Page 11 of The One That I Want

“Hi,” I called to Carter over the roof of the car.

“Hi,” he said without smiling.

We both got into the backseat. With Addison and Max laughing together in the front, it seemed like Carter and I should . . . hug? Shake hands? Even a peck on the cheek would have been appropriate. But he looked out his window at the parking lot.

Finally he called impatiently into the front seat, “What’s the plan, Max?”

“We’re close to the mall,” Max said. “Let’s go make fun of rich people.” He turned all the way around in the driver’s seat, gasped as if he hadn’t realized I was there, and said, “Oh—Gemma—I beg your pardon.”

His teasing didn’t bother me. Only Addison bothered me, laughing way more heartily than the joke called for.

“Ha-ha,” I told him. “You can test all your jokes on me and see if I wither in pain.”

His brows knitted ever so briefly, like he wasn’t sure whether I could really take a joke or not. His eyes slid to Carter.

Then he turned around and started the car. “We’ll skip the mall this time. I know a pizza place near the concert.” He maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and back into traffic.

The radio had been a normal background volume in the front seat, but it was very loud in the back—so loud that Carter and I couldn’t have talked without shouting. But I didn’t ask Max to turn it down, because I couldn’t think of anything to say to Carter anyway. Every so often, Addison’s cackle would rise above the music. I would catch her putting her hand on Max’s shoulder or touching his goatee.

At least the scenery was interesting. Most of my life was spent bopping back and forth from home to school to the mall to home, with an occasional outing with Addison when she wanted to go trolling for boys. I didn’t often ride the interstate through downtown. The highway was tucked so close to the buildings that I felt like I could almost reach out and touch them.

Just east of the city we took an exit into a gorgeous neighborhood of towering oak trees and restored Victorian homes, each painted five shades of purple or cream. Max parked on a quiet street.

“This is a long way to walk, Max,” Carter grumbled as he got out of the car. He probably had two-a-day football practices, but he complained about a little walk?

Max glanced up the shady street lined with cars. “I could keep looking around, but more people will park here, and we’ll just have to move farther away. That’s how it is here on Friday night. I guess it is a long walk, though, depending on your shoes. Heel check.”

Max stood in front of me, but he hadn’t said anything to me for the entire ride, so it took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me. I raised one foot to show him. He examined my shoe. “You’re good. Very sensible, Gemma.”

He looked at Addison. “Heel check.” She showed off her high-heeled sandal. Max shook his head. “Not sensible at all, Addison. You’re going to have to ride.”

He turned around on the sidewalk, and she hopped up on his back. They turned to me like a two-headed monster and waited.

I stared for another moment, not knowing what they wanted. “Oh.” I shut my door. Max stepped forward and locked the car with an actual key. Then he bounced Addison into a more comfortable position on his back and started up the sidewalk.

I fell in beside them, just so I wouldn’t have to lag behind with silent Carter. “How do you know this neighborhood so well?” I asked Max.

“I drive around,” he said. “I used to go exploring on the MARTA before I got my driver’s license.”

“Really!” I exclaimed. I was jealous. My mother would never have let me do that. When I rode the MARTA, I needed a specific destination and a well-lighted walk the whole way. And I was jealous of whatever girl he’d taken with him. “Not alone, I guess?”

“Yes, alone,” Max sighed.

“Whether he parks or rides the MARTA, there’s always a long walk.” Carter grumbled behind us. “Who would want to go with him?”

I would, I thought. I would have loved to get lost in Atlanta with Max, walking through old neighborhoods, exploring shops off the beaten path, grabbing coffee at some place he knew.

But I could not have that, and wanting it would just make me more dissatisfied. I slowed a little until I was walking beside Carter. As I stepped behind Max and Addison, I could feel myself being absorbed into Carter’s bubble of unhappiness.

I took a long breath through my nose, inhaling the scent of summer flowers, and admired the houses along the way. Someday maybe I would have one of these—a pretty house I’d restored myself, something beautiful for my friends to admire, but not so monstrous that it scared them away.

The farther we walked up the sidewalk, the more we passed other people walking. By the time we reached the first shops at Little Five Points, the sidewalks were packed with college-age kids and teenagers. Max stopped and put Addison down. I walked a little faster, not because I wanted to catch up with them or get away from Carter, but because the scene in front of me filled me with energy: a crowd, bright clothes, bright storefronts, booming music, and laughter. I cheered up, hardly caring that Carter hadn’t spoken since we’d left the car.

“Look, a whole store for Gemma!” Addison exclaimed, pointing through the window of the shop we were passing. The mannequins wore striped stockings like the ones I’d worn to majorette tryouts, cool T-shirts, and leather—but other mannequins wore a more risqué version of punk, which was not me at all. Addison was trying to embarrass me. But I wouldn’t let her. I grinned through it.

“No,” I heard Max say, “that’s what Gemma would wear if she really meant it.”

I stopped short on the sidewalk, feeling my jaw tighten with anger. Carter and Addison kept walking, but Max noticed I was missing and turned to look for me. When he saw my face, his eyes widened. He knew he had crossed a line this time.

He ran two steps to catch up with Addison and Carter and said something to them. They looked back at me, but then stayed where they were and started talking. Carter had thought of something to say, now that he was not saying it to me.

Then Max jogged back down the sidewalk and nudged me to the side, out of the way of other pedestrians, against the punky shop window. He looked down at me and said, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I grumped.

“You’re going to turn sullen and stop talking for the rest of the night.”

He was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it. Not when he’d made me turn sullen. “I’d already stopped talking,” I pointed out.

“With you, there’s regular quiet, and then there’s sullen quiet,” he said. “You and Carter are both like that.”

