Snow Drift

The week passed in the blink of an eye. Max felt good about finals. She was sure she passed them with flying colors. So much so, all that stressing last week seemed pointless. Still, it was a relief that they were over. The last few weeks were so intense, it almost felt like she didn't have time to breathe, and at one point, she literally couldn't, being sick and all. But now that she was done with testing, she felt a sense of accomplishment for having completed her semester successfully. No more tests. No more homework. And no more school! At least until next semester. She could finally relax and unwind a little, enjoying her free time doing the things she loved without any kind of stress, guilt, or pressure.

She even looked forward to playing Dungeons and Dragons with the boys. Dustin had said they would have several mega campaigns coming this winter, and she was surprisingly excited about that. Mike and Will had told her Dustin's campaigns were always a thrilling experience because well, first of all, you'd never know if your characters will wind up dead somewhere in the dark dungeons or end up finding mountains of treasures. Max loved how the choice was between either doom or glory, and nothing in between.

Since last Monday, Billy hadn't said anything to her about the walkman. He didn't thank her for it either, but she never really expected him to. After all, this was Billy, and Max would be more surprised if he suddenly said thank you. Max only meant to let Billy borrow that walkman for a while as a thank-you for picking up her study guide, and she was going to ask him to return it sometime later. But now, she wasn't so sure. It was as if she never even gave it to him in the first place. She hadn't seen him use it, not once that entire week, and he never said a word about it. Maybe Billy thought Max had given it to him as a gift. Maybe his silence just meant he had accepted it… or thrown it away. Hopefully it wasn't the last one. After all, it was a memento that she got from her father.

Now, it was Saturday, December fifteenth, and it was finally time for the Snowball. Honestly, before moving to Hawkins, Max would rather have been caught dead than go to the Snowball. She'd never danced before in her life. And she thought she would never in her life attend something as lame as a dance party, but there she was now, sitting in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing her good sweater and her salmon-colored pants as her mom stood behind her, fixing her hair. Her mom combed it gently and looked at Max's reflection in the mirror from time to time.

Susan's hands worked deftly, separating Max's red hair into sections and weaving them together. Her delicate fingers soon created a single braid that went from the side of Max's face to the back of her head. Susan had said there was no way Max was going to go to the Snowball without having her hair done, and Max had surrendered and let her mom do her thing. She had never had her hair done like this before—the action felt cute, girlish, and… incredibly foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she let her mom's hands so close to her hair. It was a somewhat peculiar feeling, and it left her shifting restlessly on her chair.

Max gasped, feeling the pricking sensation when the bobby pin poked her scalp.

"Ow, ow. That hurts," she said, but her mom was simply undeterred in her actions.

Susan inserted another pin into Max's hair. "It's going to be worth it, I promise," she said, rather lightly. Max was silent, trying not to show her discomfort too openly, though she couldn't keep from wondering why they had to make bobby pins so sharp and pointy.

Her mom was surprised Max even wanted to go to the Snowball. Maybe that's why she was more than excited to get her only daughter to doll up. Even now, Max could still see her mom's bright smile reflected in the mirror.

"Are you sure you don't want to wear a dress?" her mom said, fluffing Max's hair.

Max sighed. This was maybe the third time she asked, and her answer would remain the same.

"I'm sure mom," she said. "We talked about this."

Susan's smile dimmed, but only slightly. "Well, I just think you'd look stunning in a dress. Not that you don't look stunning now," she added quickly. "Just… you will be even more stunning."

"Mom, no. I hate dresses. You know that," Max said, rather firmly. "They're uncomfortable, hard to wear, and—"

"Alright, alright, I get your point." She tied Max's hair with the last elastic band and tidied up a few strands with her hands, putting the last finishing touch. Then she sighed in satisfaction, looking at Max's reflection in the mirror. "You're just my little rebel, aren't you?"

