17
The Last Word
Mitch
Morning comes late, or at least it feels that way.
The sun peeks through the trees, through the canvas into the tent, and I stir, my eyes so hard to open it’s like they’re glued shut.
Outside, people talk over the sounds of metal coffee cups being clinked by spoons.
Someone pokes the fire, adding some logs that make it crackle.
The scent of bacon makes my mouth water and my brain wake up.
What happened last night between Max and me is like a dream. Lofty, airy and not quite real.
Her side of the bed is empty. She’s gone. Her sleeping bag, already rolled up, sits at the foot of the mattress with her backpack. She’s ready to leave. To return home. To forget about all of this. As I should be.
I roll over, tucking my pillow under me, and hear her laugh mixed in with all the other sounds. I didn’t hear her leave this morning, didn’t feel the mattress dip. Then again, everything that happened after the woods is a blur.
I scratch my balls; my stiff boxers tucked into my pocket remind me it actually happened. All of it. This time I didn’t dream it.
After a long stretch, I rub my face and throw my feet over the edge of the bed. A twinge of pain shoots from my hip down my leg thanks to this half-deflated mattress. I get dressed in new clothes, shoving my dirty ones into my duffel bag, then with a deep breath, I step outside to face the day.
And Max.
What the hell will happen between us now? Will she want to talk about last night? Will she hate my guts?
In the kitchen area, I find her sitting across from Bethany, heads close in a hushed conversation. One that stops the minute I walk up.
“Good morning,” I say, my voice scratchy from sleep.
There’s a pause. The women stare at me, Bethany’s gaze filled with questions, and my chest tightens. Would Max have told her what happened?
“Sleep well?” Bethany asks, her hazel eyes hinting at something, and she hands me a cup for my coffee.
“Pretty good. How about you?” I reply, filling up my cup. My gaze darts to Maxine’s, and though Bethany answers, I don’t listen. I’m too preoccupied with how Max avoids making eye contact with me.
I was prepared to face this. I’d considered there would likely be some tension between us. Loads of tension, actually. But I’m picking up way more from Max. It feels like regret and makes my stomach roil.
Bethany goes quiet, likely sensing the unease between Max and me.
“I’m going to go wake Spence up,” she says with a soft smile. “Wouldn’t want him sleeping all day.”
Once she’s gone, I take her seat next to Maxine, who practically recoils as if I’m covered in shit.
“Morning breath?” I ask with a laugh, but she ignores me, focusing on her coffee instead. “Is everything okay?”
She side-eyes me, then offers me a tight smile. “Sure, never better.”
“About what happened last night—”
“Shh,” she hisses, glancing at our friends. They’re at least twenty feet away, but she seems worried they’ll overhear us. “Would you keep it down?”
“Weren’t you just telling Bethany about it?” I ask, pointing a thumb over my shoulder.
“I wasn’t.”
I tilt my head. “The two of you were huddled like gossiping teenagers.”
A frown creases her face. “And? We were talking about other stuff. Why would I tell anyone what happened?”
I ignore how her disgusted expression stings. “For real, Max, what did happen?”
She shrugs, dropping her chin. “I’m not too sure. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ever?”
Worrying her lip between her teeth, she keeps her eyes down. “As far as I’m concerned, we should forget all about it.”
“Forget it? You can’t be serious.”
“I am. We need to.”
“I get it, I do. What happened was… strange. Beyond strange. It was insane.” I check over my shoulder to make sure we’re not overheard, then lean in closer. “But Max, it happened. And we need to talk about it.”
“And we will,” she says, standing up and cleaning out her mug. “But not now.”
Hunter comes up behind us, his hair a tousled mess. “Good morning.” He refills his coffee cup and grabs a huge chocolate-chip muffin. “Did you two get any—”
“We slept,” Maxine replies a little too quickly.
Hunter and I exchange a glance.
Maxine forces a smile. “I mean, I got some sleep. How about you, Mitch? Did my snoring keep you up?”
I tuck my lips, considering. Does she truly want to pretend this never happened? Ignore the colossal leap our relationship just took? How will I face her every day and act like last night wasn’t mind-blowingly confusing, but also amazing?
“Yeah, I got some sleep. A little rougher than anticipated,” I answer, winking at her while Hunter’s back is turned. “But all in all, not bad.”
“Good.” Hunter nods, biting into his muffin.
“I gotta go pack,” Maxine says, but her and I know she already has.
