Somewhere, Anywhere (M&M, CC/UC, AU, Adult) COMPLETE, 07/23/17

[keepsmiling7]

oops......my Mistake.......Sarah doesn't know about Maria and Dylan being in Carlsbad.......and Michael is in no hurry for that to happen.
Max surprised me.......and Maria.......with his actions after finding out Maria and Michel were in a class together.
Has Max really changed that much?
This tangled web continues to go forward.
Thanks,
Carolyn

[sarammlover]

Huh.....friends......good luck with that. This update wasn't terribly depressing so...YAY! Great update April. Always keeping us readers on our toes!

[April]

Carolyn:

oops......my Mistake.......Sarah doesn't know about Maria and Dylan being in Carlsbad.......and Michael is in no hurry for that to happen.

Michael has definitely not been in any hurry to tell Sarah. Even though he's known for a long time that he needs to.

Has Max really changed that much?

Good question. Maria would say yes. Michael would say no.


Sara:

Huh.....friends......good luck with that.

Yeah, that's definitely going to be easier said than done.

Great update April. Always keeping us readers on our toes!

I try!


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!








Part 18








Another day, another disappointment. It totally wasn’t cheery to think that way, but that was how Tess felt when she returned home. She’d tried to stand up to Stephanie and Kristen today when they’d been berating the girls at practice, but they’d basically just ignored her, or talked over her. It made her feel pathetic. How had she gone from being the vibrant, confident captain of the Roswell Comets cheer squad to being . . . this?

She walked in the door, surveying the vast array of bills in her hand. She only got the mail once a week because it was so damn depressing. There were so many things that needed to be paid. This month, she’d have to call and ask her own parents for help. Next month, she’d call Kyle’s dad and ask him.

Speaking of Kyle . . . he was asleep on the couch. Not even lying down, just sitting there with his head tilted back, mouth slightly open. The TV was still on, and he had the remote in his hand.

He probably hadn’t gotten up off that couch once today.

Fighting back the urge to just scream at the top of her lungs and jolt him awake, Tess slipped into the kitchen, weeding the junk mail out of the stuff that actually mattered. She made two piles on the counter but stopped when she got to a letter addressed to her. It was from NMSU.

What is this? she thought, but she already knew. She’d applied last month, just on a whim, thinking that it somehow might be possible for her to take a class or two during the spring semester. Maybe a theater class or a dance one. Something where she could be creative and expressive and learn while having fun. Fun was a distant memory for her at this point.

When she opened the letter, it was the acceptance she’d been hoping to receive. They wanted her to attend. And why wouldn’t they? She’d been a good student in high school—not on Isabel’s level academically, but at least she hadn’t made porn.

But now . . . staring at that acceptance letter, she wondered why she’d ever even bothered to apply in the first place. It wasn’t feasible. Despite living in a college town, she just didn’t have the money, the time, or the energy to devote to it. So she folded that letter back up, stuffed it in the envelope, and put it in the junk pile. And with one swift sweep of her hand across the counter, she pushed the whole pile into the trash, telling herself that it didn’t matter. It was just one more thing in her life that had to be thrown away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you sure you wanna eat here tonight?” Sarah questioned as she and Michael followed the hostess back to an open table at Yellowbrix Restaurant. “I thought you’d wanna eat here on your birthday.”

“I wanna stay in on my birthday,” he informed her, adding quietly, “maybe fool around with you.”

“Hmm.” She smiled. “Well, that does sound fun.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“And we barely have any food in the fridge, so it’s not like I could’ve cooked something great tonight anyway.”

Michael laughed at that. “You could cook something great out of dirt and water.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

His eyes immediately locked onto a horrible sight as they shuffled up to their table. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Max and Maria were here, sitting on the other side of the restaurant, over by the window. Dinner for two, it seemed, because Dylan wasn’t with them. They were talking, and Maria was smiling, and thankfully, neither one of them noticed him.

“Here you go,” he hostess said, laying their menus out on the table. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, beginning to take a seat.

“Wait a minute.” Michael grabbed her arm and lifted her back up, asking the hostess, “Is there any way we can sit back in that little alcove instead?” He needed to be somewhere where Maria couldn’t see him, because that was too risky. If she or Max came up to him and said something, Sarah wouldn’t know what to think.

“Sure, come with me,” the hostess said, picking up the menus again. She walked at a brisk pace through the rows of tables and to the back.

“But Michael, this is our spot,” Sarah protested as he pressed gently on her back, urging her forward. “That’s where we sat on our first date.”

“I know, but I kinda wanna switch it up.” He felt relieved when they made it back to the alcove. Max surely hadn’t seen him, because his back was to him. And Maria must not have seen him, either, because she was now laughing at something Max had said.

Whatever. The guy wasn’t even funny.

“Alright, here you go,” the hostess said, once again setting their menus down on the table for them. “Your waiter will be with you shortly. You two enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said again, starting to take a seat on the wrong side of the table.

“Oh . . .” Michael pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit there instead.

“Oh. Okay.” She switched over to the other side of the table, the side where her back would be to Max and Maria. Perfect. Now if either Maria or Max noticed them and started to saunter on over there, he could give them a warning look and get them to go away.

“See? It’s cozy back here,” he remarked, sitting down across from her.

“I guess,” she said, flipping open her menu. “What’re you having?”

“Uh . . .” This was going to be hard to play it cool tonight and not get caught looking over her shoulder, spying on the gruesome twosome. “I don’t know. What’re you having?”

“Maybe a salad . . .” she pondered, her eyes glued on the menu.

“Then I’ll have that, too.” He frowned Max reached over and caressed Maria’s hand across the table. What the hell was that?

“You’ll have a salad?” she asked skeptically, giving him a raised-eyebrow look.

“Sure,” he said, trying to cover his own distractedness as he waved a waiter carrying a bottle of wine over to them. “Or a steak.”

“I might have a steak,” she said. “We could split a salad.”

“I don’t want a salad.”

“But you just said--”

Thankfully, the waiter was at their table just in the nick of the time with a smile on his face. “Yes? Can I help you?” he asked.

“Can I get one of those?” he asked, pointing to the bottle. Sarah loved white wine, and even though he was partial to the red, he’d drink this for her.

“Of course,” the waiter said. “One bottle?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Sarah grinned and gave him a little kick under the table when the waiter was gone. “Bad,” she teased. “You’re not twenty-one quite yet.”

“Close enough.” He hadn’t been carded once since his seventeenth birthday, and back then, his fake ID alias of Ricardo Fuego had usually gotten the job done. Only on rare occasions had anyone blocked his effort to score an alcoholic beverage, and one of those people had been . . .

Maria. He snuck another glance at her when Sarah’s eyes drifted down to her menu again. He hated seeing her out with Max. It just didn’t seem right. And what was worse was that they looked like they were on a date. She was wearing a fancy black dress, and Max had on a casual suit.

Michael looked down at his own outfit, suddenly wishing he’d tried a little harder. Not for Maria, but for Sarah. She was donning this sexy, strapless green dress, and he was just wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He was underwhelming.

“Are you sure you wanna pay for a whole bottle of wine?” she asked, trailing her finger down the menu as she perused some of the sandwiches.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Hell, he was probably going to be the one to drink most of it.

“If we each get a steak, this is gonna be expensive,” she warned.

“That’s alright.” Even though he’d planned on offering up a more engaging conversation tonight, he felt like he was speechless as he helplessly watched Max and Maria both lean forward, meeting halfway across the table, and kiss. Just like any regular couple would do. Except this couple made him sick to his stomach. He wouldn’t be able to eat half his steak at this rate.

“Should I maybe get seafood?” Sarah asked, and he immediately jerked his attention back to her.

“Get whatever you want,” he urged, finally picking up his own menu. He peered down hard at all the food items listed there, determined not to look up again until he had to. And even then, he was only going to look at Sarah this time, only going to focus on her. Because nothing and no one sitting behind her really mattered anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael wasn’t ‘appreciating music’ outside today. There was some hippie-wannabe sitting on the grass instead today, strumming an acoustic guitar that was so out of tune, it actually made Maria’s ears hurt. He was singing a self-written song about the greatness of water. Maria headed right past him and scampered into Lecuona Hall.

She was cutting it close. The professor was already there, but he appeared to be having technical problems with some online video he was trying to show them to start the class. Since he was hunched over the computer, attempting to figure it out, Maria slinked into the room unnoticed and subtly looked for Michael. There he was, right in the back. Maria quickly sat down beside him, but he didn’t say anything.

What a great friend you are, she thought sarcastically, wishing he would at least try to make an effort. Way to go.

“Saw you at the restaurant last night,” she remarked, figuring it was okay to start up a conversation since their professor didn’t seem to be having any luck getting his video to play. Other people in the class were talking, too.

“What restaurant?” he asked.

She gave him a look. “Are you seriously gonna play dumb with me?”

“It’s not hard for me to play dumb,” he said. Once he realized that he’d basically just insulted himself, he scrunched up his face in confusion and said, “Wait.”

She smiled and laughed a little. “I noticed you when I was about halfway through my dessert.” It had startled her in the moment, but she’d hidden it well. Max hadn’t seen Michael there, but she knew Michael had seen her and Max. From where he was sitting, he would have had the perfect view of them.

“Was that Sarah with you?” she asked hesitantly. He and the dark-haired girl had definitely looked couple-y. They hadn’t kissed or overtly flirted or anything like that. It was just a vibe.

When he didn’t answer her question, she asked it again, “Was that her?”

Finally, he nodded. “Yeah.”

Maria nodded, too, taking that in. So that was Sarah. She hadn’t pictured her like that. As awful and self-centered as it sounded, she’d sort of figured that Michael would date another blonde. Like her.

“She’s pretty,” Maria commented. “Or I mean, she seems pretty. I couldn’t really see anything except the back of her head. She has nice hair.” It was this shiny shampoo commercial stuff. Totally unbelievable that some people actually had hair like that.

