TANGLED PLANS

37

After the start of our summer break, Max started texting me. At first, I was interested in hearing what he had to say (I'm ashamed to admit that I might've jumped out of bed in excitement when the text message had popped up on my phone), but after finding out that he wasn't texting to talk about what had happened, I grew uninterested.

His texts weren't frequent, maybe once a day, and they had been vague. So vague to the point that he never told me where he was even at. After a few days of this, I texted him back to ask where he was. He had ignored that question and started talking about a random bird he saw on the street. At this point, I was over the fact that he kept texting me, and not for a great reason.

I had muted him after that, but I still had the urge to see what he said. It led me to block him after. I didn't know if he kept texting me after that because I hadn't been able to see his texts anymore.

"I texted you," Max says softly as he gazes down at my face. I knew that in the dark he couldn't see much of my face except my silhouette, but he was still trying to find something in it. I look away from him and swing my legs when I say, "I know."

I hear him take a breath beside me and try not to think about how exhausted he sounds. I was afraid that whatever he did, I would assume that it was in relation to me. Was he sighing because he was exhausted by me? Already? I needed to get my mind off of him.

"I told you about my day," Max says, and this time I do turn to him. I can't help but scoff when I say, "You told me about random things that didn't even explain what you were truly up to."

"I—"

"I tried to give you a few days to talk to me, really talk to me, but you didn't," I say, feeling myself get a little frustrated. "I personally asked you about something as simple as your whereabouts, and you ignored it."

Max stays silent on his part, and I try not to roll my eyes. Being here with him made me start acting in a way I wouldn't be proud of later on. "You were texting me, expecting me to play along with your nonchalant games, but I couldn't do that."

Max's eyes shift, and I can see it. He glances at my eyes and then says, "Did you see all of the texts?"

"No," I say, and I get up from my spot. "I blocked you."

"You blocked me?" He sounds incredulous as he says that. "I can't believe that."

"You can believe what you want or not believe what you want," I say to him with a harsh tone in my voice. "But yes, I did block you. And I would like it if you didn't talk to me anymore."

"Daisy, please," Max says from behind me, and for a second, I fall for it. But then I think about his texts and how he had a connection to me but didn't use them. If I were to turn back to him, would he be willing to talk to me? Would he be willing to talk about all of the things he had been avoiding? Would he even care to talk to me about more than just the mundane things in life?

I didn't think so.

If Max wasn't going to be open with me and actually genuinely care about my feelings, then I didn't need him.

"I'm tired," I say, drawing out the word because it means too many things at the same time. "I'm going to go home to get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

Before he can say anything else, I hold my shoulders back and walk away from him. I walk back toward the part of the beach I left my brother and his girlfriend at. I find them both lying on the sand, my brother on top of her. I didn't even want to know what they were doing a minute earlier.

"Brayden!" I shout over the wave of the water. I find the shape of his face moving toward me. "Can we go home? I'm tired."

My brother scrambles off of the figure under him and runs a hand through his hair. "Sure, Daisy. Give us a minute."