on two wheels (maxley fic)

CHAPTER 03

September 6, 2002.
"Tell me how you hate me. Tell me how I'm trash and you could easily replace me."
— Hate Me
Ellie Goulding and Juice WRLD

Finally, Friday. The first week of freshman year went by a bit more dreadful than I had hoped. Some classes flew by, quick as that. Others, definitely not so much. Besides, Tuesday I spent the whole day with a headache because of all the drinking Monday night.

The first thing I remember asking the freshmen Tuesday was about the date of the X-Games. After that rumor my friends mentioned, about how the Gammas knew the date, I rushed to find out if they had spilled the secret date to the people at their party — because if I could barely remember getting home, fat chance I'd recall any announcements.

But no one had heard a thing. Some were sure it was going to be held in the last week of November, just like last year, but I chose not to rely on those random students. I need to hear the news from the mouth of someone who's as stoked as I am.

P.J. and Bobby are sitting at one of the tables at the college café, the same we found last Sunday. Its vibe is a little brighter today; even their table has a lamp in its center, although they haven't lit it up. P.J. told us yesterday that the poet lady was going to perform again, the late afternoon of this Friday, so of course he wouldn't let us miss it. Besides, Bobby was just as hyped.

Today, we arrived a little early for the presentation. P.J. and Bobby came in before me, their classes finished at 2:30 p.m. My schedule and theirs aren't quite synchronized, so my classes for the day ended at 3 p.m.

"Came as soon as I could," I say, placing both my hands on the top cap of their booth. It's a dark red booth, old but solid. Roomy enough for the three of us, plus two more if needed. That's probably why P.J. picked it.

"No worries, man," P.J. says, nodding towards the space next to him.

I raise my hand, "Wait up. Grabbing a drink. You guys want anything?"

Bobby shakes his own cup of coffee. "No need, Maxie."

So, I nod and start walking backward. Looks cool to keep eye contact with my boys, but then I decide I must turn and face the serving area where I'm headed before I crash into someone.

I misjudged my timing.

I immediately almost run into a man's chest. I brace for the impact, but he steps back. I don't face-plant, thankfully. I open my eyes, ready to snap, thinking, "If we're going to crash into each other, then let it happen. Don't leave me alone to get scared."

But I don't get the chance to say it. Eyes open, I see he didn't intend to let me fall. He's got his hands stretched out, with his right elbow tight to his chest, the left one closer to me. Looks like he would have tried to grab my elbows. It wouldn't be pretty, but honestly, if I give this guy credit, it wouldn't be pretty to run right into his embrace either.

I look up, hoping this dude isn't mad at me for almost crashing into him.

"Watch out, freshman."

Oh, great. Takes me half a second to realize I just bumped into Bradley Uppercrust III, of all people.

"Sorry, Uppercrust," I say, shaking off the nerves and trying to look chill.

Bradley's rocking his usual preppy outfit: khaki pants and a button-down peeking out from his indigo, almost-purple sweater. His hair isn't gelled today, so a few stray strands fall forward as he glares at me.

"I bet you wouldn't have bumped into me on a skateboard," he says, surprising me with his tone. He's not mad that I bumped into him, or at least that's not what he's letting on.