“She’s beautiful,” Michael agreed. “What were you and Max doin’ there?”

Oh, of course he’d shifted the conversation to the two of them. Leave it to Michael. “We were . . . celebrating,” she told him vaguely.

“Celebrating what?”

“Just . . . his birthday,” she lied easily.

“Then where was Dylan?”

Dammit. So much for that. “Okay, fine, it was actually our anniversary,” she informed him bluntly. “One year since we officially got back together.”

“Mmm.” Michael pressed held his mouth together tightly, angrily. “How sweet.”

It actually had been. Max had surprised her with that dinner last night, and Liz had been nice enough to agree to watch Dylan. “Can’t you just be happy for me?” she whined.

“Nope.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head in annoyance, convinced that he had to be the most stubborn, annoying person on the planet.

The spent the rest of the class in blissful silence, because the professor got the video to work, and they watched. Or at least Michael watched, because Maria mostly dazed off. Michael, however, took notes on the damn video and everything. Notes. That alone had her fascinated. Since when did Michael Guerin pay attention, let alone write everything down so he could review it later?

This was craziness.

Once class got out, she had to walk extra fast to keep up with him. One of his steps was like two of hers. But she wasn’t about to just let him take off and get away. There was a lot that she wanted to say to him, a lot that she hadn’t gotten to say because their conversations had been so heavily dominated by Max lately.

“Hey,” she said, struggling to keep up with him as he strode down the long hall towards the exit, “in the interest of being your friend . . . I wanted to say I’m really sorry. About your dad.”

That got him to slow down a bit. Not stop entirely, but at least slow down.

“I can’t believe . . .” She shuddered just thinking about it. Andy Guerin had never been a big fan of hers, and she’d never gotten to know him well. But still . . . it was hard to think that he was just gone. “I’m sorry.”

He snorted. “Why? I’m not.”

She gave him a hard, incredulous look. “Michael . . .” How could he say that?

“What? He hated me,” Michael reminded her. “And I hated him.”

Sometimes she hated her mom, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her deep down. “But he’s still your dad,” she pointed out.

“He was,” Michael corrected, practically shoving open the big double doors that led them outside. “He’s not anymore.”

“He always will be,” she argued. Maybe that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth.

He stopped right out there on the steps, staring out across campus, looking contemplative. She wished she could read his mind, see what he was thinking. Chances were, whenever he thought about his dad, it was a turbulent, confusing thing for him.

“I’m glad he’s gone,” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t care if it makes me an ass to say that.”

It didn’t, but it was still a brutal admission. But it was okay. He had earned the right to feel however he wanted to feel about that man, and she figured she shouldn’t judge him for it. “It must’ve been hard on your mom,” she noted, gently seguing when she added, “and Tina.”

Michael held onto both straps of his backpack and looked down at his feet glumly. “Yep.”

Maria tugged down on the sleeves of her shirt, hesitantly asking, “So she’s really . . .”

There was no need to finish the question. He just nodded silently.

She sighed heavily, hating the thought of it. It filled her with dread for everyone involved. Mostly for Tina, but for that little baby, too. Everything was going to be so terrifying and uncertain.

Talking about something other than Max must have softened him up a little, because he took off his backpack and sat down on the steps, and he didn’t object when she sat down beside him. Other students stepped around them, entering the building without paying much attention to them. No pointed fingers, no gossip, no Twitter pictures. It was nice.

“God, she’s so young,” Maria lamented. “She’s younger than I was.”

“She’s naïve,” Michael added.

“So does that mean . . . she’s gonna try to raise it?”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Who knows? I’m tryin’ to convince her to give it up for adoption.”

“Yeah.” That would be the best choice for someone like her. That was the best choice for anyone her age. “Who’s the father?” she asked, not to be nosy, but just because she cared and wanted to know. “Is it that kid she used to date? What was his name? Todd? Paul? Something.”

“No, apparently they were just a fifth grade thing.” He rolled his eyes, as if the whole thing annoyed him. “This kid Nicholas . . . he’s in ninth grade. They started dating at her first junior high dance last year.” His eyes took on a sad gleam as he recalled, “I remember her calling me when she got home. And she was telling me about him, about how he asked her to dance for every slow song. She said it was the best night of her life.”

Maria felt tears sting the corners of her eyes, but she dabbed them away. “Sounds familiar,” she said. She’d had several ‘best nights of her life’ getting high and partying with Max, or at least she’d thought so. But now, looking back at the nights she actually could remember . . . they didn’t seem great at all. It all seemed like a different life, a waste of one.

“Do you think we’re partly to blame?” she whimpered worriedly, unable not to voice that fear. Ever since Michael had told her about Tina, she’d been thinking about it, wondering.

“Probably,” he admitted. “I don’t know.”

“Because we . . .” She wasn’t exactly trying to walk down memory lane with him, but the truth was, when she thought of the best nights of her life, those nights with him were the ones that came to mind. And there had been so many of them. Right under Andy and Krista’s roof.

“We had sex a lot,” he stated simply. It was like it wasn’t even hard for him to say it.

“Well . . .” That was one way of putting it. “Yeah, we weren’t exactly subtle. She knew what was going on. And your mom always worried about it.”

“I know.”

“We were irresponsible,” she regretted. “I mean, not necessarily with each other, but with her. We knew she was young and impressionable, but we were just so wrapped up in each other . . .”

“We set a bad example,” he filled in.

“Yeah. And I feel horrible.” That had never been her intention. She should have listened to Krista closer and made sure Tina had been completely oblivious. “I feel like she saw us together, and she saw us with Dylan, and we were really happy. I mean, we got engaged.” She subconsciously touched her barren left ring finger, where that small diamond used to sit until she’d accidentally lost it down the drain. “You wanted to adopt Dylan.”

“I know.”

“The whole thing was, like, this whirlwind, and she must have thought it looked so romantic.”

He surprised her when he interjected, “It was romantic.” But then he added, “At the time.”

She nodded sadly. “Yeah, at the time.” Tina probably hadn’t dwelled on the part where it had all blown up in their faces, though. Young girls didn’t do that. Young girls believed in fairytales and grew up too fast in order to try to live one. Tina was just like her in that regard, just a little bit younger and probably even more unprepared.

“Michael . . .” She wanted to apologize for this, too, for what her presence in his life may have irrevocably done to Tina’s. But she didn’t get the chance, because his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, and she peered over at the screen. Crazy Girl? Was that Isabel or something?

“Sarah,” he said, his thumb hovering over the answer button for a second before he suddenly pressed ignore. He put his phone back in his pocket, grabbed his backpack, and got up. “I gotta go,” he announced, quickly traversing the steps.

“Wait!” she called, getting up and hurrying after him. She managed to catch up with him before he’d gone too far. “Um . . .” Maybe it wasn’t her place to ask, but wanted to know. “Have you told Sarah that you and I are . . . talking again?” She was going to feel really bad if he’d been completely honest with her and she hadn’t been with Max.

Looking her right in the eye, he answered, “Of course.”

She smiled politely. Of course.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sarah never ceased to amaze Michael. She had this endless energy that he really admired and sometimes envied. Her job was way tougher than his was, and her classes were way more demanding, yet she rarely was lazy or boring or enthused. Tonight was no different. She literally bounced up and down on the bed, entertaining the hell out of him with her adorableness as he just lay back and watched her. “Happy birthday!” she exclaimed. “Happy birthday!”

“It’s not my birthday yet,” he reminded her. “Not until midnight.”

“Midnight, huh?” She jumped on either side of him, them plopped down and proposed, “Well, we’ll just have to stay awake and ring it in like it’s the new year.”

“That’s four hours,” he pointed out. “Long time.”

“It is,” she agreed, lying down next to him. “Whatever will we do to pass the time?”

He grinned, knowing exactly what they could and would do. “I don’t know,” he said. “Got any bright ideas?”

“Well . . .” She rubbed her leg against his, and that sensation alone was enough to drive him insane. He’d stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt, and he probably looked like a slob; but she was wearing one of his button-down shirts and silky pink panties, and she looked hot as hell. “Whatever it is has to be time-consuming,” she declared. “Obviously fun. And something we can do together.”

“That narrows it down.”

“It really does.” She was starting to get that gleam in her eyes, and when she lay down on her back and arched her chest up, he nearly lost it. “Wanna open your first present?” she asked seductively. And as if she were embarrassed by being seductive, she followed that up with a giggle.

“Sure.” He propped himself up and got to work on the shirt, undoing the first button, then the second, getting sneak peeks of her skin underneath. No bra. Perfect.

Or . . . maybe not so perfect, because for some reason, when he got down to the third button, which was just around her bellybutton, he hesitated, his fingers playing idly with the fabric.

“Don’t stop,” she said, squirming a bit.

He wanted to keep going, but it was like . . . all of a sudden, there was just this block. A big fucking stop sign in his head that wouldn’t allow him to continue on. Here she was, sprawled out for him, all eager to be with him tonight, and he was keeping things from her. Important things. Things that she deserved to know.

Things that would upset her.

“Michael, don’t tease me,” she said, reaching down to pop open the button herself.

He moved her hand aside before she had a chance to. Well, there was probably no going back now. Hesitating before sex was something he just didn’t do. He’d already given her enough reason to be curious at this point.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Crap. Why did this have to happen to him tonight of all nights? Why right here, right now? Why in this moment of all moments did he have to have an attack of the conscience and spill the beans? Couldn’t he have had that right away at the beginning of all of this?

Cursing himself for not just being honest right from the start, he sat up, trying to find the words to explain something that might be very difficult for her to hear. He wanted to be honest, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Michael?” She sounded genuinely concerned now as she sat up beside him. Her playfulness was gone, and her hand was on his shoulder.

“I need to tell you something,” he revealed quietly, ashamed.

