Max lay in her bed, pink comforter pulled up around her neck as she watched the long hand on her clock steadily tick past the time that she absolutely had to get up if she didn't want to miss the bus to school. She knew she was being a coward, but after the complete shitstorm of yesterday afternoon, she just couldn't bring herself to go and face the music.
She absentmindedly ran her thumb over the palm of her other hand, feeling the leftover sting of the deep puncture wounds from the panic attack she'd had yesterday after Lucas and Mike left. It had been a particularly rough one, and she hadn't had one like that in so long that she'd forgotten how terrifying they were—the feeling of icy tendrils reaching out and wrapping around her heart, the ominous clock chimes, the air being squeezed out of her lungs. Lately, she'd been managing to calm herself down when she felt one starting, either with the visualization exercises Ms. Kelley had taught her or by quickly turning on some music.
After it passed she'd felt drained, both physically and emotionally, but she still couldn't sleep, her thoughts a jumbled mess as she tossed and turned throughout the night; not even the soothing dulcet vocals of Sade were enough to calm her down. She'd even put on the Pacers shirt she still hadn't returned to Mike, as if she wasn't pitiful enough already.
Mike had kept trying to radio her that evening, pleading with her to hear him out, but there was no way she had the capacity to handle a conversation about… whatever they were doing, and in which he would inevitably break things off, so she'd turned the walkie-talkie off and shoved it under her bed along with her naive hopes of having a relationship with him.
The kiss had been… better than she could have imagined. And then of course it all blew up spectacularly—Lucas really could not have found out in a worse way. So, Max had listened to her instincts screaming at her to shut it down before more people got hurt. What was the point in trying to be happy when she just wasn't meant to be? No, it was better this way. Better to go back to being alone all the time instead of dragging others into her vortex of misery. Solitude felt familiar anyways, it was what she'd been accustomed to her whole life before she'd met The Party. She was a tornado, sucking people in and leaving destruction in her wake—her dad, Billy, Lucas, and now Mike.
Her eyes snapped open when she heard the sound of someone shuffling around on the other side of the trailer and then coming down the hall. Shit. She'd forgotten her mom worked at the grocery store on Mondays. The footsteps came to a stop outside her room, hesitating for a moment before the handle turned and the door squeaked open.
"Max?" Her mother poked her head in before opening the door and fully entering her room dressed in her threadbare robe, her copper hair piled messily on top of her head. "Don't you have school, sweetpea?" Sweetpea? Max furrowed her brow. She hadn't called her that nickname in years.
"I'm not feeling great," Max mumbled quietly. "Can you call in for me?"
Her mom frowned, tightening the belt of her robe as she padded over to Max and rested the back of her hand against her forehead. "Was Rachel sick when you slept over at her house this weekend?" Oh, right. Max had forgotten that was her cover story.
"Um, no, she was fine," she mumbled, not having the energy to lie.
Susan removed her hand, narrowing her eyes as she leaned back, studying her daughter. "Is this about that boy?"
Max cringed. "I really don't wanna talk about it, Mom." Susan chewed the inside of her cheek as her eyes roamed over Max once again before crossing her arms and letting out a deep sigh. Then she wordlessly turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Max sat up and listened carefully, feeling relief wash over her when she heard the sound of her mother picking up the phone and after a moment talking to the school secretary. She let herself collapse back onto her pillows when she heard the sound of water creaking through the pipes as the shower turned on, and proceeded to stare at the abstract poster on her wall until her eyes drifted closed.
Max didn't leave her room until the early afternoon when she could no longer ignore the hunger pains in her stomach, steadfastly avoiding any and all mirrors because she felt like a troll emerging from its cave.
She was curled up on the couch under an old patchwork quilt they'd had since she was a toddler, balancing a bowl of ramen noodles on her knees while she watched Pretty in Pink. Molly Ringwald's Andie also had two guys interested in her (three if you counted creepy-ass James Spader, who clearly wanted to fuck her), but Max was pretty sure in her case both of her boys were Duckie.
She heard the telltale sound of gravel crunching under tires as the rusty old Volvo pulled into its parking spot, and a minute later Max turned around to see her mother come in, still wearing her grocery store vest and nametag as she tossed her keys on the side table and stubbed out the menthol she'd been smoking. Max braced herself for the interrogation or lecture she was sure was coming. Instead, her mom gave her a small, tired smile as she walked over and gently gathered Max's long hair behind her head as if she were making a low ponytail, running her fingers through the tangles and smoothing down the flyaways. Max stiffened automatically. She wasn't used to such a loving gesture from her mother; at least not in the past few years.
