Cause for Concern ✓

sixteen

SATURDAY. 09. OCTOBER.

ALL night, Max's frustration had left him tossing and turning. All day, he'd been on edge, impatiently counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours until it was time to go and meet Tyler to give him his stupid picture back. His irritation ran through his blood like poison and he could feel it in the weight of his heart, in the surging of his veins.

Last night, after he'd gotten off the phone, Cole told Max that his head didn't seem in it anymore; he was tense, wound up. His storming back over to the car and the tight lock of his jaw as he clicked his seat-belt in hadn't slipped past Cole at all. He'd been so distracted by his anger, his vexation, that he hadn't even bothered to suffocate it underneath a false grin or a loose carelessness.

Not even a minute after he'd gotten into the passenger seat, Cole had observed him, studied him with a cocked brow and a little sigh. "I'll take you home."

After that, Max almost lost his shit. Not only had Tyler interrupted his date, but he'd interrupted the exact moment that they were about to kiss and completely ruined the atmosphere. By the time he'd gotten off the phone, he'd been in such a foul mood that he knew Cole taking him home was probably the most logical idea. No matter how badly he wanted to stay out and keep the date going, he knew he only wanted to in order to salvage or save the night somehow.

But the moment was gone and, begrudgingly, he had accepted Cole's offer to take him to his mom's.

They'd been so close, too— both literally and figuratively— and the moment had been robbed from them so quickly, like a mat slipped out from underneath them. In his tossing and turning throughout the night, his mind constantly wandered back to Cole and his pretty eyes and his pretty lips, his soft voice, and how the sound of his laugh left Max feeling weightless.

For hours, he thought about Tyler and he thought about Cole and then he thought about Tyler again and screamed into his pillow. He had all this pent up energy trapped inside of him, building and building and building until his legs felt like they had springs in them and his arms felt like they might've been vibrating.

On last night's drive back, he thanked Cole for paying for dinner and apologised about a million times for the interruption, for his bad attitude, for about everything he could think of. He cursed himself for his guilt, too. The terrible waves of guilt that washed over him, engulfing him until he was drowning and the feelings were too strong to fight against.

When they pulled up outside his mom's, he kissed Cole's cheek and thanked him, and apologised again. Cole had told him not to worry about it and accepted his apology— again. The only thing that helped to make him feel any better about how things had turned out was when Cole (hesitantly) accepted his proposal to have a re-do. A chance to do things without being interrupted.

He was determined to get things right now. He was determined to have a good time and get the kiss that had so swiftly escaped him, and, to do so, he would finally have to get rid of Tyler. Cut him loose, tie up the ends. Breakaway from him completely.

Admittedly, he wasn't feeling pessimistic about it either. Sure, he was a little anxious that something could go wrong because something always went wrong but he'd told Tyler when he got home that he would only accept to meet him and return the picture if Tyler promised to leave him alone.

As expected, Tyler had accepted the offer and Max had spent Saturday waiting around the house, flooding with an impatience that was driving him crazy, until five finally rolled around.