Brooks had turned in his seat and was chatting with a group of people at the table behind him. I leaned in close to Renee.

“Are you going to go say hi?” I asked. Iain, who was with a few other guys, was looking rather pointedly toward our table.

“I don’t think so,” she said, downing the rest of her beer. She seemed uncomfortable.

“I thought things were going well with you two. Did something happen?” I asked, bewildered by her attitude.

“Yeah, I happened,” Renee muttered, lifting the pitcher and pouring the rest of the beer into her mug.

“Does this have to do with Devon?” I asked. Renee stiffened instantly. My suspicions about Renee’s crazy mood this evening were confirmed. Something was up. I could tell.

“Why would it have anything to do with Devon?” she demanded, sounding defensive.

This was not the place to interrogate her. I looked over at Iain again, but he had turned back to his friends. And I felt a little sad for him. And for Renee.

I lifted my glass. “Tonight is about fun and forgetting. Fuck the drama!”

Renee’s shoulders relaxed and she lifted her glass in return. “Fuck the drama!” she yelled back, giggling when people around us looked at her.

“What are we toasting to?” Brooks asked, giving us his attention again.

“To living a drama-free life,” I explained.

Brooks lifted his mug and nodded his head. “Now, that’s something I can toast to.” He smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

We ended up staying at the bar until it closed at 1:00 a.m. I drank just enough to feel good without losing control. Brooks remained relatively sober and chose to head back with his friends to the frat house instead of going home.

“You ready to get out of here?” Renee asked, coming out of the bar.

“Yep. I’ll talk to you on Monday, Brooks,” I said, looping my arm through Renee’s. He lifted his hand in a wave as we headed down the street in the direction of our apartment building.

“Tonight was good. Thanks for making me go out,” I said, reaching for the bottle of water in her hand and taking a drink.

Renee squeezed my arm. “I needed it as much as you did.”

I hadn’t thought about Maxx once. I had, for the first time in a long time, been able to enjoy myself, stress free.

“What the hell?” Renee asked, coming to a stop. We were out in front of our apartment building. The street was quiet and empty.

“What is it?” I asked, wondering why she had stopped.

Renee pointed to the pavement at her feet. “Look.”

I looked down at the sidewalk. I was surrounded by a swirling, vibrant pattern of colors. A pair of giant hands seemed to be reaching up from the ground. A purposeful, violent punch to the gut. The fingers seemed to be grasping for something that I couldn’t see. I knelt down on my haunches and traced my fingertips along the curves and bends.

“It’s beautiful,” Renee said from behind me, taking a step back to get a better look. I could see that the entire thing had been done in chalk this time, not paint. I rubbed the edge of a complicated geometrical pattern with my thumb, strangely satisfied to see it smudging beneath my finger.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, standing back up and feeling my anger ignite as I took in the very obvious statement laid out before me.

“It is unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Renee exclaimed. I had never told her about Maxx’s art. For some reason it hadn’t come up. It was another one of those mysteries I had kept to myself. But looking down at this intricate drawing, I knew that Maxx was back. He was home. And he was making good on his promise to not give up. Standing there, coming down from the high of a good night with friends, I didn’t quite know what I was supposed to feel.

Without realizing exactly what I was doing, I unscrewed the top of the bottle of water in my hand and poured it out over the drawing, watching as it splashed and spread across the drawing, erasing it, ruining it.

“What the hell, Aubrey?” Renee screeched, jumping backward as water splashed her jeans. I didn’t say a word as I watched the liquid destroy Maxx’s visual pronouncement of his feelings.

“Why did you do that?” Renee asked, following me as I walked into our building.

“Because it didn’t need to be there,” I said, knowing I hadn’t really explained anything.

“Stop dodging, Aubrey. What’s up?” she asked.

I felt dangerously close to screaming. After such a wonderful night, having it end like this infuriated me. “It’s Maxx. That was him,” I told her.

“Maxx? What are you talking about?”

“That’s his artwork. He must have done it while we were out. Which also means he’s out of rehab.” I let myself into our apartment and turned on the light. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the couch, draping my arm over my eyes.

“Is he X, then? The one who used to do the graffiti for the club?” Renee said, the pieces obviously falling into place.

“Yep, that’s him,” I replied shortly, my arm dropping beside me. I was exhausted. The late hour and Maxx’s sudden reemergence back in my life had me wanting to crawl into bed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that? I mean, wow. He’s kind of a big deal,” she said, sitting down beside me.

“Yeah, I know. But who the hell cares that his talent is off the charts? It doesn’t change the fact that he can’t have any place in my life anymore. No matter how many pretty paintings he leaves outside my front door,” I stated emphatically, though my words rang somewhat false and I wondered who I was trying to convince. Renee or myself.

“But from that painting I’m guessing he doesn’t plan on going away anytime soon.”

“I guess not,” I agreed.

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Isn’t that my line?” I snorted.

Renee chuckled. “I’ve seriously been hanging out with you entirely too long,” she said.

I sobered and sighed. “I’m not sure how I feel, Renee.”

My friend pressed in close and put her arm around me. I rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes. “It’ll be all right,” Renee said, and I wondered if she was speaking for me or for herself.

“I’ll be all right,” I parroted her, trying to believe it.

chapter

thirteen

aubrey

“hey, ladies!”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Brooks jogging toward Renee and me as we walked across campus.

I hadn’t slept well the last two nights. The dreams that had all but disappeared in the last two weeks were back with a vengeance. While I couldn’t remember the exact nature of my nightmares, all I knew was that I woke up soaked in sweat and feeling a knot of dread in my stomach so tight I felt sick.

When Renee and I left home this morning, I refused to look at the remnants of the chalk drawing that still marred the sidewalk. And I refused to think about the possibility of seeing Maxx again now that he was out of rehab.

Nope. Wasn’t thinking about it at all.

“What’s up?” Brooks asked, a little out of breath once he slowed down to walk by my side.

“Nothing,” I said at the same time that Renee responded, “Maxx.” I shot Renee the look of death. She widened her eyes innocently and mouthed, “Sorry.”

Brooks’s jaw clenched marginally, but then he smiled.

“Well, let’s go get a doughnut before class. That’ll put you in a better mood.” Brooks began to steer me toward the small coffee shop.

“I’m heading to the library. You want to meet up for lunch?” Renee asked.

“Uh, I think I’ll just head back home to eat,” I said, knowing that what I was doing was running away and hiding.

Because after the unexpected artwork outside my door, I wasn’t comfortable with the possibility of seeing the artist.