Max smiled, then looked at her reflection, and blinked. She almost didn't recognize herself. Her wavy red hair—usually only let loose or tied carelessly behind her back—was now done beautifully. Her mom had created a braid that went around the side of her head elegantly like a vine while letting the rest of her naturally wavy hair loose behind her back. This was definitely not her style, and she felt rather strange. It didn't even feel like her.

"You look pretty," her mom said proudly.

Max had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes. Pretty was one word she didn't want to be associated with, not because she didn't necessarily believe it wasn't true, but because no one ever really told her. It felt strange. And she wondered why no one ever told her that 'pretty' was the same thing as 'uncomfortable'. Her braided hair was tied together so tightly, it was giving her a headache. The pins prickled her scalp; she had to fight the urge to take them off. She wanted to undo her hair and just let it loose, but her mom already put her best effort to create this look. And Max wasn't that heartless of a person.

So, Max chose not to respond. Instead, she looked about the room. The entire house glimmered with decorations. The living room was already beaming with Christmas spirit—wreaths and garlands mounted, red and green ribbons strewn about. Just outside the bathroom, she saw their Christmas tree, adorned with colorful lights and ornaments of different shapes and colors. Max turned just in time to see Billy walking past the room. He was biting his nail, seemingly lost in thought, but he stopped when he saw her. Their eyes met, and for a while, he looked like he was about to say something. Max silently gave him a death stare, daring him to mock her or say something about how girly she looked and how this didn't suit her one bit. But seconds passed, and Billy didn't say anything. He simply pursed his lips and walked off.

"See," Susan said with a proud note in her voice. "Pretty."

This time, Max couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes.

. . .

Billy didn't say anything as they stepped into the car to drive her to the middle school. Max mirrored his silence, sitting quietly in the passenger's seat and buckling her seatbelt. Billy started the engine, and music immediately blared on the sound system, being the only sound that could be heard in the car and traversing the silence between them. As they drove through the dimly lit street of Hawkins, Max quietly noted the song. It was Ride the Lightning if she recalled. It had been a while since she heard Billy listen to Metallica. Does this mean he's over the concert?

A hint of guilt flitted in her gut like a flame, but Max quickly shook the thought from her head. What would letting herself be overcome with guilt accomplish? The best cure was to act, right? To make things better. And from the past weeks, she felt that, maybe, things have been, even if only slightly. And with all that Billy's done—giving her the twenty, taking care of her when she was sick, getting her guides—she couldn't help but feel encouraged to press on.

She really wanted to ask him why he got her study guides for her. Billy didn't have any obligations to do it, and knowing him, he would never do anything nice for her, at least without some self-benefiting reason. He never even liked doing things for her, even though it was out of obligation, like picking her up from school or dropping her off at the Snowball, like now. So… why? She knew she was just one step away from asking it, but should she really? Billy could be a real pain in the ass if he wanted to, and Max wasn't sure she was ready to deal with that right now. The pins in her hair were already giving her a headache.

"What are you looking at?" Billy asked her, not too kindly, and only then did Max realize she had been staring at him as she contemplated inside her head. She blushed with embarrassment—she was lucky it was so dark all around them so Billy couldn't see.

Well… might as well say it now, Max thought.

"I was just wondering… do you remember that day after we found out I had the flu?"

Billy frowned, not understanding where this was going.

"You know…" Max said, "When you picked up my study guides from school since I was sick?"

"Why?" Billy said plainly after a brief pause.

"I just wanted to know…" Max forced the words out of her mouth before she could change her mind. "Why…why did you do that?"

Billy raised a brow. "Why did I do what?"

"Pick up the study guides for me like that."

"Why is that important?" Billy said, starting to sound annoyed. "Since when do I need to tell you my reasons for doing things?"

"No, I was just wondering 'cause you never—" Max bit her lip. She almost said, 'cause you never do anything nice for me,' but she managed to hold herself back before she let it slip.

Billy eyed her suspiciously. "Cause I never what?" he pressed, demanding her to tell him the rest of the sentence, but she wasn't going to tell him. She knew exactly how Billy would react if he heard those words. He'd probably say something like, "Why would I be nice to an annoying shithead like you? What did you do to deserve it?" and she didn't have the energy to handle a fight right now.

