Chapter Five
Maverick
While most people my age were spending their Saturdays going to the movies or lazing around the house, I spent mine at work. But I didn’t mind it. Work paid off, and the more prepared I was for my future, the better.
That didn’t mean I didn’t have fun while there, though.
I worked with a guy named Garrett—who was several years older than me—and we joked all the time. He’d worked at Brew Emporium for almost two years, so when I first started there, he’d been the one to train me. Over the summer, we’d become friends.
It wasn’t hard for me to make friends. I talked to anyone and everyone, excluding asswipes who thought they were better than everyone else.
“How’re things with Chris?” Garrett asked as he refilled the ice for the Frappuccino machine.
“To be honest, I’m not sure.” I checked the pastries in the glass case, and made a mental note of ones I needed to refill. The banana nut muffins were going quick that day. “I haven’t talked to him much, and when I do, he barely says anything before having to get off the phone.”
I tried to hide how much that hurt me. My conversation with Chris days ago flashed through my mind, and the ache in my chest returned. I rubbed at it, even though I knew there was no dulling the sting.
“He could just be crazy busy,” Garrett suggested in a sympathetic tone. His wavy, blond hair fell into his eyes and he flicked his head to move it aside. “I’ve heard those New York colleges are damn competitive.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “How’s college going for you?”
He attended the local college and lived on campus, so his commute to work wasn’t bad at all. As he talked about his studies, I listened, grateful for the topic shift.
Garrett was a psychology major with a minor in criminal justice. It was awesome when he talked about his psych class, and even though that wasn’t something I wanted to pursue, I enjoyed learning about it.
The human brain was fascinating, as was behavior and the consciousness behind it.
His story about some shock experiment he just learned in class was interrupted when a group of girls neared the counter.
I took their order—all non-fat, iced coffees—and I tried not to feel so uncomfortable by how one of them checked me out. It wasn’t that I was a prude or anything. I just didn’t like being looked at like a piece of meat.
Garrett, however, didn’t seem to mind. He flashed the girl a flirty smile and used his tongue to move his bottom lip ring—an act that I found incredibly sexy too. I went to fix their drinks as he took my place at the counter and tried to sweet talk them into buying some pastries to go with their coffee.
One of them caved, but the others said no, and then he cashed them out. He leaned on the countertop and watched them walk away.
“You should ask one of them out,” I said.
“Nah.” He shook his head before facing me and crossing his arms. “It’s fun to flirt, but that’s it. They’re too young for me. I go for older.”
“Well, my grandma isn’t seeing anyone right—”
Garrett shoved me and laughed. “Dude. Sick. Not that old.”
“What?” I asked in mock surprise. “She’s a young seventy-two.”
“You’re demented,” he said, crinkling his nose.
Seeing that the coffee was running low, I walked over and started brewing another pot. We had a lot of flavors for specialty lattes—vanilla, hazelnut, caramel, and then seasonal ones like the famous pumpkin spice and peppermint mochas—but a lot of people preferred our house blend and just added some cream and sugar to it.
“So,” I said, going back over to Garrett and leaning against the counter. “You like older, huh? What… do you have, like, a sugar momma or something?” I’d asked the question as a joke, not expecting a serious answer.
But he gave me one.
“Actually, he’s a sugar daddy,” Garrett answered with a shrug. At my surprised gape, he smirked. “What? Don’t judge me.”
“No judgment from me,” I said. “But are you serious, or are you just screwing with me?”
From what I knew about him, he’d always expressed interest in girls. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be bi, though.
“Well, he’s not exactly a sugar daddy,” he admitted with a smile—one that edged on shy, which totally didn’t fit his usual, in-your-face personality. His light brown eyes lit up. “But yeah, he’s older than me, and we hook up on a regular basis. Not exactly in a relationship or anything. Just a casual fling, ya know?”
I’d never had flings, so I didn’t know. Chris was the only guy I’d ever been with. But I nodded anyway. As my confusion remained, his eyes widened a fraction, as if he just now understood my surprise.
“Oh, you mean the ‘me liking guys’ thing,” he said before showing off the dimple in his cheek. “I consider myself pansexual.”
