“What did you guys have against girls?” She asked with a laugh.
“I guess we thought they’d tattle on us about the stuff we got up to.”
“Stuff like what?”
He pointed at the ladder nailed onto the tree trunk. “Come on up and see.”
She wasn’t too sure about that climbing thing. “I thought girls weren’t allowed?”
Max bowed elaborately. “On behalf of myself and all the other clubhouse members, I am granting you a one-day pass.”
She giggled, and decided that maybe it was worth making it up there after all, if it would give her more of an insight into what Max had been like as a kid.
Gingerly, and happy that she had chosen to wear jeans and Converse sneakers rather than her usual heels to the picnic, she clambered up the ladder and into the little room, relieved that he was behind her all the way, lest she should fall.
Once up there, she admired the view through the windows, admitting that as a kid, she’d have loved to have a private space like this one. It was remarkably tidy, given that the occupants had long left childhood behind.
He caught her look. “I make sure to keep it neat. I’d hate to see my own personal shrine fall apart due to old age.”
There was a ping pong table in the middle, a few folding chairs that had seen better days and an old-school video-game console. She gave him a curious look. “Do you still come here?”
“When I need a little time out. Recently, it’s been a way to reconnect with my brother. I come here when I miss him most.”
She watched as he moved to a small cupboard and withdrew a bottle of what looked like bourbon, along with a few glasses. “Did you boys come up here to sneak a couple of drinks?”
He placed the drink down and then set a pack of cigarettes and a lighter next to it. “Smoke, too.”
She wrinkled her nose at the items. “Wouldn’t they be completely rotted through after so many years?”
He laughed. “The original instruments of sin, sure. When I returned to France a month before my brother’s death, I found cigarettes that had crumbled to pieces, and the bottles of Scotch and wine that we’d sneaked from our parents’ cupboards long ago had turned. Julian and I replaced them out of a sense of continuity, you know? My brother and I spent almost the entire night up here smoking, drinking and reminiscing.”
She watched as he poured each of them a shot and handed it to her. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
He shrugged, lighting a cigarette, nevertheless. “Not much anymore. After losing him, it helped me get over a couple of tough moments. It’s been two months since my last smoke.” He held it out to her.
She looked at it as if it would blow up if she touched it. “I don’t smoke.”
He was incredulous. “What, never? French kids start smoking by the time they’re twelve or thirteen! Don’t tell me you were a goody-two-shoes as a teen!”
He’d said it like a dare, and if there was one thing she refused to do, it was back down on a challenge. She plucked the cigarette from his fingers, stuck it between her lips, and took a world-class pull—and immediately began gagging. She could feel her lungs cloud and her face turn purple. Doubling over, she gasped for breath as Max pounded on her back, and the creep was laughing at her.
When she was able to breathe again, she demanded, “Did you think that was funny?”
Putting the cigarette out, he answered, “No. I thought it was cute.”
She took another deep breath, enough to start asking what was so cute about it, but her words were cut off as he pulled her close and began to kiss her.