"Nothing," she finally said. Max paused, thinking slightly for an alternate answer. "I just thought… maybe it was because you destroyed my math book and guides back then. And you felt… guilty about it and tried to make it up."

"Destroyed is such a strong word." Billy looked back at the road, and Max noted with relief that he seemed to believe her alternate answer. "And no, I didn't do it because I felt guilty," he scoffed. "What do I look like? Your errand boy? Pfft. Don't get all sappy. It was Neil, he made me pick them up."

Neil. Max hadn't heard Billy call his dad by name in a while, especially not since his last beating. Billy was always especially careful not to refer to his father by name when that man was around. And he was usually under control around him, except for that time he came home drunk and slipped. Said the name to the man's face. Billy ended up on the floor that night with a busted lip and two black eyes.

"Uh huh…" Max said quietly, looking down at her lap. She couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment in her heart. She knew Billy was lying because her mom had told her that he got the study guides on his own. But Max couldn't figure out why he was lying, or why he felt the need to lie to her. It's not like he would be hurt by telling the truth. She decided to press him a little more. Maybe it would turn into a fight, but this was a fight Max felt prepared to face.

"Mom said you got them on your own," she spoke again, eyeing Billy closely for his reaction, but his demeanor was unchanged. It was still the same flat, expressionless face.

"Your mom doesn't know what she's talking about," he said plainly, brushing her arguments to the side. And this time, Max tightened her lip and clenched her fists tight, clearly upset, because she did know what happened. Two people couldn't tell different versions of a story and both be right, and she knew who was telling the truth and who was lying. Lucas even told her what happened when she pressed him to. He told her how he approached Billy and asked him to give the notes to her, and how Billy accepted them out of his own free will. She just wanted to hear it from his mouth—she wanted Billy to admit that he did something nice to her because he wanted to, and not because anyone forced him to. But obviously, that wouldn't happen. Billy would rather lie through his teeth, even though the truth was simple to admit.

He's so petty.

Max opened her mouth, fully intent on wanting to be petty in return and ask for her walkman back. But after a few moments of consideration, she decided against it. Billy never gave back the walkman to her. If Billy accepted it as her "Thank you," what would it look like if she took it back on a whim? What would that make him think of her and their supposed deal? He'd probably think she'd go back on it, and she didn't want that. So, she closed her mouth and went back to sulking silently. Sighing inwardly, she decided she'd be better off dropping the subject, and tried to look for another one.

"Have you found a job yet?" she asked after a few moments of silence. She'd noticed during the week that she hadn't seen him looking for jobs anymore. Maybe he'd already found one. I wonder what it is…

But her question might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Billy just continued to drive in silence, eyes fixed on the road.

"Billy, did you hear me?" she said, "I asked if you've found a job yet?"

"Be quiet Max, I'm driving," he snapped, and Max felt her temper rising again.

Why is it always so difficult to have a simple conversation with him?

"Why are you always so difficult?" she said, fuming. "It's a simple question. Just yes or no!"

"Well maybe you should mind your own business, Max! You ever thought of that?" Billy shouted back, flaring.

"God! It's so hard to talk to you!" she groaned in frustration. "Why are you always so angry?"

"I don't know, Max. Why are you always so bitchy?" Billy shot back, and Max glowered, fuming with anger. She didn't like being called "bitchy" or "bitch" or whatever doggish insult he threw at her, but maybe that's how it was for Billy too. Maybe he didn't appreciate her calling out how he'd always been angry. Though when she thought about it, he did have his reason—Neil. But her… what was her reason to be, as Billy had not-so-kindly pointed out to her, bitchy?

Max's anger fleeted.

Am I really…bitchy?

She knew she could sound like it sometimes. Maybe it had something to do with having a hopelessly romantic mother. Maybe the joy of having a loving father taken from her through a stupid divorce was the cause. Or maybe it was her mom dating men after men so quickly Max couldn't even count them… only to end up with an abuser. Maybe that did it. Maybe she was tired of her own life. Or perhaps, it was just who she was.

