Max barely slept that night. His mind felt like a coked-up hamster running on a wheel that wouldn't stop spinning. Repellant memories and unpleasant faces kept popping up every time he tried to shove them aside. He thought of his old classmates.

You smell that? Seventh-grade garbage.

Their taunts and teasing rammed through his head like an avalanche.

What you trying to say, Weiser? Think you'd make a better QB than me?

He thought of Ryan, in particular, and how that fucker had spray painted #dieweiser on his truck in junior year of high school.

He thought of the night he almost downed that bottle of pills. And got distracted by his phone. Like a fucking dumbass.

He thought of Lexi and how great their friendship used to be compared to its sorry state at present.

I-I just don't want anyone to hurt you. I can't believe kids are so mean, like, don't even pay attention to ape-holes like that!

But I still think you're cool, Max. You're my best friend, too.

You should be dating one of those girls out there. Why are you with a loser like me?

You've never been one to take responsibility for your actions, Max. Clearly, you haven't changed much after all this time...

He thought of Jake and Everly. They were the first ones in LA who had taught him to trust no one, to protect himself and build up his walls against users and fake-ass people.

He thought of all the other assholes who had lived and worked with him in the Wilder Ones mansion. He wished he hadn't signed away the rights to his videos. If only there was a way he could delete some of his old content. His stupid-ass behavior on camera, and the godawful shit that had come out of his mouth embarrassed him now. He was ashamed of the way he used to fuck and chuck girls back then. He wished there was a way to erase everything from that drunken, drugged-up, chaotic period in his life.

Then, out of nowhere, Max found himself thinking about his dad. He didn't remember much about Dan anymore. The man was a stranger to him. Yet, Max could still recall the day his dad left their house for good. The sense of loss and pain and guilt and anger had stayed with him. He wanted to know what had been the final straw that triggered his dad to leave, and he wondered how it could be possible for a man to walk away from his wife, the mother of his child, and his young son in one fell swoop without ever looking back.

The not-knowing stung like a motherfucker.

Max began to think about himself. His mood soured and darkened even more. Maybe his mom had been right about him all along. He was turning into his old man, always running away the moment life got too tough for him to handle. He was soft. Weak.

Finally, he thought of Nina. The girl of his dreams was living with him in the same goddamn apartment. He wanted to be with her so badly, and, yet, he wasn't man enough to go after her. He simply wasn't man enough for her.

He was a useless piece of shit who fell apart at the sight of a fucking gorilla mask.

As Max eventually drifted off to sleep around 3:00 am, his final thoughts were still permeated with negativity and self-loathing. Not surprisingly, when Max awoke the next afternoon, he felt like crap. He didn't know how to face Nina, so he stayed in bed for another thirty minutes until he realized that Nina probably wasn't home. The apartment was too quiet.

His belly rumbled. Hunger compelled him to wander outside the safety of his room for some food. Right as Max stepped foot in the kitchen, however, Nina surprised him by coming home. She was holding several large takeout boxes. Max recognized where they were from right away. Mariscos Enseneda.

Ceviche?

And tacos?

Suddenly, the empty, gnawing sensation in his stomach became almost unbearable. Max couldn't help salivating a little.

Nina eyed him with uncertainty. "Hey..."

Max cleared his throat and tried to act as though everything was fine, normal, not weird at all between them. "Hey."

"I got some tacos," she offered in a small voice, almost shyly, "and ceviche. From your fave place."

A feeling of warmth spread inside Max. Maybe Nina had been thinking of him. Maybe this was her way of reaching out. He tried to ignore the happy glow around his heart. "Oh, yeah?"

"Do you want some? I bought enough for you and me."

"Sure," Max replied.

He helped her unpack the food. They brought their takeout boxes over to the coffee table in the living room and settled onto the couch to dig in.

The moment the familiar zesty, smoky flavors of the fish tacos hit his tongue, Max felt better. After he scarfed down three more tacos, he glanced over to Nina with a tentative expression. She looked tired as hell, too, as though she hadn't slept well last night either. Guilt bubbled up from his chest. He knew she cared about him. He sensed he was probably upsetting her by acting distant and not letting her in. This was all for the best, though. Nina would be better off without him.

Right?

With his mouth half-full of food, Max mumbled, "Thanks, Nina. These tacos are really hitting the spot."

Something inside of Max pushed him to say more, to tell her more, but again he clamped it down. He was determined to keep his cool. Pretend like he was fine.

Nina paused mid-chew and shrugged graciously. "Don't mention it."

Max and Nina finished the rest of their meal without making any more small talk. Despite the silence, the tension between them slowly melted away. Food comas had a way of relaxing the body and the mind. With a belly full of tacos and ceviche, Max stretched out his long limbs and then slouched languidly into the couch. He closed his eyes and released a sigh. He was still feeling depressed, but the heaviness of his thoughts no longer weighed as intensely on his mind as the night before.

Just then, Max felt movement from Nina's side of the couch. His eyes fluttered open to take a peek. His eyes widened slightly at what he saw. The girl was definitely scooting closer toward him. Before Max even realized what had happened, Nina was sitting on top of him, straddling his lap. Her crotch was positioned dangerously close to his goods. She smiled down at his shocked expression.

Max stammered, "What... do you think you're doing, Nina?"

"Nothing," Nina said breezily as she proceeded to snuggle closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her head into his shoulder. "Just making myself more comfortable. I could use a nap after all those yummy tacos."

"Well, don't take a nap here, woman," Max insisted gruffly. "My legs are going numb!"

Despite his protests, however, Max made zero attempt to pry her away. If anything, his body began to relax into hers as though it wanted to draw her closer.

Nina grumbled into his neck, "But I don't wanna go anywhere else. I like it here."

Max's brain went blank. "Um..."

It was hard to think. Nina was so close to him. Too fucking close. He knew he was supposed to push her away, but, suddenly, he couldn't seem to remember the reasons why—

Nina began to run her fingers lightly through his curls. She cooed, "So soft..."

Then, she shifted her weight across his lap. Max sucked in a breath. He wished Nina would stop moving. His Lower Brain was starting to stir. His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight. Max's hands ached to touch her body. Nina was saying something else to him now, but his Lower Brain wouldn't let him concentrate on her words.

Max's thoughts continued to short-circuit. "Uh..."

Nina lifted her face. She gazed at him with wide honey-brown eyes. "I mean, we don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, but... I care about you, Max, and, if you're willing to share, then I really wanna know what the heck happened to you last night."