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Mag:

Ouah, that was one hell of a fight, I don't see how Tess and Kyle can get over that!

If Tess and Kyle are able to overcome all that has happened, it will take a lot of time.

chinkyeyes45:

The greater blame is with Tess, saying that Kyle never told her that they were dating is a cop out.

I agree completely. It's way more understandable to assume that, if you're sleeping with a person and spending all this time with them, you're dating than to assume that you're just having fun.

Luluzita: Thanks, girl!

Nicola: Thanks for reading!

emza: Should I insert you into this story to hug Kyle? lol

valentinebaby:

I think Tess is one of those people don't know what you've got til it's gone.

Oh, yeah. Tess took Kyle for granted in a big way. Kyle has been the guy throughout this entire fic to be there for Tess no matter what. He's been the guy who has caught her when she's fallen every single time (both literally and metaphorically.) Now that they're fighting like this, she's going to realize how much she misses him and wants him in her life.

emadaps:

poor Kyle. i never thought he got angry. i mean he's always joking and laughing and just so happy.

I know, right? For a guy who has such bad luck, Kyle usually maintains a pretty positive outlook on things. But he's just so in love with Tess that he couldn't contain his anger.

witterwagoner:

If it had been the other way around Kyle would have been considered a dog.

Absolutely! For sure. I'm so glad somebody mentioned that, because I thought about that as I was writing it. It's a double-standard, and it's a double-standard against men.

nibbles:

That's a good one of thinking about it. Ok, so I'm now on board with K&T breaking up. (don't tell KJ)

madhaj:

Poor Michael, i think that's every boyfriend nightmare having their girlfriends' mother see them in bed lol

And she had a knife, too! lol

i can't decide if Max is evil or just pathetic.

It's kind of a mixture of both at this point.


Thanks for all the feedback, everyone!

And it's probably no surprise that I'm dropping off another music suggestion: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBd46BbdTfs&fmt=18 This is "Kids" by MGMT, one of my favorite songs these days. Every once in awhile, I hear a really unique song like this and get an idea for, like, a montage of scenes in my head. So if you feel like it, give it a listen when you see







Part 48

Michael sat on the couch that evening after a day full of classes and work, studying for a history quiz coming up in a few days. He was starting to feel all studied out, though, and judging by the frustrated groans that Maria kept making over at the computer, so was she.

"God, I write like a spaz," she said. She'd been working on typing a paper for her literature class for over an hour now, and as far as Michael could tell, she only had a half a page done.

"Since when?" he asked.

"Since . . . I can't concentrate." She leaned back in the computer chair and raked her hands through her hair. "I can't focus on this stupid paper when there's so much else going on."

He nodded in agreement, closing his history book. Neither one of them was being particularly productive. "Come here," he said.

She pushed the chair back from the desk and stood up, slowly making her way towards him. He reached up and took her hands in his, and she swung her legs up onto the couch and sat down on his lap, smiling a small, appreciative smile.

"It's almost Valentine's Day," he remarked.

"Yeah, and we're gonna be the only ones celebrating."

"Better us than no one."

"Yeah, I guess," she agreed, sitting up straighter. He let go of her hands and smoothed them back behind and underneath her to cup her backside and pull her closer to him.

"Michael?" she said quietly, her eyes cast downward.

"Hmm?"

She slowly lifted her gaze and asked a strange question. "Am I totally selfish?"

He frowned. "What? Where'd that come from?"

"It's just . . ." She shifted into a more comfortable position and lay down on the couch, her legs lying across his lap. "Tess and Kyle broke up, and I can't help thinking how that sucks for us, too."

He nodded in agreement and rubbed her legs reassuringly.

"I mean, we're all friends," she went on. "We hang out together a lot. We have fun. And now that Tess and Kyle aren't . . ." She sighed heavily. "We're not gonna be having so much fun anymore, you know? You and I are constantly gonna be feeling like we have to take sides, and the Core Four's gonna be, like, nonexistent."

"We're still together," he pointed out. As long as that never changed, he could deal with anything bad or unexpected.

"I know," she said. "And we'd better stay that way. I don't know, I just . . . I feel bad for them, and I feel bad for us for having to go through this with them, and I just . . . I don't know why this had to happen."

It most definitely sucked. Michael hated that it had to happen, too. He hated seeing his friends so angry and unhappy, and he hated that it was stressing Maria out like this. "They say everything happens for a reason," he said.

