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I nod, trying to force my attention from watching Max’s lips curve around my spoon as he eats a mouthful of my shake.

“Alright, well other than the one you witnessed involving Kendall and fifteen rolls of toilet paper; my crazy moment, which really, you’ll classify as stupid here in a moment … in high school I drank a decent amount, not like an alcoholic or anything, but certainly past my limit.”

“Uh oh, does this involve streaking or waking up to someone strange?”

My eyes grow with surprise. “Those would be classified as crazy and stupid; I can see your point, but alcohol doesn’t have that effect on me,” I say, shaking my head. “I hear I’m a funny drunk and can get a little … friendly.”

Max throws his head back and laughs, and I feel my cheeks flush, instantly regretting admitting this to him.

“Friendly, huh? I thought you said this doesn’t involve waking up to someone strange?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“So no streaking or awkward one-night stands. What did happen?”

I fold the paper napkin in front of me, avoiding looking at Max. “I drank too much one night at a party over Christmas break. I didn’t follow any of the rules, even my own. It was really stupid. I truly have little recollection of the entire night, but I ended up having to have my stomach pumped because I wouldn’t regain consciousness and they were afraid of alcohol poisoning.” I slowly glide my finger along the crease of the napkin. “Not one of my finer moments.” My eyes travel up to Max’s face; he’s staring back at me with a serious expression. The playfulness is gone, and I appreciate that he doesn’t crack a joke like most. Nothing about that night, nor the next day, or next month while my parents discussed date rape, peer pressure, drunk driving, and every other negative effect, at extensive length with me while I remained at home, grounded, was even remotely humorous.

“Weren’t you there with someone to look out for each other?” Max’s brilliant blue eyes are focused on me, the skin between his eyebrows crinkled with confusion.

“Not really.” I shrug. “I mean, I knew a lot of people that were there. I’d been dating Levi Peterson.” I pause to look at Max’s face and see the recognition in his eyes at the name. “Yeah, he was an ass,” I say, nodding with a sheepish grin as I return to folding my napkin, running the back of my thumbnail over another crease.

“I was angry that night and just felt too …” I stop and stare out the window serving as a mirror, silently searching for the right way to explain how I’d been feeling. “Structured?” I try the word, and it doesn’t quite seem to explain how I’d felt—the pressure, the confinement. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just didn’t want to have the monotony of doing what was expected of me anymore.”

“You didn’t want to do what was expected of you, or you just needing a break from the expectations and conformity?”

“I don’t know, maybe both?” Max looks at me closely. His face is calm and doesn’t hold an ounce of judgment. He’s not looking at me like it was stupid that I had felt this way, or that I had been irresponsible, even though I had been, incredibly so. He’s looking at me with a look of empathy, like he understands the words I’m not saying. It’s a bit unnerving.

“I’m glad nothing more happened,” he says softly as his eyes search mine in a comforting way, like he’s trying to assure me of something. “Crazy isn’t a bad thing. I’d even go so far to say that it can be a really good thing.” He continues looking at me closely. “It’s just they tend to have better results when there’s someone there to look out for you.”

I can tell he’s waiting for me to acknowledge him, so I simply nod in agreement, showing my understanding.

“I’ll take you to do some crazy things,” Max offers, grabbing his spoon and digging into his sundae turning into ice cream soup.

I return my attention to my milkshake, trying not to allow myself to remember his promise.

“Thank you.”

I look up from my milkshake to watch Max dip his spoon back in his sundae. “For what?” I ask.

He looks up at me and his blue eyes radiate a warmth I’m starting to become familiar with. “For giving me that piece of you.” The words wrap around my brain, replaying over and over before I can stop them, and I have to focus to hear him continue. “I want every piece.”

My heart stops.

“Hey, Ace!” I keep my focus on Max, refusing to look away as he shifts his attention over my shoulder. I sigh as I reluctantly do the same.

“Hey, Emory.”

“Hey, there’s a party going on Friday at Silvestri’s. Have you heard about it?” I nod. “You want me to pick you up? It should be a good time.”

I try to conjure the warmest smile I can manage. “Sorry, I already have plans, but I hope you have a good time. Make sure Silvestri doesn’t go streaking this time. His neighbors are seriously going to call the cops on him.”

He looks slightly disappointed but smiles, nodding. “Seriously, I want to call the cops every time I have to see his white ass. I don’t know what about drinking makes that idiot feel the need to get naked.”

I give a courtesy laugh and turn my attention back to Max.

“Alright, well hey, I hope we can hang out again. It was great seeing you at the lake.” Emory adds.

“Yeah, definitely,” I say with a nod.

Emory nods a couple of times with a strained expression, like he’s debating whether to say something more, before he finally moves his attention to Max and lifts his chin toward him, then leaves.

“We should get going,” Max says, standing up as Emory disappears outside. My heart falls a bit as I try to act casual following his lead.

Saturday night I have the house to myself and groan when the doorbell rings. As I shuffle out of the den to answer it, I send a silent prayer that it isn’t Mindi. She’d mentioned being upset with Kyle, and I’m really not in the mood to hear about it tonight.

“Plans got canceled?” Max asks, surveying my yoga pants and T-shirt as I open the front door. I glance down at my outfit, suddenly very aware of the fact that my hair is pulled back in a messy bun and I’m not wearing a trace of makeup. Not to mention the shirt I’m wearing probably should have been thrown out at least a year ago. Thankfully my black yoga capris are kind of cute, and even flattering, but I still look like a mess.

I try to play off my discomfort by plastering a smile on my face and shake my head in response to his question.

“I thought you told Emory you had plans tonight?” Max asks, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the doorjamb.

“This is my plan. I have a chocolate pie and a couple of episodes of Newsroom.”

“You turned down a date and a party to watch TV… in your pajamas?”

“It wasn’t going to be a date. I’ve told you, Emory and I are just friends. And yes, I turned down a party and hanging out with a friend to watch TV in my pajamas. Did you come over just to antagonize me about it?”

“No, I came to watch Newsroom and eat pie.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Make fun all you want. Go have fun on your … date?” I ask, looking at his dark washed jeans and black V-neck T-shirt.

Max follows my eyes and shrugs. “This is how I dress to eat pie and watch Newsroom.”

“Your loss.” I take a few steps away from the door. “The dress code for this kind of evening allows for sweatpants.”

“I’ll be back, then.” Max turns and I watch as he takes long strides back to his house.

Panic and excitement wash over me as I stare back down at my outfit, silently pledging to throw this shirt away in the morning. It will be too obvious to try and put on makeup or change my shirt now. I run a hand over my hair in an attempt to smooth it down as I make my way into the den where I’ve spent most of the day hibernating. Hoping to conceal my messy look, I start turning off some of the lights.