She didn’t spook or get panicked or assume the worst. Instead, she merely encouraged him by saying, “Okay.”

He shook his head. Not okay. It wasn’t okay. “You’re not gonna like it,” he warned.

“Michael, what is it? Just tell me.”

He didn’t want to. But it was time. It was past time.

Sighing, feeling weighed down with a sense of guilt he’d somehow managed to overlook until now, he said, “It’s Maria.”

“Maria?” she echoed. She said it casually, questioningly, but he knew she realized right away who he was talking about. “Your ex-girlfriend?”

He nodded glumly. “She moved here.”

“To Carlsbad.” She took that in, rubbing his shoulder now, as if he would somehow need support because of this. Always taking care of him. That was Sarah. But she was also smart, which was why she pointedly asked, “And you know this how?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to look her in the eye when he admitted, “I have a class with her.”

Sarah stopped rubbing his shoulder, and gradually, she withdrew her hand altogether. She put her hands in her lap and looked down, suddenly very quiet. Too quiet. At last, she squeaked out a tiny, “What?” and it almost broke his heart.

“I’m sorry.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, feeling like he didn’t even deserve to be close to her.

“I don’t understand,” she whimpered, tucking her legs beneath her. “You have a class with her and you didn’t tell me?”

He nodded remorsefully.

“Which one?”

The one where I don’t pay any attention to what we’re learning, he thought before responding, “Music Appreciation.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and quickly got up off the bed. Almost as if she were self-conscious suddenly, she re-buttoned the shirt she was wearing. “So you’re taking that class because she is?” she asked. “You don’t really need to?”

She was exactly right, and he had that whole honesty thing going . . . but somehow, admitting that much just seemed a little too honest. It would freak her out, and it would be hard for her to understand that he was in that class mostly just because of . . . curiosity. Because seeing Maria again after all these years had just . . . intrigued him.

“I needed a fine arts class,” he maintained. “I didn’t know she was in it until I showed up for my first day.”

She breathed a small sigh of relief, but she still looked nervous. And not very happy with him. Frowning, she deduced, “So you’ve known she’s in Carlsbad for . . . what, a couple weeks now?”

“Pretty much.”

“And you’re just now telling me?”

“I’m sorry.” He had a feeling that he was going to be saying that a lot tonight.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t know.” There was no good reason, no explanation, nothing he could say to justify the secrecy. He was in the wrong here.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “I know I should’ve. There’s no excuse. I just—my head was spinning when I saw her again. ‘cause I never thought I would. And then all of a sudden, there she was, and there was Dylan, and--”

“Dylan?” she cut in meekly. “Is that . . . that’s her son, right?”

“Right.”

“Where did you see him?”

He exhaled heavily again and revealed, “At the elementary school.”

“The school,” she echoed. “He goes there?”

“Yeah.”

She fell silent for a moment, and he could see that she was thinking. Smart girl that she was, it didn’t take her long to start putting some pieces of the puzzle together. “Oh my god,” she said, holding her hand to her forehead. “So that day that you freaked out on that guy? Who was that, Michael? Was that, like, Maria’s new boyfriend or something?”

New boyfriend, old boyfriend . . . either term was applicable. “That was Dylan’s father,” he explained. “Max. He’s the guy who . . . you know.”

“From out on the bridge that night.”

“Yeah.” No need to go into any detail. He’d told her all about it years ago.

“What was he doing there?”

Michael shrugged, trying to disguise his anger. “He’s Dylan’s dad. He and Maria are back together.”

“And when you saw him, you just . . .” She trailed off.

“It was just like an instinct.” He’d made a lot of mistakes these past couple of weeks, but as far as he was concerned, pummeling Max wasn’t one of them. “Do you get that?”

“I mean . . . I guess,” she said weakly. “I’ve never had that kind of bond with a kid before, though. I . . .” A small cry escaped her, and she got this pained look on her face. He felt horrible that he was the reason for it being there, so he walked around the bed and tried to reach out to her.

“No, just . . .” She backed away, holding her hands up. “Michael, what I don’t get is that you didn’t tell me about any of this. These three people had this huge impact on your life—you loved two of them and hated one—and all of a sudden they’re back in your life, and you don’t tell me?” She looked at him incredulously, accusatorily. “I mean, God, you’d be the first person I’d tell!”

“Sarah . . .” He tried to take her hand, but she moved past him and stormed around the other side of the bed to the dresser, pulling open the second drawer.

“God, and here I am, dressing up for you, dancing around, trying to seduce you?” She quickly yanked on a pair of black drawstring shorts to cover herself up from him some more. “How could you do this, Michael? How could you lie to me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he insisted.

“But you did.” There were tears in her eyes that almost killed him. The longer she looked at him, the closer they came to spilling over. “I kept asking you if you were okay, asking if something was wrong, and you let me think you were just stressed out about Tina’s situation.”

“I am.”

“But then there’s this. And you didn’t say anything.” She looked down at the floor, her hair falling forward to slide her face. He wasn’t sure if she was crying until he saw her wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologized again, walking towards her. She still wouldn’t let him get close, though. “You gotta believe me.”

“No, I do believe you,” she whimpered. “I’m just mad at you.”

“There’s nothing going on with me and Maria.”

She gave him a strange look. “I didn’t say there was.”

“I know, I just . . .” He felt flustered, and that made him think anything he said was going to sound lame. “I wanted to make sure you knew . . .”

“I know, Michael.” For some reason, this was making her cry even harder. “You lied to me, but you’re not cheating on me. How can you even think I would assume that? Don’t you know me better than that?”

Oh, shit, he thought. This was all going to hell in a handbasket. Try as he might, he just couldn’t think of a way to salvage anything about this night.

“All you had to do was tell me,” she said, “right from the start.” Stomping past him on her way to the bathroom, she literally stiff-armed him like he used to do to guys on the football field. She flipped on the bathroom light and looked at herself in the mirror, shaking her head, wiping away the mascara tracks that had started to run. “I wouldn’t have been angry,” she told him. “I would’ve helped you deal with it.”

Slowly, he shuffled into the bathroom with her, standing behind her, looking at their pitiful reflections in the mirror. They didn’t look like that happy couple they usually were. She looked more hurt than he’d ever seen her, and he looked like . . . well, he just looked like a dick.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, “except I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” she muttered agitatedly. “I just . . .” Pressing her lips tightly together, she trailed off.

“You can be mad at me as long as you want,” he said, tentatively rubbing her shoulder.

She flinched away from him and stomped out of the bathroom. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t be around you right now.”

He followed her out, willing to follow her wherever she went. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, just out,” was her swift response. “Out for a walk.”

“What?” Not gonna happen. “I’m not gonna let you go ‘out for a walk’ on campus at night by yourself. No way.”

“I need to clear my head,” she insisted. “I need some space to process this.”

“Fine, then I’ll go for a walk,” he offered. That sounded like a much safer idea.

“Maybe you should . . .” She looked down at her feet, then back up at him sadly, and suggested, “Maybe you should walk over to Tess and Kyle’s and . . . spend the night there.”

Hearing her say that made him feel like she had her hand around his heart and had just squeezed violently. Since they’d moved into this place last year, he and Sarah had rarely ever spent a night apart. Only when she went home to Las Cruces without him or he went to Roswell without her. Every other night, they were together. They fell asleep together, they woke up together . . .

But she didn’t want to do that tonight. And he understood. What choice did he have but to respect her decision and agree to it?

“Alright,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” she confirmed readily. “Just go, Michael.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she sulked back to the bed and lay down on her side, covering up, closing her eyes. He suspected she would cry pretty hard once he left. Part of him thought about sitting outside the door, but it would be too hard to hear her.

So he got dressed and left, not because he wanted to, but because she needed that space. Just for tonight. Hopefully nothing more than that. For this one night and one night only, he was going to have to sleep somewhere else.








TBC . . .

-April

[keepsmiling7]

great part.......wonder what will transpire next??
Carolyn

[sarammlover]

I am so conflicted.....I am really glad Michael told Sarah the truth....I am sad he waited so long to tell her. She handled it much better than a lot of women would have. I hope they can work through this together!!!!

[April]

Carolyn: Oh, lots will transpire . . . over time!

Sara:

I am really glad Michael told Sarah the truth....I am sad he waited so long to tell her.

Yeah. And that's really what Sarah is upset about right now, too.

She handled it much better than a lot of women would have.

Because she's very mature.


Thanks for reading!








Part 19








Video games were a great invention. They were the perfect way to occupy yourself and just shut your brain off for a while. Michael used to play them more, back in high school; though back then, Kyle used to play them less.

He sat on the couch while his friend sat in the recliner, both of their thumbs moving fast and furiously over their controllers as they played the newest Madden game. The graphics were unreal, so smooth, yet so detailed. It almost felt like they were watching a real football game play out.

“You’re not lettin’ me win, are you?” Kyle asked skeptically.

“No.” It didn’t matter if Kyle couldn’t get out on a real football field and play anymore; he could still kick Michael’s ass at PlayStation football. Some things never changed.

Tess emerged from the bedroom, wearing loose white sweatpants and a pink t-shirt. “Alright, I think I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced, yawning. But mid-yawn, she looked over into the kitchen, and her whole face fell. “Right after I do the dishes,” she groaned, trudging through the living room into the kitchen, downtrodden.

Michael felt bad for her having to stay up when she was clearly tired, so he offered, “I’ll do ‘em, Tess.” It wasn’t like he’d be going anywhere tonight anyway.

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, turning on the sink.

Michael watched as she raked one hand through her hair, then reached underneath the sink to take out the dish soap. She squirted some into the sink and then just stood back and watched it fill up, a dazed look on her face.

“Do you see that?” he asked Kyle.

Kyle’s eyes barely left the TV screen. “Yeah.”

Michael stared at him expectantly. “Do you care?”

Kyle pressed his lips together tightly and maneuvered one of his players into position to score a touchdown. He didn’t say anything.

