He could pick her out from the densest of crowds, even from his spot against his car; Zara was the one walking along the edge of the path, sandwiched between her friends and surrounded by dozens of other students. Max noted the lack of glasses, the long curly hair that framed her heart-shaped face, the gait of someone confident and well-respected; this was a completely different Zara to the timid one of yesterday or even the fearful one of a few days ago.

Around the familiar, she was a woman. Around the unfamiliar, she was a girl. To Max, it was both fascinating and perplexing how a person's character could change so drastically from one moment to the other. Being able to witness Zara without any filters, even if for a fleeting moment, was an honour, a rarity granted only to those as observant as him.

That moment was lost when the group began deviating from the main path and cutting through the dulled grass, reminding Max of his current task at hand. He called out her name—the first time, it was lost amongst the cacophony of voices. The second time, Max captured the attention and Zara and a few others, the latter which he ignored. He was used to being stared at.

Just before she could step down onto the pavement again, Zara stopped in her tracks and quizzically glanced around. Her companions stopped a few feet ahead of her; her mouth moved, probably to ask whether they had heard her name called as well or not. They shook their heads.

Max beckoned to Zara. "Over here." He said it loud enough to have her head snap towards him. Yeah, I'm the only guy with the Porsche and the Adidas tracksuit. Max didn't even have P.E. last period—tracksuits were his go-to outfit whenever he was too lazy or in a hurry to find something better to wear.

Her brows furrowed. Max could tell that as much as she wanted to walk away and pretend nothing ever happened, his own stare was too powerful to break. She knew she wasn't to test his patience again; the day before he had granted it because Samantha got in the way. Today, she was getting into his car, whether she like it or not.

Seconds later, another three pairs of eyes were on him. Saffron was the first to give in. He looked pissed, shaking Zara out of the staring contest and earning her yelling. She shook him off and began walking towards Max, her other friend, Orion, trailing behind her. Zara turned on her heel, argued with him as well, then continued her walk alone. 

Bruce Lee wannabe. 

The others just stared at her in disbelief and even shook their heads for good measure.

"What do you want?" Zara snarled once she was within arm's reach, staring up at him with contempt in her eyes. Max just looked down at her with his arms crossed over his chest and the side of his mouth curled upwards in a smirk. 

He clicked his tongue."You don't talk to me like that, doll," he said, dropping his arms and pushing himself off the car. Max wasn't even an inch closer before Zara took a step back. Her features softened, but her jaw clenched.

Wednesday afternoon, Max had felt compassion for her. Remorse had him acting nice around her. Now, that one question had him reverting back to his old, asshole self. It felt good. "Ride with me." He pushed a hand into his front pocket, unlocked the car, then opened the passenger door, like the gentleman he was raised to be. Zara stood there, her knuckles whitening as she strangled her backpack straps. She was mulling over his words despite the fact that his was an explicit order, not a question. 

"We need to talk." He kept his body language relaxed and confident, but had a firm edge to his gaze and voice. Zara tried to look defiant, but failed when she turned back to look at where her friends stood—had stood. Their presence had gotten replaced by a different group of teenagers. Typical. Thieves that leave at the first sign of danger. 

She refocused on him and rolled her shoulders back. "Fine," she muttered. Zara stomped to the car door, pulled her backpack off, and slipped inside. Max wiped the smile off his face as he joined her.

"I thought you were busy today," he said casually, fastening his seatbelt and slipping the key into the ignition. He shifted the gear stick into neutral, turned on the engine, and briefly tapped the foot against the accelerator—the car roared startling Zara and everyone within a twenty-foot radius of the car. 

After she screamed and threatened to rip off his balls, Max adjusted the gearstick and pulled out of the parking space, chuckling throughout the whole process. Pedestrians gave him dirty looks and shouted profanities as he drove by, but nothing could rival the withering glare coming from his left.

"You haven't answered my question." That will teach you some manners.

"I swear I'll jump out if it comes to it," Zara muttered between breaths. Max kept a stoic expression on his face, knowing well that she was capable of jumping out of a speeding car and more. He did see her consider jumping off a fifteen-storey building just the other night.

He gave her the side-eye. "I never said anything about—I mean, turns out I didn't have to go to that place after all." She corrected herself and laughed awkwardly. Max narrowed his eyes but didn't add anything else on the matter.

It was probably her form of rejection. Except that she was too sincere, too believable, and I'm not easily fooled.

"Found out anything that may interest me?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Where are you taking me?"

