Yay! 2k plus words!

I normally only have like 7-9 hundred.

And please, don't hate me for writing this. Btw, it has Maxerica fluff and drama (kind of)

Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: all Selection rights belong to Kiera Cass

The twenty-fifth couldn't come any slower. I counted down the days and marked them off on my calendar.

But come the actual day, I was a bundle of nerves. What if his plan didn't even work? What if she pushed him away? Maxon told me that his goal was to make her like him, then eventually get her to leak all her secrets out. It wasn't exactly a very good plan, but it was the only one he had. From my perspective, the first part was already completed. Now, all we had to do was wait for her to trust him enough to tell him everything.

Going to the party was supposed to be for him to get closer to her. I didn't even want to go, but dragging me along was to show that he was my friend and he wouldn't leave me behind. It was simply to prove that if she wanted to get closer to him, she would also have to get closer to me.

"America!" my mom called from outside my closed room.

"What?" I asked.

"Maxon's here," she said.

I don't know why, but the butterflies in my stomach increased. I looked over myself in the mirror and did a onceover. The black leggings went well with the navy blue top. I think. I sighed. Why was I so nervous? Is it because of the party or is it because of Maxon? I quickly dismissed the latter, because the idea of it was just absurd.

"Okay," I said to myself. I flattened my shirt, getting rid of imaginary wrinkles.

I opened the door and stepped into the small hallway.

"You look beautiful, darling," mom said.

I raised my eyebrows at her, doubting all of those words that just came out of her mouth.

"You do," she said, patting me on the shoulder.

I rolled my eyes and walked into the living room.

"Ready?" Maxon asked from the doorway.

I grabbed my little bag off of the table and said, "Yep."

But was I really? Was I really ready to face Celeste again? I guess we just have to find out.

"How far away is her place anyway?" I asked when we were outside in the quiet evening.

"It's not that far away. According to Google, it's only like a ten minute walk from here," he said.

That was ten minutes until I see that devil again. Had I never realized that we lived in such a close proximity to each other?

I moved forward into the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I looked around at the cars. "Um, didn't you drive here?" I asked him.

"No. I walked. My place is only a block from here," he said. Hm. I had never known that. It is a small world after all.

"Really? Where is it?" I asked curiously.

He pointed past the trees and said, "There."

I nodded.

There was a bit of peaceful silence as we walked. It gave me time to think over the plan.

"So, why did you even choose this plan?" I asked while following him.

He looked up to the sky, thinking about how to phrase it. "Have you heard of the saying, 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'?"

I nodded again.

"Well, that's exactly what I'm planning on doing. I'm going to draw her in enough, and I could quite possibly make her my friend, or I could make her realize how horrible she's been to you," he said.

I stared at him. "Make her your friend? What sickly idea has gotten into you?"

He shrugged and said, "If she becomes my friend, then she's probably naturally inclined to become yours as well."

Ha. Very likely. Even being in the same room as her would sometimes repulse me. I scoffed. "Celeste Newsome and America Singer were never meant to be friends."

"Who knows? You're not always right, my dear," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "I am not your dear."

He laughed at me as we turned into a concealed neighbourhood, and holy, the houses were huge. Ugh. Right. She's rich.

"Okay. We're looking for 224," Maxon said, looking at the invitation, unfazed by the colossal size of the mansions in front of us.

He looked up and down the street. "Okay. Never mind. We just have to go to that house." He pointed to the one with party lights streaming out the window.

"Maxon," I said.

He looked at me.

"Are you sure I'm allowed to go in?" I asked.

"Well, she never said you weren't allowed to go," he said with a smirk.

"I'm starting to think that you find a loophole with every situation," I said.

"You are correct on that, my dear," he replied. I scrunched my nose at him for calling me that, and he laughed.

"But honestly, don't worry about it. Just follow me around, but from a distance," he said. I hadn't noticed it, but we were at the front door now. "You'll be fine." He took my hand and squeezed it, reassuring me.

I nodded nervously. He gave me a small smile and walked into the house. I let go of him, not wanting people to get the wrong image, and followed him in.

I was greeted by booming music that made my ears hurt. But however terrible the music was, it didn't matter. My eyes bulged out. There was no other way to put it. This place was extravagant. Even I, the Celeste Newsome hater, loved this place. The giant golden chandelier and the double marble staircases seemed to have been plopped out from a storybook. It seemed like we had arrived late, because the party was already in full-swing mode. I walked forward, and saw a big open area with a floor full of different lights, where people were dancing wildly. I turned into the kitchen and my eyes widened even more, if that was possible. Atop the various tables, there were a variety of foods, ranging from no-drip snacks to a chocolate fountain with strawberries and marshmallows. The modern cabinets and island were a sleek black and white. It was beautiful.

"Hey, Maxon?" I asked, focused on the strawberry tarts in front of me.