"Who are 'they?'"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think they're right." Hell, at one point, the idea of Maria being his roommate had been his idea of a nightmare. But obviously that had happened for a reason. He bent down and kissed her. That seemed to make her feel a bit better.

"Hmm." She smiled and decided, "We should go out."

If it would make her feel better, he was up for it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria called her brother that evening, and he and Francis accompanied her and Michael to the Cowboy Club. Having a couple of gay guys around definitely lightened the mood a little bit. Michael could see the change in Maria's demeanor, and he was glad about it.

"I can't believe the Cowboy Club's become so heterosexual in such a short amount of time," Marty remarked, looking around. It was true. From what Michael could tell since the last time he'd been in there around Thanksgiving, there were a lot fewer gay guys dancing around and a lot more straight guys sitting at the bar watching girls dance.

"It's so tragic," Francis agreed.

"I'm blaming you two," Marty said, pointing at Michael and Maria.

"Us? We haven't been here since we sang karaoke that one time," Maria said, glancing up at Michael. "Remember?"

He grinned. "Yeah, I got you, babe." How could he forget such an utterly enjoyable embarrassment?

"They did away with that, too," Marty said.

"What? No more karaoke?" Maria now, too, sounded outrage. "That sucks. Everything sucks."

"I'll tell you what sucks," Francis jumped in. "Having all these straight boys stare at you like you're some kind of gay freak. That's what sucks."

"Oh, honey." Marty stroked his boyfriend's cheek. "They're just jealous 'cause you're cuter than they are."

Francis groaned dramatically. "Story of my life."

"Well . . ." Marty took a sip of his drink and said, "It's a shame Tess and Kylie aren't here."

"It is a shame," Maria agreed.

"Hey, we're having fun tonight, remember?" Michael said, nudging her arm. "Let's not think about it."

"It's just hard not to."

"I know."

Marty cleared his throat and said, "You know what? I remember when I first found out Kylie was crushin' on Tess. I didn't think he could make it happen. But he did; he made it happen."

"Well, alcohol also made it happen," Maria mumbled.

"My point is, it happened once . . . it could happen again," Marty finished optimistically. A new song, one with a techno beat, began to play, and he immediately exclaimed, "Oh my god, I love this song." He grabbed Francis's hand and pulled him out of his seat. "Let's dance."

Maria gave Michael a look as Marty and Francis started out for the dance floor and said, "I love this song, too. Come on." She hopped down off her seat.

"Oh . . ." Michael groaned, reluctant to get up.

"Come on . . ." She gave him a pleading look, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up from his chair. He didn't really want to dance-he didn't have any rhythm, but that didn't matter. He'd dance with Maria. He'd do anything for her.

She led him out onto the dance floor, walking sassily to the beat of the music. She was nice enough not to pull him out into the middle of the dance floor, where Marty and Francis were dancing crazily and would without a doubt show him up, but she didn't let him dance in the dark corners, either. She was always urging him to be more adventurous.

She swayed her hips to the right, then to the left, then snaked her hands up his chest to grab hold of his shirt collar and pull him closer to her. He shuffled awkwardly from side to side for a moment before standing still and letting her work her magic. She swayed low to the ground, smoothing her hands all the way to his belt loops before standing back up again. His girl knew how to move.

Maria raised her arms in the air, alternating left and right, and danced around him in a circle. She looked like she was having a genuine good time for the first time since the Kyle and Tess drama had reared its ugly head.

She stopped in front of him and swirled her hips around in a circle, swinging her arms above her head. He placed his hands on her hips, needing to touch her. She backed up against him, plastering her back against his front, and brought her hands down to rest atop his. He knew they were surrounded by dozens and dozens of other people, but in that moment, he felt like she was the only one in the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess tried to keep herself busy that evening by cleaning her apartment. She found her sketchbook lying on the floor in the living room, so she bent down to pick it up. She flipped it open to the first page and looked over a sketch of a living room. She'd put that together a few nights ago when she'd been at Kyle's, lying next to him in bed. She hadn't been able to sleep . . .

She sighed heavily and held the book close to her chest. She'd sketched an entire apartment that night, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered without Kyle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle sat alone in his living room on the couch. It was just like old times, back when Tess hadn't even known his name. Maybe it should have stayed that way.