“Huh?” I asked, not really knowing what that was supposed to mean.
Garrett crossed his arms—drawing my attention to his toned biceps—and peered at me, still with amusement on his face. But then he grew serious as he started explaining. “Being pan means that I find love in all forms. Not just cisgendered male and females, but trans and gender fluid people too. It gets confused with bisexual a lot, but it’s deeper than that. I don’t fall for the person on the outside. I fall for the soul.”
Wow. I’d had no idea. And I told him so.
“You don’t have to go around shouting your sexuality from the rooftops, Mav,” he said, giving me a thoughtful expression. “Straight people don’t have to do it. Why should we?”
My face heated and the back of my neck tingled. He made a good point, and I felt kind of dumb for assuming.
Garrett and I had to close that night, so I didn’t clock out until after eleven thirty. I wasn’t tired, though, and I knew I’d probably stay up for a few more hours once I got home, reading Marvel comic books or watching a movie or two.
“See ya on Monday,” I said to Garrett before walking outside to my car.
August was almost over, and summer was at an all-time high. For a while, it’d been a cooler summer than our average, but the air was warmer that night, and I loved it. I liked all the seasons and didn’t prefer one over the other. Without winter, there wouldn’t be spring to bring in the warmer weather, and without fall, there wouldn’t be a winter. They all flowed into each other.
It was my motto for everything in life. You couldn’t have the good without the bad.
It’s the hard times in life that made us appreciate the good ones. All about that cosmic balance. Evil and good, sweet and sour, cat lovers and dog lovers. It’s what made the world go round.
I got into my car and pulled out of the parking lot.
Brew Emporium was located on a strip of stores right beside the harbor, and the dark water could be seen glistening through the windows in the back of the store. There was a small dock at the back too where people could sit outside if they wanted. The parking lot was to the side of the building.
As I drove down the main strip, I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of whatever song was on the radio. The volume was too low for me to hear much of the vocals, but the drums and bass sounded through the speakers enough. And I was too lazy to turn it up.
I liked quiet drives anyway, especially when I was in my head.
I lived about ten minutes from work, and fortunately, I just had to follow the main road to get there. But true to that whole cosmic balance stuff, my trip proved to be more difficult that night.
As I was driving, I came to a road block sign and stopped about fifteen feet back. Flashing lights penetrated the dark, and I peered through my windshield, trying to see what was going on. That’s when an officer approached, and I rolled down my window.
It was too dark to make out most of his features, but from what I saw, he looked to be in his late thirties with a short beard.
“Good evening, officer,” I greeted, even though it was closer to morning. At my window, he scrutinized me a bit, and I knew he was probably wondering why I was out so late. With it being Saturday night, a teenager out on the roads usually meant they were either going to a party or coming back from one. “I just got off work. What’s going on?”
Seeming pleased with my answer, he relaxed some. “A nasty accident, I’m afraid,” he answered. “The road will be closed for a while. You might want to find a side road to get around it.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to picture the surrounding roads and where they led. I took the same way so many times that I wasn’t as familiar with different routes, but I’d lived there my whole life, so I knew a few back roads. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he said.
I backed up and turned the car around before driving away—slowly at first as I decided where to go. My neighborhood was kind of in the middle of everything, but it was sectioned off in a way. Several roads could lead to it, though.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember the times I’d gone the back way home. There were some roads that would take longer, so I mentally drove them in my head, choosing the quickest one.
Boulder Street would work, and I could get to it once I passed the railroad tracks, so I headed that way. The tracks—and the three way stop following it—was only like seven minutes away, so it wouldn’t delay me too much.
Since it felt so great outside, I kept my window rolled down, and the breeze ruffled the short strands of my light brown hair.
Chris popped into my head. More so, the lack of talking to him. I’d called him earlier that day and got his voicemail. He then sent me a text, saying he was busy and couldn’t talk.
I understood being busy, but it felt like he wasn’t even trying to make time for me anymore. Just like I’d feared on the day he’d left, the distance between us was not only physical.
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t been paying attention to how fast I was going until I hit the raised railroad tracks and heard a god awful popping sound. The car swerved to the right, and a tree came into my line of vision.
