"Just figured if you’re aiming for perfection, I shouldn’t let you walk around with caramel on your face." He pulls his thumb between his lips, wetting the pad, then quickly runs it along the corner of my mouth.
My body short-circuits, tingles race in every direction, and breathing becomes difficult. Max smirks, a dimple popping in his cheek unfairly.
"See you around, Sade."
This time he walks away, and I stand next to my sister's van dumbstruck as he goes. Texting him for help was a bad idea—just as bad as continuing to have these little interactions. Max O’Reilly is a distraction… one I’m starting to look forward to a little more than I should.
"Any plans today?" Mom asks, sliding into the rocking chair next to me.
I slip my bookmark into my latest read and look over at her. I’ve stayed close to home since the incident with Poppy, not sure what else to do with my time and not wanting to run into a specific someone. I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding him altogether, but I just can’t stop replaying our latest encounter.
There was something a little different about Max—a quieter confidence. Each time I’ve talked to him, there’s been an air of flirting—that’s his M.O. But the last time, he seemed to take up more space.
Maybe it was just the situation, but between that and the book that has continued to follow me around, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’m safest not straying too far outside my comfort zone.
"Nope. Just reading, and thinking I'll do some research for work later." Opening my book, I scan the page, attempting to find my spot.
Mom makes a clicking sound with her tongue. It’s not a tsk really, but there’s a shame-filled undertone to the noise. "You’re not supposed to be working."
"And?" I bite the inside of my cheek.
"And have you considered attempting what Levi suggested?" Her face puckers as if the words tasted sour coming out.
I grab my water, taking a long drink before responding. "How would you suggest I do that? The puzzles? Some late-night partying with people I barely know?" My tone is snarky—not all that respectful. But like everyone else, my mom has latched onto the idea that there’s something wrong with me, something broken.
"Sadie, come on." She’s obviously perturbed by my lack of effort. "Can’t you just give something a try? Beth generously gave you that… maybe it would be a good distraction."
"I’ve solved two clues." The words are out before I can stuff them back in. I’ve been avoiding talking about it because there’sso much I can’t explain—it follows me, weird signs appear in unexpected places, like my coffee, and the ink changes color when I get an answer correct.
Mom’s face illuminates, a sprinkle of hope evident. "What were the answers?"
I set my book down on the table, spinning so my body faces hers. "Altruistic and helpful."
"That’s interesting."
I raise an eyebrow and stare at her. "Is it?"
"I think so. Traits maybe? About you, probably." Her assessment isn’t all that convincing as the clues aren’t about me. Beth said they would lead me to something—if anything, they’re things I need to become.
"Doubtful." I push myself to stand, grabbing my water bottle and book. "I’ll be in my room."
"Some things never change," Mom grumbles, and I roll my eyes.
She’s not wrong—I’ve always enjoyed the solace of my quiet spaces. This time though, I simply need to escape a conversation that’s bound for nowhere. I told myself that I’d take control of the book, solve the clues on my own terms. And for the most part, I have.With Max’s unknowing assistance.
I step slowly through the house, depositing my glass in the kitchen sink. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the leftover mess from when Mom babysat the girls earlier. Paper plates with sandwich crusts lingering, strawberries half eaten, and that damn balloon that caused all my problems the other day. Grabbing the trash from the counter, I begin cleaning up. It’s a small gesture—look at me, being helpful already. With the majority of the garbage in hand, I press my foot to the pedal at the bottom of the wastebasket and toss the pile inside. Spinning to collect the rest, I come face to face with Poppy’s balloon.
The metallic purple has cracked at the seams, and the helium has started to lose its strength. But the most notable thing is that where minutes ago it had a giant number 2 in the middle with the wordstoo cool to be onebeneath it, it now says:always better than oneunder the number.
For the love of all that’s holy!
Snatching a pair of scissors out of the junk drawer, I slice into the Mylar, and the balloon deflates to a shriveled-up sack. Collecting the remains, I toss them in the trash and head straight to my bedroom.
Walking in, the only thing waiting for me is the puzzle book opened to the third page.
twelve
Max