He looked all around his living room at the various paintings of Tess, the ones he'd been planning on using when his collection was on display at the art museum in March. They formed a semi-circle around him, and there were about a dozen altogether. In some of them, she was smiling. In others, she was laughing. She probably didn't realize he'd painted her while she was asleep, too, but . . . he had. She looked beautiful. But as Kyle sat there surveying the girl he had painted and running his hands through his hair, he realized she wasn't as perfect and flawless as the paint made her look.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria tossed her head to the side, then back to the other side, flipping her hair all about. The music coursed through her, so she grabbed Michael's hands, hoping it might course through to him, too. He was trying, bless his heart, but when it came to dancing, he just didn't have a clue.

She told him to spin her around, so he lifted their arms above her head and twirled her out to the right, then back in to the left. She twirled so fast and hard that she collided with him, and they stumbled backwards. She laughed and rested her hands on his shoulders, still dancing. He placed his hands in the dip of her hips and pulled her in close to him. She pelvis brushed against his groin, and she took in a sharp breath. Her dancing was . . . affecting him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved in closer, making her movements less emphatic now. But somehow in that moment, less was more. She felt so close to him, and not just physically. She threw her head back to gaze at him, not sure if it was the music or the dancing or the fact that she was having some much-needed fun in the midst of her friend-drama that was heightening all her senses. All she knew was that she wanted Michael. She wanted him so much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max walked into the club as the strobe light came on. The violent flashing hurt his eyes, but that didn't stop him from catching sight of a girl at the bar. Long, dark hair. Slender waist. Sexual body language and a sort of confidence about her that made it clear that she owned the place, even if she didn't brag about it. He couldn't see her face, and deep down inside, he knew he was just getting his hopes up, but he let himself believe it was Liz, and he started towards her.

He pushed past all the people in his way and kept his eyes focused on the girl at the bar. He felt like he was going in slow motion, and he worried she was going to get up and leave. Liz deserved better than him. It would make sense for her to leave. She'd already left once, left town after he'd chosen that damn company over her. He hated to think he might have made a mistake, but Liz had been gone for almost a month now, and it felt more and more like a mistake with each passing day.

He picked up his pace and headed for her with more urgency, literally shoving anyone who got in his way aside. The closer he got, the more glaringly apparent it became that the girl at the bar was not Liz, but he let the fantasy play out anyway. He walked up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. The girl whirled around on her stool suddenly. Not Liz. There was no fire or passion in her eyes. Her lips weren't begging to be kissed. She was just a girl, just a random girl, and he didn't give a damn about her.

"Sorry," he said. "I thought you were . . ." He trailed off, momentarily considering taking her back to his place for some much-needed look-alike sex. But that never left him satisfied. It was a waste of time. It was all a waste of time.

He backed away from the girl, leaving her completely confused, and headed back through the club the way he had come. He spied Michael and Maria out on the dance floor out of the corner of his eye, obviously minutes away from getting a room. Nice guys didn't finish last anymore. What was up with that?

He stormed out of the club and marched through the parking lot towards his Benz. Instead of getting in the car, he peered into the backseat, remembering how he and Liz had fucked there before. That was where they'd gotten caught having an affair.

He slammed his fist against the window in anger and fixated on the beer bottles in the backseat. He had some hard liquor back there, too.

Good. He needed it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael pushed open the door, and he and Maria staggered inside, kissing each other wildly. She dragged his shirt over his shoulders and he shrugged it to the floor, reaching down between them to grab her shirt by the hem and lift it over her head. He threw it to the floor and she shook her hair loose before hooking her arms around his neck and plastering her mouth to his again. He hoisted her up in his arms, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning as his jean-clad erection pressed against her entrance. The panties she was wearing beneath her short, tight skirt were soaking wet, so he pushed them aside as he carried her towards the bedroom. God, he loved her.

She reached down in between their bodies to push his zipper down. The sound of it sliding made him groan with a primal need, and he captured the nape of her neck in his mouth as he kicked open the door to the bedroom and crashed onto the bed with her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess sat on her bed, tearing up all her designs. Bathroom designs and kitchen designs and living room designs . . . she didn't even know for sure whose apartment she'd been designing, but she had a feeling it had been for her and Kyle. Because it was pink, but kind of nerdy.

She crumpled up all the torn-up sheets of paper and tossed them into her metal trash can in the corner of the room. She kept missing, and they kept landing on the carpet near the trash can. She never bothered to go pick them up. She had more design destruction to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle swiped his paintbrush over the previously painted canvas, smearing black paint right across Tess's eyes. And then her smile. And then every other part of her. He smeared black stripes in every direction. It didn't need to look pretty.