Dammit!
I turned the wheel in the other direction as fast as I could and managed to miss the tree by a few feet before I slammed on the brakes. At the sudden stop, my head smacked against the steering wheel before flinging back again to the seat.
Holy crap. My pulse raced with adrenaline, my body shook, and a pain in the side of my head had me squinting.
“Hey! Are you okay?” a voice shouted, drawing closer.
Disoriented for a moment, I just sat there, trying to make sense of what just happened.
Then, someone was at my window.
“Hey, man. You good?”
A bit sluggishly, I turned and came face-to-face with the last person I expected to see.
“Avery?” I asked, not sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me.
“Shit, Maverick,” he said as realization lit his face as well. “You hit those tracks way too fast. I think you popped a tire.”
“Probably,” I said with a slightly pained chuckle. “I’ve needed new tires for a while ‘cause they were starting to bald. Guess that’s what I get for procrastinating with it.”
I opened the door, and he backed up to let me out of the car.
I noticed he stayed close by, and I wondered if it was so he could try to catch me if I toppled over. Which was endearing if it was true because the guy barely reached the middle of my neck, and I had probably forty or more pounds on him. I’d crush him.
“Take it easy, big guy,” he said, putting out his hands.
Just as I’d thought.
I smiled at him right as I started to sway, and I slapped a hand on the top of my car to steady myself. “I’m okay. I just need to walk it off.”
“Walk it off,” he repeated in a mocking tone. “Stop being such a freaking dude and sit your ass down before you fall and shake the earth.”
I quirked a brow. “Was that a fat joke?”
“No, it was a ‘you’re a big mofo and will go down like a tree’ statement,” he answered before pointing to the ground. “Sit. I need to see if your head is bleeding.”
Doing as he said, I sat on the grass and reached for my head, but he slapped my hand away. I bit back my laugh and let him do his thing. It was the most comfortable I’d ever seen him, lacking all of the shyness and leeriness.
Avery leaned forward and studied my head, gently moving his long, pale fingers through my hair. “Good news is it looks like a small cut. It bled a little, but it doesn’t look too bad.”
His fingers pressed a little around the area. He said something, but I didn’t catch it.
“Huh?”
I’d been too focused on the pounding of my heart against my ribcage and the feel of his hands on me.
“Does this hurt?” he asked again, probing a bit more.
“Not really,” I half-lied as he touched a tender spot. His unamused gaze told me he didn’t believe me. “Okay just a little. But I’ll live.”
“Let me see your phone.” I did as he requested, and he moved in front of me, looking intently into my eyes. He clicked the light on, and asked, “Where do you go to school?”
I was about to scoff at a question he obviously knew the answer to, but then I realized what he was doing: checking the dilation of my pupils and asking me general questions I should know but might have trouble answering if I had any kind of concussion.
“Port Haven High,” I answered, focusing on him. The light from my phone lit the side of his face, and I watched the way his features changed as he examined me.
“Your last name?”
“Blake,” I answered.
“Well, your pupils are dilating correctly,” he stated before clicking off my phone and handing it back to me. “If you want, you can go to the ER just to make sure, but I think you’re okay. I’m not an expert, though.”
“Thank you,” I said, which instantly made him downcast his eyes, and signs of the Avery I was more familiar with surfaced. He put more distance between us too. “How did you know about concussions? I only know because my dad is a doctor.”
“I’ve been checked for them before and remembered how it was done.”
I wanted to ask what’d happened to him that would’ve resulted in a concussion, but something stopped me.
“Cool.” Then it hit me that he’d been hanging out at the train tracks alone. At night. “Why are you out here anyway?”
Not going to lie. It was kind of creepy.
“Devil worshipping,” he answered in such a casual way that I almost believed him. But then I saw the small curve of his lips and knew he was full of it. “When I’m not doing that, though, I just love to sit out here when I can’t sleep. I love trains, and it’s peaceful here.”
I surveyed the area, seeing all the trees and overall creepiness of the place at night. Peaceful was pretty much the last word I’d use to describe it.
