13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Max
M y bad mojo has found a new victim. I’m not sure why things have been off with the ladies, but whatever it is, I gave it to Shayna. One day after tubing with me, she and Grace break up.
Given that I’m partly to blame, I invite her to crash with me until she finds a different place. That it isn’t my condo is a slight sticking point, but nothing I can’t work around. And it’ll only be for a night or two, because she has some solid leads. She’s working on it much faster than I can move. I toyed with suggesting we be roommates again, but I don’t want to commit to a place in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
Nick’s held off on proposing—he forgot Ashima had signed up for a pasta making class and wouldn’t be around—so I’m clear there. And as for getting Ashima on board, I know how to handle that. Lie.
Step one—play up the victim. Make sure the mark feels good and guilty.
I have Shayna come over before Ashima gets home, so we can get her settled and in position. When Ashima rolls in, Shayna looks sufficiently down beaten, we’ve stashed her stuff in my room, and we’re chilling in the living room watching television.
“Welcome home,” I call over the couch back as she closes the door behind her. “Join us. Want a beer?”
“Oh, hi, Shayna.” Ashima takes a seat on the couch in the opposite corner from me. I shove a bowl of jalape?o chips toward her. I made sure to open up a bag I actually bought. Lately I’ve been buying some groceries, so the snack situation has definitely improved.
Ashima waves them off. “I’m carbed out.”
Then she gabs with Shayna as I grab another round of beers.
When I come back, Ashima is relaxing with her legs tucked up underneath her and her hand overflowing with chips. Guess she found room for a couple more carbs. She takes a beer from me. “Thanks. Are Grace and Peyton coming over too?”
“Peyton went into work for a bit.” I could leave it at that and hope Ashima doesn’t notice that no one is saying anything about Grace, but I might as well get this over with. “And Shayna and Grace broke up, so Grace won’t be joining us.”
When Shayna sniffles, Ashima pouts, making this the perfect time to lay it on thick.
“Poor Shayna’s reelin’ from all of it, so I’ve been trying to cheer her up. I know how hard it can be. Her poor heart has been ripped apart. She’s feeling like she’ll never know love again.” And I’m taking it too far. “So yeah, gotta be here for her. She’s going to crash here for a couple of nights while she figures things out.”
“Oh,” Ashima says.
And for the last piece—the lie. “Nick said he’s good with it.”
“But it’s just for a night or two,” Shayna jumps in. “Two friends have already given me leads on people looking for roommates. I’m going to see the places tomorrow. I just need a day or two to figure out my options.”
“Okay.” Ashima gives a weak smile.
“I really appreciate you and Nick doing this,” Shayna adds.
I’m impressed with how fluidly Shayna’s going along with all this. But then again, she doesn’t know that I haven’t told Nick a thing, so I guess her response is genuine.
And to close the loop on the last step, I shoot Nick a text, telling him about the breakup and that Ashima suggested Shayna stay while she figures things out. He types back “sure.”
And we’re done.
Ashima shoves a huge chip in her mouth. She slumps down farther into the corner, looking more defeated than Shayna.
This makes me feel bad for tricking Ashima. It is a jerk move on my part. Even though Ashima’s been annoyingly up in my business, she’s had my best interests at heart. And she was right that I was in a rut. I’m happier since I’ve been getting back out. I hate to admit it, but Ashima helped get me moving faster than I would’ve on my own.
But I’m not sweating it because Shayna will be out of here in no time. Shayna will be on her way so fast that Ashima’s going to be questioning if Shayna ever ended up staying here. Especially since Shayna’s phone’s been chirping away since she arrived with lots of feel better messages mixed in with a few good leads. She may be sniffly over the breakup, but she’s not moping around. I must admit that her motivation makes me look bad.
This settles it. The time has come for me to get my own place. I’m for sure joining Peyton on apartment shopping. Maybe I can find a place in the same complex as her. Now that we’re dating, it would be handy if she was only a building or two away.
“So where is Shayna going to sleep?” Ashima asks.
“I figured I could give her my bed and sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not kicking you out of your bed. I’ll sleep in here.” Shayna stretches out her legs across the cushions of the love seat.
“Or I could sleep at Peyton’s tonight.”
“That’d make me feel even worse. Now I’m kicking you out of the condo.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’ve been staying with Peyton a lot.”
