“I…uhh…” I struggled to answer her.
“What, can’t find the words?”
I took a breath and pushed the hair back off my forehead, trying to settle my mind. I knew exactly what words I wanted to say. This was my opportunity to tell her to leave Wilson alone; but they seemed to disappear because of her demeanor.
“Why are you crying?” I couldn’t help asking.
“I’m not crying. And if I was, it sure isn’t because of them,” she snapped as she pointed to her bedroom door. Her eyes started to fill with tears again as she plopped down on her bed.
I stood frozen as I instantly found myself feeling sorry for her. There was something really lonely about her, something I’d never seen before.
“I don’t know what caused you to hate Wilson or Joanie as much as you do…” I started.
“Puh-leeze, Max. I figure you won’t mind me calling you Max now that you’ve decided to quit Wesley,” she said with a quick, smarmy grin before her smile disappeared. She continued, “I don’t hate them. It just gets so exhausting to always be the one in control. I don’t have time to keep everything straight. I discovered a long time ago where to catalogue people like Wilson and Joanie. They are always having a dilemma or something that they decide to drag me down into. And, I’m sorry to say, the Max and Wilson dilemma is at the top of my list!” She pressed her lips together tight and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“Well, then, you can appreciate what I need to tell you. I understand that you’re frustrated and hurt,” I said, making eye contact.
“Whoa, Max, I’m not hurt!” Cindy snapped. Her face twisted to disgust.
Shit, I just want to grab her by the nape of her neck and shake her until that smirk disappears from her face.
“Whatever, Cindy, I just need you to understand the situation. Wilson’s very important to me and I won’t let anything or anyone come between her and her happiness. Nobody. Do you understand?” I said low and deliberately slow. I made sure she heard every inflection of my voice.
“I get it. You don’t have to tell me twice. Wilson is your little project girl.”
“Project girl?”
“Come on, Max. I know what you have going on with her. I wasn’t born yesterday. I see guys like you all the time up here. She’ll be fun and entertaining until you get bored. Then everything will change when she doesn’t fit into the social stratum of your family,” Cindy said confidently, like she had my relationship with Wilson all figured out.
“You couldn’t be further from the truth,” I steamed.
“Wilson comes from a place you or I will never understand. It’s just the facts. She comes from a broken, needy family. Max, she will never fully understand the pressures you and I are constantly under,” Cindy said as she stood up and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her eyes, vindictive as ever, searched for mine as her lower lip drooped into a pout. I could feel her fingers begin to twist and tangle in the back of my hair and she pressed her breasts against my chest.
Is she fucking serious? What the hell is she thinking? Does she even hear the crazy shit she’s saying? How am I going to respond to her? Should I even respond? No, it isn’t even worth wasting my breath. I stretched my hands up behind my head and loosened her grip from around my neck. Her expression, convincing at first, changed to defeat as I dropped her hands, turned around, and walked out. She made me feel sick; actually, worse than that, I pitied her.
“Where are you going? You’re really going to keep up this fling you have with Wilson? You know it won’t last, she will never fit into your world,” she hollered.
I didn’t even look back. There was no way I was going to waste another minute engaging her any more than I already had. And to think I’d actually felt sorry for her.
Chapter Three
~ Wilson ~
“I’m so scared, J. I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing,” I whispered as I pulled the zipper on my suitcase. I still couldn’t help thinking about how I’d left Max broken at his house, devastated by his dad’s death and now my stupid mistake of kissing Nick.
“Wilson, Max loves you. You’re doing the right thing,” Joanie said in a low breath as she threw her round brush and makeup bag into her suitcase.
“I mean, I love him so much. But what if he can’t forgive me for what I did?”
“He has already forgiven you,” she said, focused on packing.
“But what if he finds later that he can’t?”
“But he did.”
“But what if—”