"I don't know yet," Billy said suddenly, breaking the silence between them and her train of thought. His voice was calmer.

Max looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"The job," Billy said impatiently. "I don't know if I got it yet. They haven't gotten back to me."

"Oh…" She didn't know what else to say. The anger that built up in both of them seemed to vanish as quickly as it came. Maybe he wasn't in the mood for a fight tonight either.

Max observed him carefully. She was so distracted with her mother's primping and too focused on giving him a death glare earlier that she didn't notice what he was wearing. Billy wore a blue dress shirt and a black leather jacket. He didn't look half bad in it. In fact, he looked pretty neat. And it looked much calmer on him compared to the red one. If Max had decided to wear the dress her mom had picked out for her, they would have been matching.

I wonder if his mom ever helped dress him for things like this when he was younger.

Max's trailing thoughts took her by surprise, but she didn't fight them. She was truly curious. Mike had always grumbled about how his mom would always dress him for Easter Sunday, fussing over him, saying how handsome he looked as they took photos. She wondered if Billy's mom ever did something like that for him. What was she like? Did Billy have a mom who doted over how handsome he looked too? I wonder what happened to her, she thought, but Max knew better than to ask that question.

Billy suddenly slowed the car down, but only slightly. Max turned toward him curiously. "I hate snow," he said, as though reading her mind. Max glanced outside and quickly noticed that it was indeed snowing. White snowflakes fell from the sky silently, covering the ground in sheets of white.

"Damn heavy snow… It's too windy for this," he said, now driving more carefully through the snow. "Just my luck to have to shovel some stupid ice walls in the morning."

"Ice walls?"

"Those damn snow hills."

Max thought for a moment. "They're called snow drifts, not ice walls, Billy. There's a difference."

He glowered at her. "Whatever."

"Humph. They're like you. Tall, cold, and unapproachable…" Max only realized she'd said it aloud when she noticed the dismay on Billy's face. She totally thought he would be angry about it, but he just gave her his typical bored, scathing look for a few seconds, before turning his attention back toward the road, not saying anything further. This lack of reaction stunned her. What just happened? Did Billy just… completely let her go this time?

It took her some time to process what was happening. For some reason, he'd been a lot more mellow lately. At least, for the past week. He was even being careful about how he talked to her, and it was so unlike him. So strange. Could it be… was he changing for the better?

"You look terrible, by the way," Billy suddenly said, crushing all of her hopes under his feet, just when she started to change her mind about him. "That look doesn't suit you one bit."

Max sulked at his words and retreated, crossing her arms. Nope. She took it back. He was still a conceited douchebag. No one changes overnight, Max, she reminded herself.

"Don't think I've ever seen you dolled up before. It's weird," he continued.

Actually, Max knew he was wrong. He had seen her dolled up before. It was when she wore that dress for her mom's birthday. But of course… no one wanted to remember that night.

"You're doing it for that boy Sinclair, aren't you?" Billy's voice broke the silence once again, and she eyed him in surprise. Where did that come from? And why—how did he know? Max shook her head. No. She wasn't doing this just for him. Well, maybe most, but how the hell would he know?!

Before she could say anything, Billy said, "That kid is getting really annoying."

Panic rose inside her, a hint of protective ferocity seeping through her words. "Don't get any funny ideas, Billy. You promised you'd leave me and my friends alone."

"I never promised," he said matter-of-factly, and she shot him an annoyed look. But he was right this time. She remembered that day with the bat now. Back then, Billy had said, 'I understand', not 'I promise'.

"But I won't come between you and your… thing with Sinclair."

She was surprised once again. She never expected Billy to notice anything going on between her and Lucas. It was a surprise that Billy was even that attentive toward her friends. That he even bothered to pay attention to her.

Maybe he only bothered to notice things about her so he could use them against her.