“So, you like trains?” I asked, finding that kind of cool. I debated on standing, but I was still shaky from the near accident, and sitting was probably best for the time being. “When I was little, I used to watch those old westerns, and the train robbers were always so damn awesome. Not that stealing is good or anything, but I’d wear a bandanna over my face and run around the yard on one of those stick horses.”
Avery laughed and moved from in front of me to sit beside me on the grass. “Why is it so easy to picture that?”
I shrugged, liking the sound of his laugh. I’d never heard it before. He was like a completely different person when he was away from everyone.
“Probably why it’s easy for me to picture you hanging out in the middle of nowhere at night by yourself,” I said, trying to hide my smile. Because now that I really thought about it, Avery’s emo appearance made sense when combined with the late-night roaming in the dark. “With you being a vampire and all.”
I knew better than anyone that stereotypes were bullshit, and that a person couldn’t be defined by their appearance, but it was fun to play around with him about it. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my teasing.
He surprised me.
With a gasp, he clutched his chest. “What am I going to do? You’ve discovered my secret. Looks like I’ll either need to kill you or turn you into one of the undead.” He dropped his hand and angled his head at me, looking up at me through his dark lashes. “The choice is yours, big guy.”
I forgot how to breathe. Even though it was dark, the moon above us gave off enough light for me to see, and my eyes had adjusted more. The sex appeal oozing from him right then was out of this world—the set of his eyes and the intense gaze showing through them, the slight curving of his lips.
You have a boyfriend, I told myself. And that thought turned off the raging hormones—for the most part.
“Are you going to audition for the musical?” I asked, after finding my freaking voice again.
Avery laughed. “Hell no. I can’t sing. Unless you call the sounds of a dying walrus singing.”
It was my turn to laugh, and it felt great. And why he used a walrus as a comparison was beyond me.
“Are you?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe,” I answered, and nerves bubbled in my stomach at the thought. I’d been in plays before and I’d done sports ever since I could walk, so performing in front of an audience wasn’t anything new. However, singing in front of them? I’d only ever sung in my car or in the shower. “Honestly, I’m freaking out a little. I’m not, like, a pro at singing or anything, but I like it.”
“What are you afraid of?”
I studied Avery—the black liner around his eyes, and the way his hair swooped in his face in that emo style. He seemed like the kind of guy who knew who he was and didn’t let other people’s opinions affect him. Gradually, I was learning that lesson too, but I still had a ways to go.
“Failure?” I answered, aware that it sounded more like a question. “I don’t know. Perhaps rejection.”
He was silent a moment as he stared at his hands. Even in the faint light, I saw the furrow of his brow as he contemplated something.
“Have you ever let that fear stop you before?” he said in a soft voice, meeting my stare again. “The fear of failing or being rejected.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I stayed quiet.
“When you try out for the football or baseball teams, there’s always that chance they could pick someone else, right?” he continued, sounding more confident. I nodded. “I think this is the same thing. There once was a time when you’d never been quarterback—or whatever position you play—but you tried anyway to see what would happen. This isn’t any different. Trying something for the first time is always kinda scary, but you have to just have faith in yourself and do it anyway.”
There was so much more to him than I’d once thought.
“Thanks, man,” I said, not understanding the weird way my stomach flipped. It was different than the nerves from before. This was stronger and way more foreign. “Theater isn’t something I’m gonna pursue after graduation, but it’s something I enjoy. Like a fun hobby.”
Avery smiled. “So… what song are you gonna audition with?”
For the audition, we got to choose any song we wanted. It didn’t have to be from the musical we were doing either. So Bruno Mars, Celine Dion, a song from the movie Frozen, some heavy metal song, or another musical; it didn’t matter, and they were all allowed.
“Okay… don’t laugh,” I started, already feeling my cheeks heat. “But I really like musicals and have watched them with my mom ever since I could remember. One of my favorites is Les Miserables, and I’m thinking of singing “Stars.” If I can grow a pair and actually do it.”
His eyebrows shot up and his mouth popped open in a small O. “I would’ve never guessed that.”
I shrugged. “Appearances can be deceiving. Most people look at me and see a dumb jock with a nice ass, but if they’d only look deeper, they’d see a guy who loves sports, musical theater, and science. Someone who reads comic books and science magazines in his spare time.”
