I forgot to pack a towel. I'm in my underwear and there's no towel in my bag. The feelings I've been repressing all day are threatening to bubble up to the surface. Tears burn my eyes and close up my throat.
"Are you okay?" Ericha is right beside me, freshly showered, her towel wrapped around her.
"I forgot to bring a towel. I forgot the fucking towel."
"But you never forget anything, ever!" Ericha's voice rises an octave. I shake my head.
"I was at... dad's and things are a little... weird there. You know Cloë doesn't like me." At least I told the truth in that last sentence.
"Aw, honey. You can borrow mine, it's damp and all, but at least you've showered." Her kindness has me almost in tears again. Silently I undress and she hands me her towel. I take comfort in the fact that the soap dispensers in the shower will have soap in them. It's fancy smelling soap even, there are fancy soap company heirs attending this school.
Ericha is waiting for me, texting away on her phone and only nods as I hand her the towel back. She shoves it into her bag and shakes her head at something someone is texting her. Even though it took longer than usual for me to take a shower, or actually getting into the shower, we're not the last ones in the locker room. It's Friday and a lot of the girls have plans for the afternoon. Plans that require a lot of makeup and styling of hair.
I don't bother with makeup and just toss my hair up in a damp ponytail. "You think I could stay the night at your place? Cloë was kinda telling me to not come back tonight. I think she can stand me like one night, and then she'd grow a second head or something..." I fake a laugh about my half-lie.
Ericha looks at me with sympathy in her eyes. I feel horrible lying to her. "You know I'd love to have you stay, but mom just told me we're driving to Newport today. Apparently I have 30 minutes to pack my things after I get home. Ugh!" She shakes her head at her impossible mother. And me? I fake another laugh and try to channel the panic settling in my stomach into pity for Ericha who'll be stuck in a small town all weekend. At least I'm staying in the city. There are endless possibilities in the city. And endlessly long nights for someone without a place to sleep.
"What about your mom?" Ericha has stopped texting as we walk towards our bus stops.
"Yeah. We're not really talking right now. I mean, she just doesn't get me. At all. And I think she broke up with Finn, again. That always has her in the worst mood."
"Well, it's not like she kicked you out, right? You could always go back home if Cloë's a bitch. Oh. That's my bus. Love you Kathy!" With a hug she's gone. I smell her perfume after she's hurried off to catch her bus. Marc Jacob's Daisy is clinging to my borrowed jacket like a promise that everything will be alright. Which it won't, because my asshole step-mother convinced my spineless father to ditch me and my bitter mom just wants me to fail, so she can tell me she told me so.
"So. Looks like we're going in the same direction again." Maxwell doesn't really startle me, there are so many people moving about anyway, but I didn't expect him to actually talk to me in public like this.
"Looks like." It's not like I want to be rude or anything, it's just that this is so embarrassing. Before last night he thought I was this, apparently pretty, face at school. Someone he would never really talk to. Now he knows more about me than my best friend and I'm about to go home with him. Fucking fantastic.
There's a chill to the air and I zip the borrowed jacket up, burying my hands deep within its pockets. The clouds haven't let the sun out all day, but they have at least had the decency to not rain on us. It seems as if they are done with playing nice.
There's no place to sit. The bus is so full there isn't even anything for me to hold on to. Men, women and teenagers both more forward and taller than me, have all grabbed the straps, leaving me to simply hold my balance and try not falling over anyone. I'm so focused on my own problems, I don't register that the bus is moving and turning a corner.
An arm ropes around my waist only moments before I fall head first into the lap of the woman sitting to my right. I turn around to Maxwell's crooked smile and I don't know why, but I lean into him. I let my arms circle his waist and I press my forehead into his shoulder, fighting the tears burning my eyes. Maxwell doesn't say a word. I don't want him to. I comfort myself by thinking it probably looks like we're best friends or dating or something and that no one who cares or knows about me takes this bus home from school.
"It's our stop next." His breath caresses my cheek and his voice is quiet and close to my ear. I detangle myself and turn away. Reality pops the bubble I created around us and all those issues I forced myself to forget during the bus ride come tumbling back.
If I didn't need for Maxwell to unlock the door, I would have hurried my steps. I can feel cold rain drops hitting my face, mixing with the hot tears I can no longer stop. Closing my eyes briefly I collect myself. I need to stop with the crying!
Impatiently I wait for him to get his key in the lock. He holds the door open for me to go in, but once I'm inside the apartment I just stop. Because now I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Pack my things and leave? Wait for Jessica to return home and ask her? Turn around and never come back?
"Aren't you going to take your jacket off?" I guess I could start with that. Then I untie my boots and place them next to my bag. They've dried enough, but they feel all damp anyway. I wish I had brought other shoes with me.
