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Lucas tugged at his shirt sleeve. His arm was braced stiff in front of him, locked at the elbow and knuckles almost pained as they gripped his knee. Images on the TV flashed through the dark room in a staticky glow, but they were a barely-discernible blur–a news channel, a medicine commercial, some old movie, MTV. The rapid switching paused, and he heard a chorus of clicks and guitar strums.
…on a Mexican Radio, I’m on a Mexican, whoa-oh, radio…
“Not much on,” Max noted as she tossed aside the remote, in her typical cool tone. Though he almost thought he heard an undercurrent of nervousness too (or maybe that was just him hoping it wasn’t just him).
“Um, yeah,” he mumbled. Lucas nearly winced, and his heels pressed together. He hadn’t seen much of Max since the dance and, well, after everything had cooled down and the world stopped going at a mile-a-minute, certain things got harder, strangely enough. Like talking around her. And knowing what to say. And not calling himself a dumb shit when he inevitably stumbled over his words.
But he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Not her blue eyes or her fiery hair or her skateboard or her uncharacteristic shy smile from after she–oh God–after she kissed him. Like really kissed him, on the mouth. And man, Dustin said there was electricity after she’d only held his hand. That was a full-on thunderstorm. The smile burst out again whenever he so much as thought about it.
But since then, they’d only seen each other at school. She’d come into class and they’d make eye contact and quietly say hello, both biting their lips in embarrassment. He’d take regular glances back at her during class. Sometimes she’d be writing, sometimes she’d be reading, sometimes she’d even look back and scoff at him halfheartedly. But he must have done it one too many times, because Mr. Clarke finally cleared his throat and asked Lucas to avert his attention back to the lesson (Lucas had sunk into his seat, cheeks burning, as sharp snickers sounded around him).
They walked out of the school building together, hands brushing if not quite holding. But though Billy no longer sent him more than smoldering glares, he still owned the car. His sharp honks would blare through the parking lot as Max told Lucas goodbye with a quick hug, apologizing to him through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry he does this. He’s…it’s just…” She looked down at the ground with a sigh.
Lucas knew, of course. Hell, Billy wasn’t even the only one to give them funny looks after the dance. But the best thing, he decided, was to let that be their problem until they made it his. “It’s whatever. See you later?”
“Y-yeah. Of course. See ya, Stalker.” Her red hair would swing as she ran off.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see her. Like really see her.
But when the chance actually had come, Lucas wasn’t sure he liked the circumstances. Max called him up on their walkie-talkie with a distinct nervousness to her voice. He knew enough to know why she might sound like that. “Um, Lucas, can I come over tonight?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah…” she’d whispered, and she hardly ever sounded like that to anyone except him.
He hadn’t had to guess who made her feel this way. Anger bubbled up inside him. If he were bigger, and maybe had something more than his wrist rocket on hand, he might have marched over there to kick her stepdad’s ass himself. But that obviously wasn’t an option.
Still, there had been one problem.
“Max, you know I totally would let you over, but I’m actually babysitting my sister tonight. My parents won’t be home.” There was never a spoken rule that he was not to have girls in the house without parental supervision, but he’d figured that was the sort of thing that went without saying. Come to think of it, he was a little insulted that they’d never felt the need to say that rule out loud…
“Oh,” the other line had said weakly. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be okay? I don’t mean to pressure you or anything, it’s just…nevermind. Sorry, sorry. It’s cool.”
Fuck me, Lucas thought.
His parents were nearly out the door. But how could he leave her over there? He couldn’t. That was that.
“Yeah, you can come over. Can you wait like…an hour?”
She’d paused. But then, “Sure. And, um, thanks.”
In a second, he was down the steps and asking breathlessly if he could have a friend over. His mother, preoccupied with pulling on her coat and asking her husband if he was absolutely sure that he had the tickets, hadn’t asked many questions. He may have also neglected to correct her assumption that Max was, well…a boy. Erica had raised a knowing eyebrow at him and opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say turned into a yelp when he elbowed her in the ribs.
“When’s your girlfriend coming over?” Erica’d piped as he’d finally managed to wrangle her into the bathroom, force her to brush her teeth, and at long last convince her to get to bed (still thirty minutes later than her bedtime, and he’d already had to bribe her with a share of his Christmas candy).
