Chapter Seventeen 

crushcrushcrush

Thursday 8th, May

Libby rests a foot up on the edge of her kit and grins at me, spinning her sticks between her fingers.

I sheepishly grin back and wipe my forehead. I'm sweating and red in the face. In fact, we all are, which is something new.

Turning off one of the many amps dragged into the garage and dodging the mass of tangled leads, Mel matches Libby's silly grin and pats me on the back. "You did good there, Josie."

I turn to Max and he shakes his head up and down, a goofy grin visible once his hair settles. His t-shirt is soaked through and he's got board shorts on, no shoes.

Using my t-shirt to wipe away the sweat I've left on the microphone, I watch as Mel starts to pack up her stuff, ready to head to her afternoon shift at the local supermarket.

"Thank you for coming," I say, catching breath.

"Yeah, cheers big sis. You weren't half bad with that last solo," Max teases, though I know he's happy to have her act as a mediator between him and Libby.

It might be close to a week since we last had practice and since Melissa hitched a ride on our bandwagon, but tensions were still running pretty high at the beginning as we traipsed all our gear from the summer house over to Libby's garage.

Now, I can happily report that after crushing back to back versions of the song, and a few spontaneous ones to break up the repetition, we're sounding better than ever.

Max and Libby haven't hurled an insult for a good half hour and it makes me hopeful that bringing new people on board isn't such a bad idea.

And for all Melissa's teasing, she's made it clear she's got his back, resulting in Libby giving much less lip than last week. If anything, she's been complimentary.

"I need you guys to leave now," Libby says, covering her kit in an old dust sheet.

Good to hear she still lacks tact.

"Sure," Max gathers up the sweaty towel he's been using in between songs and chucks it in his backpack, along with his shoes and socks taken off not even five minutes into practice. "I'd rather not spend a day like this inside for any longer than I have to."

Tossing her hair up into a tight ponytail, Libby scrunches up her face. "Lucky for some. My mum's coming back to work from home this afternoon, so my house arrest continues."

"Who'd you punch?" Mel asks, not caring to tip-toe round her like we usually do.

"I didn't punch anyone."

"What then?"

Pushing the glass sliding door half way, Libby sighs and her shoulders slump. "Some girl at school spread a rumour about me and stole my P.E kit before a lesson, so I put eyedrops in her lunch."

My mouth falls open, Mel's too. Max just nods, like he's not at all surprised.

Choking back rough laughter, Mel says, "No way?"

Libby taps her foot against the small garage step, a slight hint of a grin creeps to her lips. "Well, yeah. She's been on my case for years. Total teacher's pet, so of course, they've let it slide."

"That's pretty fucked up," Max says, zipping up his guitar bag. He flips a black baseball cap over his head and walks towards her.

"That Lyndsey Parrish has been a total bitch to me my whole life and gotten away with it?"

He shrugs, "that and the eye-drops."

Whilst Libby sighs and says, once again that she deserved it, my ears burn with icky familiarity.

"Lyndsey Parrish?" I ask, my voice cracking.

"She's in my form."

Max looks at me and lowers his head and voice. "Yes, she does have a sister, Josie. And yes, that would be satan herself, Maddie Parrish."

"Seems the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," Mel loudly scoffs.

Waving for us to follow and leave the garage, Libby then slams it shut. "I've heard terrible things about her older sister."

"She does terrible things," Max cuts in, throwing me a knowing glance. "Isn't that right?"

I silently nod, dragging the microphone stand through the grass.

Max walks alongside me. "Maddie's signed herself up for the talent show actually."

"We'll be competing against her?" Libby's voice rises, making my ears wince.

He shrugs, "Yeah, although it's probably been rigged from the start. Her dad knows the company donating the sound tech equipment and sponsoring the show."

"Not surprised," Mel chimes in. "The Parrish's have everyone in their pocket."

"We need to practice more," Libby says, stopping us from swinging back the fence. "I'm serious. We need to beat her."

"That would be nice."

I watch Mel laugh into her hand, as if it's a nice idea in theory.

"Don't you get it," Libby's voice squeezes tight. "If we knock one card off the top, the rest will come tumbling down too."

Max rolls his eyes. "I just want to get through the show and then, forget all about it."

"You don't want to win?"

"I don't really care."

Libby tuts so loudly it scares a pigeon sat on the far end of the fence. "Then what's the point Max? Why are you wasting Josie's time and Mel's, and mine if you're happy to settle for second place or worse, just to take part?" She shudders and narrows her gaze to me. "Josie, you want to win right?"

My cheeks threaten to give away the secret of mine and Maddie's bet. "Uh, well, I mean... It would be kinda cool."

"It will be more than 'kinda cool' to wipe that smug look off her face, which correct me if I'm wrong, looks a bit like this," Libby pouts her lips and pushes up her cheeks.