“That’s cool. Good for you.” Her response is forced, but then she rushes to add, “I like Peyton.”
“Definitely sounds like it,” I tease her.
Shayna sighs. “No, I really do. Okay, confession time. I was hoping you and Tris would get back together. It would’ve been cool to have you for a brother-in-law.”
I roll my eyes. Tris and I didn’t last anywhere long enough for those kinds of thoughts.
“Anyway, I can tell you and Peyton are a better match. I’m happy for you.” Her phone dings from the table next to the love seat. She leans over the armrest to read the screen. “Another lead! Which is also good so that I’ll be out of your hair when Tris visits this weekend.”
“Oh. She’s visiting?” My gut was spot-on about long-term living with Shayna being a bad idea.
“Wait?” Ashima unwraps herself and leans forward. “Wait? This is all clicking in place for me. Shayna, you said brother-in-law. Max’s ex is your sister? And she’s coming to Atlanta.”
I cut off Shayna and answer, “Yeah, yeah. Not a big deal.”
Gone is the gloomy Ashima. The intensity of her stare is even making me uncomfortable, and it’s Shayna who’s getting the laser treatment.
“And we’re sure she isn’t going to suddenly pop in early?” Ashima asks Shayna.
“No, she lives in DC now. And her flight is on Friday morning. Booked. Set. Not changing.” Shayna raises her hand. “And I promise to be out of here before Friday. So, she won’t be coming over here.”
And to stop whatever Ashima is thinking, I add, “Plus, I’m with Peyton. Tris is back with Richard. We’re all good.”
“Um…she’s not with Richard,” Shayna says.
“Whaddya mean? They broke up again?”
She scrunches up her face. “They never got back together. You know she finally came to her senses after seeing him at the wedding.”
“Are you freaking serious? She never went back to him?” This comes out a bit heated. I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help it. I can’t believe that crap. After our huge fight over stupid Richard, there’s no way Tris didn’t go back to him.
“No. Why would you think that?” Shayna asks.
“Because he’s the whole reason we broke up. Are you sure they never got back together?” There’s no way I’d get back with Tris, so I shouldn’t give a damn, but hearing this has me reliving my frustration of Tris dumping me for Richard. It ticks me off to think she put me through that for nothing.
“Tris is definitely single. She’s doing the whole online dating thing and hating it.”
Probably makes me a bit of an ass, but hearing that Tris is not in a good dating space makes me feel better. She would hate online dating. “She was so hung up on Richard. There’s no way she didn’t go crawling back.” Plus, we broke up over his stupid text, so there’s no way she didn’t. I bet Richard jerked her around again. Tris probably didn’t say anything to Shayna out of shame, especially if things quickly fizzled out. I grab my beer from the coffee table and take a gulp. I can’t believe she left me for that.
No one says anything, and I take another gulp as I loop around the impossibility of Tris not being with Richard. The noise of the television grates on my nerves. I snatch up the remote and switch it off.
Ashima rearranges herself on the sofa, acting all casual, but the performance is subpar. She brushes some of the chip crumbs from the couch cushion between us. “It’s such a small world, isn’t it? Such an interesting coincidence that Shayna is Tris’s sister.”
“Yeah, what a coincidence that they both have the same parents.” The are-you-fucking-kidding-me face I make is completely wasted as she keeps her gaze fixed on the cushion.
“And then she’s visiting.” Ashima twists one of her blue locks around her pointer finger.
“How weird that sisters are visiting each other. Let’s just drop it. Okay?”
“Sure. But I was wondering, does Peyton know that Shayna and Tris are sisters? She does, right? Because surely you told Peyton when you introduced Shayna at the salon or yesterday while you spent hours floating on a river with them.”
“It never came up and it’s not really relevant. If Shayna and I had dated, or maybe if I knew Shayna because of Tris, but neither is the case.” I point at Shayna. “We’re friends and it has nothing to do with Tris. And I won’t even see Tris next weekend, so it doesn’t matter that she’s in town.”
“Okay.” Ashima scratches her neck. “I mean, I think some people probably would disclose the relationship, but I see what you’re saying.”
I flick back on the television and surf around for something to watch. Ashima keeps making these little sighs and mumbling interesting under her breath. I try to ignore her, but after the hundredth time, I bark out, “What, Ashima?”