Sinking into Maxine’s empty seat, Hunter chats, but I can’t concentrate on him.
My attention refuses to move away from the feisty redhead storming toward our tent.
She glares at me while zipping up the door, a glare that screams she doesn’t regret a damn thing, but she’s trying really hard to convince herself that she does.
I stuff our things into the trunk of my car, then look around until I see Maxine walking my way, a coy smile on her face.
“Are you coming back with me or leaving with Spencer?” I ask.
“What, and squeeze into the back seat with Hunter and Celia? No thanks.”
The others have decided to go out for a late lunch, but I’m not interested in joining.
“I’m coming with you,” she adds as if the answer should be obvious.
“Great. Get in.”
Her mood seems to have shifted from this morning, but I don’t feel it in my bones and don’t wait long to bring up what we’re both avoiding.
“How about now?” I ask when we clear the campsite.
“How about now what?” she replies, skimming through the songs on my playlist.
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to find something that isn’t cheesy eighties rock.”
“Leave it.” I swat her hand away from the radio. “Driver picks the music.”
She rolls her eyes, then, like a petulant child, she crosses her arms and looks out the window. “Now is not the time.”
“You. Me. Alone in this car? It’s the best time.”
“Well, I don’t want to.”
“Well, I do. You’re not seriously going to pretend nothing happened?”
“Maybe,” she replies with a shrug.
“Don’t expect me to believe that it meant nothing to you.”
She squeezes her biceps with her hands, but keeps staring out her window. “It meant something. Of course it did.”
A light seems to turn on inside my chest. “Are you going to tell me what or…?”
“It meant I’ve been celibate for far too long.” She laughs, but it’s that little teasing giggle that sets my blood boiling.
“That’s all it was? Me scratching your itch?”
She shoots a disgusted grimace at me. “Eww, don’t say it like that.”
A hot, tight band constricts my throat and I clench my jaw.
The past twenty-four hours have left a strange taste in my mouth, but knowing Maxine, she wants it this way. She wants me to suffer, to be uncomfortable. She wants me to react. But I refuse to give in, even if this odd pressure in my chest is on the verge of exploding.
“Does it have to mean anything?” she asks, finally looking straight at me.
Is that what I’m after? Some sort of deeper meaning to what happened between us?
“No, I guess it doesn’t.” I’m lying of course, but for now, I need to let this lie. “So, we’ll forget it, as if—”
“Nothing happened.” I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “It was just some old shit breaking free.”
Some old shit. Also known as my feelings for her. My utter infatuation with her. My undeniable need to be around her.
The atmosphere between us grows awkward and silent. Her blank expression reveals nothing, and I try to gauge if she means what she’s saying, but she doesn’t give me the satisfaction and turns her head away.
After a few miles of driving through the forest, I crack my neck, every ache I was ignoring flaring.
The conversation is over, even if I want to keep talking.
Even if I could insist that we clear the air, she’s done.
Max may claim she’s changed, that I don’t know her anymore, but that’s crap.
Deep down, she’s still the same stubborn, proud girl.
And when she’s done with something, there’s no use fighting it. She’s always had the last word.
But last night, something surfaced inside me that’s hard to shake off. I’ll wait a little while, for the best time and place, but I can’t stand the idea of leaving things unsaid between us. Not anymore.
This time, I’ll be the one with the last word.
Max
The entire ride, Mitch is more than a warm body at my side. He’s a steadiness, an unmoving presence that I’ve longed for without realizing it.
But I say nothing.
Instead, I stew in my thoughts and remnants of the memories from last night. Of every single touch and kiss we shared still glued to my skin.
The drive is so silent that when Mitch pulls up to my apartment, puts the car in park and turns the engine off, it’s like I’ve gone deaf. Everything bottled up inside me swells in my head like a horrible migraine. I need to speak, but I don’t know where or how to start.
“Are you getting out or—”
“We can’t do this,” I say, unintentionally cutting him off.
“I’m aware. It was a one-time thing.”
“I don’t mean last night. Well, I do. Sort of. I mean us. Acting as if we’re okay with each other. Pretending that what happened way back when was nothing more than a fight. Maybe you can act like we’re the same old friends, but I can’t.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. None of this is fucking normal.” He chuckles dryly. “It’s hard for me, too, Max. But we don’t have a choice. We have to forget we hate each other, I guess.”
My head snaps up. “You hate me?”