Page 11 of Shades of Grey & Gold

~ Seven Years Ago – Max ~

It’s late, the sun is setting. I still have my graduation cap on, much to Patrick’s dismay as he said it was ‘tacky.’ I did take off the robe to show off my cute black and silver, curve hugging dress I bought just for graduation. It has spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neckline, and fits my body like a dream. And, to add to Patrick’s dismay, I paired it with my black and white checkered Vans. He dropped me off on the outskirts of campus to grab my special water bottle that I left behind in the commons.

“And this is why I wore sneakers. Not about to trek all over campus in stupid heels,” I mumble to myself as I walk through the commons.

“Who you talkin’ to, Sims?” I hear wheels behind me hitting each bump in the sidewalk and Callan rolls up next to me, stopping to grab his skateboard to walk beside me.

“Just myself, it’s a sign of genius, Reed.” I bump him with my shoulder, and he pretends to fall sideways, grabbing his arm in fake pain. He has the sleeves of his blue button-down pushed up past his elbows, making way for the ornate lines of tattoos covering his arms to be on full display.

“Ah, so aggressive, can’t wait to see that play out with the professors in the Big Apple,” he laughs, pushing me lightly back with his shoulder. “Where are we walking to?”

“I left my bottle in the café in the commons, just grabbing it before going to dinner.” I take a deep breath, bracing for his reaction to my next words. “And yeah, well, it won’t be the law professors at NYU after all.”

“What do you mean not NYU?” He stops walking and turns to face me, his hand resting on my arm softly to stop me. “You got into NYU’s Law School, Max—one of the best in the country. Why would you change your mind? Can you even change your mind this late?”

“I’m still going to go to law school. Patrick’s dad called in a favor here at Boston University Law School, so I’m just staying here.”

“Why, Max?” His eyebrows pull together and his eyes look worried. They are the best shade of hazel grey, with green and gold flecks, and his dark beard is trimmed close with hints of red shining in the golden-hour light. His jaw is set and his lips are pressed together. His eyes search mine for something, and we stand there for a few silent moments.

The truth is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t have a good reason, and he knows as well as I do that there is only one reason. My breath releases on a long exhale and my eyes drop to the ground. My black and white checkered sneakers are identical, albeit much smaller, versions of his own that stand opposite me.

“Patrick. Got it.” His voice is gravelly, biting with an edge of anger as his hand slides slowly down my arm, then falls beside him. “So… to the Café?” He points behind me, dropping the topic.

I run inside and grab my blue bottle off the front bench, then back out, where Cal is still standing in the same spot, skateboard under one foot and both hands in his pockets, staring at the ground, eyebrows still pulled together.

“It’s fine, it’s what I want. I can be closer and even intern at Ellison, so I can start getting experience sooner.”

I try to convince him withmy explanation, and maybe myself, too. I stop to stand in front of him, looking up at his face. I desperately want his approval; for him to reassure me that I’m making the right choice. But I know better.

Callan will never agree with anything that has to do with Patrick. He once told me that the only reason Patrick was graduating is because Richard Ellison donated an entire new wing to the law school.

He pulls his lips across his face in a straight line, nods, and with a deep breath he looks down at me. His hand reaches up and moves the tassel from one side of the cap to the other. “Congratulations, Sims.”

I beam at him, shoving down the feelings of regret about the law school decision. His thumb runs softly down the side of my cheek and stops along my jaw. He holds my face there between his fingers. I fight back the shivers that zing from where his skin meets mine down to my toes. His fingers feel soft and warm. They linger for what is absolutely an inappropriate amount of time, but as soon as the thought about his touch feeling good, feeling right somehow, crosses my mind, his hand is falling away.

My eyes follow that hand back down to his back pocket, feeling the absence of his skin on mine, and then I glance back up at him.

“You, too, Cal.” I whisper the words between us, but they fall flat, right there on the concrete between our matching shoes.

“I guess this is it.” His eyes trail down my face and then look around us, at the campus that holds countless memories.

Pictures flash in my mind like end credits; him walking twenty minutes across campus from the law school just to walk me to the commons and get coffee between classes; us, bundled up last winter, snow falling around us with homemade hot chocolate sitting at a bench discussing his internship options for his final year; him reserving us rooms in the library four nights a week where we would end up talking the night away instead of studying. All the memories of him becoming my best friend.

I audibly swallow and meet his gaze, unsure what to say. Unsure what words would make him understand how much he means to me.

“Good luck, Max. I’ll be around the city if you ever want to grab coffee.”

Callan looks at me, handing me a long rectangular box before tapping his fingers on his own forehead in a salute and turning.

“Don’t be a loser, Callan Reed.”

I roll my eyes as he spins back around to face me, a confused grin on hisface. I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his waist as tight as I can, burying my face in his shirt.

I breathe him in. The swirling scents of leather, cedar, and something faintly metallic, like smoke over salt and burnt stone. The warmth from his chest feels so good even in the sticky summer heat.

“I’m so glad I met you and got to spend these two years with you. I can’t wait to hear about all the great cases you get now that you’re a hotshot lawyer.”

Please don’t disappear and forget about me.