabel stop him. She is gesturing with her hands and glancing down. I stop for a moment, wondering what she is suddenly so annoyed about, because I can tell she is. I watch, frowning slightly, as Max shakes his head. For a moment I think he is disagreeing with his sister about something, but the movement isn't quite like that. Strangely, he actually looks like he is trying to wake himself up.
I have started to push my way through the crowd again, and I am very close to the Evans siblings now, but I still can't hear a word they're saying. Isabel is talking in a very animated fashion, although, oddly, she doesn't seem to be speaking to Max anymore. Or, if she is, he is ignoring her completely. Max is now glancing around the room, and I know that he is looking for me - that it is only a matter of time until his gaze settles on me - but it still makes my entire body heat up. My heart starts to pound extraordinarily fast and the entire room seems to be almost [I]pulsing, [/I]when I feel his eyes come to rest upon me. I know it's weird, but that's what it feels like.
Well, this is it. I still have absolutely no idea what I'm going to say to him. It was so easy to talk to him earlier, before it happened. Actually, it was still pretty easy to talk to him right [I]after[/I] it happened, but, now, in spite of the fact that I have actually seen inside him, he is more mysterious now than he ever was before. He is now different in my eyes.
Or maybe he's not different at all. Maybe it's me that's changed. My eyes have been opened.
As Max starts to make his way toward me, through the crowd, I realize that he and Isabel were not alone over there. Because Tess is abruptly revealed when Max moves. She is watching him come towards me, a slightly glum expression on her pretty face. I wonder if that's why Isabel was so upset - that Max was apparently about to leave the party with Tess. It amazes me that I had totally forgotten about Tess, when, not two hours ago, I had barely spoken two words to Max since September that had not somehow included her. I feel a rush of relief that he has ignored me completely about her over the past month. Because, whoa, would [I]that[/I] have been a mistake.
I mean, it wouldn't have been fair to Tess, would it? Not when he is looking at [I]me[/I] like he is at the moment, in a way that makes me want to melt into a puddle right here on the dance floor. How could I have ever believed him when he said that he didn't come here because of me? And how lucky am I that he did?
After what feels like forever, (you know I've never been one of those people who understood the weird way people move in slow motion on TV when something momentous is happening, but I'm telling you, I understand it now. Because, I swear, for a moment it feels like Max is [I]never[/I] going to be close enough to talk to) he is finally standing in front of me.
I search my mind for something brilliant and meaningful to say. I come up with nothing, so I settle for, "Hi."
"Hi," Max says back. You know, I have to wonder how I ever thought this guy was shy. He doesn't seem at [I]all[/I] shy at the moment. In fact, he is obviously just a really good actor. Because he has to have been hiding the way he is looking at me. I mean, there is no way I would not have noticed. "I'm glad you came," he continues. He is practically yelling into my ear, over the pounding music, and the screaming crowd, but, for some reason, it feels like we are totally alone. His breath on my neck sends a shiver down my spine.
Okay, did I ever say I wasn't ready for this? I was clearly whacko at the time.
"Max." I begin. Begin being the operative word, because what exactly am I going to say? Take me, I'm yours, seems a bit extreme, even in the present circumstances. Besides, I don't want to scare him off.
"Don't say anything," he tells me firmly. "I know you need time. I don't want you to say anything. I just want to be glad that you're here."
I meet his eyes. "I don't think I'm going to say anything you're not going to want to hear," I reply.
He smiles slightly. "I'm glad. But, Liz, it can wait. For the moment, there's only one thing I want."
"What?" I ask, a little uncertain. I am beginning to feel relieved that he isn't expecting me to bare my entire soul to him right at this instant. I wonder what exactly it was that he saw inside me when we connected earlier, because he seems to understand exactly what I am feeling.
"I want to dance with you," he replies simply. It is only then that I become aware that the pounding bass has settled into a slow song. I don't recognize it, but I know that I will be downloading it on my computer later tonight. I never want to forget exactly how I feel at this moment.
"Okay," is all I say in return.
So, we do. And, as his arms come around me, and I lay my head on his chest, breathing his closeness in, in that moment, I feel completely safe and [I]happy[/I]. And, somehow, I know that he feels exactly the same way.
Talking is over-rated anyhow.
Because, this boy saved my life two hours ago, and he loves me, I think I may love him, and, for now, it is all that matters. To both of us.