9. Maxwell
Maxwell
Anatomy is our mid-afternoon class. I ran from the last one to here, trying to beat everyone to make sure I was here when Clayton arrived.
He is already in class. When the doors open, sounding the silence, he looks up and our eyes reach each other’s from across the room.
Clayton looks away too quickly, trying to ignore my existence.
Walking over to him, I stand in front of his desk and look down at him. He eyes move up the length of me, slow and controlled, looking like a sad puppy with his green eyes. They look like little marbles. The square framed glasses sit low on his nose, letting me see his eyes in full.
He’s my opposite in every way.
His hair is light and short, mine dark and longer. His eyes bright and full of life, mine dark and dead. He’s muscular with large arms and a wide chest. I’m lanky with skinny arms and a narrow chest. He lets everyone see that he’s smart and a nerd. I hide behind adrenaline and cigarettes and weed.
“Hi,” I say.
“What?”
“I want to start over. Fresh from the beginning. We both put away any ideas or impressions we have of the other. Start a clean slate,” I explain.
He looks at me, an eyebrow rising.
When he doesn’t say anything, I hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Maxwell. You can call me Max, though.”
Shockingly, he slips his hand into mine, taking the bait, and shakes it with a firm grip. “Hi, Max. I’m Clayton. It’s nice to meet you.” He smirks at me, unsaid words hidden in that smile. I can’t decipher what it means and that he doesn’t share.
I point at the desk next to him. “Can I sit here?”
“Be my guest,” he motions to the seat.
I sit down, manspreading, and our knees touch beneath our desk. Both of us a bit too tall for these small school seats.
Other students finally start to shuffle in and class begins. The entire time we listen to Professor Adams give the lecture, we steal side-eyed glances when the other isn’t looking while we take notes for class. Both of us thinking the other doesn’t know that we’re looking, but we both do.
Every so often I peak over my shoulder. Mav and Dax watching us with curious looks. I didn’t tell them my plan. I probably won’t. They’re making fun of me for actually doing this, so, I won’t give them a reason to judge.
If anyone else knew I was doing this, they’d judge me too.
Pulling a piece of paper from my notebook, I write a note to him.
I watch him open the paper when I pass it to him. As he reads it, his jaw goes tight. I don’t miss the flex of muscles on his face. Clayton looks at me for a moment before he writes back.
I don’t write back because this feels like a conversation we should have verbally.
I think back to the night at the dining hall.
He seemed off. I noticed the way that his hands shook and how he didn’t even look at the alcohol.
That was something I kept to myself, not wanting him to know that I noticed.
It could just be that he isn’t in to parties, but my gut tells me it’s something much worse than that.
Class comes to an end, homework is given. Students start to pour out of the room, chaos and chatter heightened.
Leaning over to Clayton, I whisper in his ear, “why don’t you do parties?”
“Just don’t. You’re not forcing me to go to another one.”
“Alright. Let’s go to Becky’s, grab some coffee, and study?
” Becky’s is the cafe right in the heart of campus.
It’s where most of the students go just to hang out or study or go on a date if it’s crunch time.
I don’t need to study, but something to get him near me.
Can’t make the kid fall in love with me if I’m not near him.
“Okay. Yeah,” Clayton nods his head. “This is my last class for today,” he pauses, but when he speaks again he sounds more nervous. “When are you free?”
“I’ll meet you there at five,” I confirm with a wink.
“See you at five,” he says. Watching him clean up his notes and pens, he shoves them into his bag and flies out of here.
Clayton
All I have to say is… what?
Max came in today with a different demeanor to him. Hovering over me while I sat at my desk. I hadn’t know what to expect, but if you asked me if I thought I’d end my day by getting coffee and studying with him… Well, I’d call you crazy.
I was terrified to see him after Saturday night. After my world tilted on its axis. There wasn’t a single part of me that wanted him to confront me about it, but him acting like it never happened also hurts a little.
Maybe he was too drunk and he doesn’t remember it at all.
Oh, god.
The thought that he doesn’t remember kissing me at all makes me sick.
I push those negative thoughts away and be thankful for the clean slate he’s given me. Us.
Sitting at the desk in my room, I pull out my laptop and catch up on all my emails. A few assignments from professors, but the one that catches my eye is the one from the school board.
Clicking it open, I scan it over.
My mouth drops open and it grows dry from how long I leave it hanging.
The dean, Max’s father, Mr. Levine is leaving this school. He’s been here for a long long time. I think he’s worked at this University for almost ten years.
It makes me wonder if it has anything to do with a certain brunette that shares his name.
Taking that information, I tuck it away and remind myself to ask Max about it. The email said Mr. Levine wants privacy during his transfer, but what could have happened that makes someone leave their job after so long?
Was it Max’s fault? Did something happen behind closed doors?
Mr. Levine has always been respectable. A nice guy.
Pleasant around students. We’ve shared conversations over the years and even bonded over Transformer movies.
It was always light and airy between him and the students.
Showed up when needed, sat silently when expected. He was a good dean. A good man even.
Noticing the time is half way to five, I pack up my bag and head to Becky’s early. The sky is overcast, expecting rain today, that smell of fresh air when the weather is coming a telltale sign.
At Becky's, I find a table in the corner away from other people to give us some privacy. Sitting with my back to the wall, I watch the front door waiting like a kid about to go to the park, antsy and excited to see him.
Something about pretending we never knew each other makes this alluring and more fun for me.