“Soon–I mean, she isn’t my girlfriend!” he’d hissed back, though his heart beat a little harder at the thought. They hadn’t called themselves by those titles yet, but what else could she be? They had kissed and everything!
“Mmhm.” Erica puffed out her lips and made kissy noises, fluttering her eyelashes, “Luky and Max, sittin’ in a tree…”
“Ugh, grow up, you’re such a baby!” He tugged at the chord of her lamp and slammed the door behind him, ignoring her peals of laughter from the other side.
Ten minutes later Max was riding up to his house on her bike, breath ghosting into the chilly winter air. Lucas felt a little bad about her having to ride all the way here, but he knew that asking Billy for a lift was definitely too much a risk. Just one “slipped” comment to her stepfather about her seeing a boy alone (not to mention, Lucas guessed, a black boy), and he wouldn’t have to do anything to Lucas himself.
“Hey, Stalker.”
“Hey, Madmax.” They had hugged, and he couldn’t help the smile from breaking out again. But in another moment, he’d felt her shiver. “You…okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Wanna…talk about anything?”
She’d shaken her head. “Honestly, I want a distraction. Wanna just watch TV or something?”
I wish I was in Tijuana, Eating barbecued iguana…I’d take requests on the telephone…
“This song is so weird,” Max snickered, crossing her arms and flopping back onto the couch.
“Did you ever visit Mexico? Like when you lived in California?”
“Nah.” She dug her hand into their popcorn and tossed a kernel into the air, catching it in her mouth perfectly. Lucas suppressed his swoon. “We lived more up in northern California. Far away from the border, closer to Oregon. I didn’t even live that close to the ocean.”
Lucas couldn’t imagine a California that wasn’t the Hollywood sign, Golden Gate bridge, or surfer dudes on the beach. It made him feel like some kind of country bumpkin.
Shit, he also probably shouldn’t have brought up where her dad lived.
He looked back down towards his tense hands. They hadn’t gone near her since they sat down. It was stupid; they had already kissed for shit’s sake! But this was different from the dance. They were alone. In his dark living room. With his parents gone and his sister asleep and no chance of them being interrupted. He glanced to the side. She looked pretty with her face just slightly lit up by the music video on the screen, really pretty. But he figured that would be a terrible line.
How did this go in the movies?
Lucas yawned and stretched out his arm before slyly (at least in his mind) leaning it on the back of the couch behind Max. There! Step one completed.
“Oh my god, really?”
He took another look in her direction. She stared back in jesting apprehension, eyes lidded and a smirk on her lips. “Did you actually do that move in real life, Stalker?”
“Um…” Damnit, damnit! He yanked his arm back up as if the couch had burned him, mumbling an apology…until she rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled it over her shoulders.
Oh. Well.
“I missed you this week,” she said suddenly and softly, just over a breath. As for his his own breath, it grew quick and shaky.
“Yeah…same…” he stuttered. He cursed himself in his mind again. What kind of man was he, making her make all the real moves? Though he remembered something his father had said to him once, that letting the girl lead was much better than risking him moving too fast for her comfort. It wasn’t the strategy that Steve Harrington claimed to swear by, but even he had been admitting lately that maybe his tricks weren’t as foolproof as he once thought. Lucas coughed once. Then he scooted closer.
So did she.
Lucas swallowed. Here it was, the moment of truth. He leaned in slightly, but before his eyes closed, he stopped with a start.
“You sure you’re ok…?” He hadn’t forgotten why she was here. She didn’t show much, but Dad said that you could never be sure. “Be a gentleman above all else.”
She didn’t say anything, but she nodded with a closed-mouth smile. So Lucas nodded back, and once and for all, closed his own eyes. Max was comfortable. Max was also very close. She squeezed his hand and tightened the arm slung over her shoulders. He leaned in, and he could just feel the warmth of her leaning into him as well–
“Gross!”
Lucas jumped, eyes flying open and a far-too-high-pitched squeak escaping his lungs. Max jumped as well, and their foreheads collided with a loud crack that sent his vision blurry.
“Ow…” she grumbled, rubbing her head. “That’s gonna be a bump.”
