Page 86 of In Your Wake

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she keeps her eyes down. “As far as I’m concerned, we should forget all about it.”

“Forget it? You can’t be serious.”

“I am. We need to.”

“I get it, I do. What happened was… strange. Beyond strange. It was insane.” I check over my shoulder to make sure we’re not overheard, then lean in closer. “But Max, it happened. And we need to talk about it.”

“And we will,” she says, standing up and cleaning out her mug. “But not now.”

Hunter comes up behind us, his hair a tousled mess. “Good morning.” He refills his coffee cup and grabs a huge chocolate-chip muffin. “Did you two get any—”

“We slept,” Maxine replies a little too quickly.

Hunter and I exchange a glance.

Maxine forces a smile. “I mean, I got some sleep. How about you, Mitch? Did my snoring keep you up?”

I tuck my lips, considering. Does she truly want to pretend this never happened? Ignore the colossal leap our relationship just took? How will I face her every day and act like last night wasn’t mind-blowingly confusing, but also amazing?

“Yeah, I got some sleep. A little rougher than anticipated,” I answer, winking at her while Hunter’s back is turned. “But all in all, not bad.”

“Good.” Hunter nods, biting into his muffin.

“I gotta go pack,” Maxine says, but her and I know she already has.

Sinking into Maxine’s empty seat, Hunter chats, but I can’t concentrate on him. My attention refuses to move away from the feisty redhead storming toward our tent. She glares at me while zipping up the door, a glare that screams she doesn’t regret a damn thing, but she’s trying really hard to convince herself that she does.

I stuff our things into the trunk of my car, then look around until I see Maxine walking my way, a coy smile on her face.

“Are you coming back with me or leaving with Spencer?” I ask.

“What, and squeeze into the back seat with Hunter and Celia? No thanks.”

The others have decided to go out for a late lunch, but I’m not interested in joining.

“I’m coming with you,” she adds as if the answer should be obvious.

“Great. Get in.”

Her mood seems to have shifted from this morning, but I don’t feel it in my bones and don’t wait long to bring up what we’re both avoiding.

“How about now?” I ask when we clear the campsite.

“How about now what?” she replies, skimming through the songs on my playlist.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to find something that isn’t cheesy eighties rock.”

“Leave it.” I swat her hand away from the radio. “Driver picks the music.”

She rolls her eyes, then, like a petulant child, she crosses her arms and looks out the window. “Now is not the time.”

“You. Me. Alone in this car? It’s the best time.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Well, I do. You’re not seriously going to pretend nothing happened?”