What do you care about? Michael wondered, staring down at his controller blankly, feeling helpless. For two years now, he’d been trying to find something to spark some motivation in Kyle, and for two years, he’d failed. All Kyle seemed to care about was everything he’d lost.

“I’m tired of this,” Kyle declared, suddenly tossing his controller onto the floor. “What’re you even doin’ here?”

Michael shrugged, not wanting to divulge too much. “Just thought we could hang out.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause a rousing night of PlayStation’s so much better than doin’ your girlfriend.”

Michael sighed, wishing that was what he was doing. It was 11:00 now. In one more hour, it would officially be his birthday, his twenty-first birthday. But he’d see it in alone.

“Sarah kicked me out,” he finally revealed, quietly so Tess wouldn’t overhear.

Kyle frowned confusedly. “What?”

“Yeah.” Actually, he was a little surprised Sarah hadn’t called Tess yet. That must have meant she was too upset to even talk to anyone about it. “No, I mean, she didn’t really kick me out; I volunteered to leave ‘cause she’s . . . pretty pissed at me.”

“Why?”

Michael set his controller down on the arm of the couch and sat back, suddenly wondering where he was even going to sleep tonight. Kyle usually slept on the couch, from what he understood. So maybe he’d end up in that rickety old recliner?

“I made a mistake,” he admitted.

Kyle groaned lightly. “Alright, who is she and what is her name?”

He hated that, that his own reputation gave people a reason to believe he’d cheated. But there was a girl involved, and he couldn’t overlook that. “Maria.”

Kyle’s eyes widened noticeably. “What?”

“No, it’s not . . .” He didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. “It’s not like that. I just recently discovered that she lives in Carlsbad now. I have a class with her, and my practicum’s at Dylan’s school.”

“Dylan?” Kyle looked stunned. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So Sarah’s mad about all that, huh?”

Michael swallowed hard. “She’s mad because I didn’t tell her until tonight.”

Kyle shook his head, as if he were disappointed. “Dude . . .”

“I know, I know. I should’ve told her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

That seemed to be the common question, and he didn’t have a good answer. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I didn’t tell anyone. Except Tina. And Steve.”

“Steve?” Kyle made a face.

What? Michael thought. What’s so bad about that?

And then, as if to answer that very question, Kyle said, “You told Steve but you didn’t tell me?”

Michael felt horrible now, not only for hurting Sarah’s feelings, but now for hurting Kyle’s. There was this pained look of disbelief on his friend’s face, and he hated that he was responsible for putting it there. But did it really come as such a surprise? Kyle had been out of the loop for a long time now.

“Told Steve what?” Tess suddenly asked, swaying back into the living room with a plate and a dishtowel in her hand. She looked down at the two of them expectantly as she dried it off.

Oh, crap, Michael thought, slowly but guiltily averting his eyes. This wouldn’t be pretty. Chances were, he was going to have to go with his last resorts and stay with either Monk or Fly tonight, because once Tess found out why he was over there, she’d kick him out, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sarah swore internally when she dropped a glob of ice cream onto her pants. Cute scrubs were hard to find, and these were her favorite to wear to work. She’d spilled so much on them, though, that they were starting to look a lot less new and a lot more dingy. Ice cream was an easy food to spill, though, and she ended up eating it a lot, because there was a little ice cream shop right across the street from Chancellor Rehab. Today, Tess had come with her.

“So . . .” she said leadingly, dabbing at the cold blotch on her thigh. “Where do you think he ended up staying last night?”

Across the table, Tess dug right into her ice cream, muttering uncaringly, “I don’t know. Probably with his little Mexican friend.”

“You mean Fly?”

“Whatever. The pervy one. Who knows? Who cares?”

I care, Sarah thought. She hadn’t talked to Michael since he’d left last night, and she had to admit . . . she missed him. She was actually to the point where she was eager to get off work and go home so that she could see him. Hopefully he would be there, waiting for her, and they could have a good, calm conversation about all of this.

“Sorry, I know I sound harsh,” Tess said, “but that guy deserves to sleep out on the streets for lying to you.”

“He just . . . kept secrets,” Sarah corrected.

“Fine, lying by omission then. It’s the same thing.”

Sarah sighed, mentally debating that. Were they really? Maybe not, but either way, it wasn’t like one was better than the other. Michael had messed up. She knew that; he seemed to know it. Tess definitely knew it. It was almost like she was carrying the rage for the both of them now that Sarah’s had tapered off.

“He can be such an ass sometimes,” Tess went on, mixing her ice cream around in its bowl. “I mean, I know he hasn’t been as much these past two years, but this is old school Michael, as in high school Michael. A jerk, idiot, hormonal time bomb . . . I could go on.”

Sarah laughed lightly. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Oh, I mean it,” Tess insisted. “Look, I know you love Michael, and I love him, too . . . but he just needs to get his head on straight sometimes. I mean, what was he thinking? He should’ve told you the second he found out Maria was in town. And instead he just decides to wait a couple weeks? No, that’s not right. I’m sorry.”

“I know it wasn’t right of him,” Sarah acknowledged. “But I’m gonna try not to hold it against him.”

“I would,” Tess said. “For a little while, at least. Make him grovel to get back in your good graces. Make him get down on his knees and beg you to forgive him. Make him swear on his mother and his sister and his whole damn life--”

“Tess,” Sarah cut in. “I appreciate that you’ve got my back, but I’m not gonna do any of that.”

Tess made a face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She’d thought long and hard about this last night, and she was resolved to be mature about the whole thing, and as understanding as she possibly could be. “I’m gonna talk to him, and we’re gonna work this out, and we’re gonna end up being a stronger couple because of it.”

“Wow.” Tess stared at her in amazement. “That’s . . . incredibly optimistic.”

“Well, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Look, it’s just . . .” She set her spoon down in her now soupy bowl, and a look of sadness washed over her. “I used to be optimistic about me and Kyle. I assumed that just because we loved each other, everything would work out. And now look at us.”

“Tess . . .” Sarah’s immediate instinct was to sympathize and try to comfort her friend.

Tess waved it off quickly. “But this isn’t about me and Kyle. This is about you and Michael, and if you wanna forgive him just like that, then go ahead. That’s your prerogative. I’m just saying, no matter how much he loves and adores you, he and Maria have this pertinent little thing called history, and it’s been known to ruin lives in the past.”

“Isabel’s?” Sarah guessed. Michael rarely talked about her—in fact, he rarely talked about his high school years in general—but whenever she saw Isabel in town or around campus, she got a good sense of just how far that girl had fallen.

Tears immediately sprang to Tess’s eyes, but she blinked them away quickly. “I know it’s hard to believe,” she said softly, “but Isabel was my best friend once. And when she and Michael broke up, it was like she just got . . . lost.”

“Well, Michael and I aren’t breaking up,” Sarah assured her, “and even if we did someday, I have more of a backbone than that.”

“I know. I know.”

“And this isn’t the same. He’s not cheating on me. He messed up, and it does make me reevaluate some things. But I’m still in love with him, and he’s still in love with me, and this doesn’t change any of that.” She smiled appreciatively at Tess, though, because it was nice to know that she had a best friend who was willing to be so impassioned on her behalf. “You know, if it’s possible, you seem even more upset about this than I was.”

“I probably am,” Tess admitted. “Truth be told, Sarah, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive Michael for what he did to Isabel. I mean, I know he didn’t force her to start sleeping around and drop out of Princeton and do all that other stupid stuff; but if he’d just broken up with her instead of cheating on her . . .” She shrugged piteously. “Maybe she’d still be okay.”

Maybe, Sarah thought, but she doubted it. Some things just seemed inevitable. She hadn’t known Isabel Evans back in high school, but seeing her now, she had a hard time picturing her as anything other than . . . well . . . a cautionary tale.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The door to Alex’s office opened, and out stepped an athletic-looking blonde girl. Isabel recognized her right away. She’d seen her at the football game last week with Alex. And that wedding ring on her finger was a pretty obvious clue. Wasn’t her name Linda or Lisa or something?

“Hi,” Isabel greeted as the woman walked down the hallway towards her. “You’re Alex’s wife, right?”

No response. She just kept on coming closer.

“I’m Isabel.”

Alex’s wife just glared at her and grumbled, “I know who you are,” as she strode on past.

Isabel stood in the hall and watched her round the corner. One more sideways glance and she was gone, heading down the stairs.

Weird, she thought. These days, even though men salivated over her, chicks hated her big time. She didn’t even have to do anything or say anything rude to garner their glares.

Dismissing the wife’s unfounded standoffishness, Isabel entered Alex’s office, not at all surprised to find him hunched over his desk, writing comments feverishly on a story someone had turned in.

“Wow,” she said. “Working on a Saturday. Now that’s dedication.”

He glanced up briefly, then returned his eyes to the paper. “Just trying to impress,” he said. “If I do a good job with this class, they’ll probably let me teach one next semester, too. And that’s what I want.”

Of course it was. Alex had always had an interest in teaching, and he’s always been good at it, even back during his days as a tutor for West Roswell’s now defunct Study Buddies program. “Well, I think you’re doing a good job,” she told him, shutting the door. “I do have a few questions, though.”

“About what?” he asked.

“Well, I checked online and saw that you posted the grades for our sonnets.”

“Yep.” Alex underlined the last line of his comments twice, then set the paper aside. “Yours was good.”

She wrinkled her face in confusion. “I got a B.”

“Yeah.”

“So why wasn’t it an A?” She wasn’t trying to sound hostile or demanding, but after knocking it out of the park on slam poetry, she’d kind of been hoping to build up some momentum in this class.

“Because it was good,” he reiterated. “But not great.”

She frowned, wishing she knew where and why he was drawing that distinction. Writing was and always would be subjective, so maybe there was something in it he hadn’t liked. “What, was it too graphic?” she questioned. “Too crude, too controversial?”