Max rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Your place. Now stop answering my questions with fucking questions, my patience is running out." 

Zara sighed for the umpteenth time; it couldn't have possibly taken her fifteen minutes to recover from that fright. She was doing it on purpose to annoy him. "Nothing."

"What?" It's been almost a week. He braked at a stopping light and scratched his jaw. Maybe he had misheard.

"I haven't found anything!" Zara admitted in a near-shout. She banged her head against the headrest and dragged both hands through her hair. "Searching is all that I've been doing for the past five days. Day and night, every single second is spent thinking, speculating about where that fucking Butterfly bullshit is."

Max pursed his lips together and forced himself not to look at her. The stoplight turned green; it was a welcomed distraction, allowing him to remain silent as he focused on driving across the intersection. As always, after-school traffic was atrocious, but at least the lanes weren't completely stagnant. 

"I have no idea what I'm looking for. I don't know if it's a pill, powder, a liquid...nothing. You tornado your way into my fucking life threatening to kill me, but I'm not even told what the hell the Butterfly even is."

"It's a pill."

"What?" Consumed by anger, she didn't even hear what he said.

"It's a pill. With a butterfly engraved in it."

Max knew she was right, and that he shouldn't have been irked about her outburst, but he didn't know what to feel. Anger was the emotion he was best acquainted with; he was angry at his father, at the company, at his men, at the person who first pushed the snowball off the hill and started this entire situation, but mostly, he was angry at himself. Angry because even though he had an inkling of the truth of the matter, he was still using Zara.

She had nothing to do with this, at least, not directly. Indirectly, she was just as deep in shit as he was, but no amount of sleepless nights or length of yarn stretched around the thumbtacks on his cork board had gotten him a conclusive answer as to who the real culprit was.  Zara was innocent but her help was valuable, especially since it was the only aid he'd received so far. He couldn't allow a golden opportunity like this to slip through his fingers. 

Zara leaned her elbow against the central armrest and rested her cheek against the palm of her hand. At such close proximity, he could feel her warmth seeping through the sleeve of his jacket; he had to lift his left hand onto the steering wheel to feel less uncomfortable. "That makes things a lot easier," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Zara stared blankly at the dashboard, mulling over things and mumbling incoherently.

Max was dying to know what she was thinking about; she knew more than what she had let on. Nothing isn't really 'nothing' when you've spent five days searching for it—Zara had a treasure map with the dotted lines but not the 'X'. 

"I'm not wasting gas money on a 'leisurely drive' so either you give me something of value, or you're going to give me a refund."

Zara swivelled her head towards him with such speed, it was a wonder she didn't sprain her neck. "I never asked you to drive me home," she said, outraged. A range of imaginative insults was on the tip of her tongue. From the way she chewed on her lower lip, Max could tell she was holding them in.

"Touché." He nodded, granting her this small victory. "But what kind of guy would I be to let you walk home with a group of backstabbers?"

Zara bristled. "Nothing's one-hundred percent yet." She cleared her throat, but didn't add anything else.

Fifteen minutes of stifling silence ensued, during which Max tried, and failed, to think about things other than the lagoon he was in; like the two assignments he had due next week and the midterm exams he had to study for next month. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

Once they arrived, Max was quick to point out that he couldn't stay for too long. "People like what they're seeing. I don't want to have to kill someone else."

Zara stopped with the zipper halfway up her chest and her bag half-open. "Someone else?" The look on her face was a mixture of vexation and shock.

Fuck.

"Just kidding. I only maim, I don't kill." Max shined his signature-smile and began observing what lay beyond the car-window. Nobody should have to live here, he thought as he looked at a pair of homeless people push their overflowing shopping-carts down the sidewalk. They were the subjects of the dejected-looking neighbourhood, which looked just as bad, if not worse. His skin was already crawling, and he'd only been idle for a few minutes.

Zara gave him another strange look before zipping up all her belongings and opening the car door. Something crossed her mind and she settled back in. Max raised an eyebrow.

"Are you going to the party Friday night?"

He blinked at her, a quarter of his attention on the group of men chattering on the other side of the road.

"No. Things to do. What makes you think this would be a good time to talk about this anyway?"

Zara shrugged with one shoulder and stepped out the car again. "I have a couple puzzle pieces. I just need a few more to make something." She closed the door and made to walk away, but Max rolled down the passenger window and called out her name.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Why am I asking? Why do I care?

"I've been alright for the past six years Max, and I'll be alright now. Take care."

-:-