It didn't take long for all twelve of his paintings to turn into plain black slabs. The blonde of Tess's hair, the pink shine of her lips, the blue glimmer in her eyes . . . it was all gone.

He stood back with his paintbrush and palate in hand. He'd done good work. But he didn't feel very good about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max tossed back one drink after another. One. Two. Three. And then more. He stood out in that parking lot for a long time literally drowning his sorrows, and when he was done, he threw all the empty bottles into the middle of the parking lot, smiling as they shattered into pieces on the pavement.

He felt better. He really did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess stopped shredding her designs when she got to the very last one. The bedroom. That was a bedroom for her and Kyle someday. She was sure of it.

She tried to crumple it up, but something in her just couldn't do it. She held the paper tightly in her hands and stared down at it longingly. She would probably never have that now. And it was all her fault.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria moaned into Michael's mouth as he moved within her. He was hitting all the right spots. Having him on top her, encompassing her with his large frame, his sweat-soaked skin pressed against hers . . . she felt like she was dying in the best way possible.

She dug her head back into the pillow raised her arms up by her head, completely surrendering herself to him. He smoothed his hand up from her elbow to her hand, interlacing their fingers, and thrust into her more adamantly, a guttural groan escaping his lips as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. She tightened her legs around his waist and pulled him in deeper before he rolled over onto his back and set her down on top of them in one swift motion, keeping them connected the entire time.

She felt so connected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess stuck the design for her and Kyle's bedroom into the upper left-hand side of her dresser mirror. She taped it just to make sure it would stay, then stepped back and smiled. She could tell herself and everyone around her that she and Kyle hadn't really been together as much as she wanted to, but maybe that was a lie. Maybe she'd drawn that bedroom because she had envisioned a future with Kyle; and if that was the case . . . she wasn't going to give up hope just yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle dumped his dozen black canvases into the dumpster out back behind the apartment complex. He expected to feel free or enlightened or . . . something when he got rid of them. But he didn't. He just felt worse.

Didn't matter. There was no hope to hold onto. He was giving up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max climbed into the driver's seat and shut the door. His shaky, uncoordinated hands could barely get the key into the ignition, but eventually, he started up the car and laughed excitedly in his drunken state. He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and floored it out of the parking lot.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria arched her back and cried out as the feelings inside her began to intensify. Michael lay beneath her, pushing his hips up into her and touching her exactly where she needed to be touched. She bent forward, pressing her hands against his chest, her hair falling forward to curtain her face.

He sat up a moment later, and she suddenly found herself in his lap, so close to him. She'd never felt closer. She clung to his shoulders for dear life as he fucked her. She dug her fingernails into his skin and practically screamed as she came, throwing her head back, letting the feelings course through her. He shot into her a moment later, almost silently but just as powerfully, and they collapsed against each other in a heap of desire once they were done. They were both panting for air.

As she sat there with Michael, still holding him inside her and being held by him, she felt safe, and she felt happy. She felt like, no matter what happened, everything was going to be alright.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max sat in the emergency room, wincing as an intern stitched up the cut on his head. It wasn't a big cut, but it hurt enough to feel like one. He'd driven his car into a tree. Somebody had driven by and called 911. They'd made him ride in the ambulance and everything. Humiliating.

"There," the intern said as she tied off the stitch. "That wasn't too much pain and suffering, was it?"

Pain and suffering were two concepts he'd come to redefine since he'd fallen for Liz Parker.

"Is there someone you can call?" the intern asked. She was a bubbly blonde, not unlike Tess or Maria.

"Someone's here," Max told her, glancing outside. His father was in the hallway yelling at the doctors. Why he was yelling at them, Max didn't know. They hadn't done anything wrong. Finally, Phillip got fed up and stormed into the room. "Max," he roared. "What were you thinking?"

"I was drinking," Max informed him, "not thinking." His alcoholic buzz had all but worn off now. He wanted it back.

"Don't tell me this is about that girl again." His father shook his head in disapproval. "Oh, how pathetic. Do you know how much work your car's going to need? I suppose you don't even care. But I care. I care that your reckless, immature behavior has disgraced me and my company yet again."

Max found it interesting that he didn't seem to care that he was alive. A worse crash could have killed him.

"Congratulations, son," Phillip growled angrily. "You've really outdone yourself."

Max knew drinking and driving had been a stupid thing to do. But he'd done it. He'd been so much smarter and more focused before Liz.

"Sir, you shouldn't be in here," the intern said quietly, grabbing his arm to lead him towards the door.