"Uncanny," I quietly laugh.

"Lyndsey's exactly the same."

Max starts to walk away. Mel follows.

"So, are we in it to win it or not?" Libby says, as they both duck under the fence and out into the alley.

I hesitate, but ultimately I know that this could work in my favour.

"Yes," I whisper, ducking under.

Libby nods and waves me off. "And so operation take down Parrish begins..."

If only she knew it's already started. 

* * *

Max rests his head against the back of the seawall, and turns his black cap sideways. A little tuft of hair pokes through the front and sticks to his forehead.

The heat this afternoon is blistering and though we've found the tinniest bit of shade, we might as well not bother. Even the breeze rolling in from the sea is sticky hot.

It was his idea to drive down to the beach, get some fresh air.

I think he's a little annoyed about Libby's thirst for vengeance, but he doesn't say anything and I don't either, happy not to rock the boat for now.

But, in spite of the heat and our lunchtime practice, it is nice to finally have time alone with Max even if we've not said much since we arrived at the beach after polishing off a Mr. Whippy ice cream with double the flake and chocolate sprinkles. 

Maybe Max has sensed I've been quiet the past couple of days due to Libby's arrival and Mel's and maybe from finding out about Sophia, though I know only a fraction of the details.

Whether this is a good thing or not, I'm not sure, but what I do know is that whenever I start to picture him with another girl, like that, my insides squeeze and it's as if I can't breathe.

Which is stupid. I should have known that someone like Max, no matter his quirks and face full of blush would attract attention. Just because he was tutored from home doesn't mean he was shut off from the rest of the world or from girls next-door.

"Hot right?" Max says, as I run through scenarios that may or may not have happened between him and Sophia and my ears start to burn.

"Whose hot?"

He stares at me and raises an eyebrow. "Today. Right now. It's hot, here, at the beach, right?"

Oh god, he must think I'm crazy. Shuffling my sandals into the shingles, I laugh, as if the way I'm acting funny and not actually concerning. "Yeah, real hot."

"Glad we're not in the summer house practicing this afternoon. We'd probably all end up with heatstroke."

I nudge his arm. "Or end up killing each other."

Max grins, "Yeah, that's more likely. Especially with Libby..."

"You two are a nightmare," I joke.

"Because she's a pain in the arse," he says, matter-of-factly. When he turns to face the sea again, he sighs heavily. "It's kind of hard to practice with someone who hates your guts."

"I don't think she does," I offer, about to step into dangerous territory. "More like she hates her sister and she's taking that out on you because... Well, you guys we're like, together or something, I don't really know."

Slightly amused and confused by my rambling, Max picks up a chalky white stone and drags it along the edge of his trainer. "But that was a long time ago."

How long is a piece of string?

I shrug, like I couldn't care less.

"It was last summer, before she went away to Uni. And you know, it wasn't anything serious but Libby acts as if I've betrayed her by even knowing her sister exists," Max's voice cracks and he swallows hard. "Guilty by association."

I go along with it and slightly laugh, "She can't be that terrible though, can she?"

"No," he says, carefully, slowly, still dragging the rock. "Not really. They just argued all the time. Like sisters do I suppose. They couldn't be more different and Libby really can be a handful sometimes. I swear it's like she despises everyone."

I don't know why this gives me small hope but it does, until, of course the door I'd held slightly ajar flies open and Max spills the beans about last summer and Sophia and stuff I'm scared to listen to.

"Sophia's a year above us. She went to Westover Girls and then to Southbrook Sixth Form," he explains, which makes sense. I've never once heard of or seen her. "She's at Exeter University now, studying medicine."

My stomach sinks. How noble.

"Libby and Soph argued a lot," he says. I wince at the affectionate sounding shortening of her name. "And we never really talked before but one night I heard something behind the fence, in the alley. She'd had snuck out, middle of the night and was crying. I couldn't just leave her there by herself."

I shake my head, already building the story in my mind, way beyond what he's just said. "Yeah, of course not."

Chucking the stone out onto the mass of shingles, he spins his baseball cap round and then takes it off, to ruffle the hair stuck to his face. "So we talked about why she was upset - Libby, her parents, college, and then she asked why I was always at home and not at school and I told her about the blushing."

"Uh huh," I nod my head so fast it feels like I've pulled a muscle.

Max offers a hint of a smile. "She was cool about it, and well, yeah."

And well yeah? What is that supposed to mean?

"We started hanging out, but not to her parents knowledge, at first. They were pretty strict with her but not so much with Libby, which was why they forever argued," he drawls. "And why I had to sneak in a few times."

"Wow."

He laughs, "It's not as thrilling as it sounds."

"So she was your girlfriend until she left then?" I ask, not holding back. My chest pounds as I wait for him to answer.

