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I don’t know where the urge to make him feel better comes from, but I suddenly announce, “You know, I’m a terrible flirt.” Max looks up at me, his face questioning. I nod. “Yeah. I’m not very good at it. At least, not when I try. When I don’t try to flirt, I’m pretty damn good at it.” I nibble at my granola. “Maybe that’s what’s happening with you. Your subconscious is probably just a really good flirt, with mad skills it feels it needs to use, like, all the time.”
He doesn’t look placated, but his lip tilts up at the corner. “Mad skills, huh?”
I confirm, “Mad skills.”
Then he smiles, obviously impressed with my efforts to cheer him up. “Maybe.”
I smile in return and eat my granola.
“Helena.”
Chewing, I look over at him.
He nudges my foot under the table. “Thanks.”
I have no idea why I’m being thanked, but I’ll take it. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Twelve
Max
When I was in high school, I met Madeline Connolly. I was sixteen, stupid, and horny. Most girls, back then, would try to get close to me to get to Nik. I could smell ‘em a mile away. Honey-sweet voices and sticky fingers. But they normally had big tits and red, glossy lips. My sixteen-year-old self didn’t give a shit if they wanted Nik, as long as they’d put out.
See? Stupid.
One girl—I can’t even remember her name—told me she was pregnant with my kid. She was my age. I reme
mber laughing my ass off…so hard I cried. With a stern face, she asked me why I was laughing, told me this was serious. She knew I had money. Everyone knew we had money. She told me to talk to my brother, and if I didn’t want to marry her and take care of our kid, the Nik better, ‘cause her baby needed a father.
A dangerous smile crossed my face. I stepped towards whatever-her-name-was and warned her, “I don’t care what you do to me, but,” my fists balled in anger as I snarled, “don’t ever, ever, fuck with my brother.” A look of fear crossed her face. I shook my head in disgust and started to walk away. A fair distance away, I called back, “Besides, sweetheart, you can’t get pregnant from a blow job.”
This was a lesson to me. A harsh one, but a good one. That was the point I realized what lengths women could and would go to in order to tie a man down.
So one day, I’m at the library after school, working on fuck knows what. It was pretty much deserted, but I spotted this girl sitting at a desk with a shitload of books in front of her. She looked panicked, overwhelmed by her workload. Dressed in a white tee and blue jeans, she stood in a huff and started stacking her books, slamming them one on top of the other. She was beautiful in a very tame way. With long, reddish-brown hair down to her waist and no makeup in sight, her cheeks flamed red, her blue eyes blazing. As she picked up her stack of books and turned, the top two books slid off.
I smirked. That was my cue. I rushed forward, picked up the books, and held onto them. The girl stood there, waiting for me to hand them to her, but I held them tight in my grip.
She huffed, “You can put them on the top.”
I shook my head. “Nah, think I better walk you to your locker. In fact, I think I should carry all those books. You’re a safety hazard, an accident waiting to happen.” I ended on a grin.
Most girls would have laughed and let me carry their books, would’ve thanked me. They would’ve told me how funny I was and asked if I had a girlfriend. They would have flirted with me and given me an inch. Not this girl. Her cheeks turned even redder. She gritted her teeth. “Put the books on the top. Please.”
But I didn’t listen. I reached forward and tried to take her books. I grabbed them from one side, and she held firm on the other. I tugged; she tugged. She wasn’t letting go, but neither was I. I pulled too hard, and her pile of books came crashing down.
I laughed. She did not. I felt the need to speak. “Shit, sorry. I’m Max. Max Leokov.”
Eyes filling with tears, she knelt down on the ground and let me have it. “I know who you are. Why are you even here? I’m sure you could pay the teachers to pass you.”
I tried to say sorry. “Let me carry your books as an apology. C’mon.”
She stepped back, out of reach. “The pickings must be slim if you’re coming on to me.” She lifted her nose. “I’ve heard all about you, Max.” She said my name like it tasted awful. “I’ll tell you this once. I am not a bedpost notch. I am not a giggling idiot. I’m not one of the hundreds of girls at this school who want you.”
She looked me up and down and shook her head in disappointment. Then she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving me standing in the library on my own looking like an asshole. Which was fitting, considering I felt like an asshole. Truth was, I hadn’t even known who she was, and she was right. I had expected her to be a giggling idiot. I’d expected flirting, conversation, and maybe a blowjob too, if I was lucky.
I grin. I was always lucky.
When I got home that night, I scanned a yearbook. I searched for over an hour until I found her smiling face looking back at me. I smiled right back at her. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. So I made it my mission. I would do what it took to make her smile, because I needed to see it in person.