He jerked his arm away and glared at her. "I give thousands of dollars to this hospital every year. I helped found the cancer ward. Don't you dare tell me to leave."

Just then, a police officer poked his head into the room and said, "Mr. Evans? I'd like to have a word with you."

Max knew he was the Mr. Evans being addressed in this case, but his father stepped in and made it all about himself as usual. "I'll take care of this," he told Max, still looking furious with him for his actions. He walked towards he door and said, "Officer, let's step outside."

Max sat on the table and watched his father go out into the hallway with the officer. He body language indicated that he was speaking in a much more calm and respectful manner now. He was undoubtedly going to get the DUI charges to go away with some monetary bribery. Money worked wonders in the world. All Evanses knew that.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to be so rude," the intern said, picking up a gauze patch off her tray of supplies.

"No," Max said, still staring out into the hallway, "he did." Contrary to popular belief, he had feelings, too, and right now none of them felt good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tess plopped down on her bed and asked, "So? What do you think?"

Maria surveyed the sketch Tess had placed up on her bedroom mirror. "It's nice," she remarked. "It looks . . . like a bedroom."

"Not just any bedroom. It belongs to Kyle and me."

"Kyle and you?" Premature excitement coursed through Maria as she went to sit down beside her friend on what used to be her own bed. "There's a Kyle and you? You guys are back together?"

"Not yet."

"Oh." Maria frowned. That sucked.

"But hopefully we will be soon." Tess sounded uncharacteristically optimistic when she said that. "I miss him."

Maria nodded in understanding. Even though Kyle was an over-the-top spaz, he did have a very distinct presence. Tess had gone from being around him all the time to not even speaking to him anymore. It had to be hard. "When are you gonna talk to him?" she asked.

"I don't know," Tess replied. "I'm too ashamed."

"Well, you're gonna have to eventually."

"I know. But I don't think he wants to talk to me right now."

"He's being so un-Kyle-like, it's creeping me out," Maria said.

"He went and beat up Max yesterday."

Her eyes bulged.

"I know, it's crazy," Tess agreed.

"It's payback. It's long overdue." Maria couldn't help but be very happy that Max had finally gotten a taste of his own medicine, from one of the people he had hurt the most, no less.

"And Max is just the weirdest guy ever," Tess went on. "It turns out he actually wants me to be with Kyle."

"God, that jerk's confusing."

"Tell me about it. I can't figure him out. I can't figure myself out half the time." Tess sighed.

Maria rose to her feet again and walked back over to the mirror. "So, what's that about?" she asked in reference to the bedroom sketch.

"That . . . is something I think I did figure out," Tess said, standing up as well.

"Really?" Maria teased. "Let's throw a damn parade."

"Hey . . ."

Maria laughed a little. "So you wanna be with Kyle again."

Tess came to join Maria at the mirror and lightly touched the sketch. "That's right," she said. "I wanna be with Kyle again. Because I was with him before. I know that."

"I thought you thought you guys were just . . . having fun."

"Well, we were having fun," Tess acknowledged, "but we were also having a relationship. Oh, and it was a great relationship, Maria. We made each other laugh. He held me when I slept. I've never felt anything like it. And I kept telling myself it wasn't serious, because I was scared of getting serious again. I tried to convince myself that Kyle wasn't my boyfriend, because a boyfriend's someone who can hurt you as much as he makes you feel good. And I didn't wanna be hurt again, but I should've known Kyle would never hurt me . . . until I gave him reason to."

"It was kind of inevitable he found out you were lying to him," Maria said.

"But that's just it. I wasn't lying to him; I was lying to myself." Tess shrugged helplessly. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore. The damage is done. It's gonna take a lot for Kyle to forgive me. I don't wanna get my hopes up. But I kind of do wanna get my hopes up, you know? I mean, look at this." She pulled the bedroom sketch out of the side of the mirror and held it up in front of herself proudly. "This is a nice bedroom."

Maria smiled. "Your bedroom."

"Yeah. And Kyle's."

"Hmm. Well, I'm glad to see you're fighting for him. He's gotta be unaccustomed to that." For the longest time, Kyle had been fighting for Tess. It was kind of refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot.

"Yeah. I'm gonna give him some space, though, first," Tess said. "Then I'll fight. And then I'll have this bedroom and I'll have . . . everything. Everything I've ever wanted."

It sounded great in theory, but Maria couldn't help but have her doubts. "Do you love him?" she asked outright. "I'm sorry, I realize that's totally blunt, but . . . do you?"

