Senior Semester: All The While Part 6

To distract myself, I lean over to open the pa.s.senger door for her. And then she smiles at me and time literally f.u.c.king stops. Get it together, Zack. This is Maura. Adrian's little sister.

"Hey," she mutters calmly and it's clear I have no effect on her whatsoever, which is actually helpful in snapping me back to the reality of the situation.

I smile. "How's it goin'?"

She shrugs, a thin flash of satin black showing as she shifts to click in her seatbelt. "You know, same old. You and Adrian, you used to do this a lot?" She gestures toward the dashboard, but I know what she's asking: did you and my brother really go mini-golfing?

I laugh, remembering all the Sunday mornings Aid and I did mini-golf, hungover from the night before, Adrian cracking me up with ridiculous stories of whatever girl he hooked up with the night before, thinking up the stupid amounts of food we were going to consume afterward for breakfast at Leo's.

"Yeah, we did." I put the car in reverse and back out of the spot, turning to exit the parking lot. "It started at the end of freshman year. We were so freaking bored during spring break. All of our friends were partying it up in Mexico or the DR, and here we were, two shmucks killing ourselves at three-a-days for rowing. We were so sore, we could barely move, especially me. It was my first season, you know?" She nods when I look over at her so I continue. "On Sunday we were going stir-crazy. We'd spent the whole week on a constant rotation between our dorm room, the boathouse, and the trainers. Adrian was p.i.s.sed that we'd essentially wasted our first spring break." I laugh lightly, recalling the way he b.i.t.c.hed and moaned about all the girls we could have been banging while we lounged in our dorm, too sore to fully lie down or sit up. "Sunday's practice was light. We were finished by 10:00 AM and Coach said we had the rest of the day to recuperate before cla.s.ses on Monday. Shuffling back to our dorm, Adrian was p.i.s.sed. He wanted to do something, to have some fun, to be stupid. So we drank a couple forties we had stashed under my bed. We got stupidly blitzed since we were freshman." Maura's laugh rings out, deep and sincere. I look over at her and smile. "And we went mini-golfing."

She clutches her chest, one hand strewn over her heart as her laughter washes over me like a warm blanket. "Oh my G.o.d. You guys are so f.u.c.king lame!"

I laugh, nodding in agreement. "I know. We could barely hit the ball straight. I don't think either one of us actually got the ball into the hole at all."

Her laughter subsides gradually, like the sun slipping behind a cloud. She hiccups softly. "G.o.d, I don't think I've laughed that hard in a year." She smiles over at me. "So how did this become a tradition?"

I shrug. "Just something we kept doing. Hungover mostly."

She nods. "That's cool. My friends and I, we go to brunch, but hey, whatever works for you."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," I warn. "Your friends, the three girls you always roll with, they're all away this semester, aren't they?"

She nods. "Yeah. Lila is in LA. Mia is seriously in love with Rome. And Emma is getting into trouble in D.C." A soft smile touches her lips at the mention of her friends. "I miss them. It's strange being on campus without them."

"I know what you mean," I say and then bite my tongue. She doesn't need to be reminded that Adrian's gone. Plus, it's mean and completely inaccurate, my comparing her brother's death to her friends studying abroad.

Her shoulders stiffen, and she looks out the window.

f.u.c.k. I tap my fist lightly against the steering wheel as the energy in the car zaps into nothing. Fix this, Zack. "Sorry," I stutter out awkwardly instead. "I didn't mean ..."

She turns to look at me and places her palm on my forearm. Her hand is warm and my skin feels alive under her fingertips. "I know what you meant. It's okay..." she shakes her head "...I didn't take it as ... I get what you were trying to say."

I study her for a moment, taking in the heavy sadness that hangs around her like a veil, only lifting for brief moments when she allows happiness to peek through. "You sure?"

She nods again, turning her gaze to the windshield. "Yeah." She's quiet for a beat before sliding her hand off of my arm. "It's nice actually." She cuts me a look. "To talk about him, I mean. I don't have anyone, no one who understands really. I ... my parents, they so desperately want me to move on even though they're obviously not. It's like the mention of him..." she shakes her head "...they don't bring him up anymore."

"That must be difficult."

"It's not because they don't miss him or anything like that. It's just too hard for them, you know?" Her gaze is steady, her eyes dark with pain so searing I wish I could absorb it to keep her from feeling so much at once.

"I know. Your parents, they always wanted the best for you and Aid."

She nods. "And my friends, they never really knew him, knew him. Not like you." She whispers the last part and my chest tightens at the loss laced through her words.

I pull into the parking lot of Jimmi's Mini-Golf and park the car. Turning toward Maura, I place my hand on her knee, soaking in the warmth through her jeans, my pinkie grazing a hint of her skin through one of the tears. "Maura." I wait until she locks her gaze with mine. "You can talk to me about, well about anything, including Adrian, whenever you want to. You know that, right? I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

She gives me a small smile but her eyes belie it. It's as if she wants to believe me but doesn't. Like too many people have already made her this promise but didn't keep it. Like Adrian. And for a moment, I'm angry with my best friend. So angry with him for making this beautiful girl hurt so deeply. "Sure." She nods her head, but I don't buy it. "Thanks, Zack."

I squeeze her knee. "I'm serious."

"I know." She smiles lightly. "Come on. It's time for me to kick your a.s.s in mini-golf." She opens the car door and hops down.

I sigh, unclicking my seatbelt and turning off the ignition. It's a start, right?

Chapter Sixteen.

Maura

Walking into the lodge of the mini-golf course, I look around and laugh. Photos of old movie stars and famous athletes plaster the walls. The place is quirky, with fake palm trees, beach chairs, and a salt-water aquarium. Nothing seems to go together and yet it somehow works. I can see why Adrian liked it so much.

