Maverick

Chapter 24

The first thing I noticed as Maverick pulled up to the gravel lot later that evening, once the sun was enjoying it's last few moments of light and the sky had turned a beautiful marbled pink, was the twirling ribbons of smoke unfurling from the bonfire in the centre of the beach. I looked over at Maverick. He had changed for this evening: dressed in grey skinny jeans and a pressed white T-shirt, he looked as if he had stepped straight from a men's fashion magazine. I had changed also, however I feared that it hadn't had the same drastic effect as it had on Maverick. My navy blue thigh-length dress and silver sandals weren't enough to even appear in my school newspaper.

Nevertheless, I was still looking forward to tonight; I had even spritzed a few drops of my mum's signature sandalwood perfume on my neck, and added a few bracelets to my skinny white wrists. Maverick was, on the other hand, apprehensive. Social occasions where Ezra was the central attraction were not really on his list of top ten ways to spend your Friday night. But his protestations fell on entirely deaf ears; Maverick and Ezra might not have realised it yet, but in fact they had more in common than they realised. For a start, they were both turning eighteen in the Fall, and although I wasn't expecting a joint pub crawl to celebrate, it would be nice if they finally came to the recognition that, in fact, they weren't such polar-opposites as they believed.

We approached Ezra now, dressed in a light cotton button-down shirt and beige camo shorts, the light sprinkling of hairs on his arms and legs reflecting golden-brown in the dappled sunlight. His hair was tousled and thick with sea-salt from our earlier surf, his eyes dancing and glittering with the reflection of the flames in the fire pit as his mate told a joke. Ezra was slouched on a slick grey rock, one hand stuck deep into the pocket of his camos, the other holding a beer, his posture relaxed and amiable. He stiffened when he saw Maverick and I. A silence seemed to spread like wildfire across the group of teenagers. All eyes turned to Maverick.

"Oh," Ezra spluttered, placing his beer hurriedly on the flat surface of the rock, "Hey. I didn't know you were still coming."

A light breeze played on Ezra's hair, ruffling it gently, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Maverick stepped forward with a box of beer, making the first move. "Here," he said, his eyes lowered to the grainy sand. "Thanks. For inviting us, I mean."

The silence seemed to deepen at the sound of Maverick's voice. Ezra leaned forward, took the beers in his huge hands. "It was no problem," he replied. "And thanks."

Maverick tipped his head slightly, the smoke from the fire clouding his expression. The distant murmur from the party grew louder as they realised the boys weren't going to backhand each other. "Reece," Ezra continued, looking at me neurotically under his long eyelashes, "Are you okay? Earlier..."

"It's fine," Maverick cut in for me, "She's fine." I squeezed his hand gratefully. I felt him return the pressure, gently.

"What?" Ezra's eyes narrowed. "You answer for her, now?"

"Please don't start," I interjected, putting a restraining palm on Maverick's chest as he stepped towards Ezra threateningly. "Come on. No arguments tonight."

Ezra sighed. Reached for my hand. Maverick pulled me back a step, slid a protective arm around my waist. "You're right, Reece. No arguments." He gave me a final, sad smile as he turned back to his friends. I elbowed Maverick in the ribs, sharply. "There was no need for that." He chuckled, pressed his lips against my hair. "On the contrary. There was every need in the world."

I exhaled noisily and grabbed a beer, turning to a pair of solitary rocks on the left hand side of the bonfire, away from the crowd of teenagers drinking and laughing by the pit. Looking around at the teenagers present, there were quite a few people I recognised, though I didn't know any of them well enough to talk to. The girls, some in my year but mostly in the school year above, were dressed in skimpy pastel-coloured dresses and playsuits, their tanned, henna-clad skin soaking up the last few rays of sun. The bracelets on their arms and ankles glittered and clinked together melodically, harmonising with the sweet, high notes of their laughter, echoing across the beach. The girls were, save a few, grouped together with one or two of the boys Maverick had invited, dressed equally well in light shirts and chinos. Their feet were bare on the pallid sand. In their hands they held beer bottles, cigarettes, girls. I took one more quick sweep around the party: no Will. No Carter. I let out a breath, then felt Maverick's voice at my ear, quiet, concerned. "What's wrong?"