“No, I didn’t have a problem with that. At first, I didn’t quite get where you were going with it, but it was all purposeful by the end. And that last line really drove it home and gave the poem its meaning.”

Well, that all sounded good and nice, but apparently it wasn’t good enough, because it hadn’t gotten her an A. “But . . .?” she prompted.

“But . . .” He gave her a serious look. “I know you can still do better.”

Oh, this again. Great. She was starting to understand why it always used to piss Michael off when she begged him to live up to his potential, because now Alex was doing it to her. “Okay, Alex, I feel like you’re holding me to this impossibly high standard,” she complained, “higher than other students. And that’s not really fair.”

“No, it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold you to a lower standard than what you’re capable of,” he argued. “I’m just trying to push you.”

“Okay, then tell me. Tell me what I need to do to earn an A on a more consistent basis.”

“Why do I have to tell you?” he challenged. “You should already know.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t know much of anything anymore.

****

“Uh . . .” Professor Scott Conahey’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head as Isabel slid her mouth up and down rhythmically on his cock. Thank god he was one of the few younger, hotter professors here on campus. He was fit, in his thirties, and engaged. But no wedding ring or pictures of his kids on his desk. So that made this easier.

“Ah! Ah!” A vast array of sex noises escaped him as he buried his hands in her hair and held her head in place, thrusting up into her mouth a few more times as he released himself. Some of it seeped out the sides of Isabel’s mouth, but she held as much of it in as possible, pressing her lips shut and tilting her head back.

“Let’s see, let’s see,” he said, prying her mouth open.

She opened wide for him to get a look at all the cum pooling in the back of her throat.

“Oh, good girl,” he said, as if she were a dog or something. “Now swallow.”

She shut her mouth and took one big gulp, downing it all in a matter of seconds. When she opened her mouth again, she stuck her tongue out and said, “Ah . . .” to prove that it was all gone.

“There you go, yeah.” He grinned, stroking his cock a few more times as it started to go limp. “Look at you.”

Look at me, she thought. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned Princeton, but things were tough here. She wasn’t the star student in any of her classes, and this just seemed like the easiest way to succeed. It was as strategic as it was degrading, but because Scott was actually attractive, it didn’t feel as degrading as it could have.

“Mmm,” she moaned, rubbing his thighs. “How was it?”

“Amazing, obviously.”

“Obviously.” She climbed up onto his lap and grabbed onto his shoulders. “So how would you grade my performance?”

“Well . . .” He shuffled a few papers aside on his desk until he found hers. “I think you deserve . . .” He marked an red A+ on the top of her essay and circled it emphatically. “Now come here.”

She smiled and bent her head to kiss him passionately. In a weird, unexpected way, she was actually starting to like doing this with him. It was exhilarating to know that other students in the class were stressing out about their assignments, and she could turn in something that was complete and utter crap and still manage to outdo them. All because she was beautiful. And willing. And therefore, sort of powerful.

Things were just starting to heat up again when a loud knock on the door thundered. “Professor Conahey,” a booming voice on the other side said, “it’s Dean Rigby. Open up.”

Scott froze, and Isabel froze right along with him. She’d met Dean Rigby once, on orientation day. He was the top-dog of the English department, the man in charge. And he didn’t sound happy.

“Uh . . . just a minute,” Scott replied, lifting Isabel off of him. He quickly pulled his pants up, tucked his shirt back in, and zipped up his fly. Isabel readjusted her clothes as well and took a seat in the empty chair across his desk, crossing her legs, putting her hands on her lap, trying to look all innocent and . . . normal.

Scott unlocked and opened the door to his office with a nervous smile. “Hello, sir,” he greeted the white-haired man on the other side. “I’m sorry, I was just in the middle of office hours with one of my students.”

Isabel smiled politely, making eye contact for just a second before looking away.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Scott asked.

Dean Rigby looked inside at Isabel, then back at Scott, and he held that gaze for several long, agonizing seconds. The longer he went without saying anything, the more nervous Isabel started to become. Did they look as obvious as she felt? Did it smell like sex in there? Had she remembered to button up every button on her blouse?

“I need you to come with me,” the dean finally declared.

Scott fell into a stunned and scared silence. He didn’t look back at Isabel, but he didn’t need to. His fear was very much evident in his body language, the sudden tenseness of his back and shoulders. He looked very much like a man who had just gotten caught.

“Of—of course,” he finally stammered, casting a worried glance back at Isabel. “Miss Evans,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”

No, you won’t, she thought sadly. This was the end of the road for him. His whole life was about to come crashing down.

The second Scott left with Dean Rigby, another head peeked into the office, a woman in a maroon pantsuit with short dark hair. “Isabel Evans?” she said.

Isabel’s stomach immediately knotted up. “Yes?”

The woman gestured for her to get up and follow her. “This way, please.”

Oh god. She stood and walked out with the woman, already thinking of what she could say to explain . . . all of this. Even if she had to throw Scott under the bus, she’d do it. This was Princeton, after all. People would do anything to go to college here.

****

“Isabel?”

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Isabel squeaked, “What?”

Alex looked at her strangely, as if he were trying to get a read on what she was thinking. “I said you know what you have to do.”

Not true. She knew what not to do. She wasn’t making the same mistake again. She couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. Not with Alex.

“Work harder,” he said. “Push yourself. You can do it.”

She rolled her eyes, thinking he sounded like a bad motivational poster. “Look . . . you can’t expect me to be the same writer I was when I was eighteen,” she told him. “I’m not that girl anymore.”

“I liked that girl,” he blurted suddenly. “She wrote a novel, if I recall.”

She grunted, remembering those characters, the ones who had been loosely based off of Michael and her. “Yeah. A complete work of fiction.” Those characters had gotten a happy ending. Alex had encouraged her to change it, back before she’d broken up with Michael. But she never had.

“See, you used to just write,” Alex reminded her, “for fun. For the sake of getting your thoughts and ideas out there. You used to create your own stories. Now you just wait for the assignment, and you write what you’re told.”

He didn’t understand, though. That was her life. Jesse and Eric came up with the movie ideas, and she starred in them. And that was okay. The world didn’t need everyone to be a leader. Sometimes, followers were necessary. “Fine, I’ll go home and write for fun then,” she told him. “Is that what you want?”

“I want you to want to write,” he clarified, “to find that spark, to be inspired.”

She frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d been inspired by anything.

“That’s what’s missing, Isabel.”

She sighed, unhappy with what he was saying, even though she partially agreed with it. He wasn’t wrong, but it was discouraging that this was what he wanted from her. Because that spark had been missing for a long, long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle was asleep. Not a surprise. Michael expected to walk in and find him on the couch, and that was indeed exactly where he found him. The only question was what he’d be doing: watching TV, playing video games, or sleeping. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, any one was possible.

Michael cleared his throat to make his presence known. “Hey, man.”

Kyle stirred, rubbing his eyes and dragging his hands across his stubble as he woke up. “Hey,” he returned, sitting up slowly, holding one hand against his back as he did so. “Happy birthday.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. A real fucking happy birthday it was.

“Where’d you end up goin’ last night?”

“Fly’s place.” Michael sat down on the arm of the couch, making a face. “It smelled weird there.”

“What, like sex?”

“More like masturbation.”

“Oh, well . . .” Kyle reached for the remote and turned on the TV. “That figures.” He flipped right to ESPN, where a highly-anticipated Big Ten matchup between Ohio State and Michigan State was taking place. “So what’s up?” he asked.

“Nothin’ much. You’re the second stop on the apology tour.”

“Yeah? Who was the first?”

“Tess.” He was saving Sarah for last, because he figured these first two apologies with Tess and Kyle were a good practice run. “She was pretty pissed at me. I stopped in while she was at work, think I got back on her good side when I insulted that bitch Kristen’s engagement ring.”

“What’d you say?”

“I told her the diamond was too big and I like Tess’s better.” He smirked.

Kyle smiled a bit. “Yeah, that’ll definitely get you back on her good side.” His eyes glazed over for a moment, and Michael wondered what he was thinking about. Or remembering. Was he remembering the day when he’d slid that ring into place? The ridiculously over-the-top proposal that had made all of Tess’s dreams come true? It seemed like a different lifetime now.

“You know,” Kyle said, “the whole reason she got so pissed is just ‘cause she’s Sarah’s best friend.”

“No, she was pissed ‘cause she’s protective of her,” Michael corrected. It went further than friendship for Tess because of the sense of déjà vu that went along with it. He understood that, and he even respected it. “She doesn’t want me to hurt Sarah the way I hurt Isabel. But I’m not gonna, and I made sure she knows that. So now she’s less mad.”

“That’s good,” Kyle said, yawning. “You don’t have to apologize to me, though. I know you’re not gonna let history repeat itself. I was never mad.”

“Yeah . . .” That really wasn’t what he intended to apologize for, though. “But I hurt your feelings when I told Steve about all this and not you. I’m sorry, man.”

Kyle shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I should’ve told you. You’re my best friend. You would’ve made sure I told Sarah right away instead of dragging it out like this.”

Kyle thought about that for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “So why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, turning down the volume on the TV. “Is it ‘cause I’m . . . you know, a mess right now?”

Sure, that was it in a nutshell, but that was a pretty blunt way to put it. “I didn’t say that.”

“But that is why, isn’t it? You don’t think I can help you with your problems ‘cause I can’t even help myself.”

Michael sighed, deciding there was no point in denying it if Kyle already knew. “Pretty much,” he admitted. “But better late than never, right? Now you know. Maria came back.”

“And now Sarah knows,” Kyle added. “Forget about me and Tess, man. We’ll get over it. Get your ass home and apologize to the person who matters.”

Michael nodded, hoping she would accept his apology and understand just how much she mattered to him. He couldn’t take another night without her, worrying that she was too upset to forgive him. In his heart, he knew that they could get past this, and maybe it wouldn’t even be that hard. But until she was in his arms again, he’d be worried.

