Sometimes Max wondered if he was actually meaner sober.
Whether he was or not, campus police didn’t give a shit. Fortunately for Max, while he’d been having a bad day, his college counselor had been having a good one. After taking Max’s “recent loss” into account, he’d decided to put Max on probation with a warning. Under the condition, of course, that Max attend anger management classes for the next ten frickin’ weeks.
Max fumed in his chair, wondering if expulsion would have been better. As the next one up, Philip, bitched unceasingly about his “bitch-ass whore mother,” Max found it a really tough call.
A couple chairs down, a dude with dark hair slid Max a sketchy look. Max scowled at the guy, not interested in what he was selling. The dude just grinned, seeming utterly undeterred. Max narrowed his eyes, not in the mood, but that just sent the guy’s lips twitching harder. Max bristled. That dumb fuck was about to get his ass kicked. Spine ramrod stiff, Max mouthed to the guy, “Don’t mess with me, asshole, or I’ll beat your fucking—”
“Max?” The counselor’s voice stopped him mid-threat. “It’s your turn to tell us why you’re here.”
Max pursed his lips and eyed the head honcho, then shot his nemesis another irritated glare. “Knocked some dick’s teeth out for running his mouth. An effective tactic I might have to use again soon.”
* * * * *
After class, Max bee-lined it straight for the door, anxious to get the hell out of there. By far, one of the most painfully awkward experiences he’d ever been forced to endure. Especially during “his turn to share.” The counselor hadn’t looked especially surprised when Max initially refused to answer, when all he did was glare at the guy and give him his middle finger. Maybe he got that a lot.
Eventually, though, Max gave him something to chew on. Probably because the man refused to skip him. Guess he felt like he had to set a precedent. Max should’ve told him to shove that precedent up his fucking ass. Instead, he gave the guy the bare essentials; all human beings were pieces of shit and could literally go fuck themselves for all Max cared. Which also didn’t seem to surprise the man. Max supposed that made sense, though. Was pretty much just more of what they’d been hearing all night from the others.
And not just the guys. Evidently chicks got pretty nasty, too, if anyone messed with their man. Or called them fat. Yeah, the aggression in that classroom had been straight-up palpable. And the only real thing Max could relate to. He didn’t give a shit about those people or their fucking problems. And he sure as hell didn’t care about his own. The way he saw it, his anger “issues” were his way of blowing off steam. Which, incidentally, he had a lot of.
Who cared. He was a guy, doing what guys like him did. Didn’t mean he had a problem. Didn’t mean he needed to be fixed. Just meant his testosterone was more flammable than the average. More flammable, with a shit ton more kick.
Shaking his head, he pushed through the doors and sucked in a lungful of night. Cold and crisp, because winter had arrived. Dark, because that was Max’s life. A reality he’d accepted, but despised all the same. And tried really hard not to think about. He had a feeling these classes weren’t going to make that easy, though—not that it was ever easy anyway. All they’d do was just poke at raw wounds, which wouldn’t calm his anger, it’d just fuel his fucking fire. This mandatory counseling shit was a joke.
“Max.” A guy’s voice approaching from behind.
Max stiffened, but kept walking, not interested in talking. Maybe if he ignored him, all blatantly rude, the dude would get the hint and leave him alone.
“Max. Hold up, man.”
Or maybe not.
Exhaling irritably, Max stopped and turned around. Well, well. The same annoying bastard who’d been fucking with him inside. Max crossed his arms and stared at the guy.
Dark-haired dude smiled and came to stop. “Hey.” He extended his hand. “I’m Jon.”
Max eyed it coolly. “That’s nice. What do you want?”
Jon chuckled. “Still pissed at me from earlier, huh?”
“Annoyed, Jon. Still annoyed. You don’t want to see me pissed.”
Jon nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Alright. I hear you. Got that anger thing myself. Which, duh, I guess is kinda stating the obvious since I’m taking this stupid class, too.”
Max just stared at him.
Jon shifted his weight and quickly tacked on, “But I’ve started to get a handle on it, so it’s cool.”
“Good for you, Jon. I’ll see you around.” Max turned back toward his ride and started walking.
Jon fell in beside him, not taking the hint. “Yeah, so anyway. Back there, in class. I was picking up a vibe from you. I think.”