"Scoot over," Susan said after a minute, coming around to seat herself on the opposite end of the couch and crawling under the blanket with her daughter.
Max studied her mom. She looked exhausted, Max thought as she noticed the dark purple bags under her eyes, the wrinkles around her mouth and across her forehead. The past couple of years had aged her, and the smoking and drinking surely hadn't helped, but Max still thought she was incredibly beautiful; she'd always wished she had her mom's high cheekbones and pointed chin instead of the rounder features of her father.
She could admit she resented her mom for constantly attaching herself to these absolute dickwad men, uprooting and moving them from house to house for years now; and it was always them following the man, never the other way around. It was kind of bullshit. Max was pretty sure if Neil hadn't left, her mother would have stayed in that miserable marriage until one of them died.
Max tried to remember a time when her mom had seemed truly happy. She had a vague memory of being four or five, back when her dad was still in the picture. A family trip to the beach. Her mom carefully rubbing sunscreen on Max's already sunburned nose; jumping over the waves holding hands, one parent on either side of her; bright red popsicle juice dripping down her wrist; her dad scooping her mom up into his arms, laughing as he spun them around in the water before he planted a kiss on her lips. It felt like it wasn't even her life—like it was an episode of television she'd seen some time ago…
Maybe they were both just destined to be alone, the two Mayfield women against the world, hardened and cynical.
Max decided not to skip out on work that afternoon, figuring it would probably be good for her to get out of the house for a bit instead of wallowing. Ms. Kelley would be so proud, she'd thought as she smirked to herself.
She had been slightly cheered up by seeing Wayne, telling him all about the concert while they unpacked the boxes of new records that had come in last week. He'd regaled her with tales about all the shows he had been to in the 60s and 70s, including the summer he'd followed The Grateful Dead around the country, usually while tripping on acid or shrooms, which he was quick to discourage. "I'm fairly certain I lost a good chunk of brain cells that ain't never coming back," he'd said, making Max laugh. If nothing else she supposed her best friend could be her forty-year-old boss. Yup, nothing pathetic about that.
Now Max was out back during her break, sitting on the overturned milk crate while she smoked. It was that time of year when the temperature fluctuated wildly throughout the day, and now that it was getting dark she'd thrown her hoodie on over her t-shirt, the hem almost reaching the bottom of her shorts.
She was watching a colony of ants as they marched in a straight line toward a discarded brown apple core, feeling strangely jealous of them. They didn't have to think, they didn't agonize over their decisions, they just went where they were told and dug their tunnels or whatever else ants did.
The street lamps flickered on as the daylight disappeared, bathing the alley in an orange glow. Max didn't look up from the ants when she heard the sound of the door opening next to her.
"Still got five minutes, Wayne," she said, taking another drag of her cigarette.
"Um, hi…" A flash of anxiety raced through her at the sound of Mike's voice, her pulse suddenly pounding in her chest.
She kept her eyes on the ground as he came and stood in front of her, and she studied the dirtied toe caps of his high tops, which were a far cry from the white they'd once been.
"Can uh, can we talk?" he asked.
"It's a free country," she said breezily, tossing her finished cigarette into the coffee can and standing up to lean against the wall, finally lifting her gaze to get a look at him. He looked tired, sporting dark circles under his eyes that likely matched her own.
"You weren't at school today," Mike said, running a hand through his unbrushed hair.
Max shrugged. "I was under the weather."
"Oh." He looked her up and down. "Are you feeling better?"
"What do you want, Mike?" she sighed, figuring there was no point in beating around the bush even though her palms were getting clammy and she felt like her heart was in her throat.
"Fuck, I really hate this," he groaned, tilting his head back as he took a deep breath. "Look, I… I don't know if I'm fully over El."
Max felt a pit of dread form in her stomach. He thought the kiss was a mistake, she knew it.
"Our relationship was… intense," Mike continued, tilting his head as he tried to catch Max's eye, "and we went through a lot of shit together." He took a cautious step closer to her. "But she's in the past. And you're here and I definitely have feelings for you. Like, a lot of feelings. And they kind of came out of nowhere and I never thought in a million years that you'd feel the same way but when we- when we kissed yesterday it was like, amazing… wasn't it?" he asked, his eyes full of hope as he tried to gauge her reaction.
Max yanked at a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve, snapping it off and letting it fall to the ground, attempting to keep her cool while completely freaking out on the inside, trying to process what he'd just said. He still wants to be with me? Even though I'm the reason one of his oldest friendships just blew up? It didn't make any sense, she wasn't worth that kind of trouble.