If Max was trying to cheer me up, he wasn’t doing a very good job. I didn’t want to be like Carter.

Of course, Max’s observation explained a lot. He wanted to be friends with both Carter and me. Maybe he even wanted me for a close friend, like Carter was his close friend, but Max wanted to date someone entirely different.

“Gemma.” He glanced up the sidewalk. When he saw Carter and Addison weren’t watching, he turned back to me and used his long middle finger to brush a strand of purple hair away from my eyes.

I stared stubbornly up at him, my face on fire where his finger had brushed me, and burning with anger at what he had said and the situation the three of them had dragged me into.

“We had that whole talk when we were alone in my car,” he said, “and you didn’t get mad. I made fun of you for being rich and it didn’t bother you at all. Why are you getting mad now?”

“Because when we were alone, you were trying to be nice. It was just a joke. Your comment about my clothes was meant to hurt me. Why did you take a jab at me, Max?” He’d already made me crush on him and then asked out my best friend. He could not insult me too.

“It’s true, though,” he defended himself. “You want to look punk, but you don’t live that lifestyle at all.”

“Just because you think it does not mean you should say it. We have been over this.”

He was nodding before I got all the words out. “You’re right. I know. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

He was sorry, but he still hadn’t acknowledged he’d taken a swing at me on purpose. Had he been trying to get a rise out of me? Why would he do that?

“Don’t be mad, Gemma, okay?”

I sighed. He wasn’t going to explain himself, and now Carter and Addison were watching us. “Okay.”

“Say something funny.”

“Something funny.”

He pursed his lips, considering me. “Hmm. I’m not sure you’re back. Work on it.”

He placed his hand between my shoulder blades and pressed, pushing me into walking up the sidewalk with him. At his touch, tingles raced all the way down to my fingertips. I was so angry at myself for my body’s reaction to his that I could have cried.

“The pizza place is around the corner,” he whispered as we walked. “They have really good dinner salads with meat on them, so you feel like you’ve eaten something, but it’s, you know, still a salad. Healthier than pizza. If that’s what you wanted.”

“Thank you!” I exclaimed. That was exactly what I wanted. Good food, and a distraction from how far I’d fallen for Max.

We’d reached Carter and Addison on the sidewalk. Carter frowned at Max. “I didn’t catch what he said to you, Gemma, but I’m sorry on his behalf. Didn’t I tell you he makes girls mad?”

Addison cackled and put her arm around Max’s waist like that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes, you did warn us.” I forced a laugh. “It’s okay. I’ll stop listening.” As if I didn’t hang on Max’s every word.

The restaurant was packed. My heart sank. I figured we’d have to wait forever for a table, which meant more non-conversation with Carter. Thankfully, the hostess found us a table in the corner quickly.

Maybe Max still felt bad for what he’d said, and he was trying to make it up to me. Maybe he just knew how to work a room. For whatever reason, he managed to keep the conversation going among all four of us until our food came, so I never had to rack my brain for something to say.

In fact, I felt so good after half an hour of the four of us being nice to one another, and with some avocado in my stomach, that I was able to do my part on the date by calling up Extroverted Gemma. “Addison said you guys ref soccer games on Saturdays and Sundays.”

“Yeah,” the boys said in unison, and they rolled their eyes in exactly the same way, which I found hilarious.

I said, “I take it you don’t enjoy it.”

“Well,” Max said, looking at Carter.

“It can be dangerous,” Carter said.

“Dangerous!” Addison exclaimed. “How? Do you have to break up fights in the men’s league?”

Max and Carter exchanged another look and both said, “Women’s league.”

I was still laughing as Max leaned toward Addison and pointed to his cheekbone, probably showing her the remnants of a black eye that I hadn’t noticed on the MARTA or in the car.

“And we’re there forever,” Carter said.

Max nodded. “The games start at eight in the morning, and the last ones end at ten at night. We don’t get scheduled for all of them, but they’re usually scattered through the day. Carter takes long breaks for lunch and dinner.”

“I can’t eat indoor soccer field food,” Carter complained. “I would starve to death. Max doesn’t care. He probably brings his own rabbit food.”

“I do sometimes bring my own salad,” Max said self-righteously. It was pretty weird to sit at a table in the edgy alternative section of Atlanta with two handsome boys who were arguing about salad. Clearly they could argue about anything. They were worse than Addison and me.

“If you think I’m underfed,” Max said, reaching for a slice of Carter’s meat-laden pizza, “you won’t mind if I—”

“Nuh nuh nuh nuh,” Carter said, thunking Max’s knuckle with his finger until Max backed off. Then Carter said, “And Max takes a break to coach his team.”

“Oooh, what team do you coach?” Addison asked.

I wanted to know too, but I was afraid to press it. Since Carter had brought it up, he must have thought it would embarrass Max. Max blushed a little, the faintest flush on each cheek in the romantic glow from the strings of lights overhead.

“I coach my little sister’s team,” Max said.

Carter had miscalculated. Addison and I said, “Awwwwww!” and Addison scooted a little closer to Max.

“How old is she?” Addison asked.

“Ten,” Max said.

“Do they wear pink socks over their shin guards,” I asked, “and bows in their hair?”

Max grinned. “I have tried to discourage this.”

“I’ll bet your sister’s friends idolize you,” I said. “You’re like Justin Bieber!”

Addison shrieked laughter, so Max smiled at her rather than me as he admitted, “I am the Justin Bieber of girls’ soccer, yes.”

“What a boost to your ego,” I said.

Carter laughed harder at this than I’d meant him to, then jumped on my comment. “Like that ego needs boosting.”

Max looked at Carter. “If my ego were easily boosted—”

“And it is,” Carter assured everyone.

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