My Sweet Bully

My brain fires off with all the things I want to say to her.

Stay away!

He’s mine!

Back off!

But I keep my words to myself. They’re irrational, they’re not warranted. The girl has no idea I even feel this way, how dare I leap to this level of crazy.

“Prairie, yoo-hoo, you with me?” Amy asks, leaning in front of my face, and waving her hand to grab my attention.

“What?”

“Have I been talking to myself this whole time?”

“I’m sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”

Facing forward, we walk through the doors into the school. “I was asking if you wanted to go prom dress shopping this weekend?”

Sucking in a gulp of air, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not even sure I’m going. I don’t even have a date yet.”

“Yes you do, you just have to ask him.” Amy winks. “You know who I’m talking about, I know you do.”

“Yeah, right, like he’ll ever agree to that. There’s no way.”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should ask him myself. Max hasn’t said anything to me about going, which isn’t really surprise. The prom seems like something he’ll avoid at all costs.

Track was my last class of the day, so I shower and change, gathering my stuff to bring home. I haven’t seen Max today, he wasn’t at school, but I know he’s got community service today.

Throwing my stuff onto the passenger seat, I make a stop to get gas, then head to the beach. Parking the car, I trudge through the sand in my sneakers, making a mental note to keep a pair of sandals in my car from now on.

Officer Rogers, the same officer from last time, is leaning against the lifeguard bench. He gives me a look as I toss him a pack of cashews.

“I was never here,” I say with a smile.

He nods and laughs. “I don’t accept bribes, probably should have told you that before you gave me these, because I ain’t giving them back.”

“Consider them a thank you then for not telling my uncle.”

He gives me a smile, opening the bag and looking down the other end of the beach. I stop, squinting my eyes, and scanning the beach until I find Max near the long formation of rocks extending into the ocean.

Digging my heels into the sand, he sees me coming and stops what he’s doing. Standing still, he leans on the edge of his trash poker, watching me walk down to him. He smiles lightly, causing that signature flutter in my belly.

It happens every single time he smiles. The warmth, the tingles, the knots like corded rope. He does things to me with that smile I never knew were possible.

“Hi,” I say with a little wave of my hand.

“Now this is a much better sight. I definitely prefer watching you walk down to me over G.I. Joe. He flops in all the wrong places.”

Giggling, I tip my head. “Thank you for not comparing me to him, I’m glad we flop differently.” Throwing him a bottle of water, he catches it easily.

Holding it up like he’s giving a toast, he opens it and takes a huge sip. “You’re starting to spoil me.”

“No,” I say, tossing a small pack of cashews at him, and setting my hands on my hips. “Now, I’m spoiling you.”

Max chuckles, leaning over to secure the bottle of water in the sand. Peeling the package open, he takes a handful and pops them in his mouth. “Want some?” he asks, holding it out to me.

“No, I’m good.”

“Your loss.” Tipping his head back, he finishes the bag and stuffs into his pouch. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks.” Batting my lashes, my cheeks blush. The heat spreads down my face, reaching my neck, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “Got any gloves, I’ll give you a hand.”

Max pulls a pair out of his pocket and throws them to me. He starts stabbing garbage again, piercing the trash between the different layers of rocks.

“You weren’t in school today.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling well.” He doesn’t look at me as he says it, keeping his head down instead.

I watch him as I pick garbage out from between the rocks. He’s sweating, it’s dripping down his temples, glistening like small diamonds on his skin. His muscles are highlighted, the lines and curves roughly defined like raw marble.

He’s not perfect. He’s not smooth. He’s made mistakes, we all have. The difference between him and me, well that’s easy. He lets his mistakes define him. He uses the expectations dropped on him by everyone else to guide him. He’s like an unpolished stone pulled from the earth. Rough and hard on the outside, ugly and dirty.

They want to see the bully, he gives them a bully. They want to see a jerk, he gives them a jerk. He’s the mess they just can’t sympathize with or understand.