Rebounding (3 page)

“I’m Stephanie, by the way,” the girl says, holding out her hand. “Friend and coworker of Max’s.”

I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Make yourself comfortable.” She guides me toward a set of plush white leather sofas and chairs. “Have a seat here while I go fetch Max. Try your best to ignore Trevor, and if he continues to bother you, kicking him usually does the trick.” She runs off, her flip-flops clicking against the tile as she heads up the stairs.

I’ve forgotten all about Trevor until she mentions him. He’s sitting on the other side of the room, a fancy looking MacBook on his lap, and a bag of Doritos on the table next to him—which explains all the crunching. One by one, he licks his fingers, then proceeds to type something. If my mom could see this guy, she would have a field day on his bad manners and overall inappropriateness.

I keep Stephanie’s advice in mind, sitting in a lounge chair far away from him. The wine finally kicks in, numbing my skin, and helping to calm my nerves.

“What do you want with Max?” Trevor asks without looking up from his laptop.

None of your business
is the first thing that comes to mind, but I decide not to stoop to his level. “I have a favor to ask him,” is all I say.

He shakes his head disapprovingly. “Max is not the favor-granting type of guy. Not even if you’re banging him.”

I open my mouth, then close it again. The guy’s got some serious balls, but part of me thinks he likes the shock value. Wearing my resting bitch face, I try to look unaffected. “Not that it matters, but I’m not
banging
him.”

He shrugs, going back to typing. “In that case, your chances of getting him to do something for you are even lower. Just figured I’d give you fair warning.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stephanie did mention something about kicking Trevor…it’s not that hard to figure out why people resort to violence around him. I know
I’d
enjoy it.

“So what’s this favor you need anyway?” he asks, and I stifle a groan.

I look at the stairs, hoping to see Stephanie on her way back with Max. They’re empty. Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear Trevor’s question, he’ll leave me alone. I’ll just sit here and inspect my nails like I notice a chip in the paint—

“DID YOU HEAR ME? What’s the favor you need from Max?”

He even goes as far as to close his laptop, obnoxiously persistent. No wonder Max keeps this guy around. I bet he’s great at chasing away Jehovah’s Witnesses and door-to-door salesmen.

“Why do you want to know?” I fire back.

“Curiosity.”

“It’s really something I’d like to speak to him about.”

“So you’re saying it’s personal?”

“Yes, it’s personal.” I catch the way I’m smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in my skirt, and stop myself, refusing to let Trevor make me feel uncomfortable. Most people think I’m a little invasive, but he has me beat, hands down.

“So then it must be something important—if it’s personal.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Leave her alone, Trev,” says a deep voice from above us. We both look up to see Max and Stephanie making their way down the stairs.

I stand up, suddenly nervous. I usually don’t freak out until the last moment, and it’s hitting me that this
is
the last possible moment. Last time I saw Max Archer, he was in a hospital bed, pale and beat up. Seeing him now as he makes his way across the room, he’s a completely different person. Healthy. Strong. Intimidating.

At well over six feet, his dominating height is the first thing that throws me off guard, followed by the all the lean, sleek muscles I must’ve overlooked before. His thick brown hair is longer, in a rugged, slicked back style. And the closer to me he gets, the harder I’m finding it to breathe. He’s gorgeous.

Why don’t I remember him being so gorgeous?

“Come on, Trev, let’s go,” Stephanie says, catching Trevor’s attention and mine. “Stop being so nosy.”

He looks up at her, grinning, allowing her to pull him from his seat. “You love it when I’m nosy.”

“Not all the time,” she scolds, but there’s noticeable affection in her eyes.

Trevor draws an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head, and together they leave the room. It’s hard to wrap my brain around the sight of them. Totally didn’t see that coming, the two of them as a couple. I don’t have long to think about it though. Before I know it, Max is in front of me, his dark eyes sharpened.

For a moment, I don’t think he recognizes me. He rubs the five o’clock shadow along his square jaw, and I grow more and more apprehensive by the second. I don’t remember him seeming so hard and almost…cold. It dawns on me how I found him the first time, in a back alley, nearly stabbed to death, pretty much helpless. The last thing he looks like right now is helpless.