“It’s just this is normally the kind of thing I’d totally share with my best friend. You know how it is? Us ladies want to dish, all like hey, it’s such a small world, guess who’s related to so and so . But if I say something to Peyton, it’ll make it seem like you’re hiding something. Even though we both know”—she waves her hand between us—“that you’re not saying anything to Peyton because you don’t think it’s interesting or relevant. But it’s okay, I’ll forget all about this.”
“Good. Because the least interesting thing in the world is this conversation. Shayna and Tris are sisters. Big whoop. Why would Peyton give a shit?” And I for sure don’t want to talk or even think about Tris and stupid Richard ever again.
Ashima doesn’t say anything.
“You’re gonna tell Peyton, aren’t you?” I ask.
“No!”
“You are too. Damn it, Ashima. Can’t you just butt out? Why are you always sticking your nose into my stuff?”
“I’m not!” She shifts backward. “I’m not saying anything to Peyton, even though she’s my best friend and this feels like some sort of moral test where you have to decide between staying on one train track and killing a bunch of people or switching tracks and killing a really cute puppy.”
She stands up and brushes some crumbs from her hands. “For you, I’m keeping my lips sealed. Not saying a single peep.” With this she adds a head nod. “I’ll be in my room.”
I close my eyes and shake my head as she walks away. I really hope she’s not going to her room to text Peyton. Sometimes I get the feeling that Ashima would rather I not date Peyton. When I finally open my eyes, Shayna is staring at me all wide-eyed.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to bring the drama.”
“You didn’t bring it. Lately, I can’t seem to get away from it.” I toss Shayna the remote. “I’m going to pack some things to go to Peyton’s later.”
Given the lack of a bed and that Peyton and I have something interesting to discuss, staying at her place tonight seems like an extra good idea.
Peyton
A new routine is forming between Max and me, so when there’s a knock at my door, I know it will be him and I rush to open it. Max kisses me as he enters. I’ve been toying with formalizing our frequent cohabitation arrangement by presenting him with a key. My only reservation is that I’m moving to a new apartment soon, so having a new key made is a bit of a waste.
He dumps his bag on the floor and stares at me. “Heard anything interesting?” he asks rather grumpily.
“No. Is something wrong?” I ask him.
“So Ashima hasn’t said anything to you? Or texted?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
His face brightens a bit. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
This request is, of course, impossible. But I don’t point out that the mind doesn’t have a delete button and that the very fact that he wants me not to talk about something has made me all the more curious. The easiest path would be to ask Ashima, but this probably wouldn’t be healthy for Max’s and my relationship. Later I’ll press him. At the moment, I sense he needs to unwind.
He retrieves his bag and heads to the bedroom. It’s a duffle bag rather than his usual backpack and at least twice the size. This should be a welcome sight, but given his demeanor, I’m instead filled with a sense of trepidation. I follow him. “That’s a different bag.”
“Shayna is crashing in my room for a couple of days, so I brought some extra clothes.”
His scowl makes me suspect that this could be associated with whatever I’m supposed to forget. Shayna is his friend, and he stays here all the time, so I wouldn’t think he’d be bothered. Perhaps something about this could have displeased Ashima. Maybe she forced Max to come here because he was going to share his bed with Shayna. Which would mean that he had wanted to sleep there. With Shayna. This could merely be a preference for his own mattress, or he might be finding monogamy constricting.
But then again, Shayna likes women. Bed sharing probably isn’t the issue. Unless she’s bisexual.
I need to sit. There are too many scenarios to assess. I rest on the edge of the bed in a thinking woman pose.
“You look upset,” Max says. “Do you not want me to stay here or something?”
“No! Of course, I want you to stay.” I smile up at him.
“That’s good. You had me worried for a second.”
“I was thinking about what you didn’t tell me when you came in. I’m not sure I can forget about it. You should just tell me.”
This earns a frown. He puts his bag on the bed. “Fine. Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you. It really isn’t a big deal and I don’t even see why Ashima thinks I should tell you, but she was all, like, ‘Peyton will find it interesting.’”
“What is it?”
“Tris and Shayna are sisters and Tris is visiting this weekend. That’s all.”
“Tris? As in your ex?”
He nods.
“Oh.” I mull over Max’s assessment and imagine what must be Ashima’s concerns. “I think I agree with Ashima. That is interesting. Not hugely interesting, but a mentionable side note.”