"Do you… do you have feelings for me too?" Mike asked, face starting to fall at her continued silence. "Or was it just–"
"I do," Max said quietly, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat as Mike beamed at her. "But… why would you even want to be with someone like me?" she asked, dropping her gaze back down. "I'm so fucked up Mike, I mean you've seen it."
He stepped in front of her, forcing her to tilt her head back against the wall to look at him, their bodies only a foot apart now. "I don't care if you're fucked up, Max, I am too. I just know that it feels good when I'm with you," he said gently. "You– you just get me, and you're my favourite person to be around. And I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this goes, don't we?"
"What about Lucas?" she asked, hating how weak and trembly her voice sounded. "I can't be the reason you two aren't friends anymore." Mike chewed the inside of his cheek as he appeared to mull over her words.
"I dunno," he sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "It sucks that he's pissed and I hope that he'll forgive me eventually but… I can't stop thinking about you, Max." He stepped closer still, reaching out and twisting the drawstring of her hoodie around his finger. "Can we please give this a try?"
Max's heart gave a lurch at his sincerity. She knew it was a big deal for him to be laying his feelings bare like this. Every cell in her body was yearning for her to trust him, to dive into this headfirst, but her stubborn, jaded heart was throwing up one last line of defence—alarm bells sounding at the prospect of being someone's girlfriend again, and the impossible expectations that came with it. She licked her lips nervously as her gaze roamed over Mike's face, seeing nothing but honesty and affection in his dark eyes.
"I just– I don't know if I'm ready for a serious relationship right away. Can we just like, not label it… for now?" she asked, hooking her index fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. Max could see hesitation flash over his eyes for a split second but then he was nodding, an excited smile spreading over his face.
"Yeah, okay," he said as he leaned in close until she could feel his breath ghosting over her lips. "Can I kiss you now?"
"I guess so," Max whispered, her lips tingling as they brushed against his. Mike exhaled sharply through his nose in an amused laugh as he finally slotted his lips over hers, her whole body sagging in relief as she leaned back against the wall and pulled him towards her.
He cupped her face with one hand as they deepened the kiss, his other arm coming to rest on the wall above her head as he pressed his body against hers, boxing her in in a way she found thrilling. A small moan came from somewhere in the back of Max's throat as their tongues slid together, and she let go of Mike's belt loops to wrap her arms around his waist and up his back, clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt. He really was a ridiculously good kisser.
Then he shifted so his knee was nudging her thighs apart, and she gasped when he shoved his leg between hers, their height difference causing her to effectively grind down on his denim-clad thigh. Okay, that's very interesting, she thought, whimpering as the seam of her shorts rubbed against her in a way that was not unstimulating. Who would have thought Mike Wheeler was so bossy? She kind of loved it.
Mike chuckled at her reaction, nipping playfully at the spot just under her ear before latching on to her pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin lightly between his teeth. Max groaned as sparks of pleasure flew over her skin, pretty sure she'd have a gnarly hickey once he was done, but she really didn't give a shit as long as he kept his leg right there. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who was affected, Max noted after a minute as Mike's unmistakable hardness made itself known against her hip, straining at the fabric of his jeans.
He groaned into her neck as she pushed her pelvis back against him, and the sound sent a lightning bolt straight to her core. The bricks of the building were rough against the backs of her thighs as they frantically pushed and pulled each other impossibly closer, the light scraping eventually snapping her out of her euphoric state.
"My- my breaks over," she gasped, her voice embarrassingly breathy and her head spinning from the intoxicating sensations of his lips on her neck. "Wayne will be waiting for me." Damn, we really got carried away, she thought as she fought to slow down her breathing.
"You can be late, you're his best employee," Mike murmured, his hand sliding down the side of her throat while he kissed his way back up to her mouth, silencing any further protests she may have had (None. None at all) as he proceeded to capture her lips in another soul-searing kiss.
Yeah, she could definitely get addicted to this.
Later that week Max had been walking around school with a noticeable spring in her step. Things with Mike had been… exciting. Even though they'd already been friends it felt completely new, and she found she loved having the comfort of their established friendship while still getting to experience all the hallmarks of a newly blossoming romance—the stomach flip when he smiled at her in the hallway between classes, the butterflies constantly dancing behind her ribcage when they touched, brazenly flirting and seeing if she could get him to blush.
On Tuesday when they'd met up at lunch he'd kissed her shyly, a hesitant peck on the lips like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to—as if they hadn't been dry humping each other within an inch of their lives the day before. Now they'd sit side by side on the steps instead of across from each other, their knees pressing together, figuring out which casual touches felt natural…
In class she found herself getting lost in thought dreaming of the way he held her hand in his much larger one, drawing featherlight shapes on her palm and entwining their fingers… Normally she'd be scolding herself for acting like such a dork over a boy but she just couldn't find it in herself to care.
