Sitting in school the next day, I wondered how everything between Maxwell and I changed so quickly. When he first came here, I couldn’t stand him. Then, I’m holding his hand. Next, I’m dreaming about him. Then, BAM! we’re almost kissing. I didn’t know how to handle this information. I wasn’t even out of the closet. I wasn’t the sweet, nice guy Maxwell thought I was. At least, I wasn’t before I met him. I was mean, I was cold; I was content the way I was. I never wanted anything, knew I didn’t need anything, and was beginning to like being alone. All the work I put into myself, gone. And for what? Some lousy almost kiss? Raging teen hormones and mixed up, fucked up emotions? If this is what romance is, I want nothing to do with it. Give me some vodka and cute boys; I’ll be good with that.
No, now I won’t be. Sure, I could train myself not to think of having a life where somewhere actually cared about me—and where I didn’t care about anybody. I could go back to partying and drinking and getting high. But, as much as everyone hates to admit it, I will get old. I won’t have anyone to take care of me. I won’t have cute boys to distract me; it’ll be me and my memories, and when those days come, Maxwell will surely come up. I can’t believe how fast I’ve fallen for this boy.
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. I look up at the clock; only twenty minutes until I have to see Maxwell. Would he even sit with me? We didn’t really discuss it this morning. We didn’t discuss much of anything. The almost-kiss confused him as much as it confused me.
“Time to get up!” Mrs. Chloe yelled. I groaned and rolled over, thoroughly ticked that I had to go to school. We had five days of school and only two days off; how unfair was that? Plus, most of those two days were filled with homework. Well, I guess I (surprisingly) got my done this weekend, thanks to Maxwell.
Speaking of Maxwell…I opened my eyes and saw his bed empty. Hm. I wonder where he is. I didn’t hear him get up. I threw the covers off, swinging my legs over the sun of my bed. “Fuck!” I whisper-yelled. “Why is the floor always so damn cold?” I walked over to my close— ignoring the cold nearly giving my feet frostbite—to get some clothes. I grabbed a pair of ripped dark jeans, a black tee and my jacket. Quickly, I stripped out of my pajamas and threw the clothes on.
As I was putting on my jacket, Maxwell walked in, his hair wet. I tried to greet him, but the words got stuck in my throat. “Wh-why are you s-st-taring at me?” he questioned. I blushed and looked away.
“I wasn’t aware I was. Sorry.” I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair. Eventually I decided to get ready rather than stare at him. I grabbed my backpack and tried to locate my textbooks. After scanning the room twice, I got down on my knees and looked under my bed. I didn’t find my textbooks, but I did find a moldy sandwich and Drake’s Social Studies project. I smirked, chuckling at the prank. Drake will be so pissed.
“W-why are you l-laughing?” I straightened up as fast as lightning.
“Just a prank I pulled.” Maxwell nodded. Again, I didn’t know what to say, or if I should say anything at all. Minutes of dead silence ticked by. “Well…I’m gonna go.” I spoke. Maxwell nodded his head, not even turning around to look at me. I sighed and dropped my backpack on my bed. No point in taking it to school if I had no books.
“Agh,” I sighed, hanging my head in my hands. This was all just too confusing. I was mean before him! I was happy before him! Why does Maxwell turn me into a freakin’ marshmallow?