Flames At Midnight

02 | grace yearwood

"It's been five years and that's what people remember about me," I said.

"I don't want to come off like a weirdo or anything, but that's one reason why I wanted to get to know you."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just not often you hear about a tiny girl standing up to a bully. You're like a hero."

My cheeks warmed. "I'm not a hero. I just have a bad habit of expressing myself with actions and not words."

"No, really. It's brave. And you're so modest about it too. So many people probably look up to you for what you did. You might not agree, but you really are like a hero." In the heat of the moment, he slammed his palm onto the table, hitting the prongs of his fork. It did a flip in midair and almost took out his eye. He laughed it off. "Whoops. That could've ended badly."

I said, "So besides basketball, what else do you like to do?"

"I like to watch the NBA. It's my favorite thing to do with my dad, besides shooting hoops in the backyard."

"Any other sports?"

He shook his head. "I know you people are big on football here, but I just never got into it. I'm not good at other sports, to be honest. It's weird. I'm not trying to brag, but I'm pretty good at basketball. But when I'm off a basketball court, I'm really clumsy. Really clumsy."

I glanced at his fork for confirmation. "I wonder why that is."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I feel like a whole different person when I have a basketball in hand."

"I actually think I know what you mean. When I'm on the mat, ready for a match, I feel so in control and disciplined. It's like you have this energy coursing through you that you don't feel anywhere else. Maybe it's like that," I told him.

"Yeah, you get me. That's really cool."

The waitress then brought over our food and refilled our drinks. Max reached for the plate at the same time she tried setting it down, and he almost knocked it out of her hands. I managed to grab the plate just before it flipped over.

"Wow, your reflexes are amazing," he said, obviously impressed.

The waitress apologized profusely as she set down my food in front of me.

"No, it was my fault," Max insisted. "I was too excited about the food. It smells great."

We didn't talk much as we ate. I looked up at him a few times between bites, and he smiled whenever our eyes met.

Max's family moved here about a month ago. I had noticed him in the halls right away. It was hard not to. Thornhill was a small town and pretty much everyone knew everyone. At school, it was exciting when someone new showed up, especially if that someone new was a nice, good-looking guy.

"This is awesome. I've never had such a great burger," Max said.

"That's good. There aren't too many options if you want to grab something in town. You'd have to drive out for any variety," I said. "There are actually a lot of great places to eat in Salem if you feel like leaving town."

"Do you cook?"

"Not really. Honestly, I don't know how to do anything around the house. My mom's going to have to teach me how to do laundry before I leave for college next year," I said, and then immediately realized how that made me sound.