"There's no thing," she said, putting emphasis on her last word, but Billy just slowly turned his head to her and gave her a knowing look.

"Bet he's the one who invited you."

How does he know that?! she thought. It was astonishing, really. That was one thing she started noticing about him. Billy was so good at reading people. Sometimes, like now, he would say things right off the bat, things she never expected him to know, but he somehow did. It was like he'd seen right through her, plucking thoughts from her brain. Maybe he really was observant. Or maybe she was just bad at hiding things.

"Who are you going with tonight?" she finally said, trying to steer the conversation away from her. But Billy seemed too disinterested to care.

"Who says I'm going?"

"Well, for one, you're dressed up."

"You call this"—he motioned toward himself in a somewhat mocking manner—"dressed up?" Max decided to ignore his attitude and continued.

"For you, yeah. I don't think I've ever seen you in a tux."

It was silence for a moment, only Billy's scoff bouncing off the windows. "I'm not going. I'm grounded, remember? I just wanted an excuse to be out of the house."

She looked at him, startled at his words. Why did he tell her that? Why would Billy be so honest about that? Wasn't he afraid she'd tell Neil? Not that she would, but still. It was strange that Billy would suddenly share a secret with her. One that could get him in trouble…

"Besides," he continued. "High schoolers don't have a winter dance."

Max raised her eyebrows. "So," she paused, not sure what he was trying to tell her. "So what are your plans then? Are you putting on some nice clothes just to sit in your car all night?"

Billy didn't answer. Max was beginning to feel there was something he clearly didn't tell her. He was really confusing her—one moment he was telling a truth, and the next he was telling a lie? She couldn't really figure out what was coming out of his mouth.

"Wait…So you do still have a date?"

Silence.

"You do, don't you?" she probed further, and he sighed.

"Yeah, and what if I do?" He paused. "Why are you always so hung up at the most unimportant things? So what now? You're gonna snitch me out for having a date? Is that it?"

He really did sound irritated. Max was silent. She knew he completely avoided answering the question, and it gave her a helpless feeling, like they were back to square one. He'd get in a lot of trouble if Neil found out he drove anywhere else besides school, and he knew that. But didn't he know she'd never tell something like that? Maybe he didn't trust her after all. Even if he happened to say a few honest things to her.

"I'm not gonna snitch," she said.

Billy scoffed, repeating her words in a mocking manner. "'I'm not gonna snitch.' Of course you're not. With the way Neil has been…" His voice faltered and he stopped, his face suddenly darkening. Max knew what he wanted to say. The way he's been so snippy, so agitated, so unpredictable…

"He's calmed down a little."

"Don't be so hopeful." His words were spiteful, and she gulped. Of course Billy would know. He knew this man better than her, having lived with him all of his life.

"You can't go on a date anyway," she said, quickly steering the topic away from Neil.

"Who says I can't?"

"You mean you want them to see your mangled ass? I'd think that'd be a turnoff."

Max knew her mistake as soon as she said it.

She was silenced immediately when Billy glared at her, bewildered. He looked more than ready to strangle her, and Max bit her lip. She didn't mean for it to sound the way it did—actually, she didn't mean to bring up his battered ass at all—but whenever she spoke, it always sounded harsh and confrontational. And again, her mouth managed to move much faster than her brain. Me and my damn mouth!

"Sorry. I didn't mean to say that." She paused. "But… You're not… actually going on a date though, are you?"

Billy said nothing. Max gripped her fingers tight, the awkwardness eating her whole. It reminded her so much of the awkward car rides they had after his last beating. All those silent drives, all of her sad attempts to make conversation. Their arguments. And the car crash… Even now, she still blamed herself for what happened. If only she hadn't lost control, if she hadn't started that argument with him… all of this wouldn't have happened. And Billy wouldn't be grounded now.

Why don't you just off yourself?

It was as if he'd just said it yesterday.

You want to know why I really hate you? You completely ruined my life the moment you entered it.

