be so sure / just be open okay?
> okay
What was that supposed to mean? What if he is one of the people your mother warned you about? What if he’s a serial killer who will lure you back to his mirrored, crushed-velvet bedroom for amazing sex and sudden death?
Max shakes the thought out of his head. He is going to meet Alex. Alex.
> funny how we both have x names: me alex, you max
> x-rated?
> x / a sign of the times / our parents’ times, when they named us
> x-rated?
> MAX!!!!! you have a one-track mind
> not really. i just / truth?
> please
> i’m lonely is all. i don’t know anyone like me / except you
> alex, are you there? say something
> want to meet
> YES! / when?
> the arrowhead, nine, tonight
“Max? Max, where are you going?”
“Out. I’m meeting a friend. I’ll be back by eleven.”
“Who are you meeting? It’s a school night.”
“I know that. I’m not new to the planet.”
“Don’t be fresh. My, don’t you look nice.”
“Mom, stop.”
“Is it a girl?”
“I told you. I’m meeting a friend.”
“But you look so nice.”
“I can only look nice for a girl?”
“I just meant—”
“Give us a kiss. I’m going to be late.”
“Don’t be fresh.”
In the car, his thoughts fly so fast he gives up trying to catch them. His dad would kill him if he knew where he was going. His mom, well, she might be okay once she got used to the idea. Isn’t he her darling baby boy? Still, ever since his brother got married in August, all she can talk about is when is he going to meet a girl, he’s seventeen and never dated, surely there’s one girl at Wilson, and what about that nice girl at Michael’s wedding, Carly’s cousin. Lindsay, wasn’t it? She even called the next day.
It was so bizarre. Michael had been on this campaign the whole weekend of the wedding to get him and Lindsay together. He’d even pressed some condoms into Max’s hand at the reception. Condoms. Max didn’t know what they were until he looked, and then he about died of embarrassment.
“She’s checking you out,” Michael had said for the tenth time, arching his eyebrows in the direction of his bride’s second cousin. “C’mon, take these. You might get lucky.”
My kind of lucky isn’t your kind of lucky, Max had thought. It didn’t occur to him until the next day to wonder why his brother had been carrying condoms at his own wedding. Heteros were sobizarre. He’d taken the condoms, but he wasn’t saving them for Lindsay.
It was a couple of days after the wedding that he met Alex online. They’d been chatting for a month now. He couldn’t believe it when Alex told him he lived about ten miles up the road. Funny that they’d never talked about meeting until tonight. They’d talked about everything else—music, movies, school, what they believed in and hoped for and dreamed about, what it was like growing up feeling different and alone. Alex had asked tons of personal questions, but he didn’t always answer Max’s. Curious but shy, was how he’d described himself to Max. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was a serial killer. Maybe he was middle-aged and greasy. Maybe he was seventeen, like he said, but had the face of a gargoyle. Or maybe he was just ordinary and insecure. Like Max.
Max’s fingers trace the outline of the condoms in his pocket as he tries to picture Alex. All that appears on his mental screen is a pornographic version of himself. His brain is set to sex 24/7, but he isn’t even sure that’s what he wants.
> x-rated?
> down, boy
What does he want?
To be calm. That’s what he wants. To be calm inside himself.
To find a friend.
And maybe—he should be so lucky—to fall in love.
The light changes. A car honks behind him. Max lurches through the intersection and pulls off Route 17 into the parking lot of the Arrowhead Diner before he can change his mind. He kills the ignition, glances at his watch. Four minutes. He’ll wait in the car
> okay
What was that supposed to mean? What if he is one of the people your mother warned you about? What if he’s a serial killer who will lure you back to his mirrored, crushed-velvet bedroom for amazing sex and sudden death?
Max shakes the thought out of his head. He is going to meet Alex. Alex.
> funny how we both have x names: me alex, you max
> x-rated?
> x / a sign of the times / our parents’ times, when they named us
> x-rated?
> MAX!!!!! you have a one-track mind
> not really. i just / truth?
> please
> i’m lonely is all. i don’t know anyone like me / except you
> alex, are you there? say something
> want to meet
> YES! / when?
> the arrowhead, nine, tonight
“Max? Max, where are you going?”
“Out. I’m meeting a friend. I’ll be back by eleven.”
“Who are you meeting? It’s a school night.”
“I know that. I’m not new to the planet.”
“Don’t be fresh. My, don’t you look nice.”
“Mom, stop.”
“Is it a girl?”
“I told you. I’m meeting a friend.”
“But you look so nice.”
“I can only look nice for a girl?”
“I just meant—”
“Give us a kiss. I’m going to be late.”
“Don’t be fresh.”
In the car, his thoughts fly so fast he gives up trying to catch them. His dad would kill him if he knew where he was going. His mom, well, she might be okay once she got used to the idea. Isn’t he her darling baby boy? Still, ever since his brother got married in August, all she can talk about is when is he going to meet a girl, he’s seventeen and never dated, surely there’s one girl at Wilson, and what about that nice girl at Michael’s wedding, Carly’s cousin. Lindsay, wasn’t it? She even called the next day.
It was so bizarre. Michael had been on this campaign the whole weekend of the wedding to get him and Lindsay together. He’d even pressed some condoms into Max’s hand at the reception. Condoms. Max didn’t know what they were until he looked, and then he about died of embarrassment.
“She’s checking you out,” Michael had said for the tenth time, arching his eyebrows in the direction of his bride’s second cousin. “C’mon, take these. You might get lucky.”
My kind of lucky isn’t your kind of lucky, Max had thought. It didn’t occur to him until the next day to wonder why his brother had been carrying condoms at his own wedding. Heteros were sobizarre. He’d taken the condoms, but he wasn’t saving them for Lindsay.
It was a couple of days after the wedding that he met Alex online. They’d been chatting for a month now. He couldn’t believe it when Alex told him he lived about ten miles up the road. Funny that they’d never talked about meeting until tonight. They’d talked about everything else—music, movies, school, what they believed in and hoped for and dreamed about, what it was like growing up feeling different and alone. Alex had asked tons of personal questions, but he didn’t always answer Max’s. Curious but shy, was how he’d described himself to Max. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was a serial killer. Maybe he was middle-aged and greasy. Maybe he was seventeen, like he said, but had the face of a gargoyle. Or maybe he was just ordinary and insecure. Like Max.
Max’s fingers trace the outline of the condoms in his pocket as he tries to picture Alex. All that appears on his mental screen is a pornographic version of himself. His brain is set to sex 24/7, but he isn’t even sure that’s what he wants.
> x-rated?
> down, boy
What does he want?
To be calm. That’s what he wants. To be calm inside himself.
To find a friend.
And maybe—he should be so lucky—to fall in love.
The light changes. A car honks behind him. Max lurches through the intersection and pulls off Route 17 into the parking lot of the Arrowhead Diner before he can change his mind. He kills the ignition, glances at his watch. Four minutes. He’ll wait in the car
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