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They were always sorry. After the fact. People were always sorry once tensions died down. But I knew the apologies never meant anything. Not really. Because the moment I stepped out of bounds again, they’d yell at me again for it. Like a petulant child.
So I sped away from campus again.
“What about your classes?”
It was the last of Hannah’s voice I heard. I tore out of the parking lot and skidded onto the road, hearing another car honking its horn as I almost crashed into it. I gripped the steering wheel with all my might and sped toward the intersection, hitting the yellow light just as I careened left. I didn’t know where in the world I was going, but I needed to get away. I needed to get as far away from campus and grades and tests and expectations as much as I could.
And the more campus dimmed in my rearview mirror, the freer I felt. I drew in deep breaths as I drove around town, watching the clock tick past midnight.
I didn’t know what I’d do about Hannah. Or classes. Or Max. Or anything else. One thing was for certain, though. One thing I knew for sure.
However much of Max I was allowed to have, I’d take.
6
Max
I sat on the back porch and let the afternoon sun batter against my body. It felt good, actually. Like sitting in a dry sauna. I’d taken three warm showers already just to try and unlock my muscles. They were tense. Aching. Bruised and battered.
But mostly, they missed Dani.
“Want a beer?”
John sat a glass bottle in front of me and I snickered. I picked it up and took a couple long pulls, feeling it wash down the last of the pain medication that had been lodged in my throat for the past few minutes. I licked my lips and set it down, watching the condensation already rolling down its curves.
Dani’s are better.
“How you feeling?”
I sighed. “As fine as I can feel.”
“How’d you sleep last night?”
I shrugged. “Like shit.”
“So normal.”
I snickered. “Yeah, normal.”
John nodded. “Dani seems nice.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“Doesn’t seem so good to me. Skipping out on those classes.”
I grinned. “She’s got some spunk in her if you give her a chance. Just doesn't know how to…”
“Let it out?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Oppressive parents?”
I shrugged. “Don’t really know.”
“Bad childhood?”
“Again, don’t know.”