She remembered everything vividly but now she couldn't help but wonder if he still meant those words. It surprised her, how she hadn't dwelled on it all this time. But it was still there–a piece of memory resting in a corner, nestled between the many different thoughts passing through her mind.

Just die already!

That's what he said just moments before he protected her, shielding her from a more fatal wound. Shielding her from death. She couldn't understand it. If he'd wanted her to die back then, why did he bother to let her live? Why did he do that to protect her? And why, just moments later, did he even bother to make sure she was okay?

Are you hurt?

She might have been disoriented from her shock back then, but she heard it clearly. And still… she couldn't understand why. He seemed to have a hobby of switching back and forth between his nice and his douchebag self. Two different Billys. Which one was he now?

She heaved a deep sigh. "It's stuff like this that kind of makes you hate me, huh? And this…This is all my fault, isn't it?" she looked down and fidgeted with her fingers. "I'm the reason you kept getting punished. Back then, if I… if I hadn't started that argument with you, none of this would have happened. And you'd be able to go on your dates. I'm sorry… I'm always screwing up. No wonder you hate me."

He didn't say a word. For a moment, she wondered what he was thinking, but something on his face told her that this time–maybe just this time–she was better off leaving him alone.

But she just couldn't help herself.

"You… don't actually have friends yet, do you, Billy?" she said after another moment of quiet had passed. She didn't mean it as a slight, but somehow her words always came out like they were sarcasm or threats. But after wondering why he'd lie about a date, it was the first thought to come to mind. And she asked honestly, and out of curiosity. In truth, she asked already having a deep knowing. Now that she thought about it, he didn't have any friends back in California either. At least, she wouldn't call them that. They were more like his pets–minions that went away when they got tired of his bull, pushed away by his own aggression.

He was alone.

He'd always been alone.

She'd never considered that until now.

"What's the point of making friends here? I'll be graduating this spring anyway," he said, trying to sound carefree, but she knew, even though just a tiny bit, that he did care.

"Having friends will make you like this place. Or at least…" she said as he sent her an unpleasant glance, "Tolerate it. It did for me. Remember?" She paused. "I think you'd get along with Steve. Well… if you don't cave his face in again."

"Steve?" Billy thought for a while, then let out an unpleasant scoff. "What–Steve Harrington?! Now I know you've really lost your fucking mind," he jeered. "King Steve! More like a joker. Why would I be friends with a lame dipstick like that? Especially after he pulled all that weird shit and lied about you at the house. Actually, what the hell were you doing with him that night anyway?"

"Uh… We were just…" Max paused, racking her brain for a believable lie in place of the preposterous truth. "Uhm… Doing… Ugh, I don't think you would believe me."

"Try me."

"It wasn't anything bad… We were just waiting at Will's house for… for the others to arrive. For uhmm… for a game."

He gave her a sideways stare, obviously angry at the thought that she was bullshitting him. She quickly thought of a way to remedy this.

"Ever heard of Dungeons and Dragons?" she said. Billy's puzzled stare said he obviously hadn't. "Yeah, of course you wouldn't, but… that's beside the point! Steve actually seems like a decent guy."

"Right," he mocked. "A guy hanging around a bunch of kids seems like a real decent guy."

"It's true! Just give him a chance."

"What the hell for? And don't act like you're slick changing the subject. What the hell was up with that house, anyway? I went there, and there were pictures hanging all over the place."

"Will is an artist." Max's heart skipped as she tried to come up with another excuse. "And a really good one."

"Whatever. And you stole my car because?"

"We really got into the game."

Billy heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. His expression was hard, as though it was carved in stone. "Just… shut it, okay? You're a terrible liar."

Max was silent. She didn't like Billy silencing her, but she hated being called a liar just as much. Especially after Billy had taken the chance to tell her one or two honest things tonight. She could at least return it with the same courtesy.

"Fine," she sighed. "You really want to know what happened that night? We had to drive to an underground tunnel to stop faceless-eating monsters from destroying Hawkins."

There was a long, deafening pause as they stared at each other.