I’m wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. I barely know the guy. For all I know, he could be the kind of criminal who has enemies that hate him enough to try to kill him. He said he was looking for someone that night, but now that I think about it, he never did explain
who
he was looking for. It could’ve been a mob boss. A drug dealer. A hitman—maybe he is the hitman! Maybe someone tried to take him out that night so he couldn’t do the same to them.

What was I thinking, coming here?

Did I really just expect to waltz right into his home, thinking it would be okay to crash with him for a few weeks? I guess that’s the problem; I wasn’t thinking. The only thing on my mind was getting as far away from my ex, and everything to do with my old life, as I could.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words barely audible. “I’ve made a mistake.”

Just when I’m about to hightail it for the door, the hard lines of Max’s face soften into a smile. “Never expected to see you again.”

That smile is…wow.

Almost devastating.

His exterior may be rough, but I can’t imagine he has many problems charming people with that smile whenever he wants to.

“Yeah, me either.”

He’s so very, very different than I remember. Aside from his appearance, I can tell something’s changed. Granted, the last time I saw him was two years ago, and my memory of that night has faded a little.

“Time to cash in on that favor?” he asks without me having to say anything. He already knows. I’m not surprised he already knows. What else would I be here for?

I still have time to deny it. I could lie and pretend I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by to see how he was doing. It’s a reasonable explanation, one that I could pull off.

But then I’d have to go back.

Just the thought of going back makes me feel like curling up in a ball and crying my eyes out.

I don’t have much money. Not enough to make it on my own anyway. It’s either this or trying my luck with my parents, and I
know
they won’t be any help. They’d send me right back to campus to finish out my last semester, and I just can’t go back there. I’d rather risk living with a stranger. Even if he is a hitman.

“Yes,” I say, keeping that thought in mind. “I’m hoping you can help me.”

FOUR

Max

She’s been going on for a while now, explaining that she needs a place to stay, repeating herself, basically looking out of her element. I never thought I’d see her again. But here she is. Standing in my living room. I’ve thought about her more times than I’d like to admit over the past two years. Hard to believe she’s the same girl I met that night. This one is a shadow of the badass who gunned down my attacker.

Something happened.

The way she comes off is different, more hesitant than I remember. It’s almost like she needs to take deeper breaths, to pause between sentences, to think about the words she’s saying. Her clothes are mismatched, her cardigan buttoned the wrong way, and she’s wearing two different earrings. She’s still as beautiful as I remember, but slightly thinner. Her face is gaunt, with dark circles beneath her eyes that make it look like she hasn’t slept in weeks.

“—and like I mentioned, it would only be for a short time. I just need to find a job, and an apartment—”

“You look like hell, kid.”

She blinks, like she’s never heard anyone tell her that before. Then she looks down at herself, then back up at me. “You’re right. I do.”

It’s kind of funny, the way she assesses herself. “You just look like you could use a good night’s sleep, that’s all.”

“I spent the whole night driving here,” she explains. “Traffic on the turnpike sucks during the day. It would’ve taken me twice as long.”

I look out the window, glimpsing her Infiniti EX through the trees. It looks brand new. If she can afford one of those, her family can’t be
that
short on money, which makes me wonder why I’m her last resort. Her dad gave her a gun when she left for college. Taking that kind of precaution means he’s the type of dad that cares.

“Why didn’t you go to your parents?”

She takes a few steps toward the sofa, slowly sitting down. Her eyes drift off into a faraway stare. “They’d be upset with my decision. Not just upset, but
furious
. They wouldn’t stand for it.”

I sit down across from her, staying quiet. I believe she’s telling the truth. This conversation seems too hard for it not to be the truth. That bothers me, that she feels like she has no other option. She’s one of the few genuinely kind people in this world. I always pictured her living some perfect fantasy life. She deserves that kind of life, definitely not one that sends her running away from it.

“Anyway, if I told my parents, they’d send me right back to campus to finish out the year,” she says, sighing. “And I can complete my degree from here. I’m only a few classes shy of graduating anyway.”

Which means one of two things: she either desperately wanted to come to Miami, or she desperately wanted out of Gainesville. I have a feeling it’s the latter. “So what happened to you, kid?” I ask, teasingly. “Why don’t you want to go back? Did the quarterback dump you or something?”

If it’s possible, her face turns a paler than it already is. With wide eyes, she asks me, “How did you know?”