"Pick a ball," Zack calls out, gesturing toward a large metal basket with various colored golf b.a.l.l.s. He thanks the girl behind the counter for his change and walks up next to me, swiping a ball from the basket. "I'll be green."

"Orange." I pluck an orange ball.

"Let's get started then. Ladies first." He smiles as we walk to the first hole.

I set up the ball on the tee and study the hole. It's an easy shot, no moving windmills or sharp angles. Just straightforward. I got this. I smile at Zack. "Care to make a wager on this game."

He laughs. "You're just like your brother." He says it casually and it feels right.

"And ..."

"Nothing. It's a good thing." He looks up from the little score card he's gripping, our names already scrawled in his messy handwriting. "Fine. Loser buys lunch."

I point my putter in his direction. "You're on. I like fancy lunches."

Zack laughs. "That's good, since you'll be the one buying."

I turn back to the ball and line myself up, taking a few practice strokes.

Zack chuckles behind me, but I ignore him. Gauging the distance to the hole, I tap the putter against the ball and watch intently as the orange golf ball rolls gently toward the hole before dropping neatly inside.

Zack coughs.

I turn toward him and smirk, joking, "Champagne is always a nice touch to a fancy lunch."

Chapter Seventeen.

Zack

Eighteen holes later and Maura has kicked my a.s.s. Fifty-five to seventy-two. Freaking h.e.l.l, I can't believe Adrian's sister beat me. But d.a.m.n, is she good. She even managed to win the free game from the bonus hole. I've only ever seen Adrian hit that twice.

"You're taking me with you, right?" I ask her as she fans herself with her free game coupon on the walk back to the car.

"I don't know. Can you keep up next time?"

"Maybe if I practice every day."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "You better get on it, then."

I place a hand over my heart. "Consider it done. Next time, you're going down, Rodriguez."

"I'll worry about that after I stuff my face with an amazing, delicious, ridiculously over-priced lunch."

I laugh. "Where would you like to go?"

"Honestly?"

I nod, thinking the worst. Please don't say Osteria or Fork.

"Pat's."

I stare at her incredulously. "You want a cheesesteak for your fancy lunch?"

She nods seriously.

I can't stop the smile that forms on my lips. Maura is awesome. I don't think Lauren would eat a cheesesteak if her life depended on it. "Next, you're gonna tell me you add Cheez Whiz."

Maura raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Of course I add Cheez Whiz. Who doesn't?"

And that may just be the moment I start to fall for Maura Rodriguez.

Not that I know it.

After ordering "two wit" from Pat's, we take our cheesesteaks to go and sit in the front of my Rover. I've parked on Boathouse Row, and we're watching the random sh.e.l.ls and sculls pa.s.s lazily in front of us. A few teams are out practicing but for the most part, it's a quiet and leisurely Sunday afternoon out on the Schuylkill River.

"How'd you get so good at mini-golf anyway?" I ask Maura, taking a bite of my cheesesteak, an onion slipping back into the silver wrapper.

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Diet c.o.ke. "Wildwood. We would go every summer and every night Adrian and I were able to choose one thing we wanted to do. On all of my nights, I picked mini-golf. Adrian used to grumble but after a while he started picking mini-golf too." She laughs and it's melodious, like wind chimes. "My poor parents, they probably hated spending every night of their vacation playing mini-golf, but they were good sports about it."

I nod. "Makes sense. Your brother was pretty good at it too."

Maura nods, her eyes flashing up to meet mine, her cheesesteak sitting in her lap. "Yeah but I'm better. Come on, you can admit it."

I laugh with her. "You are." I tell her the truth.

"d.a.m.n straight." She takes a bite of her cheesesteak and groans. And I swear to G.o.d the sound jolts through me and has me thinking a million impure thoughts in seconds. "This is incredible," she says, still chewing, and wipes her mouth with a napkin. "I forgot how much I love Pat's."

"Not Geno's then?" I ask, mentioning Pat's biggest compet.i.tion, which happens to be right across the street from their establishment.

"Meh." Maura shrugs. "I'm a Pat's loyalist."

"Good to know."

"What's your favorite food?" she asks me suddenly. "Because, obviously, mine is cheesesteaks."

"Crab cakes," I say automatically. My mom makes amazing crab cakes.

She bursts out laughing.

"What?" I drink my c.o.ke.

"Crab cakes? Are you freaking kidding me?"

I shake my head. "Why is that so funny?"

"Who are you? Some New England blueblood? I thought you were from a square state."

My mouth drops open as I process her words, and then I can't help it. I throw my head back and laugh. I laugh until it hurts, my hands clenching my cheesesteak. "Wait a minute." I gasp, staring at Maura, her eyes dancing with amus.e.m.e.nt. "You thought that only New Englanders like crab cakes? And what, because I'm from the Midwest I've never had one?"

She shrugs. "Next you're going to tell me you enjoy a cup of clam chowder on a cold evening." She smiles wickedly.

I laugh again. "You are so discriminatory. I'll have you know my mom makes incredible crab cakes. And they're a staple in the Huntington household."

She holds up a hand. "All right, all right. Don't get so defensive about it. Your answer surprised me, that's all."

I snort, still chuckling. "Yeah okay. What's your favorite movie?" I ask, enjoying this little game we've got going between us. I'm liking getting to know her way more than I should, but every time she laughs and it's a real laugh, her eyes lighten. And it feels real freaking good being the person responsible for it.

"A Bronx Tale. Yours?" She takes another bite of her cheesesteak, her tongue darting out to catch a piece of onion in the corner of her mouth. d.a.m.n, she's adorable.

"A Bronx Tale, huh?" I repeat. That was Adrian's favorite too.