It was almost like I was staring into the dead eyes of my father.
Every instinct in me screamedto run.
Paranoia snatchedme by the throat as I surfaced from the memory. I scanned for Max and found him staring at Jackson, face stone cold. But there was a terrifying calm in his eyes—like the quiet before a bomb goes off.
The part of him he’d been holding back was about to surface.
“Say that again.”
His voice was barely above a growl. It was low, lethal, promising destruction.
Jackson’s grin spread, triumphant, as if he’d just dealt the final blow.
“She was dripping, begging for it. Swore she’d never done it before. I thought she was faking it… but then she bled. I probably shouldn’t have worn a condom, would’ve been so much fucking better than it was.”
Without warning, Max lunged.
He didn’t scream. Didn’t swing. He grabbed Jackson by the collar so violently that Jackson’s smug expression shattered like glass. Max’s eyes were wildfires, burning with rage and a savage, desperate possessiveness. His jaw clenched until the muscles strained, every fiber in his body taut and trembling.
“You don’t talk about her like that,” Max growled, voice raw and deadly. “Not to me. Not to anyone. It’s disrespectful.”
Jackson shoved him off.
“What? You mad she gave it to me before you?”
Max laughed so loudly I thought his body might splinter in two. He stepped in front of Jackson, their noses almost touching, and his laughter abruptly stopped.
“Don’t worry. I’ve fucked the memory of you out of her.”
I know I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but hearing those words come out of his mouth ignited a heat that surgedthrough my entire body. It was dizzying, raw, and so wrong. So, so wrong.
Jackson’s grin dropped, and he stepped towards Max with pure anger in his eyes.
That’s when I stepped between them. My hand pressed firmly against Max’s chest, just enough to make him hesitate, though I could feel the tremors of his fury under my palm.
“Max,” I whispered, steady and soft. “It’s not worth it.”
He looked down at me, chest heaving. His breath was ragged, like he was trying to cage some volcanic rage. In his eyes, I saw everything: heartbreak, desperate desire, and this fierce, aching tenderness that was mine alone. It disarmed me a bit.
Around us, the counselors had stopped, frozen like statues, watching the storm happen.
“Boys, enough!” Graham’s voice cut through the tension.
Max ran a hand over his face, shoving the rage down with a shaky exhale. Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his hands in surrender, and the golden boy was back with his aloof crooked grin.
Jackson’s smirk twisted into something colder, more sinister.
“Good luck with her,” he hissed as he turned away. “You have no idea where she came from,whoshe comes from.”
His words hung like a dark curse as he disappeared into the crowd.
I stood frozen. Jackson’s words were crawling under my skin. What did he mean?
You have no idea where she came from, who she comes from.
The repetition echoed, warped, sinking its teeth in. Panic started to rise in my chest. My thoughts scattered. Did Jackson know about me? Did he know about my dad?
“Max…” I whispered, desperate, the panic overtaking my entire being.