It was a risk, but he went home and made dinner, knowing he’d have plenty of time to put one together because she was working until 7:00 tonight. He opened up her recipe book and searched for something they had the ingredients on hand for. What he ended up attempting was a baked chicken with tomatoes and garlic meal that she’d made a few times before. He felt like he pretty much mutilated the chicken, but a quick taste test assured him that it didn’t taste that much different from when she made it.

He dimmed the lights and put a tablecloth down, got out the nicer plates and silverware, and lit candles. Romantic. Good and romantic. Hopefully this would help. It couldn’t hurt.

He was just finishing up pouring some white wine into her glass when the door opened, and in she came, looking very tired at first, and then very surprised to see what he’d arranged for her.

“Hey,” he said, setting the wine glass down on the counter.

“Hey.” She brushed the loose strands of hair framing her face back into her ponytail and said, “You cooked.”

He looked at the plates of food sheepishly, knowing that it probably just looked like a mountain of crap to her. “I tried.” Whenever she did fancy meals like this, she knew how to arrange everything on the plate so that it looked just right. Honestly, if she wouldn’t make so much money as a pharmacist, he’d recommend that she do something in the culinary career track.

“It smells good,” she remarked.

“Well, hopefully it tastes good then, too.” If it did, it would be the one and only successful meal he’d ever concocted on his own.

He leaned back against the counter, folded his arms across his chest, and mumbled, “You look nice,” alternating between looking at her and the floor.

“I’m in scrubs,” she pointed out, setting her purse down.

“You still look nice, though.” There wasn’t an outfit in the world his girl couldn’t pull off.

She toed off her shoes, then took a few steps toward him, and nearly sank right into him. He opened up his arms and embraced her gratefully, savoring the smell of her hair, the feel of her body against his. It felt so good to just hold her, to know that she was still okay with him holding her.

“I missed you last night,” he told her.

“I missed you, too,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his chest. She leaned back a bit and tilted her head back to look up at him. “But I just needed some time alone to think about everything and calm down.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He wasn’t mad at her in the slightest. How could he be? “So do you wanna talk while we eat?” he asked. “Or eat while we talk, or . . .”

She stared up at him for a few seconds and then took his hand in hers, urging, “Come here,” as she led him out of their tiny kitchen and into the living room. Shango was dozing on the couch, but when they sat down, he obediently hopped down and curled up in his little nest of blankets on the floor instead.

Michael leaned back against the arm of the couch, and Sarah sat down close to him, swinging her legs up onto his lap. He massaged her calves for a moment, waiting for her to say something. Because it was obvious she had things ready to say, and he didn’t, so he figured he’d just follow her lead.

“You know me, Michael,” she started in softly. “You know I’m not the type to be jealous or insecure. So you could’ve told me sooner.”

He nodded regretfully. “I know.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know.” That was the million dollar question, and he kept having to give his lame-ass answer. “I should’ve. I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to hide anything. There’s nothing going on between me and Maria.”

She reached out and stroked his cheek lovingly. “I know that.”

“I just hate that I’ve given you reason to doubt me.”

“I don’t doubt you, Michael,” she readily assured him, shaking her head. “Not for a second. I know how you feel about me, and I know that nothing can change that.”

He nodded affirmatively. She was right. Nothing could.

“I just . . . I wanna understand where you’re coming from with all of this,” she said almost pleadingly. “And I think I do, as much as I can.”

He frowned, trying to follow what she was saying. “What do you mean?”

She scooted a little closer still, nearly sitting on his lap now. “Maria’s a huge part of your past,” she acknowledged calmly. “Her, Max, Dylan . . . all of them. And seeing all of them again had to throw you for a loop. Like majorly. You probably felt like your past and present were crashing together. Am I right?”

That was exactly what it felt like, but he hadn’t expected her to know that. “Yeah,” he replied. “But that’s no excuse for me to not say anything.”

“No,” she agreed. “But when I think about it like that, it makes it easier for me to understand. Because the past isn’t a pleasant thing for you, Michael.”

Understatement, he thought. His past was one intricately-woven tapestry of teenage angst and turmoil. If it wasn’t rooted in romance, it was rooted in family. Regardless, it was all so damn dramatic.

“I mean, you never talk about high school,” she went on. “You never talk about Maria.”

“Because I don’t know what to say.”

“Exactly. It’s almost like you feel like you can’t talk to me. And that’s why you didn’t say anything.”

“No, that’s not true.” He knew he could talk to her. He could talk to her about anything. If there was one person in this world besides Kyle who he would feel comfortable telling anything to, it had to be Sarah.

“Maybe it is, though,” she insisted.

He almost laughed. “Are you serious? I’m the one who kept things from you, and you’re finding a way to blame yourself?”

She actually did laugh, just lightly, but enough for a genuine smile to show through. “No, I’m not blaming; I’m just saying, maybe you didn’t open up to me because you feel like the past is just something you have to close off and store away.”

He frowned, wondering if that was true. It could be. As close as he and Sarah were, he’d never gone super in depth with her about his relationship with Maria, or his relationship with Dylan. She knew the basics, that they’d technically started out as an affair, that he’d been so madly in love with her that he’d proposed before he even graduated high school. She knew that he’d intended to adopt Dylan and had even been willing to hold off on going to college just so they could start off their lives together on the right foot. And she knew all about how things had ended. But those were just all the big moments, and there were so many of those little moments in between that she wasn’t privy to.

“Maybe,” he admitted quietly. Maybe he had closed off that part of himself without even realizing it. “I’m still sorry, though.”

“I know you are,” she said. “And I can forgive you.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him. “I’m never gonna make a mistake like this again, I promise,” he vowed, pulling the ponytail holder out of her hair for her. He threaded his hands through her thick, silky tresses and emphasized, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” She smiled and stretched forward so that she could kiss him. Repositioning herself, she ended sprawled out on top of him, and together they shifted down so that they were both lying on the couch. He was happy to stay right there and be her human pillow for as long as she wanted. This, this little moment, turned his entire birthday around for him.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” she said, rubbing his chest. “Maria’s in town, but you can handle that. And I know I can handle it.” She sighed contentedly and proclaimed, “We can handle it together. Just don’t be afraid to open up to me.”

“I won’t,” he promised, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. Even though it was a romantic moment, his stomach just had to growl. The smell of their dinner was still heavy in the air. “Food’s gettin’ cold,” he pointed out.

“The food can wait,” she said, wrapping her legs and arms around him tighter. “I’m good right here.”

He smiled, caressing her spine. Yeah. So was he.








TBC . . .

-April

[keepsmiling7]

I'm still having a hard time accepting that Max has changed that much, and he, Maria and Dylan are all together.
Thanks,
Carolyn

[sarammlover]

Awww I am so happy for Michael and Sarah and I don't think old MIchael would have gone and done those round of apologies so kudos to him. I wish Tess and Kyle would REALLY talk. I miss them together. I miss Kyle. This shell of a man he used to be is worthless....I hope something snaps him OUT of this. Great update!

[April]

Carolyn:

I'm still having a hard time accepting that Max has changed that much, and he, Maria and Dylan are all together.

So is Michael.


Sara:

Awww I am so happy for Michael and Sarah and I don't think old MIchael would have gone and done those round of apologies so kudos to him.

Yeah, he's definitely grown up. Hence the apologies.

I wish Tess and Kyle would REALLY talk. I miss them together. I miss Kyle. This shell of a man he used to be is worthless....I hope something snaps him OUT of this.

Maybe something will. Or . . . maybe not.


Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!








Part 20








It was weird, but Tess almost felt like she had to ask Kyle permission to sit on the couch with him. He was just there so often that it was like his territory. She didn’t ask, though. She sat down on the farthest left cushion with her TV dinner in hand, while he sat on the other side of the couch, polishing off the remainder of his. He’d probably want another one later.

“So,” she said, barely taking one glance at the college football game he was watching now. All the teams looked the same to her. “Do you think Sarah’s gonna be able to forgive Michael?”

Kyle swiped his finger inside the compartment of the plastic tray where the mashed potatoes and gravy had been. “Yeah,” he said, scooping up the remainder of what was left so he could lick it off his finger. “She loves him. He loves her.”

Tess grunted, still not entirely forgiving of what Michael had done. “He’d better,” she grumbled, unable to not think about how inconsolable Isabel had been two years ago. Having to let go of her friendship and watch her travel down the path of ruin had been one of the hardest things Tess had ever had to do. It just wasn’t in her nature to give up on people.

“They’ll be fine,” Kyle assured her. “They’re, like, the perfect couple.”

Tess sat still, looking at him sadly, wondering if he even thought about what he was saying on the same level that she did. Because she was pretty sure he didn’t, she pointed out, “That’s what people used to say about us.”

He looked right back at her, not apologetically or reminiscently. Just . . . blankly. Like he didn’t even care that people didn’t say that anymore. And then he just reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the TV.

With the sounds of the game able to drown out the silence, Tess started to pick at her cheap meal, wishing he would say something else. Or at least change the damn channel. Whichever.

But he wouldn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel rang the doorbell, tapped her foot impatiently while she waited, then rang the doorbell again. Were they trying to pretend they weren’t home or something? Wouldn’t work. She wasn’t stupid. There were two cars in the driveway.

At last, Max slowly opened the door, stepping right out onto the porch instead of letting her even set one foot inside. “What’re you doin’ here?” he questioned, closing the door.

“Well, hello, big brother. It’s nice to see you, too,” she greeted sarcastically. Since when had he become so cold? Sure, it had been a long two years of not seeing him, but before he’d come to Roswell, she’d gone longer than that without seeing him. And things in Roswell had been natural. He hadn’t been so standoffish.

“What do you need?” he demanded.

