“I can’t,” I say, “and I don’t want to. You’re nothing.Nothing.”
I’m turning to walk away, to rejoin my friends, when Ivy bounds forward. She grabs my hand and pulls me back and for a horrific moment, I wonder if she’s going to hit me. But her glower loosens, her whole face melting into an expression like understanding—like the one she wore in the hallway at school this afternoon as she watched Max and me talking. She reminds me so much of Marcy as she leans forward to speak into my ear. “This is done. No more. I’ll handle Becky—she won’t bother you again. Just… don’t break my brother’s heart, okay?”
“Ivy, I would never.”
She drops my hand but holds my gaze, and a silent promise passes between us. We might never be friends, but this… This feels like it could be enough.
She disappears into the crowd, dragging Becky behind her.
Kyle, Leah, and I head toward the kitchen. “You and Max, huh?” she says as we battle the mob. She grins and holds her cider bottle up like,Cheers!“I wish I could say I’m surprised.”
And I wish I could share her blind enthusiasm, but we’ve rounded a corner and there he is, in jeans and a white T-shirt. His hair’s a disaster, surging skyward in every direction. He’s standing with Jesse and Leo, and he’s clutching a keg cup.
Of course.
His wild eyes trap me in a silent question.
I’m frozen, torn between running from him and what’ll likely be another argument, and runningtohim, finding assurance in his presence. When I don’t make a move in either direction, animosity marches across his face.
“There he is,” Leah says, like I can’t see what’s right in front of me.
“Yeah. I need a minute.”
Max raises a challenging eyebrow. I swear to God, my feet have turned to lead.
“He doesn’t look very happ-y,” Kyle singsongs.
“You’re not help-ing,” I sing back.
He places a hand on my back and shoves. At the same time, Max slams his cup down, slopping liquid onto the counter, and takes a step toward me. I’m standing in front of my boyfriend, who’s flushed and so obviously frustrated, and I have no idea what to do. Leah and Kyle appear apprehensive, while Leo and Jesse survey the scene with fuzzy bewilderment. I wonder how much they’ve had to drink. I wonder how muchMaxhas had to drink.
“Nice of you to join me,” he says, loud enough to be heard throughout the bustling kitchen.
“Nice of you to get wasted before I showed up.”
“I’mnotwasted.”
I might believe him. I can see now that the liquid in his cup is clear, and he’s not swaying or stumbling. His eyes aren’t glazed or red, like his friends’.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, glancing at our audience. “Can we go outside?”
“Outside,” he repeats, lofty and condescending. “Figures.”
He stomps out of the kitchen, and I crash into half of McAlder High’s student body trying to keep up. Finally, we slip out the front door and into the night. The rain has stopped, but the cloud cover remains, leaving the air dense and damp.
Max is halfway across Leo’s soggy lawn when I catch up. I grab his arm, and he skids on the slick grass, reeling around. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No, but—”
“Jesus, Jillian. Not six hours ago you promised you would!”
“Are you drunk?” I ask. I don’t think he is, not anymore, but I’m half hoping he’ll tell me yes anyway, so I can pin his anger on beer instead of myself.
His hands clench, his expression incendiary. If there was a wall nearby, I’m pretty sure he’d put a fist through it. “No, but it’s nice to know that’s your immediate assumption.”
“It’s not like you have the best track record, Max.”
“Oh, and you’re so fucking perfect.”
