“Need help getting in there without falling on your face, squirt?” Colton’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Sure.” I glared at him. “You offering to help strip me or just wash me down, Colt?”
His smile fell.
Jason looked at me like I’d just told him I was into chicks.
“Right.” I nodded. “Didn’t think so. ’Night, boys.”
I walked out of the room, embarrassed, sad, agitated, and pissed.
Having Max here wouldn’t help, but at least it would take my mind off the fact that the one guy I’d crushed on since middle school had rejected me. And this time, after kissing me.
I slept like crap all night—proving my point again. All men should burn in hell. I switched between nightmares of Colton’s rejection and dreams of Max riding in to rescue me on a giant-ass aloe vera plant.
Groaning, I tossed and turned, finally falling into a deep sleep around two a.m.
“Fire!” A voice penetrated my dreams. “Fire! Wake up!”
I jolted out of my bed to see Max sitting calmly at the end. He had two Starbucks cups in hand and was sporting a pair of black skinny jeans, a blue V-neck T-shirt, and a smile that looked like it belonged on the cover of GQ.
“Hey, you’re awake.” His grin widened.
“Yeah, weird, I thought there was a fire.”
He handed me the coffee. “There is. In your pants.”
“Pardon?”
“Because you’re a liar.” He patted my leg and shook his head. “Do I even want to know how this happened? Or was it the usual?”
“Usual?” My voice was gravelly, I took a large sip of coffee—it did wonders for my mood.
“Yeah, the usual Milo freak-out where you speak before you think. Typically involves lots of cursing, yelling, sometimes a fight breaks out, and I always end up having to fix it.”
My face burned.
Max nodded. “The usual, then. Gotcha.”
“Why are you here? What time is it?”
“Five a.m.,” he answered. “Your mom’s a fox, by the way, I swear she checked my ass out twice as I walked up the stairs.”
“She did not.”
“Your dad did the same. Ten bucks says your mom asks where I got my jeans and buys him a pair—oh, and by the way, you owe me big. I finally asked out the Starbucks girl and had to cancel our date on account that my other girlfriend”—his eyes narrowed—“had an emergency.”
I winced. “Please tell me you didn’t explain it that way to her.”
“Course not. I said my asthmatic little sister had an attack and almost died screaming my name . . .”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“Little Maddie’s screams were so loud, all she wanted was her big brother Max.”
“Who’s Maddie?”
“And I can’t deny her the one thing she wants in life, the one thing that makes her go on living.” Max wiped a fake tear. “I’m a broken man, Milo, and sisters are more important than dates.”
“I’m sure she was understanding.”
Max grinned. “You could say that.”
“Gross.”
“What?” He held up his hands. “I’m a guy. Just because you labeled me your gay friend freshman year does not actually make it true.”
Okay, so I was a sheltered kid. Sue me! When I first laid eyes on Max I’d nearly swallowed my tongue. He was gorgeous and dressed like a rock star. Though he’d tried on at least four different occasions early on in our friendship to sleep with me, the rejection didn’t keep him from wanting to stay close. Each time I rejected him, it was because I was holding a Colton-size flame. Finally he gave up, and said if he couldn’t get in my pants he might as well help others do so. It wasn’t poetic, but then, that’s Max for you—blunt, to the point, inappropriate, and kind of awesome. Because of his strong metrosexual tendencies, I finally learned the art of waxing and was always invited to the best parties. Our friendship was mutually beneficial because girls saw him as loyal, when really he was loyal to only two females, his dog Homeslice and me. And when it came to dating he helped scare all the sketchy guys away.
“So . . .” Max set his coffee on the nightstand and pulled me into his arms; we lay down on the bed together. “What happened?”
I groaned.
“Milo . . .”
“He kissed me.”
Max held up his hand for a high five. I pushed it down. “What? We aren’t excited about this?”
“No, we aren’t.”
“Continue.”
“He said if he could take it back he would.”
“Son of a streetwalker . . .” He winced. “Out loud? After he kissed you, he said that?”
I nodded.
“Did you kick him in the nuts?”
I shook my head.
“Grab his balls and give a little tug?”
I shook my head again.
“Damn, my little friend. That blows. So where do I come in?”
“Well.” I rubbed Max’s arm. “I cried.”
“Shit.”
“And I didn’t want him to think I was crying over him, I mean that’s a waste of tears, right?”
Max kissed my temple. “Right.”
“So I said I was crying because I’d never cheated on anyone and then I said you and I were dating and yeah . . .”