Chapter Seventeen
It’s been almost twenty-four hours, and I’m still thinking about Max’s words from last night. What did he mean when he said don’t be? All he cares about is winning—and, equally importantly, beating me. Had he wanted me to look at him? I can’t understand why.
Well…that’s not entirely true.
There is one possible explanation, but the idea is so ludicrous that I must be wrong.
There’s no way Max could be interested in me.
I might have had the biggest crush on him when we were young, but he never felt the same.
I’m not sure he even paid attention to the fact I was a girl.
To him, I was just another friend to mess around with.
Mom pops her head into my room, forcing me to take out my earbuds for the fifth time this afternoon. She’s so insistent on interrupting me that I can’t even listen to my angry, angsty girl anthems in peace.
“Just heard from Melanie that she and Max are coming an hour early. And Kelsey’s nagging me about going to Aunt Mary’s, so I’m going to drop her off before they get here.”
“They’re coming early? Whose idea was that?”
Mom cocks her head in confusion. “Uh, I didn’t ask. Do you want me to text her back?”
I shudder at the idea of Mom and Melanie being go-betweens for us like we’re eight.
“No, it’s fine. Sorry, stupid question.”
“All right.” She studies me. “Let me know if you need anything tonight.”
I will myself to forget all my questions and thoughts about Max and focus on the game.
That’s what’s important. We had a good first session, and tonight has the possibility of being even better, but only if I focus on being an awesome Dungeon Master and keep all this emotional baggage away from the game table.
Of course, all that goes completely out the window as soon as Max and his mom walk in the house.
For a moment they’re distracted by taking off their shoes and messing with their bags, and I get a chance to study Max.
He’s wearing those black jeans that are almost too tight on him and look really good.
He has on a slim gray shirt that matches his eyes and shows off the definition in his shoulders and arms. I know the color gray is supposed to be boring and blah, but not when it’s associated with him.
The color does funny things to my heart.
All those feelings from years ago are rebounding back into my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hazel? Do you mind giving me a hand?”
I open my eyes. Mom and Melanie are still chatting by the front door, but Max is at the entrance to the kitchen with too many grocery bags and a confused look on his face.
I step forward, mentally kicking myself. “What did you bring?” I ask and peek in a bag. “More nacho supplies?”
“I figured since you’re doing all the DMing work, I could bring the food again.” He walks into the kitchen and drops the bags on the closest counter. “Plus I had an epic idea.”
He pulls out two of the largest rolls of foil I’ve ever seen. His grin is way too cocky to be related to kitchen supplies.
“I’m scared.”
“We’re making table nachos! My mom saw the idea online.
” Max pulls more things from the bags. He’s so animated tonight.
“We’re going to cover your kitchen table with this foil to protect it, then we spread out all the chips, add all our toppings, and eat them off the table like it’s an enormous plate.
I thought we could make enough for the whole group. What do you think?”
“That my parents will lose their minds when they see the mess.”
“Nah, it’ll be an easy cleanup—we just ball the foil up at the end and throw it in the trash. It seemed fitting to start each Sunday with nachos. Like you and I used to.”
My skin flushes at his reminder. “Your obsession with nachos needs to be studied. But this does sound epic.”
We get to work cooking the ground beef, heating up the refried beans, and covering the table with foil.
I’m glad I have something to do with my hands so I have time to rein in my emotions.
But I can’t stop my pulse from leaping every time Max steps close to grab an ingredient or something from the cabinets.
“How are you holding up?” he asks as he rips open an enormous bag of shredded cheddar cheese.
“What do you mean? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
He cocks his head. “Really? The only thing that got me out of bed this morning was knowing we had D&D tonight.”
He’s talking about band. Like any sane person would assume.
“I’m…I guess I’m pretending like yesterday didn’t happen.”
“They should have canceled the competition or delayed it or something. The field was way too muddy for us to be out there. It was like marching through swampland.”
“I couldn’t make out the yard lines,” I admit. It’s so weird to be talking to Max about this like we’re part of the same team instead of mortal enemies.
“No one could. It was impossible. One time I could have sworn I was on the forty, but it must have been the forty-five because Sock’s tuba almost knocked me to the ground.” He chuckles and pops open a jar of salsa.