Tess thought about it for a moment, then said, "I think I could. I think I'm starting to. I mean, it wouldn't hurt this much to be away from him if I didn't."

"How bad does it hurt?" Maria asked. She'd never been in Tess's situation before. Tess had been there twice, first with Max and now with Kyle.

"Think of you and Michael," Tess said. "Think of all the laughter and the smiles and the touches and the conversations . . . think of all that, and imagine being torn apart from those things. And it's like your heart got torn from your chest along with it."

"Ow." Maria held her hand over her heart, imagining the pain. "Thanks for the imagery," she said, "but no thanks." Her heart was perfectly content staying inside her chest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Maria and Michael convinced Kyle to go outside and play beach volleyball that night. Their apartment complex had a court out back behind the indoor pool. Kyle needed some fun. All he'd been doing was sitting around his apartment and moping for the last few days. They took a volleyball out of the activity room and went outside. The weather was nice. It was the perfect night for volleyball, even though none of them were particularly athletic or even knew the rules of the game.

"So is Tess devastated about our break-up?" Kyle asked as he swung his left arm out to the side and hit the ball back over the net.

Maria lunged for the ball but missed it. It landed in the sand at her feet. "Yes," she replied.

Kyle grunted. "Good."

Good? she thought, narrowing her eyes at him. She threw the ball in the air and spiked it over the net. It hit Kyle in the head.

"Hey!" he yelped.

"Poop-head," she insulted him. "You want your girlfriend to be miserable?"

"She's not my girlfriend anymore," he pointed out. "Never was, really."

"Just serve the ball," Michael told him. He was all bent over in the perfect position to hit the ball if it came his way. He was the only one keeping score, too. Maria had no idea what the score was, but she was glad Michael was on her team.

"Check you out, Mr. Competitive," she said, taking a moment to appreciate the way his butt looked in the shorts he was wearing. He had a wonderful, masculine body, one that she constantly yearned to have all over her . . .

The ball came flying over the net as she was staring at him and hit her in the head in the same manner it had just hit Kyle. "Hey, no fair, I wasn't ready!" she yelled.

"So does she feel guilty?" Kyle asked. "I mean, really guilty."

Maria rolled her eyes and handed Michael the ball. He was better at serving than she was. "Yes, Kyle, she feels guilty. She's not giving up hope, though."

"Funny, I did," Kyle mumbled bitterly.

"Why would you throw away all your paintings? You had an exhibit coming up." Michael hit the ball over the net.

"So did you," Kyle remarked, bumping it back over, "back in August."

Michael missed the ball this time when it came to him. "I kept my paintings of Isabel," he said.

"Up in the closet," Kyle reminded him.

"The point is, I kept 'em. I didn't give up . . . even when I should've."

"Do you still have those?" Maria asked, picking the ball up off the sand.

"Got rid of 'em," he replied, smiling at her.

"Well, apparently I'm just a quick study, 'cause my Tess paintings are gone," Kyle said as Maria served the ball over the net at him. He flung himself to the left and crashed on the sand, missing the ball entirely. "Why is it two against one here?" he spat.

"It's not two against one," Maria pointed out. "You've got Marty on your team." She glanced over at her brother. He was sitting on the side of the court polishing his fingernails. He smiled at them and waved. "Hey, bitches," he said before going back to his task at hand.

Kyle shook his head and practically threw the ball overhand across the net.

"Oh!" Michael cried out, dropping to his knees when the ball hit him in his groin.

"Michael!" Maria cried, rushing to his side. "Oh my god, Michael, are you okay?" Better question, were his nuts okay? He needed those, and she loved them.

"What'd you do that for?" Michael asked Kyle.

"Sorry, didn't mean to," he apologized. "I've got some quality rage goin' on."

"I feel like . . . I'm not a man anymore," Michael whimpered, holding his crotch in his hands.

"Now you know how I feel," Kyle muttered dejectedly.

Maria looked up at him, fed up with his self-pitying antics now. "Okay, that's it," she said, stomping under the net. "Kyle . . . I've had it. This is how the world works. People get dumped; get over it. Get over it and go talk to her. You're not gonna feel any better until you do. And for God's sake, stop being all bitter and depressed, because it's really starting to piss me off." She sort of growled the last part, and he recoiled in fear.

"I'll go talk to her," he promised. "Someday."

She rolled her eyes.

"Just serve the ball," he said as Michael struggle back up onto his feet.

