“That sounds very … convenient.”

I’m slightly taken aback when he uses the same word I’ve used so many times to describe my relationship. He walks to the passenger side of the car and opens it. He doesn’t wait for me to get in but walks to the back and loads his toolbox.

I’ve seen this car hundreds of times over the years, but I’ve never been inside. It smells of Max, like clean soap, cologne, and him—sweet and a little musky. I take a deep breath and fight the urge to look around as Max climbs in the driver’s seat. His scent and my nerves are distraction from the annoyance caused by his snide remark.

We ride in silence for several minutes, my fingers tracing the seams of the seat as I wonder why we take two steps back for every one that we take toward being friends.

“So what’s your deal with Emory?”

My eyebrows rise in surprise as I try to shuffle my thoughts, keeping my eyes focused on the windshield. “There’s no deal. We’re friends.”

“You know he likes you, right?” I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to look over at him.

“Should I feel like I’m getting the third degree on all of my relationships?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you better.” I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic so I look over to him, but his focus is directed on the road and obscures anything he might be revealing.

I sigh with irritation and roll my eyes. He’s trying to ruffle my feathers, and unfortunately it’s working. Even though he can’t see it, I’m fairly confident he knows by my tone. “Emory and I have been friends since high school. We had a humanities elective together, and we disagreed on the necessity of every American owning a gun. We became friends because we could respect each other’s opinions.”

“You like guns?” Max asks, looking over at me.

“No,” I answer, shaking my head, “My brother-in-law Caulder is a cop. He and my mom both feel guns are essential. They wanted the whole family to go through gun training and safety classes a few years ago. Luckily my dad’s pretty much on the same page of thinking as me when it comes to weapons so it never really came to fruition. But my mom does own like three guns. She likes to play the Texas card, saying it’s in her blood.” I turn to look at him and this time I make my eye roll evident to show him I think she’s full of it.

“If I had five daughters I think I’d want some guns too.”

I laugh and shake my head.

“Seriously, I still remember your first day of high school because every guy in school was talking about you. The day you turned sixteen was practically a holiday for the male race.”

I’m stunned to hear that Max knows we had to be sixteen to date which causes my response to be slightly delayed. “As I recall, you dated the entire senior class your junior year.”

Max looks over to me and smiles a wicked smile that makes my heart race.

“So you’re good friends with Jess?” Max asks, avoiding commenting about his previous conquests and steering the conversation back to me. It takes me a moment too long for his words to finally process as I try to change lanes in my head, and I turn toward the windshield to form a coherent thought.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other forever.”

“She speaks really highly of you.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I continue to stare out the windshield seeing nothing but the occasional blur of color as we pass.

“You do know Emory likes you, right?”

I glance over at Max and see that he’s studying me. “Emory dated Kendall.” I watch as he attempts to ascertain what my statement means. “I’d never date him, and he knows that.” The wind from Max’s open window blows a strand of hair across my cheek and I tuck it behind my ear. “Emory and Kendall ended things as friends, but I don’t date guys that have dated my sisters.”

“Did Nathan Hudson date Kendall?”

“Does Nate ever really date anyone?” I ask.

“He dicked around with her?”

“He’s an asshole. There’s a lot of reasons I don’t like him.”

“What did he do to you?” Max’s eyes flash to my face and I turn to look out the windshield once more.

“It isn’t important.”

“If it isn’t important why won’t you tell me?”

“For the same reason I’m not telling you what I ate for breakfast: It doesn’t really matter, and it affects nothing.”

“Usually people refuse to discuss something when there’s something to hide.”

“Usually people can catch a hint.” I raise my eyebrows.

Thankfully we’re pulling into the parking lot of the lake, and I hop out of the car before Max even turns off the engine.

I start in the direction of my car as I hear his Jeep door close. My foot slides on some loose gravel and my arms fly out in an attempt to balance myself as I squeeze my eyes shut with anticipation of contact. Instead, I feel two hands grip my waist, anchoring me. My hands clutch to the support, and I open my eyes to find myself staring into Max’s chest, still gripping his forearms.

I glance up at him with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

He nods once and loosens his grip. “You should really break that habit of closing your eyes when you fall. It helps to actually see what’s around you.”

Max tinkers around quietly under the hood of my car as I hover by the driver’s side door.

My phone rings, making me acutely aware that I’m staring at Max’s tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve. I pull it out quickly and see that it’s my dad.

“Hey.”

“Hi, sweetheart. I just wanted to touch base with you since I’ve missed you the last couple of mornings.”

I back away from my car, turning toward Max’s Jeep, and keep my eyes trained on the ground to watch my steps. “Do you mind if I call you back? I’m actually at the lake. My car won’t start.”

“Why didn’t you call? Do you need a ride?”

“No, Max is actually looking at it.”

“You went to the lake with Max?” My eyes snap to Max. He’s still fiddling with unknown wires. I take a few steps forward, pressing the phone harder to my ear ensuring he can’t hear.

“No. Dad, I have to go. I’ll see you soon. Love you,” I say too quickly and hang up before he can respond.

I slide my phone in my pocket and collide into a wall as I turn back to my car. The impact knocks me backwards and once again, Max’s hands grip my sides; only this time when I reach out to grab something for support, I hold on to his biceps. His muscles bulge under skin that feels hot against my hands.

“I’m sorry. I swear I’m not trying to authenticate every blonde joke ever made.”

Max releases an easy laugh, and I feel his fingers constrict for the briefest second on my waist before he releases me and takes a step back.

“You didn’t close your eyes this time. That’s progress.” He smiles at his own joke. “I think that one was my fault. Are you okay?”

I nod, not allowing myself to analyze the slight squeeze to my hips as Max takes another step back making me wonder if it even happened. He continues over to his Jeep, retrieving his tool box while I head back over to my car.

“So how do you know Jess?” I ask, praying the answer isn’t a sexual encounter.

He glances over to me from under the hood of the car and his eyes seem to go vacant for a moment before he turns his attention back to the engine. “Keith, her brother. He and I were pretty good friends.”

My breath catches in my throat as I recall seeing him and Keith hanging out on multiple occasions while visiting Jess; it’s been so long I’ve somehow completely forgotten the brief encounters, which seems crazy since I’ve always paid too much attention to Max Miller. Guilt resides within me for having forgotten about their friendship, and for the pain that I know Max feels from having lost a friend.

The memory of Keith causes a sudden rush of both sadness and love. He was always such a happy person. Most of my friends’ older brothers would generally ignore us or tease us incessantly. Keith, however, had always been an exception and had become a friend to me as well.