Page 14 of Invisible String
“Okie dokie, Mom. I’ll let you go. I need to start the mixer.”
Ending the call, I go back to baking. Maybe I’ll drop some treats for my neighbor. Isn’t that the neighborly thing to do? He said his dad had gotten a new job. If that’s true, then I understand. For seven years, I was so hurt. Lana said that maybe I became attached to him in those three months. Perhaps I was. We never finishedThe Thorn Birds. It’s a good thing I have it on my Kindle. I never finished reading it.
Today involvedme dusting the place, then making a late breakfast since I woke up after eleven. After cleaning the kitchen because of my mess from last night. The amount of sweets I baked is ridiculous. You would think I’m opening a home bakery. My brain has been in a battle debating if I should drop some off with Max. What am I supposed to say? “Hey, Max, would you like some cookies?” or “Hi, I over-baked. Would you like some desserts to sweeten your life?” Oh, gosh, I sound like a damn Girl Scout.
Instead, I grab my purse and keys to take a walk downtown. I’m not a fan of gambling, but I can always do some shopping, and tomorrow I can go tubing.
“Dammit, woman, do you ever pay attention when you’re backing out?”
I slam on the brakes. Max is standing behind the trunk of his car in a tank top and shorts. My Rover idles, and my heart races. I was so close to taking him out. How had I not seen him?
“Sorry. You just popped out of nowhere.”
No smile on his beautiful face, but his brow rises lightly. It’s still the same broody man.
“I’ve been standing here when you skipped out and backed into me. Maybe it would be a good idea to get your review mirror fixed. Better yet, your eyes.” His voice is gruff, and there is no humor behind it.
My lips form a straight line. I’m not offended at all. On the other hand, I want to laugh at how serious he is. I guess I would be serious if someone almost ran my ass over.
“You’re right, I should wear my glasses, but I lost them. Soo, next time, just holler, and I’ll hit the brakes.”
Max runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re a reckless driver,” he mumbles, going through his trunk, then slamming it shut.
“Oh, I know. Everyone tells me that.”
His gaze meets mine. Those eyes are beautiful.
“Well, I’d better go.”
He nods, mumbles something, and gets into his car. I back out, double-checking my surroundings.
My hair flows in the breeze from the open windows. The music plays, and I sing the whole ten minutes to my playlist. The street is rolling with tourists, so it will be tough to find a parking spot. After a horrific incident, I was close to hitting a cone while trying to park. Although I live forty minutes from campus to Tahoe, I hardly come here.
The shops are so busy I can barely walk in, so I try the next one. And it’s the same. I’m not used to being alone. Lana is always with me, if not her, my sister, brother, or Mom, and I guess my dad. I was once a daddy’s girl, not that I wasn’t close tomy mom, but I leaned more on my dad because I thought he was the example of the type of man I needed in my life. Anyway, I don’t mind the quietness at the cabin, just not shopping. My feet ache, and my stomach growls. I probably walked for an hour.
A live band plays at the bar of an outdoor patio. The sound of the man’s voice is astonishing. I take a seat on the outdoor bar stools and listen to the humming of his voice.
“What can I get you to drink?” the server asks, handing a menu out.
“Iced tea, please, with a lemon, and I’ll have today’s burger special with a side of onion rings.”
She writes it down. A mixed drink would be nice after the morning I’ve had. The last thing I need is to drive drunk when my driving skills are not that good though. “Great, I’ll put the order in for you.” She spins on her heels. “I’ll be right with you, hun,” she says to someone at the table behind me. I pay no attention to who she’s talking to. The guy singing starts a new song, playing the piano this time. Music fills my heart with emotion. “Baby, Can I Hold You”by Tracy Chapman is the song he sings.
This song stirs up emotions in me. Over the years, I’ve regretted not telling Max how I felt about him. The thing is, my feelings for him were strong. Lana would laugh when I would follow him around, especially at lunch. She never minded me sitting with him. Perhaps it was because we saw him sitting alone under a tree, and from that day on, I sat with him, enjoying our lunch. The connection I felt was innocent, young, but beautiful. Max never complained about my rambling. His lips twisted—never into a full-blown smile. There was something about Max that led me to believe something had happened to him for him not to share a smile with the world.
Selfishly, I want to be the one to see him laugh, smile, and joke—let loose. Then, I started to think maybe he never felt thestatic between us. When I think of our first kiss, I remember his hand placement behind my neck, how he pressed into my lips, eager for a taste.
Listening to the lyrics when the artist sings, I wonder if I had told him how much our friendship meant to me. Would he have been mine? Does running into Max mean something? It could be a sign.
“Sorry I took so long, but here’s your tea. I’ll be back with your burger,” the waitress says, out of breath.
“Thank you.”
A girl’s annoying giggle has me twisting. A woman sits at the same table as Max. She explains about her polished nails. Jealousy pulls on the strings of my heart. Does he have a girlfriend? It never crossed my mind.
The waitress leaves my food on the table. I turn back to find Max staring at me. Rolling my eyes at him, I dig into my food. My mom always used to say that eating when angry causes an upset stomach. After seven years of not seeing him, he still makes me feel this way.
“Why is a pretty lady like you sitting alone?” a smooth-talking voice says, scooting to the stool next to me. The man is handsome with a light skin tone and a smile that could make women drool. It does nothing to me.
