Page 87 of In Your Wake

“Maybe,” she replies with a shrug.

“Don’t expect me to believe that it meant nothing to you.”

She squeezes her biceps with her hands, but keeps staring out her window. “It meant something. Of course it did.”

A light seems to turn on inside my chest. “Are you going to tell me what or…?”

“It meant I’ve been celibate for far too long.” She laughs, but it’s that little teasing giggle that sets my blood boiling.

“That’s all it was? Me scratching your itch?”

She shoots a disgusted grimace at me. “Eww, don’t say it like that.”

A hot, tight band constricts my throat and I clench my jaw.

The past twenty-four hours have left a strange taste in my mouth, but knowing Maxine, she wants it this way. She wants me to suffer, to be uncomfortable. She wants me to react. But I refuse to give in, even if this odd pressure in my chest is on the verge of exploding.

“Does it have to mean anything?” she asks, finally looking straight at me.

Is that what I’m after? Some sort of deeper meaning to what happened between us?

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” I’m lying of course, but for now, I need to let this lie. “So, we’ll forget it, as if—”

“Nothing happened.” I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “It was just some old shit breaking free.”

Some old shit. Also known as my feelings for her. My utter infatuation with her. My undeniable need to be around her.

The atmosphere between us grows awkward and silent. Her blank expression reveals nothing, and I try to gauge if she means what she’s saying, but she doesn’t give me the satisfaction and turns her head away.

After a few miles of driving through the forest, I crack my neck, every ache I was ignoring flaring.

The conversation is over, even if I want to keep talking. Even if I could insist that we clear the air, she’s done. Max may claim she’s changed, that I don’t know her anymore, but that’s crap. Deep down, she’s still the same stubborn, proud girl. And when she’s done with something, there’s no use fighting it. She’s always had the last word.

But last night, something surfaced inside me that’s hard to shake off. I’ll wait a little while, for the best time and place, but I can’t stand the idea of leaving things unsaid between us. Not anymore.

This time, I’ll be the one with the last word.

Max

The entire ride, Mitch is more than a warm body at my side. He’s a steadiness, an unmoving presence that I’ve longed for without realizing it.

But I say nothing.

Instead, I stew in my thoughts and remnants of the memories from last night. Of every single touch and kiss we shared still glued to my skin.

The drive is so silent that when Mitch pulls up to my apartment, puts the car in park and turns the engine off, it’s like I’ve gone deaf. Everything bottled up inside me swells in my head like a horrible migraine. I need to speak, but I don’t know where or how to start.

“Are you getting out or—”

“We can’t do this,” I say, unintentionally cutting him off.

“I’m aware. It was a one-time thing.”

“I don’t mean last night. Well, I do. Sort of. I mean us. Acting as if we’re okay with each other. Pretending that what happened way back when was nothing more than a fight. Maybe you can act like we’re the same old friends, but I can’t.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. None of this is fucking normal.” He chuckles dryly. “It’s hard for me, too, Max. But we don’t have a choice. We have to forget we hate each other, I guess.”

My head snaps up. “You hate me?”