“I was joking…” My voice drifts off as I realize what’s happening. I must’ve hit the nail on the head. “I’m sorry. I had no idea that was actually the case.”

Wincing, she puts her hands over her face. “Oh, God. I’m a cliché!”

I really want to laugh at that, but I sense it’s a bad time, and stop myself short. It doesn’t matter why she’s here, and I really don’t give a shit what her reasons are. Getting involved in other people’s business is always a mistake. Besides that, I wouldn’t know what to tell her anyway. I don’t know the first thing about relationships. Crossing the line from having fun to the place Charlotte’s in now doesn’t look all that great from where I’m standing.

The only thing I need to know about Charlotte is that she feels the need to be here. That’s a good enough reason for me.

“You can have the purple room on the second floor.” Gently, I pull her hands away from her face. “It’s so goddamned girly that I never use it anyway. Looks like someone puked up unicorns and fairies in there.”

To my satisfaction, her eyes brighten a little. “It will only be a few weeks,” she promises. For the fifth time.

But a few weeks won’t cover a debt as big as the one I owe her. What she did for me, I’m not sure anyone could ever repay.

“You can stay for the year. That should give you plenty of time to put away some money.”

“You’re very generous, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve been approved for a paid internship that starts next week. I’m also going to look for a nights and weekends job. It won’t take me long to earn enough money to get my own place.”

I shrug. “Time’s yours if you need it. Where are your bags?”

“In my car.” A look comes across her face that’d make you think I gave her the moon and stars. She looks semipeaceful too—a first since arriving.

Taking me by surprise, she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a hug. “Thank you, Max.”

The hug catches me off guard. It doesn’t last long, but just long enough for me to catch her scent. It makes make me want to pull her closer. I immediately do the opposite.

“There will be rules,” I say, clearing my throat. “Starting with no hugging. Can’t deal with any pansy-ass emotional crap.”

FIVE

Char

I nod, thinking I should’ve seen that one coming. Max doesn’t seem like much of a hugger. I’m not sure what came over me, but for the first time in months, I feel like everything is going to be all right. I needed to hug someone, and he was the closest person available.

“Of course. No hugging. Mental note recorded. What else?”

“Come on,” he says, heading toward the front door. “Let’s get your stuff.”

On the way, he fills me in on the other rules. It’s not a long list, but he makes it very clear that these rules, in any way, shape, or form are
not
to be broken. The consequences, he promises, will be dire.

Rule Number 1: No hugging.

Covered that.

Rule Number 2: Stay out of his way.

Easy. I plan to busy myself with schoolwork and finding a job, and since I managed to live cramped with almost thirty girls at the Alpha Delta Pi house, I’m pretty sure I can handle keeping to myself in his minimansion.

Rule Number 3: No personal stories.

He doesn’t want to hear mine, and he doesn’t want to talk about his. This is fine with me. I’m tired of talking about Charlotte Hart, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to hear about Max Archer. He scares me a little.

Rule Number 4: No eating his Häagen-Dazs.

He’s just as serious about that rule as he is about the others. Okay, doable. He doesn’t want to share his ice cream. I’ll buy my own.

“Just out of curiosity, do I look like have rabies or something? Because I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“For someone who is giving me a place to live, you seem very uninterested in learning anything about me. What if I’m a psychopath?”

A slight smile crosses his lips. “I doubt a psychopath would put their intentions in question.”

“I could be a highly intelligent psychopath.”

His eyes bore into me. “For someone who badly needs a place to live,
you
seem determined to come off as untrustworthy.”

“Sorry,” I quickly apologize. “Not a psychopath, if it makes you feel better. It’s just that all my previous roommates have come up with rules like clean up after yourself, and don’t blast music after 9:00 p.m. You see the difference?”

He sighs. “You saved my life, Charlotte. I don’t need to know you any better than that. Leave your shit on the floor, blast your music—I don’t care. We have a cleaning lady, and the walls are pretty solid. I don’t mean to sound uninterested; I just don’t have time for friends, and I don’t have time to deal with other people’s drama. I’ve got enough of my own problems.”

I nod, sensing he’s a very closed-off person. “Got it. No drama.”

Once we have the rules cleared up, he helps me with my suitcases. There are only two of them, but they’re bulbous and heavy. When I try to take one, he tells me to back off, and then carries both with ease back inside the house, then up the stairs to my new room.