"Fine, don't tell me," he said quite indifferently and turned his attention back toward the road. It was kind of impressive really, how he just "accepted" her "truth" and then passed it off as though it was nothing. Hadn't even called her a nut job.

"Look," she said. "I made a promise to my friends not to say anything. Just know it was nothing… bad. At least in the way you might think. I promise."

"Why does it matter what I think?"

"Because it does. It matters what you think, Billy."

She clamped her mouth shut and blushed. The words just slipped out. Billy looked perplexed, all the aggression and anger wiped from his face even for a moment, unsure how to react. That was probably the first time he'd ever heard someone say that. He stared at her for a long while, only looking away to steer the car straight when it slightly swerved. "Shit," he said. But after, he said nothing. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and so did Max.

God, she was starting to sound so cheesy.

. . .

They finally arrived at the middle school. Billy stopped his car a little ways from the doors, waiting for her to get out. It was noisy inside the school, with music blaring and wave after wave of students sweeping into the building. The dance must have started.

Max unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't make for the door. It felt wrong leaving Billy there for who knows how long while she'd be inside with her friends. It was pretty late, so she doubted many shops would be open, so she knew he'd just sit in the parking lot. Alone. Before she stepped out of the car, something crossed her mind.

"Hey, Billy," she turned to look at him. "How about this? I could leave the dance early, so… maybe we can walk and go get ice cream at a gas station or something."

He simply stared at her like she was an escapee from an insane asylum. "It's snowing," was all he said.

She shrugged, not getting his point. "So?"

"So," he leaned closer, trying to make his point clear. "Why would I eat ice cream in winter, when it's cold?"

"I don't know. I just… I thought it'd be fun. We don't really need to think too hard for a reason to do it. I mean, you're typically sporadic anyway. What's the harm?"

"What, you mean to tell me not to worry, and start enjoying life?" he mocked, but she didn't pay him any attention.

"Yeah! I mean, look," she said, pointing outside to the snow falling slowly through the air, being carried gently by the wind. "Don't teachers and adults gripe about how life is a fleeting moment or whatever, like… like those snowflakes drifting through the winds, you know? If you got caught up thinking about too many things, you'd miss all the important things. And, I don't know, maybe it's just better to go get some ice cream in a freaking blizzard with me than staying out here all night long."

For a moment, he said nothing. Just continued to stare at her strangely. Then he stirred, looking away from her and toward the road, still silent.

"Stop being so cheesy, Max. It doesn't suit you."

She blushed at his words. Now that he pointed it out, she did feel cheesy for saying that. What was wrong with her today? Maybe she needed to get her head checked.

"You don't need to pretend to worry about me," he continued. "Now get out and find the other shitheads. I have plenty of things to do here."

Pretend?

Max's mouth hung low, completely dumbstruck. "I… I'm not pretending…"

He scoffed. "Sure you aren't." But her gaze was fixed, determined. It locked him there. Billy shifted in his seat, finally turning away. "Look, why would I want to waste my time doing that stuff with you? Haven't you already figured it out? I really, really don't like you."

Max frowned. Her throat and chest tightened. It's not like she didn't know that already. But why did he always, always have to find a way to remind her?

She turned away and opened the door, doing her best not to lash out at him. Using all of her strength not to cry.

"But I don't hate you."

Max stopped, one foot out of the car. She looked back at him, eyes wide. Billy stared back at her, and though he was still his usual bored, uninterested self, this time he looked determined. Eyes, unwavering. A solid truth.

Max continued to stare at him for a while. He seemed to be full of everything that confused her. He'd told her to die, only to shield her moments later. And he'd said how much he hated her back then, only to say he didn't hate her now. But this felt real. This felt true. The fact that he even had this conversation with her—this entire discussion since they'd left the house—was staggering. Strange. Foreign.

Her chest opened again, her teary eyes drying. Frowning, she decided to ask him.

"Are you drunk?"

He seemed surprised by the sudden question, but it didn't linger. Instead, he heaved a long sigh.

"I wish."

To be continued . . .