Now it was Thursday, and she'd just left her weekly lunchtime appointment with Ms. Kelley, who had immediately noticed and commented on Max's improved mood. Max had been nervous to tell anyone about it, worried that she'd somehow jinx it by saying it out loud, but she'd relented and hesitantly admitted she'd been seeing someone. Ms. Kelley had been thrilled, acknowledging that it was a big step that Max was letting herself get close to someone again, and how nice it was to see her happy.
She rifled through her locker, grabbing her books for her next class and smiling to herself as she remembered she was working a solo shift at Spin City that evening, which meant at least four hours of alone time with Mike. She closed the metal door, jumping in shock when she came face to face with a sombre-looking Lucas, clad in his obnoxious championship letterman jacket.
"Jesus, dude, don't scare me like that," Max snapped, irritation creeping in and erasing her carefree mood.
"We need to talk," Lucas said, ignoring her comment. Max rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood to deal with his shit but she knew they had unfinished business that she very much wanted to be finished with.
"Ugh, fine," she said, nodding towards an empty, dark classroom across the hall. "Over here." He followed her in, leaning against the teacher's desk and crossing his arms as she perched on top of a student desk, her feet resting on the attached chair.
She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "So? Talk."
"Why him?" Lucas asked, glowering up at her.
Max let out an exasperated sigh, tilting her head back and looking at the ceiling. "Really, Lucas?"
"You told me you weren't in a good place for a relationship but now suddenly you're with Mike? I mean, is– is he better than me?"
Yes, she thought to herself, running her tongue over her teeth as she tried to figure out a way to break it to him gently. "It's… it's different. With him." Lucas continued staring at her as if expecting her to elaborate. She took a deep breath, fidgeting with the frayed ends of her cut-off shorts.
"You didn't even really know me, Lucas," she continued quietly. "You saw me that first time at the arcade and fixated on me. Then you put me on a pedestal and when I couldn't meet your unattainable standards you kept trying to change me."
Lucas scoffed. "Max, we were together for eight months!" he exclaimed. "If I didn't 'know you' it's because you didn't let me in. You always kept me at arm's length. Always ready to run at a moment's notice."
Max flinched at his harsh assessment, knowing there was some truth to what he was saying. She knew she was getting defensive, she could already feel it bubbling up inside her, and she also knew it would inevitably lead to her hitting below the belt and saying something hurtful that she didn't really mean. She took a deep breath, and then another one, trying to calm the anger that was threatening to erupt.
"Look, Lucas, I'm sorry that we kept our relationship from you," she said, working to keep her voice calm, "but I'm not sorry that it happened."
Lucas's shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping down to his pristine white sneakers. "I guess I always thought that when you were ready for a relationship again we would–"
"Get back together?" Max shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression but–"
"So it was never about timing then, was it?" he interjected, the venom returning to his tone as he glared at her. "That was just a lie you told to force me to end things." Max grimaced, knowing deep down he was right.
She opened her mouth, ready to offer up another apology but Lucas stood abruptly, jostling the desk and knocking over a pen-filled mug, writing utensils clattering onto the floor and rolling every which way.
"Screw you, Max," he muttered as he turned and left the room, leaving her staring after him, stunned.
She took a moment to collect herself, burying her face in her hands before raking them through her hair. Well, that could have gone better, Max thought as she got on her hands and knees and began gathering the pens and highlighters that were scattered across the linoleum. At least she and Lucas had closure now, even if it was contentious. She could officially shut the door on that chapter of her life and focus on the much more appealing one ahead of her.
The bell signalling the end of the lunch period rang just as Max finished straightening up the items on the teacher's desk. She made her way back out to the hall, her heart somersaulting in her chest when she glanced to her left and saw Mike at his locker, looking unfairly cute in a bright yellow short-sleeved button-up she'd never seen him wear before. God, just the sight of him chased away the dark grey cloud of her fight with Lucas…
He must have seen her out of the corner of his eye because he turned and flashed her that half smile that made her pulse race, and then shot her an uncharacteristically suave wink before dashing off to his chemistry lab on the other side of the school. Max couldn't help grinning to herself as she watched Mike leave, feeling like Samantha at the end of Sixteen Candles when Jake Ryan shows up outside of her house, still in disbelief that for once she'd actually gotten what she wanted.
And it felt pretty damn good.