“So, Max, have you decided which field of medicine you’re going to focus on?”

“I’m not positive. Right now it looks like either spinal or neurological.”

“We need new dinner guests, ones that make us look better,” Kendall teases.

I chance a glance at Max to see him still involved in conversation with my dad. I know Max is intending to apply for medical school this year. We’ve discussed this a few different times over the summer after he told me a story about fishing in Alaska and a really close call that his boat had encountered where he thought they were going to lose a crew member, and how that inspired him to help people the way his mom has. However, sitting here, hearing it again, it still catches me a bit off guard to take it all in.

“Ace has considered medicine,” Mom chirps, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “She’s had some really excitin’ offers, but she needs to focus and make some decisions this year.”

I look up and try to give her a promising smile that seems to effectively placate her before turning my attention back to my lasagna. I slowly move a few bites around my plate, feeling a sense of unease at the mention of my impending decision. Discussing the future has a tendency to overwhelm me, and thinking of declaring a major this year makes me feel nearly nauseous. I’m only nineteen and obviously haven’t been exposed to all fields. How do I know what I’ll want to do in twenty years?

“She still has plenty of time.” I glance over at my dad giving me a reassuring smile as he reaches for his glass of wine.

I’m praying Kendall will change the subject. Usually she never goes this long without talking. But she’s staring intently at her salad, likely distracted with thinking of retaliation.

“So, Ace, where did this nickname come from? I hear we’re playing cards, and I need to know if there’s something I should be aware of,” Jameson asks.

“That’s a good question, I’ve never heard this. You’ve just always been Ace,” Max adds, tilting his head slightly as he looks at me with genuine interest.

“Oh that’s her daddy’s fault. He used to say everything was ace. It was his way of saying good. The girls all caught on, and when Harper was a baby she was always just the happiest little thing. She hardly ever fussed, and her daddy began calling her Ace, and it stuck,” Mom explains.

I look at my dad and smile as a cucumber sails down the front of my shirt. Turning to confront both my mom and Kendall, I see that they’re both working to suppress giggles.

“Seriously?” I eye my mom. She’s having a difficult time breathing. I shake my head and move the salad bowl away from their reach.

“What game are you guys going to play?” Dad asks, a small smile playing on his lips with amusement.

“I don’t know. They can choose,” I reply, looking at Max and then to Jameson. I catch sight of something flying through the air and am just able to lean back in time to see a chunk of tomato land squarely in the center of my dad’s chest, causing a smile to erupt on my face.

“Muriel!” He growls with a wicked smile. He tears off a chunk of bread from his roll and hurls it at her. Mom bursts into a fit of giggles and begins flinging the salad on her plate as fast as she can grab it. Saying my mother has bad aim is a gross understatement. Vegetables are flying, hitting everyone at the table. Many miss altogether and land on the floor.

Food fights are a fairly common occurrence in our house, but based on the expressions from both Max and Jameson, they’re not accustomed to spending meals hurtling their vegetables across the table.

My mom pauses, making my dad stop, and then she lunges forward, grabbing the salad bowl. She then turns her aim to Kendall and me.

“Mom, you always regret this!” I warn between giggles as I raise my hands to deflect the barrage of vegetables. Kendall and my dad are already throwing things back at her, while Jameson and Max are frozen, staring at us.

I pick up a small handful of vegetables from the table and throw them directly at Max’s chest. His jaw drops, making me laugh harder. I quickly scrimmage up another handful and chuck it at Jameson, turning before I can see his reaction as my mom begins throwing entire rolls in my direction. Bread and vegetables are flying as Jameson and Max join in.

Kendall and I definitely have the disadvantage. The boys aren’t about to throw things at our parents, and our parents are more than happy to team up. Mom retreats to the kitchen, returning with the economy sized bag of rolls. The four of them anxiously grab for the fresh ammo and sling them at us. I stand from my chair, turning my back to them, and hear Kendall push her chair back as well. The food suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, and I hesitantly turn to glance over my shoulder to see Max and Jameson stand from the table, looking devious as all hell.

Kendall screams as they begin stalking toward us and I follow her as we begin backing up, trying to gauge their intentions.

“I’d run if I were you two,” Mom teases.

I glance to Kendall and then take off. I hear her clamor up the stairs, shrieking, as I tear around a couple of corners and dash downstairs with Max uncomfortably close behind me. Once I reach the basement, I turn to face him with the pool table between us. Even with my pulse racing and my breath coming in quick spurts, a giant smile is painted across my face.

“Truce!” I laugh, holding out my hands in surrender. “I waive the white flag.”

Max shakes his head and the mischievous grin on his face confirms this is far from over. I slowly edge myself to one side of the table, and Max shadows my every move, crouched like a cougar as his eyes remain fixed on me. We do this dance for a couple minutes before he makes a sudden lunge across the table, catching me completely off guard. He’s nearly able to get my arm as it takes me a second too long to react. I fall to the ground and crawl under the table and then sprint down the dark hallway, ducking into Jenny’s old bedroom. I stoop beside her old armoire and pull my knees to my chest as I try to control my breathing. My heart beats so fast and loud I can hear it in my ears making me nearly miss the quiet padding of Max’s feet. I watch through the tiniest crack between the armoire and the wall as he creeps into the room. I stop breathing in fear that he’ll hear me and watch him stand in the doorway for a long moment before retreating just as quietly.

Slowly, I stand up, straining to hear any sign as to where he might’ve gone. I quietly make my way to the hall and catch sight of him as he walks into Mindi’s old room. For a split second I contemplate trying to scare him, but the knowledge that success in doing so will guarantee me a trip into the swimming pool stops me.

I quietly turn, keeping my eyes on Mindi’s room, and run into a solid object. I whip my head around as Jameson yells, “Boo!” Then I hear Max’s approaching steps.

Jameson releases his hold around my waist as Max heaves me over his shoulder and takes me back into Mindi’s room. I catch sight of Jameson as we cross the threshold, grinning happily over his shoulder as he makes his way back to the stairs.

Max drops me in the middle of Mindi’s old bed and doesn’t hesitate before he begins ruthlessly tickling my sides. I giggle and squirm, pleading for him to stop. Eventually he pauses, hovering above me, his eyes level with mine. “You threw vegetables at me!” He moves his hands to rest on either side of my head. My heart beats so hard it’s difficult for me not to focus on it, until Max leans a little closer, and the scent of him invades my every thought.

I stare at his dark hair that looks so soft my fingers itch to run through it. Slowly my eyes drop to his and I find that he’s looking at me with a promise of something that awakens every nerve ending in my body. It’s so intense I have to look away. My focus drops instantly to his lips as his tongue slowly rolls out, wetting them, and stirs the rush of emotions that are running through me like lava, lighting every inch of my skin on fire. I divert my attention to his jaw, where the hint of a five o’clock shadow dares me to run my fingers across it and feel its sharp contrast. My eyes snap back to his, which are locked on my lips, and for the first time in my life, I don’t weigh the options or overanalyze anything. The tiny voice I hear in the back of my mind when I make decisions, even inebriated, is absent.