He thinks he’s better than me, she realized. Or at least he wants to be. She wasn’t about to let that discourage her, though. “I don’t need anything,” she said. “I did want, however, to drop off the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” She handed him a large gift bag from Clowns and More, the costume shop that was going out of business just year, and gave him a persistent look, urging him to open it.

Reluctantly, he reached into the bag and pulled out a pirate costume. “Captain Hook,” he said.

“Or Jack Sparrow. Whoever.”

“Hmm.” Max held it up higher, looking it over. She kept expecting him to at least crack a smile or something, because honestly, it was such a cute costume. The little black pants were accompanied by a red and white striped shirt, and there was a black vest that went over that. But the red bandana and black eyepatch were really what pulled it together. The little plastic sword was adorable, too. Dylan would have such a fun time with it.

“It’s for Halloween,” she said, stating the obvious. “You’re taking Dylan trick-or-treating, right?”

“Of course.”

“So now he has a great costume. All the other little boys will be jealous.”

“Look . . .” Max shoved the costume back into the sack, handing it back to her. “I appreciate it and everything, but you should return this. He already has a costume.”

“Oh.” She tried not to look disappointed, because . . . it didn’t really matter. It was just a costume. “Well, what’s he going as?”

“A football player.”

“Really?” That was . . . poignant. “You must hate that.”

Max shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t mind. He loves football.”

“And I wonder why that is.” It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that Michael Guerin had taught him all about the game, could it?

“Just stop,” Max snapped suddenly. “Okay, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to reconnect; stop trying to force your way back into our lives,” he growled. “It’s not gonna happen. The only family you have is the one you make movies with.”

She had no snappy comeback loaded in the barrel for that one, so all she could do was stand there like an idiot, clutching her gift bag tightly as he retreated back inside and slammed the door in her face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Shango!” Sarah yelped as the dog stopped to sniff a bush again. When he lifted his leg to pee, she wondered, “Seriously, does this dog have a bladder condition or something?”

Michael chuckled, gently tugging on Shango’s leash so they could continue walking. “No, he’s just beast mode. He wants to claim a lot of territory, so he’s markin’ it.” At this point, though, he’d lifted his leg so many times that barely two squirts were coming out. “Awesome job, Shango,” he congratulated anyway. “Keep up the great work.”

Even though she was wearing sunglass, Michael could just sense that Sarah was rolling her eyes. “Whatever happened to this toilet-training you were so convinced you could pull off, huh?”

“That ended up bein’ harder than I thought,” he admitted. “Besides, Shango’s a man. And real men piss outside, so . . .” He shrugged pulling Shango back when he started to veer too far off the sidewalk.

“You and this dog,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “I swear . . .”

Michael grinned, not at all ashamed of his bromance with Shango. Not one bit.

“Well . . .” Sarah stepped down off the sidewalk as they came upon a bench and sat down. “Does today kind of make up for yesterday’s bitter birthday?”

He sat down beside her, elongating Shango’s leash so that the dog could run around a little more and sniff out more places to pee. “It more than makes up for it,” he assured her. “But don’t worry about yesterday. I had the kind of birthday I deserved.”

“What’d you do?” she asked.

“Well, I watched TV at Fly’s house. Then I went over to Monk’s to get some studying done. Then I went around and started apologizin’ to everyone.”

“And then you came home and made dinner,” she added. “Which was surprisingly good, by the way.”

“Yeah, but before that, I went to the bar and ordered my first drink legally.”

“Legally,” she emphasized.

“Yep. I have to admit, though, I’m gonna miss bein’ Ricardo Fuego. He was pretty cool.”

“Well . . .” She nudged his side. “Michael’s Guerin’s cooler.”

“Damn right,” he agreed, reflecting on his coolest moment. “Snowball King and all.”

She moved her sunglasses up on top of her head, and this time he actually saw her roll her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just . . . if I had a nickel for every time you’ve mentioned being Snowball King, I’d be a rich girl.”

He smirked. What could he say? It was a pinnacle moment in his life. “And you say I don’t talk about the past.”

But her expression was still a serious one. “No, you really don’t, though,” she argued. “I mean, you tell me about Snowball King and about the supposedly ‘legendary’ speech you gave when you got the crown. And you talk about football once in a while, and how you and Kyle were, like, the unstoppable tandem. You talk about that teacher you hated.”

“Which one?” There were so many.

“The science guy.”

“Mr. Frost,” he snorted. “Ass.”

“And you’ve told me about Ms. Topolsky and how she inspired you to be a counselor. But that’s, like . . . it. That’s all you talk about. You don’t go more in depth than that.”

He shrugged. “ ‘cause there’s not much to say.”

“Sure there is.” She angled her whole body towards him, like she was really encouraging him to open up.

“Sarah, I don’t even remember most of high school, okay? I was always gettin’ wasted; I slept through most of my classes.”

“I don’t wanna know about the classes, Michael.”

He knew what that meant, and quite honestly, he was afraid of it. Shifting uncomfortably, he asked, “Why do you want me to talk about her?”

“Because I want you to be open with me,” she explained. “I mean, think about it. You know all about my ex-boyfriends. Remember Curtis?”

“The nerdy one who won the fifth grade spelling bee?”

“Yeah. And Brian.”

“The artist who moved out to L.A.”

“And Pierre.”

Michael made a face. “I still can’t believe you dated a French guy.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m very multicultural, unlike some people.” She gave him a pointed look. “But look, the point is, I’ve been very open with you, and none of those relationships were even that serious.”

“Then maybe that’s why you’ve been open,” he pointed out. It was a lot easier to divulge your past when there was much to tell.

“Maybe,” she agreed softly. “I just feel like you’ve only ever given me the abridged version, and that frustrates me.”

He frowned, reaching down to untangle Shango’s leash from around the leg of the bench. “Well, I don’t want you to feel frustrated,” he said, eventually just unhooking his dog altogether so he could run free. He wouldn’t go far, and chances were, this conversation could go a while. “What do you wanna know?”

“Just tell me something about her,” she urged.

“Like what?” His teachers had always had to do a lot of prompting to get a decent answer out of him. This would be no different.

“Anything.”

Unless . . . maybe it would. Because there were plenty of things he could say about Maria. It was all about just finding one that wouldn’t . . . intimidate her. Not that Sarah was easily intimidated.

“She’s a great singer,” he revealed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Was that a turn-on?”

“Probably.” It was equally as much of a turn on, though, that Sarah was a great dancer; it didn’t matter that she was tone-deaf. “For Christmas,” he said, getting absorbed in a memory momentarily, “I got her this guitar, ‘cause she had to sell her old one to make ends meet.” He remembered the way her whole face had lit up with joy and excitement when she’d seen that. It had felt good to make her feel so good. “That was the first time I ever heard her sing.”

“Yeah? Were you guys together at that point?”

“No. But that’s when I realized I had feelings for her.” That knowledge had hit him like a ton of bricks, and from that moment onward, he’d been . . . consumed. “And it just kinda progressed from there,” he said, once again reverting to the ‘abridged version,’ as Sarah had called it. “There you go.”

But clearly that wasn’t enough to satisfy her. “Tell me something else.”

He looked around desperately, trying to figure out what the hell this was. He hadn’t expected it, that was for sure. “Her middle name’s Elena.”

“Oh, great, I really feel like I know her now,” she said sarcastically. “Didn’t you meet her at that alien restaurant you refuse to take me to?”

“You wouldn’t like the food.”

“So that’s a yes.”

He sighed, relenting himself to telling her more. “Yeah. That’s where we had our first kiss, too.” It didn’t exactly sound romantic, but it had been at the time, with it just being the two of them there and all.

“So how did it progress to the point where you were wanting to marry her?” she inquired. “That’s a really big step.”

He’d thought about that a lot over the years; he’d thought about it most in those months following her departure. It was one of those things, one of those choices he’d made, that he might never be able to make sense of. “I don’t know,” he said. “I was young. Naïve. I thought we were gonna be together forever.”

Lowering her head, she quietly, carefully asked, “Do you think you still would be, if it wasn’t for that night on the bridge?”

Oh, fuck, he thought, feeling like he had no answer to that question. It was impossible to know, and it didn’t really matter now, did it? “No,” he replied.

“Why not?”

“ ‘cause I was meant to end up with you.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side, squeezing gently. “Are we good now? Have you had enough of this?” He certainly hoped so, because walking through the park with Shango was a hell of a lot easier than walking down memory lane.

“For today,” she said. “I’ll be honest with you, though . . . I’d really like to meet her.”

He unwrapped his arm from around her, scooting back a bit to stare at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

Holy shit, she really wasn’t. She had that look in her eyes, the dead-set one. He’d seen that look a lot over the years, mostly when she vowed that she would end up graduating college with a better GPA than his. And here he was again, seeing it now.

“Why the hell would you wanna do that?” he spat.

She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Why not? I owe a lot to her. She helped make you into the man you are today.”

“No, my mom did that,” he corrected quickly.

“So did Maria.”

As much as he wanted to dispute that . . . he couldn’t. It was true. Maria had shaped his life in ways that no one, not even he, could fully understand. “How are you so calm and collected about all this?” he wanted to know.

“Look, Michael, I have no ill will towards her whatsoever. I have no reason to be hostile. I’m not jealous or threatened, because I know that what we have is strong.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, hitting his thigh to call Shango back over.

“But I also know that this girl had a huge impact on your life, and rather than just brushing that off, I’d like to get to know her. And now I have that chance.”

“The chance to be friends with my ex-girlfriend?” No way. It just seemed too weird to him.

“I just wanna get to know her and let her get to know me,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if it becomes a friendship or not. This way there’s just no reason for anything to be awkward or uncomfortable between any of us.”

“You don’t think it’ll be awkward, huh?” Even just picturing it in his mind, it was awkward to him.

“Well . . . maybe at first,” she acknowledged. “But that won’t last.”