“No, it’s not. What does that matter? It’s not like I dated Shayna. And I’m not friends with her because of Tris. Shayna and I are friends because we grew up together. Tris has nothing to do with anything.”
“But Shayna’s staying with you, which means your ex will be staying with Shayna in your bedroom. That’s a bit odd.”
“No, Shayna is going tomorrow to check out some places. She’ll be gone by the weekend.”
“Still…”
He throws up his hands. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
The vehemence of his response is a bit troubling, though it could be purely frustration from me agreeing with Ashima. But what if it’s a sign he’s hiding something? He could be protecting his true feelings.
“Are you still in love with Tris?” I ask.
“No! And I knew this would get blown up.”
“You’re right. That was an unfair conclusion.” I give his hand a squeeze. “Now it’s your turn to forget I said something.”
I go to my dresser. “I’ll clear a drawer for your things. You staying here seems like a good solution.” I push my monkey figurines to the side and place the clothing stacks on the top. “And this is all working out well. I’m glad we talked this out.”
“I guess.” He grabs a handful of clothes from his duffle and complains about his conversation with Ashima while shoving his stuff into the drawer. He starts with how she’s always in his business, but then moves to a rehash of Shayna confessing that she’d hoped Max would be her brother-in-law, which is what prompted Shayna to tell them that Tris is visiting this coming weekend, even though it doesn’t matter.
He finishes loading his drawer, and I redistribute my shirts to the other dresser drawers. Then he rambles into a tangent about how he thought Tris was with her ex, but actually she’s doing online dating. Finally, he concludes everyone has moved on and all is good. And I’d agree except for the emotion in his voice.
Listening to Max feels confessional, as though my role is to be silent while he unburdens the sins of his mind. No wrong action has occurred, yet his words, and even more so his tone, discomfort me.
“Am I understanding correctly that you learned today both that Tris is single and also visiting?” I ask.
He points at me with his index finger. “That doesn’t matter.”
He says this with such conviction I want to believe him. I busy myself with fixing the positions of my brass figurines. They are rather kitschy—the see-hear-speak-no-evil monkeys—but I rather like them. My mother gave them to me as a graduation present, which was an unusual gesture from a woman who believes a signed greeting card with money inside is the only way to ensure the receiver gets what they want.
I study the smirking face of the second monkey for a moment before placing him in the middle spot. Too late for that.
This conversation shouldn’t change anything between Max and me. I knew before that he’d been having trouble getting over his ex. And that he hasn’t progressed as far as I thought is likely nothing more than an indication that further time and distance are needed. Yet doubt has been seeded and I can’t seem to logic away its growth. There’s nothing for it but to take it by the root.
“You should go on a date with Tris.”
“Wait. What?”
“Yes. I want you to keep yourself completely open to whatever happens between you and Tris. It’s better for all of us to know now rather than later.” If all doubt is removed, it has no opportunity to propagate.
“There’s nothing between us. Last thing I want to do is go on a date with her.” The hostility in his voice surprises me. But then this could be how unrequited love turned sour sounds.
“Humor me and go anyway.”
He scratches his chin. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going on a date with her. Why are you saying this? Things are really good between us.”
“They are. But you’re upset and Tris visiting is an opportunity for you to truly understand how you feel.” My pride wants an answer. Does he prefer her or me? “What’s the harm in seeing her?”
“It’s a waste of time and I’d rather hang with you. Big deal, she’s in town for one weekend. She lives ten hours away, by the way.”
“Are you afraid she’ll say she doesn’t want to go out? Is that why you’re resisting?”
“Are you not listening to a word that I say? Seeing her makes no sense. And I’m not afraid she’ll say no. I know she’ll say no. And guess what? I don’t care, because we’ve both moved on. I’ve moved on.”
“I bet she’ll say yes.”
“Give me a break.”
“Give me your phone. I’ll text her. We’ll see.”
“No way.”
I sit beside him and pat on his pockets to find his phone. “All I’m going to do is send one question.” Touching around his genitals appears to distract him momentarily, but he’s too worked up to let his penis take over the decisions on next steps. This is a further sign that perhaps who he really wants is Tris. “I’ll simply text will you go out with me this weekend? ”
He jumps up and pulls out his phone from his back pocket, holding it away from me. “That’s a weird thing to text to an ex-girlfriend.”