Only here for about five minutes alone, he walks in dressed in a different outfit than he had on in class.
This afternoon he was in sweatpants and hoodie, but now he's dressed in dark wash jeans that are cuffed at the bottom, black slip on Vans, and a shirt that makes him look like he's drowning.
Across the front of his shirt it says wait, I'm goated.
His hair is pushed back with a skinny, zig-zagged plastic headband.
Max smiles when he sits down in front of me, slinging his bag from off his shoulder and putting it in the seat beside him.
“Hey,” he says casually.
“Hi,” I say, my voice almost cracking.
“How was the rest of your afternoon?”
“It was good. Got caught up on emails and marked my calendar for assignments due. Yours?”
“Took a shower. Hung out with Mav and Dax for a bit.” He opens his bag and pulls out a book and pad of paper with a case full of pens and pencils and highlighters.
I can't help but stare. He moves so gracefully all of the time and his face showing in full, I see him in a whole new light. I wish I could see his face like this more often, the waves pushed back. He's beautiful.
“You want coffee or something to eat?” He asks, breaking me from the trance he has me in.
“I can go up,” I tell him.
“No.”
One word, but it speaks volumes. I nod.
“Can I get a black coffee with two pumps of caramel? And a chicken salad with bacon, no cheese and dairy-free ranch? Please.” He smirks at me before getting up.
“Coming right up, pretty boy.”
I feel myself blush, watching him the entire way. His cheesy-player smile as he talks to the girl at the counter. His charm, how he carries himself.
Everything about him is everything I’m not.
I think of the party that one night back in my freshman year. If it hadn’t happened, I would have been different. But trauma changes you as a person.
Max talks to the girl taking his order, she’s smiling and blushing. Max smiles too, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not in the way he smiled when he sat at the table. She doesn’t notice though. The girl thinks he’s paying attention and that’s enough.
“Order for Max!” is called out and the girl looks sad for him to be taken away from her. He gives her a nod, grabs the food and comes back to the table.
“Careful. You might break that pen,” he says as he sits down. Looking down I see that I am in fact gripping the pen like it did me wrong. “What’s up? Something happen while I was over there?’
“No. No. Everything is fine.”
I hadn’t realized how much their talking affected me. I can’t let it bother me. Max is just a friend to me, if that, and as I am to him. I’m not his type.
Clayton, get it through your thick skull. He is straight.
But he kissed you.
It was a dare.
He leaned into you.
“Fuck. They put cheese on your salad.”
“What? No. It’s okay. I can have a little,” I lie.
“What happens if you do?”
“I’ll get nauseous. Might throw up. Get a headache too sometimes,” I explain.
Max gets up, grabbing the salad from in front of me. “Be back.”
I sign, watching him walk back over to the girl. Her smile is wide and bright. This time I can hear every word that comes out of Max’s mouth.
“I said no cheese and dairy-free ranch. Maybe if you were doing your job instead of flirting with me, you’d have heard me loud and clear.” His tone is sharp as he drops the salad on the counter in front of the girl.
The girl mutters something resembling an apology, register opening and she hands him money. She runs to the kitchen, leaving him behind with an impatient tapping foot.
She comes back with a new salad, apologizing again, and Max just walks away.
“Lactose free salad for you,” he says, sitting.
“You didn’t have to be so rude to her.”
“What if you had a life threatening allergy and didn’t notice? They should take restrictions more seriously,” he mutters.
I smirk. That was cute.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Let’s get started.”
“What are the layers of the adrenal gland?” I ask Max. He sits there for a moment, staring off. No thoughts behind his eyes.
It’s this look and how he sits that always made me think he wasn’t smart. He’s just better at hiding it than me.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t made out to be a nerd.
“Capsule. Zona glomerulosa. Zona fasciculata. Zona reticularis. Medulla.”
“Perfect. What cells are in the adrenal medulla?
“Chromaffin cells.”
“What part of the nervous system are they an extension of?”
“Sympathetic.”
He answers each question now, quickly and correctly. I look at him, head tilted and feeling guilty. I shake my head.
“What is it?” He asks.
“I’m sorry that I said you’d never be a nurse,” I say.
“You didn’t.”
“That first day we were-”
“I know,” he interrupts me. “We have a clean slate, pretty boy, anything you said before doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. I want you to know that I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
“Great. Thank you. Apology accepted. Next question.”
Sighing, we continue. I go through all the flash cards, quizzing him. He passes with flying colors. We switch, him asking me, and I pass too.
The chatter in the room dies down. Students leave. Employees clean. The sun sets. Time flies as we sit here, and it feels right. There is no weird tension between us. No hatred. Just two guys, studying, and nothing else.
Nothing else despite that tingling I have inside when I look at him. Despite me noticing the dimple in Max’s cheek when he smiles just right or the crows feet by his eyes. Or the way he grips his pen tighter when he’s thinking.
I notice things about him that I don’t usually notice on others.
“You hungry again?” Max asks me.
“Yeah. I could go for something,” I shrug.
“You wanna go to Timbermill?” He offers.
Oh. He wants to go somewhere. With me. Alone.
Sure, we’re alone now, but we have the safety of the campus around us. Something feels wrong about going out and somewhere else.
We went to the beach, but it was quick and embarrassing, but now we are forgetting about it with our new slate. I have more chances to embarrass myself and I feel like it’s easier to happen without a book in front of me.
As if on cue, my stomach grumbles.
“So a yes then?” Max pries.
“Ah, fuck it. Let’s go.”