No answer.

"Maxon?" I said again.

When he didn't respond, I looked around me. My heart rate picked up. He wasn't here. What do I do? Where do I go? Well, it looked like part of our plan failed.

Suddenly, this place didn't seem so lavish anymore. It seemed more clustered, as people shouted and swayed around because of the alcohol. I watched more and more people pick up the red solo cups and chug the beer.

My stomach turned.

"Hey America," someone suddenly said. I could barely hear them over the sound of the music.

I spun around and saw Kriss.

"Hey," I shouted back.

"Who did you come here with?" she asked.

"Maxon," I said. Something in her eyes hardened as she nodded and walked away from me. I know you like him, but you don't need to make it that obvious.

Okay. I needed to find him. If I were a guy at a party, where would I go? No. There were a million places I could go. Okay. If I had to talk to Celeste Newsome in private, where would I go? Then, the most disgusting thing came into my head. Aw, gross. No.

But I knew Maxon would never do that because from what he says, he isn't that fond of her either.

This is going to be impossible. I sighed and sat down on one of the island chairs. I pulled my phone out because I didn't have any means of making social interactions with anyone here. I don't know how many times I checked my Snapchat and reloaded my Instagram feed. I was just waiting.

I had been here for an hour and was getting sick of this place. I was feeling more and more claustrophobic as people rubbed against me. I felt the sudden urge to throw up. I couldn't take it anymore, so I texted Maxon, 'Don't feel really well. Gonna go home.'

I got out of my chair and pushed through the crowd, eager to get a breath of fresh air outside. I had never hated the smell of beer more than now. I could feel the bile rising up my throat.

I was almost there. I was so close. I walked out the open door and gasped like I was a baby taking her first breath. It was relieving. My mind was cleared and I could finally hear better without the pounding music.

I was cold, and the light jacket I brought probably wasn't enough, but it was better than being stuck in that place full of drunks.

I stepped onto the driveway and walked past a couple making out. I rolled my eyes and walked onto the sidewalk. The night now dominated the city, giving away beams of moonlight. The eerie silence made me feel on edge.

I judged I had been walking for around two minutes now, the twists and turns of the road feeling familiar.

With each passing second, I felt more unsafe.

For some reason, I felt like someone was following me. The big road was only around three minutes from here. I could make it.

I watched as a car passed by me. No. Please don't leave. I was all alone and scared. The forest was right beside me. Oh no. I wished Maxon was here right now. I wouldn't feel as uncomfortable. Maybe I just should've waited for him.

I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

I turned around and saw two shadowed figures of men. One was jogging towards me.

Oh my God. I put my hand on my phone, ready to call 911.

"Hey babe. Wait up!" the faster one said.

Maxon?

He came closer to me and I widened my eyes as I concluded that it was Maxon. What. The. Hell. He called me babe.

He didn't look drunk, and when he got close enough, I could smell that he wasn't drunk. He put his arm around me and turned us both around, away from the other guy.

"Maxon. What are you doing?" I gritted through my teeth.

"That guy was following you," he said out of the corner of his mouth. My suspicions were correct.

Oh my God.

My heart was thumping powerfully. I didn't know if it was because of the guy or because of Maxon doing this for me.

We continued walking until the end of the sideroad.

He looked back and instantly sighed with relief. "It's okay. He's gone."

He dropped his hand from my shoulder.

But I needed this comfort. I needed this sense of security.

I pressed his hand against my arm, telling him I wanted him.

He looked at me. I had never been so scared. He held me tighter to him.

Tears brimmed my eyes. What would've happened if Maxon wasn't there? He stopped walking and faced me.

"America. Are you okay?" he asked. I lowered my head.

"America. Please," he said. I shook my head and the tears dripped down.

"It's okay," he said, wrapping his arms around me, protecting me.

"Maxon," I cried into his chest. What could've happened?

"Shh, it's alright. I'm here," he said. He stroked my hair.

For the first time, I realized that I needed him. I held on tighter to him, scared to lose him.

He sighed. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I never meant for any of that to happen."

All I could do was nod.

He kept on holding me and said, "If you want, you could come back to my place. It's closer to here than yours."

I nodded.

I didn't want to be trapped outside, where other men might try to hurt me.

"And don't worry about it. Our parents are really close. I can just ask my mom to call yours," he added.

In that moment, I realized how much he had done for me. He comforted me on that bus ride, he took up his own time for me, and he made sure that I was safe. Sure, he dragged me along to this wretched party, but I was the one who willingly obliged. If this hadn't happened, I think it would have taken me a lot longer to realize how much he had helped me.

I pulled back from him and looked into his warm, caring brown eyes.

I went on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, breathing in the musky smell of his cologne.

And in that moment, I knew it would have taken me longer to realize that I needed him.

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