Fuck me, fuck me…
“Erica!” he barked. He planted his knees on the couch and spun back. His sister stood behind them with an infuriatingly satisfied grin, one hand on her hip and the other gripping a floppy stuffed dog. “What are you doing down here!? You’re supposed to be asleep!”
“And you’re supposed to not be kissing people on the couch!” She crossed her arms, and her smile only grew wider. “Mom and Dad don’t even know that Max is a girl, much less your girlfriend.” Max stammered a little bit, but Lucas hardly noticed. A sharp feeling of dread spread through him, almost as poignant as when he was facing down a monster from the Upside Down. Erica knew as well as he did where their crimes ranked in what would set off their parents.
Lucas wasn’t going to win this with them. He had to win this with Erica.
Oh, God.
With a defeated sigh and slumping shoulders, he bit down what was left of his pride. “What do you want to stay quiet?”
“I wanna stay up and watch TV with you.”
“What!?” Lucas had expected money, more candy, chores. But this? In front of the girl he’d already humiliated himself in front of? That was a fate worse than death. He imagined all the things Erica could tell Max before he could stop her–about the action figures in his room, how long it took for him to lose his last babytooth (only four months ago), the fact that he’d been rehearsing their interactions before the dance…and he knew Erica was thinking about the exact same thing. “No!”
“Hmm…” The little girl held up her hand in a claw, before opening it and closing it like a talking mouth. “What is that, sweetie? Luky was making kissy-face with a girl when we weren’t home? Why, how could he do such a thing…”
“Oh,” Max chuckled, “she’s good.”
Lucas felt lightheaded.
“Fine!” he snapped, planting himself back on the couch. “But you still better be back in bed by the time Mom and Dad come home.”
“I should probably go by then too,” Max noted. She sounded sad, and it made Lucas’ heart sink a little. But he was soon distracted by Erica plopping herself right between them. Lucas made a note to find as much dirt on her as he possibly could when she got to his age.
“What are we watching?” Erica nestled herself in the cushions, casually taking the remote like she owned it. “MTV? I love MTV!”
“Since when?” Lucas swiped it from her hand. “You said music videos were boring before.”
“I changed my mind.”
Lucas sent an apologetic look to Max, but to his surprise, she didn’t look annoyed. Hell, she almost looked amused. Happy. Especially when Erica leaned on her arm. Despite it all, something like a contented warmth filled his chest.
“So…Max, is it? What makes you think you can date my brother?”
And that warmth turned to bitter cold. “Erica!”
“It’s a valid question.”
Max lifted an eyebrow at Lucas, but she only chucked. Sometimes he was really, really thankful for how cool she was. “I don’t know. I mean, I can skateboard, he said that was awesome. And I play videogames. Better than them, usually,” she added with a little snarky bite. “So what do you think? I’m alright to date?” Wait, Lucas thought, so we definitely are dating then?
Erica nodded, as if she was really deep in contemplation. “Sounds acceptable.”
“Thanks, glad I have your approval.”
“After all, he reeeaaally likes you. I’ve heard him pretend to ask you out tons of times.”
Lucas pressed hand over her mouth with a growl. “Shut up! You have not!”
“Mmhmm,” Erica argued from behind it. Then he felt the slimy surface of her tongue slide across his palm. He pulled it right back, rubbing it on his pants and curling his lip in disgust. “Plenty. And I’ll be honest…” she patted Max’s knee like they were old friends, “he’s really bad at it. You must be nice if you’d go out with him.”
Max pursed her lips together to suppress her laughter. “I try.”
Erica, thank God and the stars and the universe and whatever else Lucas could think of, finally seemed contented. She squeezed between them again and fixed her eyes on the screen in front of her, hugging the dog to her chest. Max, much to Lucas’ surprise, rested her arm on the couch this time–not towards him, but over Erica. Lucas felt a tinge of irritation at that.
But he also kind of liked it?
Turns out Erica was lying about her newfound love of MTV though, because after less than an hour she was fast asleep. She was plopped over them, head on Max’s arm and legs pressed against her brothers’. There was no way they could pick up where they left off without moving her–not that Max seemed munch interested in trying. Lucas also noted to get back at her later for that one, especially when his leg fell asleep.