"Fine, you want the ball?" She slipped back under the net to her side of the court. "Here's the ball." She swung and underhand serve, but instead of clearing the net, it went into the net, and the resistant force sent it flying backwards, once again colliding with Michael's family jewels.

"Oh!" he wailed, dropping to his knees again.

Maria winced. "Sorry, honey!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle worked up the courage to go see Tess the next day. He didn't call her first to let her know he was coming. He didn't want to talk to her over the phone. Actually, he didn't really want to talk to her at all yet, because he was worried he might say something he'd regret. But Maria seemed to think this was a good idea.

He very quickly wished he had called. He walked up the steps to the third floor of her apartment complex and was just about to round the corner to her hallway when he heard her voice. And it was saying things he didn't want to hear.

"Hey, Max, it's me."

Max was there? Again?

"I read about your accident in the newspaper . . ."

Newspaper. He breathed a sigh of relief and peeked around the corner. She was indeed standing in her doorway talking on her cell phone. She was facing away from him, so she didn't know he was there and that he could hear her.

"I just thought I should call," she went on. "I hope you're alright. It says you're not getting charged with anything. I just wanted to make sure you're not hurt."

Kyle frowned. Why would she care? Why would she care whether Max was hurt or not unless she . . .

He shook his head sadly, not sure what to believe anymore. Tess was supposed to be fighting for him, yet there she was giving Max a call. She just kept lying.

"I'm just gonna go," she said. "You don't have to call me back. Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't. Bye, Max." She closed her phone and slipped back inside her apartment, shutting the door. Kyle sulked back down the stairs. He knew for a fact that now was not the right time for him to talk to her about anything. He was too angry, and he was probably going to be too angry for a long time to come.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"She was talking to him on the phone."

Michael sat on the couch sketching a rough drawing of Maria on a napkin. Sometimes he just had inspiration. "I thought you said she was leaving him a voicemail."

"Well, regardless!" Kyle yelped, pacing around his own apartment in a state of panic. "She's still got this big yen for him. Why? I don't know. You can be a nice guy; you can have feelings and have a soul, but apparently that doesn't matter. All that matters is having some arm muscles and a hefty checkbook."

Michael set his pencil down at that. "You really think Tess is that shallow?"

"Yes!" Kyle exclaimed. "I don't know."

"Well, she's not. And I've known her longer than you have, so . . . I'm right."

"You sure?" Kyle plopped down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling contemplatively as he spoke. "Max had two girlfriends. It probably inspired Tess to have two boyfriends. Oh, she's got it all worked out: The nice guy and the bad guy. The best of both worlds. It's like freakin' Hannah Montana."

The fact that Kyle even knew enough about that kid's show to reference it was alarming. "Uh, I'm gonna ignore that reference and tell you you're talking like a crazy person," Michael said. "This is Tess. This is the girl of your dreams."

"Exactly. You can love a girl, wanna spend your life with the girl, but it doesn't mean it's gonna happen. You of all people should know that."

Michael pressed his lips together for a moment to keep from saying anything. Kyle was definitely frustrating him, but he wanted to be as understanding as possible. "You think this is like what happened with me and Isabel?"

"Well, yeah."

Michael shook his head and set his napkin-drawing of Maria down on the coffee table, along with his pencil. "It's not. Tess didn't cheat on you."

"She kissed that jerk," Kyle pointed out. "Wait a minute." He sat up and looked at Michael confusedly. "Isabel cheated on you?"

"You didn't know?"

"No, you never told me. Who else knows?"

"Maria, Tess . . . Billy." He rolled his eyes.

"Billy knows?" Kyle shrieked.

"It's not like I wanted him to. Anyway, she cheated on me with a rich guy."

"Oh, so it's an even better analogy than I thought!" Kyle lay back down.

"No, it's different," Michael insisted. "Tess never lied to you."

Kyle folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. "Tess never lied to me but Tess did lead me on for a month. Or you could say it was lying by omission."

"Isabel led me on for two years. When she left, it practically killed me. But I got over it, and then I got something a whole lot better." He cast a glance down at the napkin-drawing and smiled.

"Maria," Kyle concluded simply.

"Yeah. See, with Isabel . . . I did love her, as much as I could without knowing her. 'Cause I had this idea of her in my head where she could do no wrong, and obviously that wasn't the case. But with Maria, it's . . . I know she's not perfect and I know she makes mistakes, but . . . I love that girl more than anything. And all her little flaws and quirks make me love her even more." He couldn't imagine a Maria who didn't like to steal the covers from him at night or shed her hair all over the bathroom sink or leave her dirty dishes on the counter. That was just Maria.