The guy might be intimidating, but at least he’s chivalrous.

The bedroom isn’t what I was expecting at all. When he mentioned unicorns and rainbows, I’d been picturing a little girl’s room. The one he brings me to is ultrafeminine, with plum colored walls and lavender curtains, but it doesn’t look like it ever belonged to a little girl. There’s a bed perched beside a bay window looking out on the front yard. Next to it is sewing machine sitting on a wooden desk, and against the wall are shelves and shelves of books, photo albums, fabric, and other arts and craft type knick-knacks. By the looks of it, this room was a woman’s personal haven.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Max says, setting down my things. “If you need me, I’m in the first bedroom across the hall on the right. The bathroom is the first door to your left.”

I nod, still looking around. “Okay. Thanks again.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, and he’s out the door and gone before I even realize it.

Not much of a talker, are you, Max? That’s okay. You and I will get along just fine.

I venture over to the desk, turning over a picture frame that’s lying face down. It’s of a man and woman in evening clothes, early ’90s by the looks of it, standing on a yacht while holding each other, each with a day-dreamy, madly-in-love look in their eyes. Must be Max’s parents, I think, picking up on their similar features. The man is an exact replica of him, except he has shorter hair and a brightness to his brown eyes that doesn’t make me want to shiver the same way Max’s cold, sharp ones do.

I place the picture back where I found it, and then do a turnabout.

“Okay, what next?” I ask the empty room.

Every moment of my life, up until this moment, has been carved out and planned ahead of time. If I was back in Gainesville right now, I’d be finishing up volunteer services at Parkland’s Nursing Home, on my way to lead the Monday chapter meeting for Alpha Delta Pi. Switching over from a full schedule to no schedule will take adjusting to.

I find the bathroom in the hall easily enough. Just like the house, the fixtures are sleek and modern, but impersonal. Despite its sleek veneer, I remind myself that the house is still old, which is why I check behind the shower curtain before I pee. It’s probably the last place a ghost would be hiding, but I won’t be able to go without checking. I can’t leave one leg outside of my sheet at night either. Weird habits die hard.

While I’m washing my hands, my reflection startles me. Who is that girl? My curly blonde hair is in wild disarray, but that’s nothing new. It’s the face I don’t recognize. She’s a sad, faded version of the person I remember.

Eeek! She put her earrings on in the dark too.

My phone rings, and I jump. That’s probably going to keep happening until people figure out I’ve left. I quickly dry my hands to remove my phone from my back pocket. I almost hit the ignore button, but stop myself as the picture of the one person who knows my secret pops up on the screen.

“Doll,” I answer happily. “You have no idea how relieved I am that it’s you.”

As I make my way back inside the purple room, I hear the sound of her chuckling. “I bet. How many missed phone calls are you up to?”

“Forty-three calls, sixty-something texts, and about a hundred emails and Facebook messages, all since yesterday.”

“Good
God
. I don’t even know that many people, Char. I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t think you’ll be able to keep your secret for as long as you planned.”

I let out a shaky breath, closing the bedroom door behind me. She’s probably right. It’s not them I’m worried about though. I don’t care if the whole school finds out. It’s the thought of this getting back to my family that scares the crap out of me. I can’t deal with that. Not right now.

“I also call bearing bad news. Vanessa’s onto you. She dropped by today, drilling me for your whereabouts.”

I’m not surprised to hear that. Aside from Doll, Vanessa is one of my closest friends. The problem is that she can’t keep a secret. If I tell her I left, the whole school will find out, followed by my entire family.

“I need to call her,” I agree. “I’m just not sure what to say.”

“What if I make up a rumor?” Doll suggests. “I could tell everyone you’re dating some hot European prince, and that the two of you are jetting around in his Boeing 747 together seeing the world.”

I smile, unable to help myself. “Kinda wish that rumor was true.”

“Seriously,” she says, laughing. “I could tell them you’re off living the glamorous life, and you’re having so much hot sex that you can’t be bothered with something as mundane as college.”

“You sure have an active imagination for someone who enjoys studying ancient crap.”

“Thanks for the backhanded compliment. Archaeology is far from boring, by the way.”

“If you say so. Speaking of, how’s Wes’s dig going?”