Yet, some part of him found it oddly pleasant, sitting with Max with Erica snuggled in-between and snoring softly. Even when Erica unconsciously wiped a bit of drool off her lip, Max just shared a smile with him. She didn’t show the slightest hint of annoyance. Her arm hadn’t left its place behind his sister. The music continued in the background and the videos played on. He wasn’t a big Cyndi Lauper person, at least when anyone else was around to see, but he didn’t mind her right then.
All through the night, stray cat is crying so stray cat sings back…
“I should take her up,” Lucas said. He somewhat clumsily dug under Erica’s form on the couch to lift her into his arms, falling back a bit (damn, she was seriously too big for this now) but standing his ground. He had something of a battered and bruised reputation to uphold. Erica stirred, but she’d always been a pretty heavy sleeper when she actually went under.
“Can I come?”
“Yeah, if you want to.”
Max trailed behind him as he carried his sister up the stairs. His legs were shaking with every step (seriously too big), and he breathed out a sigh of relief when he finally made it up to the second floor. “Sorry for all the shit she said,” he gasped out. He kicked open Erica’s bedroom door, rushing the last couple of feet so he could drop her on her bed. “She’s a big brat.” Erica finally fluttered her eyes open, but just enough to grab her blankets towards her.
“Nah, she’s great.” Max shrugged with her fists stuffed in her baggy pockets. “And I think it’s really great that you’re such a good brother.”
“O-oh.” Lucas shrugged this time. He never thought of himself as a particularly good brother. It wasn’t like he’d had to fight off monsters for Erica like Johnathan had for Will or anything. But he supposed that not many brothers had to do something like that, period. And from Max’s point of view, he may just be downright fucking fantastic.
“Thanks for letting me come over. This was way better than listening to my drunk stepdad scream at Mom and Billy.”
Lucas had of course had an idea as to what had brought her over tonight, but it was still hard to hear said aloud. “Of course.” He stuck his hand out gently–an invitation, which she accepted. She laced their fingers together. “Anyti–”
The car door slammed.
“Shit!” they shouted in unison. Their hands ripped apart, and Max frantically scanned the windows for a nearby tree she could jump onto–none were close enough. They burst into the hallway, halfway to Lucas’ room to check the windows there, when Lucas felt his veins run with ice. His mother had appeared at the foot of the stairs.
“Why, hello there…” she said, pleasantness in her voice tinged with unpleasant surprise. Lucas and Max stopped running, and he grit his teeth as he looked down the steps. “Don’t tell me that this is Max.”
“Hi…” Max said, waving slowly.
“Lucas, you know how we feel about you having girls over when we aren’t home.”
“Well technically, you never officially made a rule about that…” Lucas pointed out. It was the only card he really had, he might as well play it. His mother’s eyebrow shot up–Erica had to get it from somewhere.
“But you seem to be perfectly aware about what that rule would be.”
His father emerged. “What is going on here? Oh. Hrm.” He flicked his eyes between Lucas and Max, then his wife. He took a deep breath, clearly deciding that his wife had control of the situation and he had little to add. “Listen to your mother, Lucas.”
Mrs. Sinclair’s fingers tapped on her side. “And are Max’s parents alright with this? Did you ask?”
Lucas and Max shared a quick glance. She looked scared. He knew why. She was afraid they would call her parents and no–her stepdad would not be happy. Not at all. His parents had no idea how unhappy he’d be.
“I’m taking that as a no.”
Lucas opened his mouth to argue more–how, he wasn’t sure–but Max stepped in front of him before he could. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sinclair. It’s my fault. He shouldn’t be in trouble.” She looked back towards him, and he almost thought he saw tears pooling in her eyes. “I pressured him into letting me come over.”
Lucas’ blinked twice. His mouth hung open. “No, not really–”
“It won’t happen again, I swear! I won’t even ask to come over ever again. Just…don’t call my stepdad.” Her voice broke a little, and she’d stepped forward to grab the railing. Mrs. Sinclair looked a little shocked by how quickly the mood had changed. Then, in another moment, concerned realization fell over her face.
“Sweetie…would you happen to be Maxine Mayfield? With a brother named Billy?”
Lucas was taken aback. He had no idea when his parents had met Billy, or why they knew Max’s full name. But his mother and father shared a knowing, apprehensive look with each other. Max nodded. Her arms had moved over her stomach, like a shield. Lucas felt an urge to hug her himself.
