CHAPTER FIVE
MILO
Escaping Colton for the rest of the night was not an option. My parents were big believers in doing everything in the evening together—and I do mean everything. So when I said I wanted to go to bed early rather than watch a movie with everyone, the response was yelling until I finally consented to watch half the movie.
Jason was making popcorn in the kitchen—shirtless. That was how he did everything. It used to irritate me that he made food with no clothes on. Then again it wasn’t like he had crazy chest and back hair. I could have sworn he waxed but he always denied it.
I tilted my head as he shook his ass in front of the microwave and then continued dancing to the newest demented beat in his head.
Girls had always loved him.
I never saw the pull.
I mean he had the whole olive skin, light eyes thing going for him—compliments of my very Spanish grandparents—but still. To me he was just Jason.
Then again he was my brother, so understanding the whole attraction thing . . . probably a sin.
I turned and rummaged through the fridge for a soda. Really what I wanted was to drown my sorrows in something a bit stronger, but getting drunk in front of the parents all because my childhood crush kissed me and made me cry after we played Ping-Pong and a game of slap? Yeah . . . the idea just made me that much more depressed. Add in the whole “you’re like my sister” reference and yeah, let’s just say I wouldn’t be a nice drunk. That was the last thing my parents needed on wedding weekend.
“Squirt.” Colton swatted my ass with a towel and breezed by.
As. If. Nothing. Had. Happened.
I gripped the door to the fridge so hard that my knuckles turned white.
“So, what did she say?” Jason asked behind me.
“She said not a problem.”
“Told you she’d be your date.”
The soda I’d just grabbed dropped to the kitchen floor with a thud. Quickly I picked it up and closed the door, still listening.
“She’s hot,” Jason continued. “You two’ll have fun.”
“I’m sure we will,” Colton said, not sounding convincing at all.
“Date?” I interrupted, holding the can in front of my face.
“Yeah.” Colton nodded. “You know, since you have Max and all—you were supposed to be my date for the wedding, remember?”
No. I hadn’t remembered. In the heat of the moment, I’d survived. I’d made up a huge lie in order to cover up my own hurt feelings and ended up shooting myself in the ass, not that it mattered since technically Max had held the gun and pulled the trigger! I give him one job! Lie! And he goes and invites himself to the wedding! I was going to murder him.
“Right,” I said through clenched teeth.
“See?” Jason patted my back. “It all works out.”
“Yes . . . it’s all working out.” I jerked open the can of soda.
And was rewarded with it spraying all over my face and white shirt.
The guys burst out laughing.
And for the second time that night I wanted to cry.
Nothing had changed. Nothing was different. I was like some sexless friend to Colton and even if by some slim chance he did want something more, he was too much of a pansy-ass to admit it.
“Screw you guys,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Need help getting in there without falling on your face, squirt?” Colton’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Sure.” I glared at him. “You offering to help strip me or just wash me down, Colt?”
His smile fell.
Jason looked at me like I’d just told him I was into chicks.
“Right.” I nodded. “Didn’t think so. ’Night, boys.”
I walked out of the room, embarrassed, sad, agitated, and pissed.
Having Max here wouldn’t help, but at least it would take my mind off the fact that the one guy I’d crushed on since middle school had rejected me. And this time, after kissing me.
I slept like crap all night—proving my point again. All men should burn in hell. I switched between nightmares of Colton’s rejection and dreams of Max riding in to rescue me on a giant-ass aloe vera plant.
Groaning, I tossed and turned, finally falling into a deep sleep around two a.m.
“Fire!” A voice penetrated my dreams. “Fire! Wake up!”
I jolted out of my bed to see Max sitting calmly at the end. He had two Starbucks cups in hand and was sporting a pair of black skinny jeans, a blue V-neck T-shirt, and a smile that looked like it belonged on the cover of GQ.
“Hey, you’re awake.” His grin widened.
“Yeah, weird, I thought there was a fire.”
He handed me the coffee. “There is. In your pants.”
“Pardon?”
“Because you’re a liar.” He patted my leg and shook his head. “Do I even want to know how this happened? Or was it the usual?”
“Usual?” My voice was gravelly, I took a large sip of coffee—it did wonders for my mood.
“Yeah, the usual Milo freak-out where you speak before you think. Typically involves lots of cursing, yelling, sometimes a fight breaks out, and I always end up having to fix it.”
My face burned.
Max nodded. “The usual, then. Gotcha.”
