He might not see it, but Max's lips are pursed in thought and Billy already knows she won't drop the matter until she gets an explanation. But, Max is shit out of luck because nobody tells him to explain himself.
"If you tell Dad, you're dead meat, Mayfield."
Max cocks a brow.
"You like her?"
It's a question Max needs to ask because her bedroom is next to his and she'd like to know whether she'll be able to sleep.
But, Billy laughs harshly.
"You kidding?"
"It was an honest question."
He stops laughing.
"You're an idiot. I hardly know her."
But then Billy asks himself how many times he's been with a girl, fished her to his room, and called her his girlfriend the next day without even knowing her name? Probably every time. But, Louise is different because never in the light of day would he be seen with someone who chatters like a broken record, whose nose is too flat. Whose voice, too soft. The warmth of her stomach still agitates between his legs. The color of her underwear is hard on his eyes...
God forbid he sees her again.
But, Max is thinking differently.
Max thinks the only time Billy denies liking a girl he just met is when she rejects him first.
. — . — . — .
The drive to school is relatively quiet after that. As quiet as it can be with the car stereo pounding its notes into her ears. But, Max never bothers to tell Billy to turn it down because he wouldn't listen if she tried. Once they arrive, he shuts it off, and Max slips out of the car from the back, and closes the door, pretending she doesn't see the dent on his bumper.
And hopes he doesn't too.
. — . — . — .
But, Billy ends up seeing it on their way out. Even though it was inevitable, Max doesn't know how he could have seen it from the distance they were approaching. Maybe it's the way the sun reflects differently on the warped metal. Maybe, he's telepathically connected to it. Either way, Billy looks confused, which is rare and it usually means it's bothering him more than he's letting on. Considering he worked every day last summer and the earlier part of his Junior year working up his savings for that chick magnet and he's treated it better than all of his failed relationships combined, Max can see why this is gradually pissing him off.
He walks up to the dent. Stares at it. Max tries not to look at him, because the muscles of her face are wrestling with a grin. And losing.
"Something funny?"
Her smile drops.
"N-no."
Billy makes a rude noise as he steps closer to Max. "Quit the stutter. You're starting to sound like her."
"Like your girlfriend?"
A flash of anger crosses his face, but thankfully, his fuse has a lot of length left.
"Get in the fucking car," Billy barks.
She's never settled in the passenger seat so fast in her life and stares at her hands folded in her lap so that Billy can't see the dash of humor on her lips.
Yup, Max thinks.
She definitely rejected him.
. — . — . — .
They'd returned home and separated to their rooms to unpack.
These afternoons when their parents aren't home are always the worst. Max is always hypersensitive where she goes so that she doesn't accidentally run into Billy who might say something nasty that would ruin the rest of her evening.
But, Billy is just as preoccupied as she is. He hasn't even taken out his cassette player.
By the time she's finished packing, flattened all the boxes and put them in a stack in the living room, Billy hasn't made a peep. So, she knocks on his door and leans an ear, but the door whooshes open so fast she stumbles forward a little, but never crosses the threshold. That would be suicide.
Billy stares at her impatiently in only his jeans.
Max wonders what he was doing that made his skin look all shiny and flushed and his hair messy and limp.
"I'm hungry."
Billy looks at her stonily.
"So?"
As his door closes, Max thinks fast.
"Mom said you'd take me out for food."
"Make your own."
"But, there's nothing in the fridge."
What comes out of his mouth is half a sigh and a growl, and whenever she hears that she knows he's conceding.
Max doesn't show it, but she's smug.
. — . — . — .
When they arrive to the diner, the waitress looks at her step-brother like he's a piece of meat that's been braised, drizzled with gravy and served with mashed potatoes on the side. One would think she'd be used to it, but Max gets sick every time.
Thankfully, a big thankfully, Billy doesn't spare the girl a passing glance and only walks over to the corner booth rather than at one of the open tables. Max thinks he prefers sitting against the wall because it gives him a better view of the customers. Makes it easier for him to judge them.
As she looks at the menu, she doesn't intend to be shy with her order. Billy's going to end up paying anyway because that's what her mom gave him the twenty for. And if her mom finds out he abused the allowance, then Neil will find out, and Max knows that's the last thing Billy wants.
"Once she gets over here, you better be ready, shitbird," Billy says.
"Are you ready?" Max asks dryly.
"I'm not hungry."
Then, Max sees his eyes narrow past her. His hands atop the table curl into fists.
It's not a good sign.
When she twists in her seat, there's a girl several booths away from them and she looks at her step-brother like he's the coming of the Anti-Christ.
Even though Max feels sorry for her, a bit of criminal amusement abounds at seeing her run and at seeing Billy pursue her because he's never chased after girls like this.
"Leave her alone," Max calls to his back.
But, in usual Billy Hargrove fashion, he's an impulsive prick, and he doesn't listen to anyone even if it makes a lick of sense. So, Max reluctantly follows.
And when she reaches the parking lot, Billy has seized her by her front, yells into her face, and fear is injected into Max's chest. But, it's not for the girl. It's for what happens afterwards, when she sees a hand grab Billy's wrist and he cries out in pain.
UP NEXT:
"Tell me," Billy urges, and his hand trails down her knee with deliberate slowness, sliding down to her hem.
"Or I'll touch you." He threatens, his voice low.