Dahlia’s boyfriend, Wesley Kent, is a renowned treasure hunter, and by the end of the year, people everywhere will know his name. He’s currently recovering the mother lode of shipwrecks, the
Flor de la Mar
, it’s value being placed somewhere in the billions.

“Great,” she says, and I can hear the grin in her voice. “Let’s switch to Skype. I want to show you pictures, and I want to see your face when I tell you about it.”

We hang up, and I rummage through my things, looking for my laptop and Wi-Fi card. Once I finally get everything connected, Doll and I talk for what seems like hours as she shows me photographs of the wreckage, filling me in on all the whirlwind adventures she calls a life. I feel sort of special being in the loop as they’re keeping the discovery hush-hush to prevent pirates from trying to intervene during the recovery process.

When she tells me Wesley obtained permission to invite her, I can’t keep myself from bouncing in my chair. “That’s so freaking exciting.”

“I know,” she gushes. “You have no idea how much I want to be there to see everything up close, and to experience it with him.”

I shake my head, amazed at who my friend is becoming. Just a year ago, she was a girl hiding behind her books and clothes, and within such a short time, she’s transformed into this beautiful, amazing person who isn’t afraid to go out there and experience the world. I’m a little jealous, but more proud than anything. “I’m happy for you, Doll. Seeing you and Wes together—it’s crazy. The two of you have literally changed each other’s lives.”

“Thanks, Char. That means a lot.”

“Miss you,” I tell her, meaning it.

“You could always come back, you know.”

“Nah. I’m done with that life. I’m ready to reinvent myself.”

She tilts her head sadly. “I liked the old Charlotte just fine.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, Doll, but we both know I was a shitty friend. I was never there for you.”

“Charlotte, you were busy. I understood.”

“Exactly. I was busy all the time. Think about it; this is the longest conversation we’ve had in years, and we don’t live in the same city anymore. You’ve always been a good friend, Doll. It’s who you are, and it’s why I love you. But me, I have acquaintances. Hundreds of them, but no real friends. The only person I ever devoted my time to was Miles, and look where that got me.”

“You can’t regret that relationship forever, Char. He loved you, and the two of you shared some beautiful moments.”

“What I regret is that Miles turned into a cheating scumbag who clearly forgot the meaning of
I’ll love you forever
.”

“Ouch.” She winces. “Point taken.”

“So are you and Gwen buddies again?” The bitterness in my voice is anything but subtle.

Tension builds in her brow. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed as we speak, and she’s looking around like she’s trying to figure out the right words to say. “Char…I’m not gonna lie. Yes, we’re friends. But if it makes you feel better, it’s strained. It will never be the same as it was before.”

“Why would you even want to be friends with someone like her?” I sound like a whiny twelve year old, but I don’t care. She’s supposed to be on my side.

“If you remember correctly, we were
all
friends at one time.”

Regrettably, that’s true. From kindergarten to the end of grade school, the three of us were inseparable. Middle school broke apart our happy little threesome though. It was around that time that Gwen became a heartless, two-faced, backstabbing bottom-feeder.

“I try not to remember.”

“Well, it’s true. And I’m not trying to defend her, but you
did
steal Miles from her first.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff. “Miles would’ve had to belong to her in order for me to steal him.”

“But you knew how much she liked him. She told you she was planning to ask him to the seventh grade dance, remember? But you stepped in and asked him first.”

I swallow, remembering the bratty teenage version of myself. I did know Gwen liked Miles back then, and yeah, maybe going after him at the time was wrong, but I was an immature kid. Miles and I have been through so much together since then. We were planning to get married after graduation. We planned to spend our
lives
together. It doesn’t compare.

“I’m sorry,” Dahlia says, after a few awkward moments of silence. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I just can’t talk about him anymore. It’s been four months. I need to let it go, let
him
go. That’s part of why I’m here—to figure out who I am without Miles. Everyone back home automatically links us together. When they think of me, they think of him, and vice versa. I really needed to detach from that persona.”

“I understand.”

All at once, my eyes begin to droop, fatigue hitting me hard. I look down at my suitcases, thinking I should probably unpack, but even that sounds like a challenge. “I should go,” I say, stifling a yawn.

“Okay, but let’s do this again. Soon. It was nice.”

“I agree,” I say with a smile.

As soon as we disconnect, I fall face first into the bed, not even bothering to untuck the comforter. The bed feels like heaven. Only seconds later, I’m asleep.