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Harleigh
“Hey, Harleigh, wait up.” Max jogged up beside me, slowing his pace to match mine. “You’re walking home?”
I shrugged. “Celeste left with Miles. They offered me a ride, but I thought I’d walk.”
I hadn’t wanted her to look too closely, not after this morning.
All day, I’d felt like I was walking on a knife’s edge. Nate had followed me around school like a lost puppy. After the second time, he’d asked me if I was okay and I’d bitten his head off. He’d backed off, but I knew he was worried.
I was worried.
Something had splintered this morning during my confrontation with Michael and Sabrina. Not that you could really call it a confrontation.
“Are you okay? After… you know?”
“I’m fine.”
“Aren’t we all,” he muttered.
I cut him a sideways glance and asked, “What are you doing, Max? Surely you could have gotten a ride with Toby.”
“I could, but I saw you and figured I’d check if you were okay.”
“Why? We’re not friends. You hate me, remember. I’m nothing but a trailer trash whore.”
He flinched. “I was an ass.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“It wasn’t even about you, not really. I just needed someone to aim my anger at.”
“Lucky me,” I scoffed.
He ran a hand down his face and let out a heavy sigh. “I know I don’t deserve—”
“Nothing. You don’t deserve a damn thing from me, least of all forgiveness.”
All the name calling and taunts. The text message that had triggered me that night. Max had made it perfectly clear what he thought about me.
I didn’t owe him forgiveness—I didn’t owe him anything.
And yet…
“You’re right, I don’t,” he said quietly. “But you know what it’s like, right? To live with the pain and anger. The betrayal.” The apology in his eyes guttered out, and his tone… it was sad. Laced with hurt.
“Max, did something happen—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He forced a smile. “I was an asshole. I’m still an asshole. Probably always will be. But I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”
“Okay.” My brows knitted together.
He was talking in riddles and I didn’t have enough energy to try to solve them. I didn’t like him—the feeling was mutual there—but I couldn’t deny something had changed between us. And he had helped me this morning, and before with Sabrina, and before at the game.
“So we’re good?”
“You really care if we’re good or not?” I inclined my head studying him.
“I guess not.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “But I realized something, Harleigh. You’re not my enemy.”