“I don’t know. Fine. You do it then.”
He unlocks his phone and goes into his text messenger. “I’m only doing this to prove to you that Tris has moved on, and I’m good with that. Plus, I don’t want you texting something…like whatever you said before.”
I’ve never texted someone from a similar situation before, so he could be right that my suggestion was off. I’ll leave him to craft the appropriate message. I watch over his shoulder as he types.
Shaynas my roomie x2
“And that’s a good text?” I ask. Apparently, it is. To my surprise, a response comes in right away.
She told me
Bummer about Grace
He looks at me and frowns. “See. This is like texting with an old friend. Nothing here.” I wave my hand for him to continue. He grumbles a bit, but then he types some more.
She told me you’re single
Yes
Good for you
Then he stares at the screen. “This is stupid. Can we stop already?”
I’m on to him. His texts are nothing special—he’s just avoiding the real purpose of this exercise. “Give me the phone.”
He holds out his phone, but then pauses. Likely he’s going to question what I want to write, so before he can place any stipulations, I swipe the phone. I don’t want to leave any possibilities for him to wonder what could’ve been.
He bugs his eyes out at me as I tap out a message, but he doesn’t stop me.
I heard you were coming to Atlanta
This weekend to see Shayna
I hesitate to write the next line. If she accepts, then things may very well be over between Max and me. But I guess it’s better to fail fast.
We should talk
Do you want to grab drinks?
Tris doesn’t respond, and I exhale slowly. Thank goodness she’s not going to accept. I imagine her formulating a kind but firm response on why my suggestion, or Max’s, is a bad idea, on how she has moved on and he should too. But instead, she responds with a single word— Okay . And like that Max has a date with Tris that I’ve arranged.
I bite my lower lip as I hand Max his phone. My fear is warranted—she wants him back. Which means my gut instinct that he’d prefer to have her is probably right. His behavior shows a definite emotional attachment to Tris.
I can’t even make eye contact with him. “I guess you were wrong. Looks like she’s not over you.”
He takes his phone from me and flings it onto the center of the bed. “Gee, thanks. Now what am I supposed to do? I can’t believe this crap.” He digs his fingers into his stubbly hair and his lips curl in a dissatisfied pout. He throws his arms down and looks up at the ceiling. The move combined with his mood feels as though he’s blaming me for his missing hair.
But even though he’s now doubly exasperated, I must press on. “It’s okay if you’re still in love with her. She hasn’t moved on either. I hope I’m wrong, but you should find out.”
“I’m not in love with her. If you haven’t noticed, you’re my…I don’t know. What am I allowed to call you? Whatever, I’m here with you. In a monogamous relationship.”
“But I think you’re still in love with her. Clearly Ashima saw it too.”
“Give me a break! There’s nothing to see. You and Ashima. Two peas in a pod.” His cheeks puff out as he holds in a breath. Then he exhales in one big puff. “Wait a second! This has been the angle all along, hasn’t it?
“Angle?”
He reaches across the bed and grabs his phone, then he bolts upright. “You and Ashima have been setting this up all along. You probably couldn’t wait for me to get over here today when Ashima texted you all about Shayna and Tris being sisters.”
“Ashima didn’t text me.”
“Sure. Of course she didn’t. All the women Ashima has been throwing at me, and then the bet, all this to fix me up. What’s the final step? Tris takes me back and then you convince me that I have to see this through and move to DC?”
“Listen to what you’re saying. That makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it? And I was feeling guilty about Ashima earlier, when all along she’s been trying to get me shipped off.”
For a moment, I sit in silence and imagine how Ashima’s and my actions look from Max’s perspective. Us pushing him to Emi and then Holly. My bacon training. The salon. The bet. The sexually tense hair shaving. Maybe his conclusion isn’t so farfetched after all. “Okay. Let me explain this all the way through. Ashima has made it completely clear that she was going to try to set you up. We both already know that. And yes, it’s true that she recruited me to help. But you and me being in an undefined monogamous relationship wasn’t part of the plan. I truly…” I think the word I should use here is love. But what is love? How am I to judge if this is the correct label? “I truly…um, I, deep inside… Right. Yes. There, inside me, are feelings of strong emotional attachment. To you. Attached to you. I cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoy your company.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” His voice is flat. “The bacon! The croquet! And how can I forget you flashing me your boobs? Wow. Damn. You two really played me. Holy fucking shit.”
