Chapter Forty-One Max
Chapter Forty-One
Max
Max did two things he swore he’d never do.
He washed Yoon’s dishes. Rather, he texted Yoon five times to do it, and when those messages went unread, Max bit the bullet and did it himself. The smell was atrocious, and he bathed his hands in bleach afterward, but it was done.
And then, after the kitchen was clean for probably the first time all semester, he invited someone over.
Not Keely. Not yet. He figured he’d hear from her once she found out about the scholarship—because in his mind she was the only possible winner—but Max had some things to take care of before he sought her out. If she wanted to see him at all.
Nolan looked around Max’s living room with a keen eye. There wasn’t art on the walls, and his gaming system was a few years outdated, but Max hadn’t ever needed much when his entire life was running. Could it still be that?
Could it be running and something else?
He really wanted to find out.
“Nice view,” Nolan said, eyeing the stadium outside the window.
“I dunno.” Max shrugged. “Makes it hard to get out of my head sometimes.”
“Ah.” Nolan nodded slowly. “I can imagine.”
Max scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
Best to do this now while he still had the balls.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Nolan, who’d leaned against the side of his couch, straightened. “For?”
Where did Max even begin? “For being a selfish jerk the entire semester. Maybe our whole college career.” He sat on the couch, rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Mostly for being an asshole to you, when you’ve only ever been kind to me.”
With the grace of a bull in a china shop, Nolan hopped over the armrest and took up the other end of the couch. “Finally, the Max Simmons Apology Tour. Let’s hear it. Am I your first stop?”
“First of many,” Max muttered. “Or second.” He wasn’t sure what to call rewriting his essay for Keely. “One-B.”
“I’ll take it.” Nolan kicked his feet up to the coffee table. “Anything else?”
Max scoffed. “You’re not supposed to let me off this easy, dude.”
“Sorry.” Nolan twisted his features into something sterner, drawing his dark eyebrows together over his forehead.
But he only held it for a few seconds before his face relaxed and he chuckled.
“I think you’re harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be on you.
You’ve pushed some really good people away because of it.
Alex and Jazz, Coach. You’re lucky I’m stubborn. ”
Max’s chest ached. “I just added the entire team roster to my Apology Tour.”
“As you should.” Nolan was always serious, but his voice held more weight now. Which made sense, based on what he said next. “You might be the best of us, but you’re not better than us. They put in the work, same as you.”
Max’s throat burned. So did his eyes. “I know.”
“We’re good, then. Now we can focus on getting gold at regionals and running laps around Rutherford.”
Max chuckled. “Damn straight.” He wanted to keep reciprocating, trying, putting himself out there. Returning the energy Nolan had thrown his way their entire college career. “What’s next for you? Moving home, staying here?”
Nolan looked away, and the color on his cheeks deepened. “Gotta figure a few things out first. Mostly Zoey.”
“Good for you, but. . .” Max shuddered. “She kinda scares me.”
“Hell, me too,” Nolan said with a laugh.
The conversation fizzled, but Max wasn’t ready to be done. Afternoon practices started earlier now that finals were over, but they still had a few hours to kill.
“I’ve got GTA.” Max cleared his throat. “It’s not the new one, but I remember you said you liked it.”
“You’re going down, Simmons.” Nolan kicked his shoes off, then went to the fridge and made himself at home with grabbing them both bottles of water.
Max gave Nolan all he had, and Nolan, as always, gave it right back.