“Why are you here? What time is it?”
“Five a.m.,” he answered. “Your mom’s a fox, by the way, I swear she checked my ass out twice as I walked up the stairs.”
“She did not.”
“Your dad did the same. Ten bucks says your mom asks where I got my jeans and buys him a pair—oh, and by the way, you owe me big. I finally asked out the Starbucks girl and had to cancel our date on account that my other girlfriend”—his eyes narrowed—“had an emergency.”
I winced. “Please tell me you didn’t explain it that way to her.”
“Course not. I said my asthmatic little sister had an attack and almost died screaming my name . . .”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“Little Maddie’s screams were so loud, all she wanted was her big brother Max.”
“Who’s Maddie?”
“And I can’t deny her the one thing she wants in life, the one thing that makes her go on living.” Max wiped a fake tear. “I’m a broken man, Milo, and sisters are more important than dates.”
“I’m sure she was understanding.”
Max grinned. “You could say that.”
“Gross.”
“What?” He held up his hands. “I’m a guy. Just because you labeled me your gay friend freshman year does not actually make it true.”
Okay, so I was a sheltered kid. Sue me! When I first laid eyes on Max I’d nearly swallowed my tongue. He was gorgeous and dressed like a rock star. Though he’d tried on at least four different occasions early on in our friendship to sleep with me, the rejection didn’t keep him from wanting to stay close. Each time I rejected him, it was because I was holding a Colton-size flame. Finally he gave up, and said if he couldn’t get in my pants he might as well help others do so. It wasn’t poetic, but then, that’s Max for you—blunt, to the point, inappropriate, and kind of awesome. Because of his strong metrosexual tendencies, I finally learned the art of waxing and was always invited to the best parties. Our friendship was mutually beneficial because girls saw him as loyal, when really he was loyal to only two females, his dog Homeslice and me. And when it came to dating he helped scare all the sketchy guys away.
“So . . .” Max set his coffee on the nightstand and pulled me into his arms; we lay down on the bed together. “What happened?”
I groaned.
“Milo . . .”
“He kissed me.”
Max held up his hand for a high five. I pushed it down. “What? We aren’t excited about this?”
“No, we aren’t.”
“Continue.”
“He said if he could take it back he would.”
“Son of a streetwalker . . .” He winced. “Out loud? After he kissed you, he said that?”
I nodded.
“Did you kick him in the nuts?”
I shook my head.
“Grab his balls and give a little tug?”
I shook my head again.
“Damn, my little friend. That blows. So where do I come in?”
“Well.” I rubbed Max’s arm. “I cried.”
“Shit.”
“And I didn’t want him to think I was crying over him, I mean that’s a waste of tears, right?”
Max kissed my temple. “Right.”
“So I said I was crying because I’d never cheated on anyone and then I said you and I were dating and yeah . . .”
“Not the most brilliant lie you’ve ever come up with,” Max said after a few minutes of silence.
“I blame the dehydration from the three-hour Ping-Pong tournament.”
“Badass, tell me you won.”
“Off night,” I grumbled.
“Aw, baby.” Max laughed and pulled me to a sitting position. “Don’t worry, I’ll help. Plus, I actually look like competition so it should be easy.”
“No offense, Max.” I patted his leg. “But you’re just—”
“What?”
“I mean, I don’t see you like that, so—”
Max threw his head back and laughed. “I’m a guy. I don’t care how you see me now, the way you see me over the next three days is going to change. I don’t turn it on around you—mainly because I don’t give a shit what you think.”
I laid my hand over my heart and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Such a sweetheart.”
“Shut it.” He picked up his coffee and tapped it against mine. “Jealousy is the easiest way to get someone to admit feelings. Believe me, by the end of this weekend he’s going to be begging for another kiss.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I slumped and took a huge swig of coffee like it had whis in it.
Max tilted my chin toward him. “Then he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you in the first place.”
“Truth?” My voice wavered.
“Truth.” He smiled that same blinding smile that I’m sure had made the Starbucks lady start stripping. His wide mouth and deep dimples were enough to make anyone stare. Maybe it would work—it had to work. Because if it didn’t, well, that just meant I was one of those girls, the desperate kind, who had no idea when to quit.
“Okay.”
“Now.” Max stood. “Let’s get you dressed and ready for breakfast. We’ve got a man to trap.”
I laughed. And he wonders why I pegged him as uninterested when we first met?