"I usually eat something and then do my homework..." Maxwell makes it sound like a question, like he's unsure of what he actually does after school.
"Yeah. Sure. That's fine by me." He disappears into his room with his backpack, leaving me to decide if I should go into the kitchen, or wait for him to take the lead.
My phone vibrates with a notification and I decide that casually leaning on a kitchen counter, checking social media is the best option. Rubbing my eyes I hope they're not too swollen and red and if they are, that he doesn't notice.
Mary has snapped me her cat doing cute things, I answer her with a shot of my feet. Alvin has snapped math questions and wants others to tell him what they got. I ignore him. Random people have liked my latest Instagram picture; a flat lay of a Starbucks caramel frappuccino, a dog eared Jane Austen paperback and a pretty leaf I found. Hipster af.
Maxwell joins me in the small kitchen and I slide my phone onto the counter before gathering some courage and looking in his general direction. "How do you feel about Nutella?"
"How I feel about Nutella? I love Nutella. Who doesn't? Why?"
"Well, I saw the jar and thought maybe we could bake some cookies. To help us study. Obviously." Maxwell's face lights up in a huge smile and I die a little inside, because he's just that adorable.
"But don't cookies take like forever?"
I laugh. "Not the ones I'm making. Do you have eggs and flour?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." We get everything we need and I teach him how to make my foolproof Nutella cookies.
The smell of baking cookies wafts through the apartment. Maxwell tries to steal one straight out of the oven. He lets out a yelp and stick his finger into his mouth. Laughing I grab his hand and turn the tap to cold and keep his hand there when he tries to pull away. "No. You need to keep it there for a few minutes."
"But the cold hurts."
"Yeah, well the burn will hurt more if you don't." Maxwell stops struggling and leans closer to me. Our bodies are touching from my hip to my shoulder and I'm holding his right hand with both of mine. I wish I had my hair down, that way I could let it fall in front on my face and hide the heat I feel building up on my cheeks. Instead I try focusing on keeping his burnt fingers under the running water. The timer on my phone goes off. I don't want to move. On the other hand I don't want to burn our cookies either. "Keep your hand there a little while longer." I dry my hands and get the cookies out.
Soon 24 delicious Nutella cookies are cooling on the counter. I glance at Maxwell, his hand is still under the running water. "I think you can stop now."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. The first batch has cooled some. Want a taste?" I nab one for myself and take a bite. Maxwell dries his hand on the kitchen towel, not quite looking at me. He shifts from foot to foot. He turns around and his eyes find mine. I smile and take another bite of my cookie. Carefully he folds the towel and places it on the kitchen counter. Then he shakes his head. Before I know it he's right in front of me, I almost choke on my cookie. I swallow slowly. His shoulders slump. He leans around me and grabs a cookie and shoves the whole thing into his mouth.
"They're really good." He smiles around a mouth full. And my heart goes all squishy and my smile widens. And I need to get a grip!
I clear my throat. "Told you. Yeah. Anyway. I have French that I need to do before I forget everything..."
"I know what you mean, I have AP Calc homework that needs my full attention." None of us move. I feel a tightening around my chest area and I'm sure my cheeks are flushed. I think I've forgotten how to human. Maxwell breaks eye contact first, he rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head again.
I force myself to say something. "So, you get the milk and I'll put some of these on a plate?"
Conjugating French verbs has my brain nearly forgetting the boy sitting opposite me. It's only when he sighs or taps his pen that I lose focus and shift my eyes from my homework to him. He's getting more and more distracting as my brain tires of French. I decide to leave it for another day and try mind mapping this essay on recycling that Mr Buchanan gave us. It bores me to tears. I can't focus. Maxwell is still engrossed in whatever homework he's moved onto now.
"Ugh." I lie down over my notes.
"Need more cookies?" Maxwell has a faraway tone to his voice, like he's not really focused on the now. I glance on the empty plate on the table and then on the empty baking trays over by the oven.
"We ate them all."
Maxwell snaps out of from wherever he's been. "No way!"His shocked face has me snorting with laughter.
"Yeah way." I close my notebook and take the plate and our glasses to the sink. "Told you they were good."
When I turn around I catch him checking me out. His eyes are just that one hundredth second too late in meeting mine. When I smile and tilt my head, his cheeks turn a flushed pink and he looks down at his books instead. There's this awkward thing hovering between us. I lose my nerve and look down at my feet.
"Yeah. I'm gonna go check if my stuff has dried." I leave the kitchen without looking at him.
"Uh, yeah. I have to finish this..." I don't quite hear what it is he needs to finish. I'm sure it's one of his one million AP classes. I can't for the life of me figure out how he finds the energy to take them all. I'm swamped with homework and bored out of my mind with my regular high school stuff.