His mother sighed shakily, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. “Max, Darling, did you have a good reason to want to come over tonight? You don’t have to tell me what it is.”
Max nodded again, this time faster. Mrs. Sinclair motioned for them to come downstairs. Max glanced back to Lucas, who gave her a reassuring gesture. She lead the way as they dropped down step by step. As they reached the bottom, Mrs. Sinclair reached forward to pat her back–Max was still tense, but she relaxed just a bit. Lucas’ father stepped forward to rest a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“You can come over whenever you like.”
“What?” Max and Lucas asked together, sharing their own look of surprise.
“Yes,” Mrs. Sinclair confirmed, “I understand if sometimes she’d need to just…get away. But Lucas, honey, please just let me know first.” Max’s eyes, which still glinted a bit with unshed tears, lit up then for a whole other reason.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Sinclair. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Run along now, it’s getting late. I’m guessing you wouldn’t like a ride home…?”
“Nope, I got my bike.” Max rushed to the hall rack to grab her coat. She rushed back again to give Lucas a stiff hug–he returned it, and though maybe it wasn’t as good as another kiss, it was still pretty good. Mrs. Sinclair handed her some cookies from the pantry for the road, which Max stuffed in her jacket for storage.
Lucas followed closely behind her as she stepped out into the brisk night air. She picked up her bike from the front yard, handling its ice-cold bars gingerly.
“Thanks again. This was…” she rolled her eyes in jest, “Tubular.”
“Yeah. Tubular.” Then, before he knew what he was doing, he stepped forward and kissed her gently on the lips. It was just a moment, and not a comfortable one at that given how dry and cold the night was, but still set his heart beating faster. Her hair fell in her face as she dipped her head in embarrassment.
“Dork,” she mumbled, before wheeling herself off the sidewalk.
Lucas met his father on the front stoop to watch her blazing hair fly in the wind as she clambered onto her bike in the driveway. He and Max shared a wave–God, it was cute the way the cold turned her cheeks as red as her hair–and in another moment she was gone, rolling off into the darkness offset only by the white streetlamps.
There was quiet for a moment. Then his father spoke.
“That night you all were out Billy came over. Said he was looking for his stepsister Maxine.”
Lucas felt his throat go dry. He still remembered the tight pull on his neck from Billy lifting him in the air and shoving him against a shelf, sneering at him in particular to stay away from his sister even though he had no reason to know that Lucas had been closer to Max than any of the others.
“He…wasn’t pleasant.” His father crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Something about his tone was off from the beginning. Then when we said that we didn’t know any Maxine, he got worse. He was never outright threatening, but we aren’t stupid. He insinuated that we were lying. Then made some accusatory implications about your intentions towards her.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him that my son is thirteen years old and much too young to have any of the sort of intentions that he was thinking of. He didn’t like that. Your mother stepped in to say that if she was with you and your friends, you’d be more likely at the Wheelers. He finally left after that.”
Lucas looked back at the empty driveway before them. “He’s a jackass. So’s her stepdad.”
Mr. Sinclair let out a bitter snort. “We figured.”
“So you mean it that she can come over whenever?”
“We have no intention of forcing that girl to stay over in that environment, and I certainly didn’t do a stint in Vietnam to be intimidated by some little punk with an earring.”
Lucas couldn’t help his grin. “Thanks, Dad.”
“One question, though,” Mr. Sinclair looked down his way, finger rubbing over his mustache. “she doesn’t look like just a friend.”
“We’re dating,” Lucas blurted out. It was nice to say aloud, really nice, despite the embarrassment curdling inside him and the sweat on his palms. His father hummed and shook his head slowly.
“Hotdamn,” he mused, “Dating already.” He tilted his head back towards the inside, past the open front door behind the glass cover. “That was a girlfriend, dear!”
“Really now?” Lucas heard his mother call, “shall I interrogate to see if she’s good enough for my son?”
“Erica already did,” Lucas grumbled. He kicked a rock in front of him absentmindedly. It fell down the steps, into the not-yet-cut grass, and disappeared. He then thought back to the couch, and that feeling of the three of them sitting in front of it. No monsters or killer vines or horrible big brothers or anything else. Warm. Safe.
The smile broke out again