Shrugging away the brief silence, he says, "Not officially. We just hung out and stuff. With her going away it didn't seem right to make any promises, you know?"

"Yeah." Another lie told. "So you just hooked up?"

"Kinda. We kissed a few times and some other..." Max's cheek's flush and he shakes his head bashfully, as if to erase words he was about to speak.

As he pretends to zip his lips shut, I adopt a cheery tone and tell him it's fine, like I'm not desperately keen for him to kiss and tell and like I haven't already made my mind up about what happened. Still, I know my face is a red as a blister in the sun, giving away my true feelings before stuttered words can.

"Oh no it's fine, I mean, you can do whatever you want. It's not like your, not, well-" I gulp and hate myself for sounding so squeaky. "- legally allowed to, do... things that you might do with a girl or guy, or whoever."

Max watches me as I trail off into silence and gently, once I've taken some breath, he laughs and bumps my arm. "That's good to know."

I laugh too, hoping it will dissolve the awkwardness radiating off my face.

"So, what about you?"

I almost cough up a lung from the shock. "What about me?"

"Boy," he says softly, mimicking me. "or girl, or whoever."

"No," I blurt out and then, I shake my head. "I mean, yeah, a boy, once."

"I am all ears."

"Really? You want to hear a bad and rather boring first kiss story?" I chuckle, feeling half happy that I don't have to lie or make up some story about snogging just seem less of a loser. But then, Zach's face pops up from memories long suppressed.

Max straightens out of his slump and nods. "Who doesn't?"

"It was last summer, June. A guy called Zach." With the dark hair and eyes, who was semi-cute until I caught him post-kiss bragging and lying about touching my boob to his friends.

"Summer loving," he begins to croon. "Had me a blast..."

"Not quite."

"What happened then? Did he ignore you the first day of term?" He tilts his head, tossing another chalky stone in the palm of his hand as the sea breeze whips the ends of his hair.

I reach ahead and let a handful of shingles slip through my fingers. Back in Cornwall, where I met Zach, this would be sand. "He's the son of my parent's friends. We stayed with them for a weeks holiday."

"And..."

"And it just wasn't what I had expected," I confess, meeting the expectant green gaze of his eyes.

"Which was..." Max says, grinning.

I scrunch up my face, embarrassed to tell. "For it to be better. Less..."

He cocks his head and wiggles his eyebrows.

I give in. "Less tongue and saliva." I turn away, to chuckle, "Why am I telling you any of this?"

"Because it's what friends do, they talk," he replies, causing disappointment to swell in my stomach. "So, have you seen him since?"

"No, thank god. He lives in Cornwall. We haven't been back."

"You sound glad."

I shrug, "I guess. Just glad nothing else happened, which I know isn't cool to admit to seeing as it's all anyone ever talks about at college." Which is true, not a day passes without overhearing someone brag about how sexy (and plentiful) their sex life is.

"Well, I haven't," Max raises his hand. "Maybe that makes me uncool but so what."

"You're cool," I say, poking the palm of his hand, relieved to hear him say that.

Slowly, Max's gaze lifts and he reaches out to softly brush a strand of hair away from my mouth, as if stuck in slow motion.

It knocks the breath out of me. My legs start to feel fuzzy and my hands and head too and I find myself leaning in, mouth slightly apart, thinking this can't be real.

This can't be happening.

I close my eyes, tilt my head upwards.

"There you go," Max says, inches away from my face. Feeling a pinch at the base of my scalp, I look down and he's got two, tiny chocolate sprinkles between his fingers. "You had these stuck in your hair."

As he retreats, I gulp down any urge to grab at his face or hand, to grab back the moment.

Wiping the sprinkles against the wall, he smiles at me. Completely oblivious to just how fast my heart it beating and how I'm struggling to catch a breath. How crazy I feel to have believed Max might like me or want me in that way.

I soon realise that just because we share the same deliberating and frustrating condition, doesn't mean we have to share all the same feelings for one another.

And that hurts.

"We should head home soon," I say, just to say anything other than how I really feel. "Too hot to be out here all day."

Max nods and hair falls to his eyes. "Sure, if you say so." And he starts to drag his knees up, dusting off chalk and shingles. He offers a hand and I take it, turning away before he can ask why mine is shaking and all clammy.

The walk back to the car takes five minutes and he talks to me like he didn't almost just brush his lips to mine.

It makes the thought of Max thinking of me only as a friend all the more real, which isn't the worst thing but it doesn't lift away the aching in my chest. Though, why else would he think of us anything more?

I haven't exactly done much to show him otherwise, apart from stutter and mumble and blush, like I do with everyone else in my life.

I don't blame him for being unaware.

And if he isn't, I still don't.

It wouldn't be the first time.