The answering stare I got for that response put me back into that spell from earlier. The way Avery looked at me made me feel like he truly saw me. My breath hitched in my throat, my heart pounded faster, and my mouth felt dry.
“Uh, I should look at my car,” I said before clearing my throat and trying to stand. I wobbled a little, but I was able to stay on my feet.
Avery stood as well and walked at my side. He was quiet, and so was I.
After making it to my car, I circled it once to see if there was any damage to the body. Everything looked fine, apart from the popped tire at the front.
I squatted and checked it out.
“I need to change it,” I said, bracing myself on the car before standing up. Other than the jittery nerves and the occasional jab of pain in my head, I felt okay. I hadn’t hit it hard enough to do any damage. “I have a spare tire in the trunk.”
It might be a bit embarrassing—okay, a lot embarrassing—but I’d never actually changed a tire before. So I went to the trunk, popped it open, and got the spare from the compartment it was nestled in. The tools were back there as well: the jack to lift the car, and the other thing that helped get the screws out of the rim. Whatever the heck it was called.
I walked back to the bad tire and squatted again. As a few seconds passed and were nearing on probably minutes, I fumbled with the jack.
“Here, let me help,” Avery said, appearing beside me and covering my hand with his. Once again, I noticed his slender fingers. I’d never called hands pretty before, but he really did have pretty hands. He took the jack from me and grabbed the other tool. “I’ve changed more tires than I can count.”
***
In bed, I tossed and turned, not able to get comfortable. Too much was on my mind, and I felt restless.
With Avery’s help, I was able to get my tire changed. Well, more like he did it all and I just helped him when he asked me to do something. Not feeling right with leaving him out there by himself, I’d insisted on driving him home. It’d been past curfew, and for those of us under eighteen, we could’ve gotten in trouble for being out that late.
His neighborhood was one I knew of, and not because of good things either. It was known as the bad neighborhood where the druggies and people of that sort lived. The streets beyond the railroad were all like that, really. The poor side of town.
As we pulled up to his house, Avery had looked ashamed, and my heart ached for him. Maybe he thought I’d judge him for living there.
“Thanks for all the help,” I’d said, drawing his eyes back to me. My car wasn’t huge, so we weren’t too far apart. “Not sure what I would’ve done if I’d been alone out there.”
A smile touched his lips—briefly—before fading. “No problem. Thanks for the ride home.” He grabbed the handle and opened the door before sliding out of the seat.
“See you at school Monday,” I had said before he closed the door.
He halted a moment, and nodded. “Yeah. See ya.”
I’d watched him jog up the three steps to his door, and I didn’t drive off until he’d made it inside.
And now I felt like I was still there with him in a way—stuck in a moment of time.
At the tracks we hadn’t talked a whole lot, but the little we had, I’d seen a different side to him. One that told me he wasn’t as standoffish as he seemed to be at school. He’d joked easily, taken my playful taunts and reciprocated some of his own. I’d also confided in him about myself, things that most of my so-called friends didn’t care about.
Maybe we could eventually be friends.
My parents had been asleep when I’d gotten home, and I saw no need to tell them about the near accident. I’d need to go to the car shop to get a new tire since the spare was only temporary. If they asked what happened, I’d tell them a short version of the story, leaving out the details of me accidentally being a speed demon.
Buzzing sounded, and I opened my eyes to see my phone light up. A text.
Chris: Hey, babe. Just wanted to say goodnight.
Guilt consumed me at seeing his message. Even though I hadn’t cheated on him, just the fact that I found another guy attractive was enough for me to feel bad, as if I’d betrayed him in some way.
Me: Hey! I’m still awake if u wanna talk. I miss u.
Chris: Nah, I need 2 get 2 sleep. Early morning. Maybe some other time.
It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t say he missed me too. But hey, at least he texted me goodnight first, right?
Me: Ok. Sleep well. I love u.
He didn’t respond, so I set my phone on the nightstand and punched my pillow a little to fluff it.
It wasn’t until I was nearly asleep that it occurred to me: Chris didn’t have class or rehearsals for any plays on Sundays. So what was he doing?