Flames At Midnight

02 | grace yearwood

CHAPTER 02

For most of the night, I kept asking myself the same question.

Is this guy for real?

Overall, Max was charming and nice. Very nice, actually. But my main issue was that we didn't have much in common, and that was mostly because his knowledge of things didn't go beyond basketball. Outside of this topic he was, if I put it simply, an idiot.

"You're kidding?" he said with wide-eyed surprise when I informed him that Australia and Austria were, in fact, two different countries. He was convinced that the textbook company had overlooked three chapters worth of typos by leaving out the al.

"No. Austria exists," I said. "It's in Europe."

That was just one of the many knowledge gaps he'd revealed throughout the night.

Under the table, I held my cell phone in my lap. With one quick text, I'd have an excuse to leave. Sending a message to Quentin was my usual escape plan. I was impulsive when it came to running out at the first sign of something bad. But for some reason, I hadn't sent it yet.

It was probably because Max was really easygoing and he wasn't once offended when I corrected him. Otherwise, I would've left long ago.

"You learn something new every day! So do you go to basketball games?" he asked, retreating back to a safe subject.

"Not really. I'm not a school spirit kind of person," I admitted. "That's more my sister's territory. She's a cheerleader."

He nodded his head. "Cool, cool. Do you play sports?"

"I do some martial arts."

He nodded animatedly. "Oh yeah, that's right. Noah mentioned it to me. Do you know Noah Wright? He's the captain of the basketball team. The coach asked him to show me around school when I said I was interested in trying out."

"I know Noah. I've known him since kindergarten," I said.

"Right. I forget everyone knows everyone here. The town is so small."

I smiled wryly. "Tell me about it."

"So what kind of martial arts do you do?"

"Mostly mixed martial arts. I like karate and jiu jitsu. I'm small, so with jiu jitsu, I use an opponent's energy against them," I said. "I don't like taekwondo as much because there's a lot of kicking, and I have short legs."

He laughed. "You must be good at it."

"I'm not bad, I guess."

"I've heard that you can be intimidating." Then he grinned. "I also heard that you kicked Greg Bierman's ass in seventh grade. I've met the guy though and he seems like an ass, so I won't hold it against you."

I grimaced. I'd been in a lot of trouble for that. My parents had threatened to pull me out of my martial arts classes if I was using my training to beat up my classmates. It didn't matter to them that Greg Bierman had just thrown Porter's backpack into the swimming pool or that he was making fun of Quentin's dads. My parents said I should've gone to a teacher.

I knew I should've, but then in the moment, I just stopped thinking and let my training take over. Even though I was given detention for an entire week, it was worth it.