“No, you’re reading this all wrong.”
“It doesn’t even matter if you and Ashima planned this out from the beginning or if you suddenly saw your opportunity just now. Either way, everything is crystal clear on why you want me to see Tris.”
“That’s not fair. You’re twisting things. And you can’t deny that an opportunity has presented itself to you. I don’t believe in God and I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in opportunity, and when it knocks, you should always explore it far enough to make an educated decision on whether the opportunity is worthwhile. This is your chance to explore where things truly lie between you and Tris.”
“Thank you for that explanation, Dr. Peyton. I got the picture. An opportunity has presented itself for you to bow out. You were probably worried about how you’d get out of dating me now that you’re no longer leaving Atlanta. How convenient that Shayna has handed you this opportunity.” He looks at me with wide eyes, watching my every action as though I’m an unpredictable beast.
“You were the one who came here all grumpy. Maybe you’re the one that wants the out,” I say.
“I was grumpy because I didn’t want this exact thing to happen. I knew you and Ashima would blow this up. You really are too much. Two drama queens.”
I take a step backward. “I am not! I’m very levelheaded. You’re being a drama king and you’re making a royal arse of yourself. How do you not see the practicality of my suggestion? Going on a date with Tris is a smart suggestion. You’re the one with the wild conspiracy theories.”
“Of course. You’re right. So very practical. I should date both you and Tris indefinitely. Might as well always leave my options open. What do you think, Peyton? Is that practical enough for you?”
I jab my finger in the air at him. “See! See! You want to date her. I knew you weren’t over her. I could tell by how you came in here all mopey.”
He grips his phone and shakes it at me. “Aaagh! I need to leave.”
This jolts me. I shouldn’t let him leave like this. I lower my voice. “Wait. No. Can we talk this out?”
He snatches up his bag, shoves in his phone followed by a fistful of his clothes. “I have to get out of here.” A second big scoop and he has the rest of his clothes in the duffle.
I chase behind him from the apartment to the stairs. He bounds ahead of me, skipping steps as he hurtles down the staircase to the parking lot.
“I don’t want to end things between us. And all the stuff with Ashima, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” I yell.
“I’m done being jerked around.” He throws his bag into the passenger seat and slams the door shut. “Why didn’t I see it earlier? You continuing to hang out with me when we’re not that much alike.”
That assessment stops me midstride. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“And that made-up stupid shit about STIMP. And now UMR. Come on. You never wanted to be with me. Everything you do and say makes that clear.” He waves his hands up toward the clear blue sky. Then he strides away from me to the driver’s side door.
“Hey! That’s not clear or remotely true. I use STIMP because it’s a great acronym.” I hurry behind him and stand over him as he climbs into the driver’s seat.
“No, it sucks. It sounds like gimp or pimp.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Maybe you’re not into me? Maybe you’re the faker. You’re pretending to be indignant, but you’re the one looking for an excuse to end things.”
“Whatever. Save it, Peyton. I’m done with your bullshit.” He slams the door and stares out the windshield as he starts his car. It roars to life beside me, but I refuse to move out of the way.
I flip him off as he backs up, but he ignores me.
“STIMP is awesome,” I yell as he pulls away.
And it is. Admittedly, UMR has problems with being a paradoxical term, but STIMP is solid. He’s trying to put this on me, but clearly this is all on him.
His tires chirp in the distance, or I assume it’s his tires protesting. I slump down on the concrete stairs under the weight of everything that passed.
The consequences of the argument melt over me, and my head collapses to my knees. I can’t believe things went from Max being my almost-STIMP to being my ex-whatever, in all of a fifteen-minute conversation. But his conclusion is clear—we’re not that much alike. These aren’t the words used to describe the foundation of anything meaningful.
Tears come to my eyes, and I wipe them away. I shouldn’t have texted Tris. Now I’ve pushed Max away and lined up a date for him with a high likelihood of make-up sexual intercourse.
But I need to put things into proper perspective. The truth is I seem to like Max more than he likes me—if he were truly into me, he wouldn’t care about anything happening in Tris’s life. I’ve likely only sped up what was going to be the ultimate outcome.
Thank goodness Tris popped up now. Otherwise, Max and I would’ve wasted so much time.