"So you're saying I should go out and . . . find my Maria?" Kyle made a face.

"No, you might've already found her," Michael clarified. "The sooner you realize Tess isn't this perfect person, the better. Because she makes mistakes, and so do you. And to expect her to reach this unachievable standard and never do anything to upset you . . . that's not realistic, and that's not fair to her. And if that's who you want her to be, then maybe you don't love her as much as you think you do, because that perfect person doesn't exist. But if you accept the fact that she's gonna do things to piss you off and confuse you and you love that fact . . . well, then, you really love her." He reached forward and picked up his pencil and drawing again.

"You're an intellectual person," Kyle remarked, sitting up again. "But what if I was wrong this whole time? What if Tess isn't my Maria? What if I don't even have a Maria?"

"Everyone has a Maria," Michael mumbled confidently, sliding his pencil against the napkin to draw his girlfriend's hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max sat in his father's long-winded meeting, trying like hell to stay awake. He had to go get his stitches out that afternoon. He hated that he was going to have a scar above his left eyebrow. But everyone had scars.

The meeting was actually shorter than normal. Max noted that his father seemed sort of out of it, probably wasn't feeling well. He looked pale as a ghost, and he was sweating.

"Well, uh . . . that's about all I've got for today," Phillip said. "If there are no questions . . . everybody get back to work."

Everyone pushed their chairs back from the table and left the office. Max stayed behind and waited for his father to notice him.

"So," he said, laying a copy of the prior day's newspaper down on the boardroom table. "You could keep it out of the court but not out of the paper, huh?" He didn't really mind that much. Bad publicity was still good publicity.

"I'm not God," his father reminded him. "Almost, but not quite." He grinned and laughed a little, but it seemed forced. He grabbed his left shoulder and grimaced.

"Are you okay?" Max asked.

"I thought I told you to get back to work." The older man's breath was coming in ragged pants.

"Fine." Max picked up the newspaper and turned and left the room. He was on his way back to his office when Tony came up to him. Tony was really a nice guy and therefore had no place in the Evans organization. How he had kept his job so long was still a mystery to Max. Probably had something to do with the fact that he was a hard-worker. It never hurt to keep a couple of those guys on the team.

"Max," Tony said.

"Hey, Tony. Was it just me or was today's meeting more boring than usual?"

"No, it wasn't just you," Tony admitted. "You and your father aren't on the best of terms these days, are you?"

"No, we're not." Max pushed open the door to his office and went inside. Tony just stood in the doorway and stared at him. "What?" he finally asked.

Tony shook his head unsurely. "It's probably not my place to say anything, but if I were you . . ."

"You're not me," Max reminded him.

"But if I were . . . I'd be careful how estranged he and I became. Because it's business, Max, all of it. These lives we lead . . . it's very easy to rearrange things, and it's very easy to change the outcome, especially for a guy like Phillip."

Max made a face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Tony sighed heavily and stepped into the office, shutting the door. "Don't tell him I said anything. I don't care to lose my job. But I overheard him talking on the phone this morning, Max."

"He doesn't that sometimes," Max interjected just to be a smart-ass.

"Talking to a lawyer."

"Okay." That was nothing new, either. His dad had dozens of lawyers.

"Talking about changing his will, Max."

That made him pay attention. His will? Phillip Evans was going to alter his will? For a moment, Max had to laugh. But then the seriousness hit him. "Unbelievable," he muttered. He pushed past Tony, threw open the door, and stormed back to the boardroom to see if his dad was still there.

"Max!" Tony called after him, but he didn't stop. There was no way he was going to be cut out of that will like some kind of . . . Isabel. No, he'd made a few mistakes as of late, drunk driving being the most recent, but that company was his. Or at least it was going to be.

"Dad!" he yelled, throwing open the door to the boardroom. He was so furious; he was going to . . .

He stopped dead in his tracks when he found his father lying on the floor, one hand over his heart, his nearly vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. "Dad?"

A strained groan escaped the older man, but that was all.

"Dad!" Max rand to his father and crashed to the floor beside him. His entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat now. He looked wet. He was paler than any living person Max had ever seen, and he looked as though he were suffering an incredible amount of pain.

"Dad, hold on," he said, whipping his cell phone out of his pocket to dial 911. "Hold on!"








TBC . . .

-April