He sighed deeply, trying to think of something he could say to get her to change her mind about all of this. But there was nothing. Besides, he kind of owed it to her. After him keeping all this Maria stuff a secret, she deserved to be able to call the shots on how they moved forward from here.

“I think you’re way more mature than me,” he said, knowing there was no way he was grown-up enough yet to handle something of this magnitude this calmly. “Crazy, but mature.”

She smiled and wriggled in close to him. “That’s why I’m your Crazy Girl.”

That she was indeed. As wary as he was about having her meet Maria, he also admired her ability to be able to do so. She was confident, and that was sexy.

He bent down and gave her a kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I’m a fucking glorified file clerk, Michael thought dejectedly as he sifted through the disorganized hanging folders in Vanessa’s middle drawer of her filing cabinet. His cooperating counselor had given him a second chance here at Pound, sure, but she was keeping him at a distance, occupying him with trivial shit like organizing the office rather than the important stuff like attending IEP meetings. It was clear to him that he still had a ways to go before he was completely back on her good side.

Bored out of his mind, he opened up a folder labeled Golf, and what he found surprised him. Vanessa, it seemed was the coach of Carlsbad high school’s boys’ golf team. Huh. Who knew?

I gotta put myself out there, he thought. Vanessa had told him he needed to go above and beyond. He had to get his head out of his ass and find something he could do around there that would amount to . . . impressive.

When he heard a familiar voice ring out from the exterior office, he got distracted.

“Hey, will you give this to Dylan?”

Maria. He quickly put the folder away, aware that she was talking to the secretary, probably dropping off Dylan’s lunch the way so many other parents did every day.

“I forgot to send it with him this morning. Thank you so much.”

Michael hurriedly shut the filing cabinet and bolted out into the main office to catch Maria. Patty gave him a really weird look as he darted right past her outside the office.

“Maria!” he called.

She whirled around, looking a little caught off-guard when she saw him. “Michael, hey,” she said, subtly looking him up and down. “I’m not used to seeing you dressed like this.”

“Well . . .” He plucked at the awful tie he was wearing. Damn thing made him feel like he was suffocating. “Gotta look professional when I’m here.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, and then an awkward silence immediately overtook them. Great.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, shifting from side to side a bit, Michael hesitantly ventured into a more serious topic. “Hey, so, I, uh . . . I kinda lied to you the other day,” he confessed.

Her eyebrows arched. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, when I said I’d told Sarah everything. I didn’t tell her anything until Friday night.”

Her face registered surprise, and she nodded slowly, taking that in. “How’d that go?”

“It could’ve gone better.” He shrugged. “But it’s fine now.”

“Good.” She readjusted her purse on her right shoulder, looked down at the floor for a few seconds, then quietly admitted, “You know, I-I didn’t tell Max right away, either.”

Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. That made him feel . . . better. “Why not?” he questioned.

“I don’t know. It just felt so weird.”

“It’s all weird,” he agreed. And it was about to get weirder once he told her how Sarah wanted to take things from here.

“Yeah. Well, it’s good that you told her and I told Max, and we’re not keeping anything from them anymore,” she said.

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t have to feel so guilty anymore. Now he could just be completely honest with Sarah. Or . . . almost completely honest, at least. He still had no intention of telling her that Music Appreciation wasn’t fulfilling any of his requirements.

“So . . . I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” Maria said, giving an awkward little wave goodbye as she turned around and started walking off again.

Crap, he thought, wishing he could just let her go. But Sarah had been very, very clear in what she wanted, and it was up to him to make that possible. “Maria, wait.”

Slowly, impatiently, Maria turned back around once again. “What?”

“Okay, this might sound crazy, but . . .” Scratch the might. It did sound crazy, or at least it did to him. “Sarah wants to meet you.”

At first, she laughed. “What?” Then, when she realized he was serious, she got serious, too. “Why?”

“I don’t know. She’s on this whole kick that getting to know you will bring her closer to me. Not that we’re not close. I mean, we are. We’ve been together for two years now. She just . . .” He shrugged helplessly. “It’s what she wants.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. That seems kinda . . .”

“Strange, I know,” he filled in. “But she’s pretty adamant about it.”

“Does she just, like, wanna talk to me, or . . . what?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

She hung her head and pouted, meekly asking, “Does she not like me?”

“No, she has nothing against you,” he assured her. “Sarah’s not that kind of girl.”

“That kind?”

“You know . . . the Isabel kind.” For a long time he hadn’t known Isabel was that kind of girl, either, but . . . hell, people surprised him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, managing a small smile. But in seconds, it was gone, and the worry was back again. “But still . . . I don’t know, Michael.”

“Please,” he begged. “I promised her I’d make this happen for her. I gotta follow through.” If he didn’t, Sarah was going to be disappointed, and she might think that he was hiding something. Well, no, she wouldn’t actually think that, but . . . he’d worry that she would think that.

She thought about it for a few more seconds, then relented. “Fine. But I’m bringing Max.”

Oh, fantastic. “Fine.”

As if to explain, she added, “It’s just . . . he should be a part of this.”

“Whatever.” He didn’t necessarily think that was true.

She gave him a look.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “We’re goin’ to this Halloween party tomorrow night at the Sigma Chi house. You should come.” Fuck, this felt weird, inviting his ex-girlfriend to a party.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m taking Dylan trick-or-treating.”

It felt like his heart got squeezed for a second when she said that. He remembered going trick-or-treating with them a couple years ago, convincing her that she should take Dylan out and not be afraid to show him off. He’d pretty much just invited himself along for that. But it’d been a nice night, the first night that he and Dylan had really bonded, actually.

“So come after,” he suggested. “Come on, doin’ this at a party might make it less awkward.”

“Maybe,” she reluctantly agreed. “I’ll ask Max what he thinks about it.”

Oh, fuckin’ Max . . . Michael pressed his lips together tightly and mustered, “You do that.” He turned to head back into the office to get more filing done.

“Michael,” she called after him. “If we’re doing this, you have to be nice to him.”

“I’ll be . . .” He flapped his arms against his sides as he backed away. “Professional.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Promise?”

He didn’t want to be professional. He wanted to smash that motherfucker’s face in. But he wouldn’t do it. Because it would cause more harm than good. “I promise,” he vowed. And he meant it. He wasn’t about to embarrass Sarah or do something that would piss Maria off. He’d have to fight the urge, though. Like so many other things in his life, it would be a constant battle to resist.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Well, you’re a lot braver than I am,” Tess declared, reaching across the table to pluck out a cheese and meat-covered nacho from the pile of nachos she and Sarah had ordered and decided to share. She popped it into her mouth and emphasized, “Seriously, though.”

“It has nothing to do with being brave,” Sarah claimed, sliding one chip against the side of her plate to make it slightly less gooey. “I’m just curious.”

“About Michael and Maria.”

“Yeah.” She bit down on the chip, chewing contemplatively. “Mostly about who he was when he was with her.”

Tess grunted. “He was a jerk. A horny, perverted jerk.”

Sarah gave her a suspicious look. “Then why did you ever set me up with him?” There had to have been a good side to him, even back then.

“Because he was, like, depressed when she left, and you were a ray of sunshine.” Tess smiled exaggeratedly. “Okay, truth be told . . . Michael was only a jerk when he was cheating on Isabel. But once that was over and it was just him and Maria . . . he wasn’t as much of a jerk anymore. Like, he even managed to act like a stand-up guy when they thought she might be pregnant.”

Sarah felt her eyebrows jot upward in surprise. “They thought that once?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Huh.” It shouldn’t have been all that surprising—Michael had told her once that all his past relationships were very sexually active ones. But still . . . that was yet another thing he hadn’t told her about. She didn’t resent him for it, but she still wished she knew.

“But she wasn’t, obviously. Thank God, because they were, like, totally not ready for that.”

“I can’t imagine who would be in high school,” Sarah said.

Tess smiled wistfully for a moment. “I would’ve been,” she said. “I know it sounds stupid, but . . .” She shrugged, then quickly got back on topic. “Whatever. My point is . . . Michael’s a pretty different guy these days than he was back then. And he has you to thank for that.”

Sarah smiled, glad that she could help bring out the best in him. “This might sound weird,” she said, “but I’m actually kind of excited to meet Maria.”

Tess made a face. “That does sound weird.”

“No, just because, like . . . okay, Michael and I are in love, and he knows me better than anyone else. And I know him really well, too, but there’s, like, this part of him that he just keeps hidden and closed off from everyone; and I feel like if I get to know Maria and if he starts to get some closure with that whole situation, it’ll only bring us closer in the long run. You know?”

“Hmm.” Tess swirled a mostly-uncovered chip around in a glob of meat and cheese and shoved the whole thing into her mouth. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said, holding her hand over her mouth to shield her chewing. “It’s just . . . don’t be fooled.”

“By what?” Sarah asked.

“By Maria. She’s like a piranha. She may look harmless on the outside, kinda pretty and sparkly. But once you get to know her, you realize she’s a vicious, man-eating predator.”

Sarah laughed at the comparison. It was so . . . over-the-top. So Tess. “I thought you guys were friends once.”

“We were . . . on our way to becoming friends,” Tess clarified. “It never really got to that point.”

“I can tell.” The piranha comparison was . . . pretty harsh.

Tess looked at her in all seriousness and said, “Just be careful. Okay?”

Sarah nodded, grateful that her best friend just wanted to look out for her, even though there was nothing major to be concerned about. “Okay,” she said, feeling confident that she had it in herself to strike that fine balance between cautious and open-minded.








TBC . . .

-April

[keepsmiling7]

You are an excellent story teller........holding me on the edge of my seat just wondering what will happen next.
Such a great idea........Jack Sparrow costume for Halloween........Max should have gone for it.
Isabel got him good with the "football" idea.
Does Sarah really mean she is not jealous of Maria........?? I find that hard to believe.
Can't wait for the next part,
Carolyn