Harleigh
“This is a bad idea,” Celeste hissed.
It was Tuesday evening and it had been the longest day of my life.
Nix had gotten Max the introduction with Bryson. He didn’t say how he’d done it, but he had.
“What would you have me do?” I snapped back, feeling a lick of irritation up my spine.
Max knew. Even if he didn’t know everything, I couldn’t take that risk. Not when everything between me and Nix was so new and precarious.
“I don’t know, but this doesn’t feel right, Harleigh. You said it yourself, Bryson is bad news.”
“I’m not ready to confront him, Celeste.” I sighed.
“I know, I know. Dad messed up. But don’t you think by bartering with Max you’re only going to make things worse?”
“You don’t have to come.” I would have preferred it if she didn’t. I didn’t want to drag her into this anymore than necessary.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll just let you and Max—”
“Max, what?” He appeared dressed in navy sweats and a matching hoodie.
“What are you wearing?” Celeste balked.
“I wear workout clothes sometimes.”
“Yeah, okay, Rocky Balboa.” She snickered.
“Are we doing this or not?” He cut me a look.
“What exactly do you want to meet Bryson for?”
“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.” He smirked, barging past us. He grabbed Celeste’s keys from the bowl on the sideboard and called out, “I’ll drive.”
“Like hell you will.” She charged after him, the two of them spilling out of the house.
Rolling my eyes, I trudged after them. I didn’t want to go to The Row, not tonight. Not under these circumstances. Introducing Max to Bryson felt like a huge mistake, but I didn’t have a choice. Well, not one I was prepared to make.
It was either placate Max or go up against my father, and I wasn’t sure I would survive that showdown.
By the time I reached Celeste’s car, she was in the driver’s seat and Max was sitting shotgun. I climbed into the back and gave her directions.
“Will your boyfriend be there tonight?” Max glanced back at me, his smirk still fixed in place.
“Have you always been such an asshole?” My brow lifted, but my icy response melted a little when I noticed Max’s expression falter.
“Max?”
“Whatever, Maguire. I might be an asshole, but you’re still trailer trash.”
His words didn’t matter.
They didn’t.
So why did they hurt so much? Why did it feel like he’d sliced me open with tiny shards of glass?
“Max, that’s not fair.”