“Better than me.”
He turns to face me. His wavy curls are messy today. I’ve always had a thing for his hair. I frown and stir the ground beef quicker.
“What do you mean?” he asks. “What happened?”
“If you don’t already know, then there’s no way I’m trusting you with that information. You’ll turn around and use it against me Monday.”
I say it in a lighthearted way, not as an accusation, but Max falls back like I shoved him.
“I wouldn’t do that. Why do you always assume the worst from me?”
“Because you taught me to.”
“Just tell me. I’m not going to stab you in the back.” He steps closer and wraps a hand around my wrist to pull me toward him. “I told you I was sorry before and I meant it. What else do you want me to do?”
“Fine!” I take a breath and step away from him.
I can’t think when he’s so close to me. “I fell yesterday. I was running to the sideline for one of our flag switches, and my foot slipped, and I fell. On my face. And the ground was so disgusting that mud smeared all over my chin and went up my nose, but I got my flag, and I marched back out on the field anyway because that’s what captains do. ”
I cross my arms over my chest defiantly.
“The mud went up your nose?” His lips quirk like he’s trying not to smile.
“All the way up.”
“How…” His mouth screws up even tighter. “How’d you get it out?”
“I just kept trying to blow air out of my nose. I was able to shoot the last chunk out right before Nova’s solo.”
I stare him down, trying with all my might not to break, but neither of us is that strong.
He bursts out laughing and I do the same.
He folds in half at the waist, laughing so loudly I think he might choke from lack of air.
I’m not much better. I lean against the counter and wipe tears from my eyes.
Saying it aloud for the first time really puts into perspective how ridiculous that performance was.
I was marching through a field with so much mud in my nose that I had to breathe through my mouth.
If I can’t laugh at that, then what’s the point?
“No nachos for me,” Max says when he can stand upright again. “My stomach is too cramped from laughing.”
I gesture emphatically at him. “Now you know why I didn’t want to tell you. It was so bad. And you’ll have this information to use against me whenever you want.”
“I’m not going to use the information against you, whatever that means. I can’t promise the rest of my section will follow suit, especially with Brody at the lead, but I’m done. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
My heart picks up in a staccato rhythm. I don’t know what to say other than to make another joke. “Be serious, you still kind of want to fight with me, though, right? I’m pretty sure it’s in your nature.”
“I wouldn’t mind finally kicking your butt at Settlers of Catan right now.”
“An impossible goal when you’re so bad at board games. Set your sights lower.”
He swallows and his eyes trail over me. “I’ve already set my sights very high.”
Just then the front door opens and breaks the spell between us. I turn back to my ground beef—which is well on its way to burnt—and Max messes with the cheese. Li and Felix come into the kitchen, much to my chagrin.
“More Mexican food?” Felix asks as he surveys the kitchen.
“Not just Mexican food, dude. I have two words for you: nacho table.”
“I don’t know what those words mean in that order,” Li says.
I give her a quick hug. “It’s a Max thing.”
“Hey!” Nova’s voice calls from the front of the house. “Guess who’s here?”
Nova’s Old English sheepdog comes bounding through into the kitchen and right to my feet, tongue hanging out with a huge smile on his face. He’s the happiest dog I’ve ever met. I scratch him behind the ears and then he moves around the kitchen to get scratches from the others.
“I’m so glad you brought Zoinks with you,” Li says and buries her face in his fur. “I didn’t realize D&D could get better, but I also didn’t realize there could be dogs.”
“Dogs do make everything better,” Nova says.
“As do nachos,” Max says. “It’s time. Let’s put it together.”
We recruit each person for one ingredient: meat, beans, hot nacho cheese, sour cream, and salsa, then circle the table to admire our handiwork.
“This is sick,” Felix says.
“Right?” Li replies and pulls out her phone to take a picture. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Nova holds Zoinks back from the food and reaches out for a chip. Without thinking, I glance at Max in horror.
“Stop! You can’t just…eat them!” Max says. “We each have to search for the best bite.”
“Huh?” Felix says.
“The perfect nacho,” I explain, while Max nods at my side. “With just the right amount of toppings, but with a chip that’s still crispy and strong enough to hold everything without cracking or collapsing.”
“Top Nacho,” we say together.