And a Sheep Escapes Too #3
"You're being weird," Max says while struggling to hold the bags. "You won't talk to me. You won't look at me. What did I do wrong? Please tell me so I can fix it."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then what?" Frustration bleeds into his voice. "If you don't regret it and I didn't do anything wrong, then why does it feel like you're trying to get away from me?"
How do I explain this? How do I say 'I caught feelings and you didn't, and now everything hurts?' "It's just—" I force the words out. "I know you want to get back to dating. For real. And I don't want to be… I don't want to make things weird when you're trying to—"
"Wait, what?" Max blinks. "You think I want to—"
"Max! Leo!" A woman in a bright red coat waves at us. Probably one of Stella's friends. "Merry Christmas, boys!"
"Merry Christmas," we chorus back. She keeps walking, herding her kids towards the market doors.
Max turns back to me. "What I was trying to say—"
"You can date now without the virgin thing hanging over your head," I interrupt. Rip the band-aid off. Get it over with. "That's good. That's… that's what you wanted. Operation Social Integration. JP's going to find you great guys."
Max's eyebrows draw together. His jaw tightens. He looks away for a second, and when he looks back, his eyes are doing that thing where they're too steady, like he's working to keep them that way. "That's not what I… Leo, are you even listening to me?"
I never wanted to hurt him. Shake it off, be his friend… Be Max's friend. It's what he wants, "I am. I get it. You're ready to date for real now."
"For real? What does that even mean?" He stops and stares at me. "You think I used you for practice."
I can't look at him. "You said you couldn't have done it without me. That now you can actually put yourself out there." I stare at the SUV. "I was just doing the math."
"What? No! That's not—" He runs his hand through his hair. The gesture I know means he's overwhelmed. "How can you think that? After everything—"
The SUV beeps beside us, and the doors unlock. Stella's hurrying across the parking lot. "Sorry, sorry! I found my keys in my purse after you walked away! Let's load up!"
Max is still staring at me. I can't read his expression. "Never mind," he says quietly. "Just, never mind."
The backseat is full of packages now. Which means all three of us have to squeeze into the front bench seat.
Stella drives. Max takes the middle because he's the smallest. I get the passenger door.
Which sounds fine. Except that the front seat of Stella's car is not made for three adults, and Max's entire side is pressed against mine from shoulder to knee.
I grip the door handle and press myself as far into the passenger door as physics allows.
It's not far enough. All I can feel is his thigh pressed warm against mine. His shoulder is tucked right up against my arm. Every bump in the road shifts him closer. Every turn makes us press together.
Don't think about it. Don't think about how many times we've touched in the past week. Stop thinking about his hands or his mouth or the way he looked at me that night like I was important.
Don't think about how I'll never have that again.
Stella chatters the whole way home. The market was lovely.
She got such good deals. Aunt Vicky is going to love that angel.
Did we see Santa? He seemed nice. Maybe a little forward, but nice.
Max makes a strangled sound, and I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing.
Then his thigh shifts against mine and I stop wanting to laugh.
It’s torture. When we pull into the driveway, I'm out of the car before it's fully stopped. Grab bags. Head inside.
"Leo, you don't have to—" Stella starts.
"Happy to help." I drop the bags on the kitchen table and take the stairs two at a time. In Max's room, I stare at the two beds. There was a 0.001% chance that Max wanted more. I let myself hope anyway.
Isaac was wrong. Max doesn't want me. He wanted experience. Safety. Practice. Training wheels before the real thing. And I was stupid enough to think even for a moment there could be more.
Stop. Fuck sake, just stop. Don't think about it. Too late. I thought maybe he could want me the way I want him. My phone buzzes.
JP
how's Wisconsin?
fine
JP
that's the least convincing 'fine' I've ever seen
what happened?
The ceiling has a water stain shaped vaguely like a duck. I look at it, trying not to cry.
I think I interrupted Max saying something that maybe I shouldn’t have
JP
…want to talk about it?
not really
… maybe later
I stare up until the duck starts to look like something else. If I turn my head, it looks like a rabbit. Isn’t there a famous picture that does this?
JP
okay. I'm here when you're ready.
I drop backward onto my bed. 'What I was trying to say—' Max had started. Before the woman in red interrupted. Before I jumped in and told him what he meant, before he could get there himself. Before he went quiet and said 'never mind' in a voice I've never heard him use before.
What if I was wrong?