I take a deep breath through my nose and dig my fingers into the rag. “I wasn’t going on a date with Eric today. We were meeting for lunch—”

“Max!” My words freeze on my tongue as I turn to see Felicia Erickson, a girl from my class, coming up the driveway wearing a pair of daisy dukes and a sequin tank top that shows off her large chest paired with a killer pair of black heels detailed with rhinestones.

I’m starting to feel too much for Max and it hits me like a medicine ball to the gut. I’m not one of those girls. I’ve never been one of those girls, and those are the kind of girls that Max likes. The kind he’s always liked. I rest the grease rag that I’d picked up on the hood of his Jeep and retreat out of the garage.

“Hey,” Max replies but reaches out and grips my hand, his sole focus on me. “What was your lunch?” he asks.

I shake my head as the reality of this whole situation sets in. Max closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath, and drops my hand. My skin prickles as the air hits where his hand had touched me, and I back up a couple of steps, nearly bumping into Felicia before clearing the garage.

I watch as she fills the space I’d been occupying seconds ago. Max stares at me, not blinking for a long moment, and I question if he’s going to say something else to me. Then I see his face dip as he kisses her.

I turn to leave, and it takes nearly everything in me to not break into a sprint.

I don’t see Max for three days after that kiss. I’m not sure who’s working harder at avoiding who.

“I know you’re having a difficult time right now, and both Eric and Max are complete dickheads, and I completely suck for whining to you right now, but I’m having the worst day.”

I look over as Kendall throws herself across my bed. Her blond hair splays across my pillows as she looks to the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” I drop the stack of books I’ve been going through, sorting the ones I’ll be bringing with me to school. I make my way over to her, more than happy to distract myself from my spider web of thoughts.

“Jameson’s going home this weekend because his sister’s getting married.” I nod. “He’s bringing a date,” she adds quietly. “A female date. A female date that he dated most of high school.”

“What?”

“Yup, flying home to attend his sister’s wedding … with his ex,” she deadpans.

“How long has it been planned? Did he just tell you today?”

“She called and he acted like nothing was wrong! I swear to you, Ace, I’m done. I’m not going to play these games with him. I’m so pissed right now!” She hits both sides of my bed with her fists.

I don’t know what kind of reassuring words to offer her, so I grip her hand and squeeze it as I sit beside her. “Mom and Dad are going to be gone for two weeks. Let’s have a party!”

Really, having a party is one of the very last things I want to do. I still haven’t fully recovered from the last one we threw that ended with people throwing up in the swimming pool and giving Zeus beer. The icing on the cake occurred when I interrupted a couple having sex on my parents’ bed, which to this day is easily classified as one of the top five most awkward moments of my life. We took the comforter to be dry cleaned along with all of the throw pillows, but I still can’t wipe that image from my mind. And it took me a few weeks before I could brave the pool again, but for Kendall, I’m willing to go through it again, with some revisions to the execution, like locking all of the bedroom doors and putting the cover on the pool.

“I’m going to go and call Shelby.” She pops up, pulling her phone out and hitting send before leaving my room.

I turn back to my books, wondering what’s going on with Jameson.

Kendall breezes back in my room smiling. “We’re going to Vegas!”

“We, Kemosabe?”

“Yes, you! You have my old license! This way you can get some space from Max and Eric, and I can go have fun while Jameson screws his ex.”

“I’m not going to Vegas, and neither should you. You need to talk to the moron. I’m sure if you explain it to him in reverse roles he’ll understand.”

“I’m done talking.” She turns on her heel and leaves my room without another word.

I slide to the ground with a sigh and reach for my phone. Finding Jameson’s number, I send him a text,

Me: Don’t be an idiot and screw things up now, stupid.

Jameson: Wuts tht suppsd 2 mean?!

Me: Get a clue!!! You can’t date Kendall and go to a wedding with your ex. In what reality does that sound okay?

Jameson: Shes the 1 tht dsnt wnt 2 date exclusively.

Me: What in the hell is wrong with the two of you?!?!?!

Jameson doesn’t reply.

I pull my heel behind me, stretching my quads as I glance to Max’s driveway expectantly. I’m already fully stretched and just stalling. Last night I’d blown off a text he’d sent suggesting we hang out. He followed it up with another saying he’d meet me at six to go running and talk. We haven’t run together in over a week, but the talking is far more disconcerting than the actual running.

It’s nearing twenty after and he still isn’t outside. Anger and embarrassment trickle through me at the reality that he stood me up. I should go knock on his door and wake him up, but I really don’t want to face him. Perhaps it’s just better to leave things the way they are and continue ignoring one another.

When I arrive home from my run, I shower and dress quickly and then begin wandering through the house searching for something to organize or clean—something to fix. Unfortunately for me, my mother is the biggest clean freak in existence; even our spice cupboard is alphabetized and organized based on sweet and savory spices for cooking. My parents are still on vacation celebrating their anniversary, and Kendall left for Vegas yesterday so the house is empty. I contemplate calling one of my sisters, but I really don’t want to discuss my relationship status, and that seems to be the only thing they want to discuss lately.

I begin scrubbing the kitchen table and chairs, spending extra attention on the ladder backs only to realize my efforts seem fairly futile tainting the gratification I’m seeking.

The doorbell echoes and I drop my lemon-scented rag and pray it’s someone to distract me, and not Max.

Disappointment floods me when I open the door to find Landon. “Hey, Ace. Sorry to bother you. Is Max over here?”

“No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Weird. I talked to him last night and he said he was going running with you this morning so he’d be up early for me to come by and get the keys to the house in San Diego.”

I shake my head. “He didn’t go with me this morning.”

“Huh?” Landon scratches his head as he turns to look back at the Millers’. “I’ve been trying to call him and ringing the damn doorbell for like ten minutes.” My heart rate begins to noticeably increase. Could he be hurt?

I follow Landon next door, leading him into the backyard, recalling Max mentioning a window back here with a broken latch that he could fit through. Luck’s on my side when I shift a window and it slides open.

“Start calling you MacGyver,” Landon teases, climbing in after me.

“Ah, keys!” He grabs one of three single keys sitting on the entry way table. “He’s probably just passed out. He said he was really tired yesterday. Give him hell for me,” Landon says, pocketing the key. “I’ve got to run, the furniture guys are going to be there before me.” He crashes his chest into my face in a chaste hug and then retreats out the front door as I debate checking on Max.